#god. i even gave it an honest to god shot in The Book of Bill thinking that maybe all these years later i could appreciate it. but no.

[sage-nebula]

I will just say this. I did not read The Great Gatsby when I was assigned it in high school, nor did I read it any of the three times I was assigned it during the course of my undergraduate degree in English literature (creative writing emphasis). If Alex Hirsch thinks I'm reading it now, he's sorely mistaken.

[couldyouspeakmyname]

Not me basically stalking this whole page bc like No OnE writes of Beastars and I'm starved

I love your writing honestly, thanks for doing God's works for us lmao 💕

When you have time could I request a sheep/wolf female reader (looks more like a sheep and only had wold teeth/ears) with Pina and/or Bill? Just like their initial reaction to them maybe and after they find out that she's technically a carnivore (even if she looks like a sheep)

Thank you!

Are you asking me to write for a wolf in sheep's clothing? Because it feels like you're asking me to write for a wolf in sheep's clothing and I am all about that life

Thank you so much! That makes my day ;-; I also got a bit carried away, so I hope it’s okay. Feel free to send again if I missed something!

Pina

“A new student?” Pina closed his locker, interest now fully on Els. Pina really hadn’t been listening that closely, but it wasn’t everyday the school got a new student. 

“Yeah! A new girl. She’s a sheep,” Els continued, going over the very few details she knew. It wasn’t much, but she was still excited about it. As she continued to speak, she quickly checked her phone. Pina could tell by her sudden expression that it was later than she anticipated. She needed to get to class.

“Why are you telling me?” Els gave him a look while slinging her bag over her slim shoulder. 

“Because you’re a total flirt! I don’t want you to make the school or the drama club look bad. I heard she may stop by the club after classes. Behave yourself, okay?” Pina just gave her a look as she retreated. He shook it off, he didn’t need some upperclassman lecturing him. It was well meaning, but when had anyone ever stopped Pina from doing what he wanted?

-

Your hand grips the handle of the door. You take a deep breath through your nose, letting it out through your mouth. You tried to anchor yourself, and prepare for the onslaught. Everyone at the school seemed really nice so far, but it wouldn’t take much for that to change. 

“You’re the new girl, right?” You jump, pointed ear flicking as you turn on your heel in alarm. You hadn’t even heard the male walk up behind you. Were you that much in your head? Usually your instincts were better than that. 

“Yeah,” Being a sheep meant you were pretty small, and it helped you talk to the ground so no one would see your fangs. You were really good at hiding them, you had to be. 

“My name’s Pina, you are?” You looked up at him, taking note of his shining horns and wool that fell just right around his form. He looked like he walked out of a magazine. 

“O-Oh! Y/N,” You offered a small closed mouth smile. Pina didn’t stop looking you over. Your alarm bells went off. There was definitely something up with him. Did he know? Usually people just assumed your ears were deformed or you were just bad at managing your wool which is why there were so fluffy. Was it your eyes? Your hands? You trimmed your claws between classes, so by all accounts you looked like an herbivore. 

“Nice to meet you. Don’t look so worried, pretty much everyone is tolerable,” He reached past you and walked in, letting you follow after. 

- 

You’d been going to drama club for a while. Thankfully for you, everyone was super nice, if not al little eccentric or weird. It at least gave you a solid friend base, if nothing else. You often would eat with some of the members. Sheila even introduced you to another sheep named Peach. Though, more often than not, you’d find yourself with Pina at some point during the day. You had no idea how it happened, it always just...did. You had suspicions he had somehow orchestrated running into you. 

“What class are you studying for?” He tried to peek over at your book, having managed to peel his eyes away from his phone that pinged every few moments with messages, no doubt from the possibly many girls he had been dating. 

“Science,” He looked immediately disinterested, going back to his phone. He started texting again, at a speed most cheetahs would find impressive, but he continued to try and carry a conversation with you. 

“Okay, I have to ask. What’s your deal? Why did you transfer, and why did you end up in drama club?” Pina’s words would have been accusatory, or pointed, but his tone was so casual it was like he was asking about the weather. 

“My deal?” You froze, and tried to casually turn the page, but you had stayed still a few moments to long. You didn’t have to look over to know Pina was now leaned over, waiting. 

“Your deal. Like, Legoshi is a pervert, Sheila used to be a dominatrix or something...No one normal as you usually joins. So, what’s your deal? You’re so...normal,” You hands closed your book with a thunk! You adjust on the bench to turn over and look back at him, scooting away just a smidge. 

“Promise you wont say anything?” You looked serious, but Pina was unaffected. Instead he tapped his chin, seeming to think hard about it. 

“Sure, why not?” He smiled, that same charismatic smile that he had perfected. You didn’t know if it was genuine, but his words were. Pina was a flirt, but he wasn’t known for spreading or telling rumors. Plus, he was your friend, even if you didn’t know how you ended up being friends in the first place. 

“Well, I’m not a sheep, at least...not all sheep,” As you spoke, he leaned in, curiosity getting the better of him. His phone was now long forgotten, and not even the chirping from text alerts took his gaze away from you. You glanced around while mulling how to say what you need to say in your head. The coast was clear. 

“I look like a sheep but, I’m also half wolf,” As your spoke, you didn’t hide your fangs, and actually went out of you way to adjust your more pointed ears. 

“Woah,” You waited for the fallout. Waited for his expression to turn to disgust, or for him to ask if your wolf parent ate your sheep one. You wanted for all of the normal questions that came with the confusion and ager from finding out you were a hybrid, but it never came.

“So that’s why you’re weird looking,” You shot a glare his direction. At least he was honest.

“Yeah, I guess...So, you wont tell anyone?” Pina leaned back.

“Nah I wont tell anyone about you, as long as you don’t chew on me at practice,” he shoots you a smile. This one seemed actually honest. 

“Thanks...I really appreciate it” 

“No problem. Can I ask another question?”

“Sure, I guess,” You suddenly felt much more relaxed. It was like a weight had been lifted. 

“Do you classify as a carnivore or an herbivore? I’ve never met a hybrid before,”  You blinked, and fiddled with the corner of your book.

“Carnivore, technically. I have to take supplements since I’ve been eating the herbivore lunch. It’s not balanced for me”

“Oh! Well, that sucks,” He laughed and grabbed his phone again. “Just order the food you want. I’ll can always get you one, or ask Bill to get an extra. Or Legoshi, they’d get one for you,” He was so casual about it, you almost had to pinch yourself. 

“Hey Pina?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks...for being so nice about it.” 

“No problem. You can’t help who your parents are, plus you’re more interesting than over half the school. It’d be a waste to stop hanging out with you over something so stupid.” 

----

Bill

“New student?” Bill held the door open for Els who snuck by, holding her bag. They’d just got done at drama club, and Els was eager to talk about the new student their director told them about. Supposedly she was a transfer from another school. The details weren’t specific but they were all pretty excited. Having someone from a new school could offer new perspectives, which could be great for the drama club.

“Yeah. She sounds like she could fit right it,” It’d be nice to have another girl in drama and another herbivore. After the incident with Tem, some herbivores were still cautious about carnivore students, so it was exciting this new girl was joining an interspecies club out of the gate. 

“I hope so. Just gotta make sure Pina doesn’t do anything overwhelming, we don’t need that kind of drama,” Bill did not need Pina to flirt with the new girl, and go and forget her name. Bill was honestly one to talk, but that was beside the point. 

“Well, we’ll get to meet her tomorrow!” Els smiled, and they waved goodbye to one another. She was in high spirits, and with a shove of her shoulder let herself into her dorm room. 

“See you tomorrow Els!” Bill waved and went to his dorm. A new girl huh? He wasn’t thrilled at the idea of more Herbivores to look after, but if they were even a fraction as cool as Els, they couldn’t be to bad. 

-

You took a deep breath, and your hand gripped your school bag tightly. You grabbed the door of the drama room and pushed it. It was a bit stuck, but nothing major. You did pretend to struggle with it in order to fit the persona you were following of being a basic herbivore. No one had to know about the fact you had a carnivore parent. 

“Hello! Sorry I’m late! I got a bit lost,” You walked in, smiling carefully, avoiding showing any teeth. Your slightly longer and fluffier ear twitched. Most students just thought it was some sort of deformity, and were polite enough not to talk about it. 

“Welcome!” A goat ran up to you, and quickly introduced herself. It took very little time for you to be introduced to everyone else. They all seemed nice, friendly. Juno and Els were quick to sweep you away from a flirty and curious Pina, and show you the ropes and the possible areas you could end up.

“This big guy is Bill, don’t worry, he’s not as big of a jerk as he likes to pretend to be,” Els fondly pat the large tiger on the arm, and he just gave you a smile.

“Nice to meet you,” Bill smiled your direction, but there was a moment where the look in his eye turned briefly to confusion, but it went back to normal almost as quickly as it came. 

“Nice to meet you too!” Maybe it was your imagination. Yeah, your imagination. 

-

Drama was really fun. Everyone was supportive, if not a bit quirky. Even out of drama club, they tended to stick together. Els, Sheila, as well as Juno, tended to stick close with you. Thanks to them, it wasn’t difficult for you to find a close group of small and honest friends. That also included Bill, on rare occasions. He stuck mainly with carnivores, but the rare times you were alone, he’d slide next to you. 

“Hey, you doing okay?” He had two meals in his hand. You wondered if he was meeting someone. 

“Yeah, I’m doing alright!” You set your supplements down. He eyed them for a moment and motioned with his head.

“It’s nice outside, we should go enjoy the rest of the evening,” You sat confused, but decided to follow him. Bill carried those two trays out and somehow still held the door for you. 

“Thanks, but why do you wanna eat outside?” You sat on a bunch, setting your try on your lap, and you opened your drink to take your supplements. When people asked, you told them they were just additional vitamins. 

“So you could eat this instead,” He offered the second tray he had been holding. You looked at him confused. 

“Why?” It was the carnivore lunch tray. You were a sheep, as far as anyone knew. 

“Because taking supplements suck,” He sat down, and offered the second tray again, “Take it, I want to eat my food too, kinda hard to do that with my hands full,” You set your other food aside, and took the offered tray, 

“So, you know?” Bill shrugged. He didn’t seem that worried about it. 

“Yeah. To be fair, Aoba figured it out first. He happened to see you yawn one day, spotted your fangs. Aoba has really good eyes, being a eagle and all. We figured you didn’t want anyone to know so we haven’t asked you about it,” You freeze. If Aoba knew, who else did?

“Aoba knows?” You looked shocked. You thought you had been so careful! 

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. Only Aoba, Els, and I know. We didn’t want to bug you about it, but it’s been bugging me, watching you take those pills all the time. It’s better to just eat what you need instead of eating salads and hoping your “Vitamins” even it out. If you’re part carnivore, have some pride in it,” He spoke between eating. You were surprised, he seemed so okay with it. 

“Oh,” You didn’t know what to say. No one had treated you different, everyone was still super nice. 

“Promise you guys wont tell anyone?” You finally picked up your utensils, and began eating the lunch you should have been getting from the beginning. It was really good, but maybe that was just because it came from someone who accepted you. 

“Promise. We stick together, you’re one of us now,” He jokingly shoved your thin shoulder with his own, grinning. 

“So, what are you mixed with?” Bill asked, his food all but gone. How did he eat so much so fast? 

“Sheep and a wolf,” He laughed.

“Oh boy, I bet that must be a story,” He laughed, and you would bet he was trying to picture how that happened.

“Yeah,” You kept eating, finally relaxing. You didn’t even know you were tense. 

“If you ever need anything you can ask me, okay? Like I said, we all kind of stick together. I don’t mind buying extra food for you so you can avoid taking those pills,” He looked away, scratching his cheek. You got the feeling he wasn’t used to being sincere or so outwardly nice. It wasn’t a surprise, he frequently played the tough guy. 

“Thanks Bill.”

“You’re welcome” 

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART SEVEN

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: men being shitty and creepy!! possible trigger for sexual assult Summary:  Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: things are taking an odd turn, right? (sorry this is posted so late) 

taglist: @valleyd0ll​ @satingrass-maidensfair​ @guitarfingers​ @thebohemianpenguin​ @peaceisouranthem​ @oblvions​ @hansonobsessed​ @myownparadise96​ @lara-gvf​ @anditsmywholeheart​ @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies​ @bigblack-catattack​

MASTERPOST 

You woke up to the shrill chiming of an alarm cutting through your head like a circle saw. The unexpected noise made you sit up instantly, putting your gaze directly on a desk, the top of it overflowing with sheet music. 

Josh started to stir next to you, his hand reaching out from under the blanket to grab his phone from where it sat in between you.

The sore spot on your ribs made you wince, and your eyes drifted down to find your own phone, pressed into the mattress from you sleeping on it. 

When the screen flicked on, you let out a sharp gasp. 

“Josh, we have like fifteen minutes to leave!” you yelped, hopping instantly out of bed and finding your knees a little wobbly. 

He sat up then, rubbing across his face. 

You gazed back at him, frowning at the odd setup; he was laying on top of the comforter but under a different blanket.

“Shit, I had yesterday’s alarm still set for my late class,” he murmured, inching himself toward the end of the bed. 

“Oh my god,” you whined, racing to the bathroom. You brushed your teeth way too quickly, knowing in your heart that you did a poor job.

When you returned to Josh’s room for your phone, he was pulling a clean shirt over his head.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, sounding somewhere between asleep and awake.

“It’s okay, I should have set my own alarm,” you admitted, snatching your cell from the bed and scooting past him again. “It’s really okay. Are you going to be ready to leave in like ten?”

He nodded as he ran his fingers through his curls. “Yeah, you?”

“I’m praying.” 

On the walk to school, you remembered. 

“Fuck, my presentation is today. And I got high and didn’t practice.”

He chuckled under his breath, clasping his hand around your shoulder. “You’re going to be fine- just breathe and stay calm. If you mess up, take a pause and keep going.” 

You nodded furiously. “Okay. Okay. Can you text that to me? What if I forget?”

He laughed in earnest then. “Yes, I’ll text you.” 

You exhaled a lengthy breath, nodding as you tried to calm your nerves. 

In front of the entrance to the B hall, he spun you around to face him, holding the biceps of each of your arms. He mimicked taking a deep breath, prompting you to do the same without another thought. 

“Relax,” he instructed coolly. “And I’ll see you at lunch.”

+++

You had your hands clasped tightly in your lap, nervous enough that your palms were sweating. Getting up and speaking to a room of people was high on your list of things that felt like torture, especially since you hadn’t had time to shower or do anything with your mess of hair besides pinning it up into a bun as best you could. 

You thanked a divine power that the outfit you had thrown on in a haste ended up looking surprisingly presentable. 

As it neared your turn, you got your papers in order and straightened up your posture. When your name was called, you promptly stood, descending the steps and ending up down at the podium. 

You had just opened your mouth to start when your phone chimed in your pocket. Your eyes popped open wide, hoping you’d hallucinated the sound instead of forgetting to silence your ringer. 

The professor was giving you an unamused look as you gave a weak laugh.

 “One sec, sorry,” you muttered, fishing out your phone. You flicked the little button down on the side, but as the screen lit up, you got to read what the message said. 

Josh      just now Just pretend everyone’s me or pretend they’re naked. Probably not both though.

You couldn’t help but huff a laugh as you tucked it back away. The nerves that had you so on edge started to dampen, just a bit. 

+++

That afternoon, you walked home alone. Josh had texted you that he’d be staying until 5 or 6 to make sure the production was going along smoothly, but when he returned to the apartment, it was with a bottle of wine. 

You were doing some of the dishes from the previous day and had to wipe your soapy hands on a dishtowel before he crossed the room and pulled you into a side hug. 

The two of you had talked about how well the presentation went when you met at lunch, but you hadn’t imagined he’d make such a big deal about it. 

“I had Jake pick me up and take me to the liquor store, and I got this so we could celebrate,” he informed, his voice kind of soft - either sheepish or tired, you couldn’t quite tell. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you replied, but couldn’t suppress the huge grin splitting your lips. 

He nodded, offering a soft smile. “I know.” He set the bottle down on the table pointedly. “I wanted to.”

You fished the make-shift corkscrew from the utensil drawer, brandishing it like a knife to earn a melodic laugh from Josh. 

He popped the door of the fridge open to peer inside. “We might be able to make something special for dinner. Or, at least more special than mac and cheese or sandwiches.”

When the idea popped into your head, you crossed the room and grabbed your purse. 

“I still have about,” you paused to count the bills in your wallet. “$34 from shopping. I was saving it for something nice, so why don’t we order something in?”

He grinned at you, leaning back against the wall next to the fridge and letting his head rest against it. “What kind of take-out are you thinking? You should get to pick.”

“Oh, please,” you huffed, playfully rolling your eyes as you started unwrapping the foil around the rim of the wine bottle. “One, I could have never done so well if it weren’t for you. And two, you’re from here, so you’d know what’s worth ordering.”

His pink lips tilted up into a smirk. “I’m not from here though.”

“Close enough.” You took a moment to think before continuing on. The tip of the corkscrew was broken, leaving a blunt edge and he watched you struggle to pierce the cork with it. “Is there any kind of Indian? Or Thai maybe?” 

He nodded. “There’s an Indian restaurant downtown. It’s pretty yummy if I remember right.”

“That kinda sounds perfect, right?” 

He held his hand out, flicking his eyes down at the corkscrew and then back up at you until you reluctantly handed it over. He picked up the bottle and popped it open with ease, his smirk only growing. 

“Yeah, perfect.”

+++

Thursday evening, Trevor showed up around five, just as you were finished making your bedroom look like a cute study nook. You weren’t entirely sure how much studying either of you planned on doing, but since he only brought one notebook and nothing else, you weren’t very hopeful about getting any work done. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to have a roommate,” he said in a playful tone.

“I do. When I moved here, I knew I couldn’t afford to live alone, so I rolled the dice. He’s a great friend, as it turns out. Do you want something to drink?” you asked as he stepped through your doorway and set his stuff down on your bed. 

“That’d be cool.”

“We have juice and milk and water and iced tea.”

He shrugged with a smile. “Anything but milk, please.”

You nodded. “I’ll bring you some juice.” 

Josh, who was seated in the sitting chair in the living room, working on his own homework, looked up at you through his eyelashes with a mischievous-looking smile.

You shot him a scowl. “Don’t be weird,” you whispered, and then in a normal tone, finished with, “Would you like some juice too?”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head at you. “That’s okay, I can get my own. You just worry about him.”

Trevor happily took his glass as you handed it to him, giving you a “thank you”. 

“Of course,” you replied as you sat next to him on the bed and pulled your stack of textbooks onto your lap. “Where should we start?”

“You actually want to study?” he mused, sounding disbelieving.

You bit your lip. “Probably for a little while at least, right?” 

He shrugged back at you, but you tried to brush off the odd attitude. Maybe you’d given him the wrong impression as to exactly what this would be, but you could fix it. 

“So, we’re supposed to read chapters ten through sixteen and then do all the questions,” you informed, flipping the book open. “You want me to read it out loud?” 

You thought maybe offering to do most of the work would brighten his mood, but every time you looked over at him while you were reading, he was scrolling through his phone. He had a bored expression painted across his features, and it took him nearly a full minute to realize you’d stopped reading. 

When he finally looked up at you, he gave a smile that you knew he thought was the most charming thing you’d ever seen.

You could hear a knock on the front door and Josh shuffling around in the living room. 

“Have you been listening to any of this? You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.” You tried to keep your tone from sounding annoyed, but you knew you couldn’t hide it as well as you wished. 

“I’d rather be doing anything else if I’m being honest.” There was not a single shred of an apology in his voice, and when you spoke again, you knew it would be even less put together.

“Why did you want to come over for a study session if you didn’t want to study?” It was less of a question and more of a scathing review of his character, or at least what you’d seen of it so far.

He frowned at you, looking a shade on the accusatory side for your liking. “I feel like you should have known what that actually meant.” 

You could hear a conversation going on in the kitchen, and you silently wished you were out there instead. The longer you heard them talk, the more convinced you became that it was Jake, and you wondered if Josh invited him over on purpose, or if he just showed up.

“You said you thought I was good in class and that part of why you asked me out was so I could help you with classwork.”

He rolled his blue eyes. “Yeah, if I hadn’t, I can’t imagine you would have invited me over.”

You had your mouth open to snap a response, but somehow, his words hurt you. Not much, but just enough for your chest to feel tight, and not just from anger.

 “Did you think you could manipulate me into having sex with you?” you asked quietly, your brows threaded close together in a frown. 

He gave a long, bored-sounding sigh. “Don’t act like I’m a bad guy, here. Everyone does it. Give some fake compliments and then make your move, you know?”

For emphasis, he placed his hand on your thigh, a little too high up. It made your teeth clench, jaw tightened by rage.

“Don’t touch me. You should go,” you stated. 

He huffed a sarcastic laugh as he inched his hand a bit further up your leg. He moved toward you until his face was nearing your neck. “Come on, what’s the big deal?” 

Before you could stop yourself, you reached a hand out and slapped him across his face, your palm making contact with the hollow of his cheek. You hadn’t been expecting the crack of noise when you made contact; it ripped through the room, and out into the living area if you had to guess. 

It took him a beat to realize what happened, but as soon as he did, he stood from your bed. You picked up his notebook and handed it to him, and he ripped it from your grasp, a dirty look on his features. 

“You’re a cockteasing bitch,” he snapped, nursing the red spot on his cheek. 

He was already halfway through the living room when you moved to stand in the doorway of your room. 

“Fuck off,” you called through clenched teeth as he opened the front door and let himself out. When he was gone you realized that Josh and Jake were both looking at you with similar degrees of concern from where they were sat on the couch. 

“What happened?” Josh asked, frowning up at you. 

Embarrassed, you flicked your eyes over to Jake who had one eyebrow quirked up at you. 

“Oh, you know. Just boys lying to me so they can fuck,” you snapped as you retreated to your room and closed the door. You instantly felt bad for being short with them, especially since Josh is just about the last person you could ever imagine being mean to, but you’d apologize later. 

Right then, you were going to curl up in bed.

After a couple of hours, Jake left and you wondered how long it would take before Josh came in to bug you, but he didn’t. You listened for his footsteps coming toward your door, but you could hear him in the living room, turning the page of a book every now and again. 

Eventually, you couldn’t help yourself - you threw the blankets off and stood. The stiffness in your muscles was a poor consolation prize for the day. 

He looked up at you, shutting his book instantly, his homework caught between the pages. 

“Hey,” he greeted quietly. He patted the spot next to him on the couch. “I’m sorry your...thing went so poorly.”

You were too annoyed to care anymore, so you laid your head on his shoulder, letting out a long sigh. It surprised you when you felt a tear drip down your cheek and you could feel your face start to warm in response. 

He heard you sniffle and his form stiffened immediately. His arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you tight to him. 

“Did he hurt you?” It sounded like Josh’s throat was tight, making his words hoarse.

“No, he just,” You weren’t sure how to finish that. He hadn’t really hurt you, per se. “He just tried to touch me. And then he didn’t stop when I told him to.”

“What?” His tone was charmingly offended on your behalf. 

“It’s okay,” you assured, wiping your face with the sleeve of your sweater. “I’m more angry than anything. I just kind of can’t believe I fell for that, you know? The whole ‘let’s study’ thing.”

“Stop that - it’s not your fault.” You could feel the hesitation as he laid his hand against your ear, but you leaned into it, grateful for the comfort.

It was quiet for a long moment while you calmed yourself down. His presence was more of a reassurance than anything else you could have imagined at the moment.

“You’re my best friend,” you breathed, turning to nuzzle your nose against the fabric of his sleeve. “And I’m lucky to have you.”

Through a smile, you heard him say, “Me too.”

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

KILL4ME

Pairings: Johnny Depp x Reader (and kind of x female!OC but that’s not the main focus of anything) 

Summary: You're a new actress trying to get your start. You end up getting your first role cast in a music video for Marilyn Manson’s “KILL4ME” music video but it turns out to be much more than you expected. 

Warnings: SMUT (male x female, female x female) 

A/N: 1) I made the reader straight with no prior female x female experiences. I don’t know why if I’m being honest but that’s how it is so please don’t come at me for it. 2) This is NOT how the film industry should work. If you’re trying to get into the industry, please stay safe, be responsible, and recognize red flags. Typically, randomly popping up pornographic requests is NOT professional or safe. This is just a fantasy I had while watching the music video and was written this way strictly for entertainment purposes. 

Word Count: 5696

__________________________

This project requires nudity and sexual scenes. If you are not comfortable, do not apply. 

The warning had been clear as day and yet, here you were, sitting in your car at the old mansion that was the filming site, nerves going off the charts and feeling less than comfortable with the imminent nudity and sexual scenes. You were an actor, you reminded yourself. This was the only job you’d landed since arriving in Los Angeles and, despite your promises to yourself and your family that you wouldn’t resort to full nudity for a project, there were bills that needed paying and your waitressing job wasn’t cutting it. 

Besides, shouldn’t you be thrilled? This wasn’t just any music video you’d landed a role in but a music video for Marilyn Manson! He was a goth rock legend and you couldn’t hide your excitement when you’d found out who you’d been booked to work for.

But still, the nudity and sexuality made you uneasy. There hadn’t been a script or anything. Your only instructions were to come looking your best and with an open, ready to work mindset. So here you were, physically feeling like a million bucks but butterflies going crazy within. 

Inhaling a deep, calming breath, you opened the door to your barely working 2008 Honda Civic, feeling even more self-conscious when you saw the other cars that were parked outside of the massive mansion were all beautiful and sleek, most of them black and very expensive looking. 

Crew members stirred around outside, entering and exiting the house with lights and props and sound equipment, everything needed for the production. You walked through the large black door that led into the beautiful white mansion, opening into an equally fantastic interior. You audibly gasped, “This is beautiful…” 

“Y/N?” A woman’s voice questioned from beside you and you spun quickly to face her, snapping out of your amazed daze. 

“Yes.” You answered hastily. 

She checked the clipboard in her hand, “Great, you’re right on time. Come right this way, we’re gonna get you into hair and makeup.” You were about to reply when she’d taken off down the hall without giving you a moment to speak so you followed, avoiding the moving equipment around you. 

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked away into a small room that was full of makeup, hair styling tools, and costumes. Nobody told you what they were doing as they pulled your hair straight and did up your makeup, surprisingly simpler than you’d expected with just light eyeshadow and moderate eyeliner. 

“Alrighty, now I’m gonna have you undress and put on that robe over there.” The man in charge of costumes directed. 

Your brows furrowed, “How undressed?” 

“All the way, sweetie. No panties, no bra. It’s all gotta go.” He must have seen the uneasy look on your face because he gave you an unsympathetic shrug, “You signed up for a nude project, hun. Welcome to Hollywood.” 

**

“Y/N is here. I believe that’s it, Mr. Manson.” The same woman as earlier announced as you entered the room you were supposed to be briefed in. It took everything in your power to remain professional when you saw Marilyn Manson standing there, talking casually with another girl who you assumed to be a co-star.

Like you, his makeup was already done up and he was in full costume. His face was painted pale white with a black loop drawn across one half and his other half blank except for the unnaturally blue contact and dark panda-like eyeliner.  His lips were stained bright red and you almost felt like you were looking at a picture of him online. 

“Thank you, Yolanda.” None other than The Marilyn Manson (and yes, “The” was now an official part of his name in your mind) thanked the woman who you assumed to be an assistant. “Come on in, Y/N.” He beckoned you into the room and you tried to front your most professional, most confident face but the way you held your robe tight to your body gave you away. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Manson.” You came up, reaching to shake his hand, “It’s a real honor to get to work with you.” Kiss ass, you muttered to yourself. 

Instead of shaking your hand, he simply waved his hand in the air, “Ah, the pleasantries. I hope it will be a pleasure to work with you as well.” 

You retracted your extended hand awkwardly, unsure of whether or not that was a blow off or him just being mysterious and cool, and scuttled to stand with the other girl. She was beautiful and blonde, tall and thin. Model-esque. You felt insecure next to her, especially in front of someone as influential as Manson. You were just you, an inexperienced actress-to-be, on her first professional job with a bunch of people who definitely knew their way around a camera. 

“Alright, so I know you came here with minimal details,” Marilyn began, a weirdly neutral look on his very painted face, his tone flat and low. It was hard to read him with his contacts in. “Hopefully, that’s a good sign this will work well. You’re both willing to take risks. You’re flexible. Well, I’m here to give you the details. As you know, there is nudity and sex required for this video. It will be between you two,” You stiffened up awkwardly as he gestured all too casually between the two of you, “And my old friend here.” 

On cue, none other than Johnny Depp walked into the room. Your jaw visibly hit the floor. There is no fucking way. “Hello.” He greeted with a smile, the same smile that you’d seen millions of times in his movies that you’d binged every so often. 

Were you the only one feeling so shocked? Why the hell was the actress next to you so calm? Why was Johnny so calm? You were about pretend to fuck Johnny fucking Depp! 

Johnny stepped forward to shake your hand, “I’m Johnny, nice to meet you,” He introduced politely. 

Starstruck, you took his hand, “Y/N. It’s nice to meet you as well.” Then he leaned down and kissed your hand, actually kissed your hand like a fucking gentleman, eyes never leaving yours. God, the way he looked up at you through his strands of middle parted 90’s hair… it was enough to make your breath catch. 

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he moved from you to the girl next to you, “I’m Marie.” She responded to his introduction politely. He brought her hand to his lips as well but, maybe you were crazy - just imagining some fantasy, but it felt detached and fast when he did it to her. 

“Great, well now that we all know each other,” Marilyn interjected as Johnny moved back to stand by his friend, “I’ll continue. I’ve already shot my parts so I’ll be here to direct you if needed but I want this as natural as possible. Aside from a few artistic shots, I need this to be raw, primal, and absolutely fucking filthy.” 

You and Marie listened on in intent silence, soaking in his every word. But you found it hard to focus when, out of the corner of your eye, you saw Johnny eyeing you. No, no, it couldn’t be. He was probably just zoned out behind you. 

*** 

A few hours later, all of the artistic shots had been done. There were shots of you pulling up thigh high stockings that clipped onto the garter belts hanging from your nearly sheer black underwear and having a leather corset tightened tightly on your back, cinching your waist smaller than you’d ever seen it. You had put on massively high heels and large, luxurious costume jewelry. 

Even though the outfit could be seen as objectifying, you’d never felt more confident or powerful in your life. After your last shot of just your nearly bare thighs, you were dismissed momentarily so Marie could film her sections. 

You walked over to your bag and took out a water bottle, not realizing how much this took out of you, running the same seemingly simple shots over and over again under blaring lights. “How long have you been acting?” 

Oh God. It was him. 

You turned to see Johnny standing next to you, very close, much closer than was considered polite distance but not so close that you felt suffocated. He looked gorgeous, hair hanging perfect from his beautiful tan skin. Earrings hung from his lobes, dangling just slightly. His white button up shirt was only buttoned half way, showing off his smooth, toned chest that barely showed any signs of his older age (not that he was ancient but he was definitely on your list of celebrities over 45 that you would let rail you). But the cherry on top was the eyeliner. The fucking eyeliner. It took you back to so many of his characters that you’d fallen in love with but with the white shirt and earrings, you were getting almost a refined Jack Sparrow crossed with Sweeney Todd feeling and God you’d never been so turned on by a pirate/ serial killer. 

“You okay?” He asked, and you blinked rapidly, totally horrified that you’d been staring. 

“Oh! Sorry! Um, this is my first real shoot, actually. You know how Hollywood is…” You chuckled awkwardly, reaching your hand around to rub your neck. Of course, he knew how Hollywood was, stupid! You cursed yourself, hoping you didn’t sound as dumb as you felt. 

He leaned a hand up against the wall, “Yeah, I know how that is. But don’t worry, this is a great place to start.” He reassured, looking away at the set oh so casually. Your eyes trailed up his arm that had planted itself just beside you on the wall. Was he really doing what you thought he was doing? 

No! He was Johnny Depp. He could have whichever woman he wanted at the bat of an eyelash. Why would he want you? 

“Y/N! We’re ready for your scene with Marie!” The director called to you from behind the camera and you perked up. 

“I better go.” You nodded over to the set, walking away awkwardly, almost scared that you be perceived as rude for having to do your job. 

He chuckled and waved you on. This made you blush bright red and turn to run off to set. 

You found yourself directed to a bed, “All right,” The director began, Marilyn standing directly next to him, hand on his chin as he watched his vision be brought to life, “Now, first, we’re going to get shots of you making out. I need it hot, I need it passionate. I don’t care if you’ve never kissed a girl before, make it look like you have. Next, we’re going to do totally nude shots of you grinding.” 

Your eyelids fluttered slightly in shock at what he said. Okay, you could do that, you hyped yourself up. 

Before you knew it, you were lying on the bed, Marie on top of you. Her soft lips were against yours and her nails raked gently down your throat, sending shocks down your body. Even though you were acting, it was hard to separate the feelings that arose, regardless of your sexuality. It had been a long time since anyone had touched you like this. Your hands tangled in her hair and your eyes were screwed shut.

“Cut!” The director yelled and Marie immediately pulled back, snapping out of character and back into her over-professional attitude. You, on the other hand, needed a brief moment to pull out of character. After just a second, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, Marie still straddling you. Your breasts filled the tight push up bra you wore but you felt surprisingly comfortable in it, even around all these people. That was, until you glanced over to see Johnny standing beside Marilyn, at first looking at a monitor and reviewing footage, but then over at you, his gaze stuck on your accentuated chest. 

Your face flushed red as you quickly looked away, not seeing the amused smirk that graced his face. Little did you know, he was very aware of what he was doing and very pleased with your reaction.  

“That was perfect. Now we’re gonna move onto the sex scenes.” He waved you and Marie over and you obeyed once she climbed off your torso.

Marilyn and Johnny too came over, completing the small group. Marilyn spoke, “Now you knew there was sex and nudity and I’m very pleased with how this is turning out,” He paused, giving you both a very serious look, “But now, I’m going to ask something of you that you probably aren’t comfortable with. Usually with sex scenes, there’s fabric in place to hide cocks and shit but I don’t want any of that. It distracts actors from the scene and there’s always the issue of whether or not you see it. I want raw, I want primal, I want absolutely fucking filthy.” 

He was quiet for a moment, waiting for you and Marie to piece together his request, but filling in the rest when he saw both of your professional exteriors crack in confusion, “I want you to all actually fuck. Only if you’re comfortable with it but if you’re not you’ll be paid for the work you’ve done and we’ll find someone to replace you.” 

You nearly choked, “Like… porn? You want this to be porn?” Johnny chuckled to himself, seeing your embarrassed, nervous reaction. You were so cute. 

He looked pensive for just a moment  before nodding, “Yeah, I suppose so.” He answered bluntly, “Like I said, only if you’re comfortable with it but, if not, you’ll be fired for the rest of the video.” 

Oh God, were you really about to agree to porn? Like actual fucking porn? Three way porn at that! But three porn with Johnny Depp…. It was the one thing you told yourself you wouldn’t do. But then again, your rent was due in two weeks and you were $300 short. “I’m in.” You answered, almost regretting it immediately. 

“Me too.” Marie agreed, long arms crossed across her chest. 

“Good. Now let’s get to it.” 

** 

The lesbian sex scene had gone by relatively hitch free, save for a few awkward placement issues. Marie, being straight as an arrow, had no clue what she was doing, and you too were inexperienced in the department but with a little direction, the scene was finished. 

She knelt on her knees, holding your naked hips up and grinding your bare core against her own. Your eyes were closed, trying to remember every previous sexual encounter and porno you’d seen to try and make the sexiest faces and the sexiest form.

Johnny couldn’t take his eyes off you as you writhed on the bed, completely naked and grinding up against another beautiful woman. Everything about you looked so authentic but innocent but dirty. He found himself craving you in the most unprofessional ways as he watched your breasts bounce with every roll of your hips. 

When the scene was over, you nearly jumped off the bed and rushed for your robe. You were embarrassingly wet right now, the eye contact you’d made with Johnny while having your clit rubbed was just absolutely intoxicating and you were just thankful that you were able to control yourself enough to not get your juices all over Marie. 

As they changed the scene around, you stood beside Johnny and Marilyn. “Method actor?” He asked. 

You cocked an eyebrow, “What do you mean?” 

“You looked pretty into the scene up there. Wonder what you were thinking about…” He continued. Your heart was in your throat. His tone was dark and sultry and implied exactly what he thought you were thinking about and boy was he correct. “As a method actor myself, I completely understand your… position.” 

Johnny looked down at you, his dark eyes unyielding as he dove into your very soul and could see you every fantasy. 

“Okay! Everyone on set!” 

** 

Ignore the cameras, you screamed at yourself. You’re not doing porn, you’re just having a threesome with Johnny Depp and some girl named Marie. Yeah, that was a convincing story to tell yourself. Just relax in this totally normal situation. Pfft, as if. 

But you were an actress. Then something occurred to you, the ghost of a voice spoke to you. It was actually words spoken by Johnny in an old interview you’d seen him do, words that had stuck with you as a foundation in your training: “The most important thing that an actor needs to do is not to act, but to react. That's what it is all about, and you do one of the most difficult things in the world, which is to just be--to be in the state of being.”

Just relax. React to the scene. Be in the scene. Hell, this wasn’t even a scene anymore. This was a secret fantasy you’d never known you’d had coming to life. There wasn’t even any acting involved. So just be. 

“Action!” 

Immediately in character, you caressed Marie sexually, hands running along her sides as you nipped along her neck. Now that you were the dominant character, her scantily clad body was putty in your hands. Your teeth raked along her skin and you felt her shudder beneath your touch, brushing her long blonde hair over her shoulder. 

Then a quiet metallic sound drew your attention. You and Marie both looked over towards the ornate door to see Johnny standing there, looking in through the gold grated peephole. 

Marie looked at you, her eyes full of question. Should you let him in? Honestly, you weren’t sure if your characters knew who he was. No! Stop, you’re not playing a character now. You’re you. You are the character. 

You chewed your lip seductively and walked over, legs crossing and hips rocking as your heels clicked on the hardwood floor. You reached down, perfectly manicured fingers gripping the handle delicately and unlocked the door. Before he could even get ahold of his surroundings, you had him by the collar and pulled him in. He could play all the sexy flirty games he wanted, but right now, you were in control and you were going to make him want you more than anything, even if it all was just for the camera. 

His hands found your hips immediately as he attempted to steady himself but, gosh, all he wanted to do was take you here and now, preferably without Marie or the cameras, but he figured that if that’s what it took to fuck you, he was more than willing to compromise. 

You pulled him in, your lips finally crashing against his. At first, he was hesitant but only for half a second, before he returned the kiss with even more fervor than you’d gone in with. Marie came up on his side and nibbled his ear, hands roaming up and down his chest between your very close bodies. 

Johnny pulled back from this kiss and twisted just enough to snake an arm around Marie’s thin body and led her to face you. Then his hands came to firmly hold the back of each of your necks and forced your faces together, pressing you and the other woman to kiss. You both complied obediently, a strange mix of submissively and dominantly, like you were submitting to him but then fighting between the two of you. 

Her lips moved graciously against yours, smooth and soft. It was so much more different than kissing a man. This felt delicate still despite the absolute filth that was ensuing. Her hand shot out to hold you by the jaw and pulled you in roughly, Johnny’s hand almost not needing to do anything. 

He watched in amazement as the two of you obeyed his every physical command, the way you both looked so lost in each other. He knew you were straight just by interacting with you earlier but you could have had him fooled now. 

This wasn’t the first time he’d been in threeway with two other girls but this was definitely the hottest one. Before, it was all just to see if he could pull it off and then just to have the novelty of having girls bend to his will but this was different. You were different. He couldn't really explain it but he was completely enamored by you. An air of innocence surrounded you from the moment he set eyes on your otherworldly beauty but the saw in your eyes a fire that burned with the ability to be more than that. He was determined to see just how hot that fire burned. 

He pulled you and Marie apart before bringing her to kiss him. While he did, his free hand absentmindedly groped your chest, your breasts spilling from the top of your push up bra. A twinge of jealousy went through you as you watched them kiss, although you knew how irrational it was. They were actors. You were too. There was nothing personal about this. But, for some unexplainable, unprofessional reason, there was for you. 

You slinked behind the older man like a cat and ran your fingertips ever so gently across his closed shoulders and down his biceps. They trailed down his sides as his body moved from the intense makeout session with Marie before coming around to tease over his growing bulge. In his black well fitting pants. 

His body tensed ever so slightly, barely noticeable except to you two, when your hand made contact with his erection. You smirked to yourself, a dark, sexy smile, the kind of smile you’d expect to see in a twisted Tim Burton film. You were finally the mysterious gothic beauty you’d always imagined yourself as in all of his stories. 

With swift fingerwork and a quick, almost too skilled, flick of your wrist, you had Johnny’s belt whipped off him and held firmly in your hands. He pulled Marie off of him and shoved her roughly onto the bed, undoing the buttons of his shirt as you walked in circles around him, trailing your gaze up and down his perfect body and dragging the leather of his belt on his torso and thighs as you did so. 

The way you looked at him, like a lioness about to devour her prey, made Johnny feel like he was on fire. You seemed so in control and confident and you had a way of touching him, as if you knew exactly what made him tick. It was intoxicating. 

His shirt was unbuttoned in a matter of seconds and without warning, he had you pressed back against the mattress as well. He crawled over your body, rolling his hips just right against your clothed core. A small, quiet whisper of a moan escaped your lips at the sudden, well placed contact. 

Your hands tangled into his hair as you pulled him down to you, forcing his head into your neck. He kissed and sucked and nipped and licked just right, like he had a map to your body. You were embarrassingly wet from just kissing and you secretly prayed that nobody noticed but you were too lost in the moment to do anything about it. 

Your leg wrapped around his waist and pulled him into you again. “Fuck…” His voice was a raspy, low whisper, said just loud enough for you three to hear. 

Johnny kissed down your neck and across your breasts, moving over to Marie’s chest, which he dove into with full force. She squirmed and moaned beside you as he assaulted her perfect breasts. You rolled over as far as you could and caught her lips in yours, swallowing her moans. 

That was, until Johnny’s hand trailed down to rub your core. You gasped into Marie’s full lips and rolled your hips into his hand, begging for more. Suddenly, he sat back onto his heels and grabbed your hips roughly, flipping you over onto all fours like he’d done it a million times before. “Ah!” You squealed slightly at the sudden action. 

He climbed off the bed and knelt just behind you, palms rubbing over your ass and admiring every inch of you. Marie adjusted to sit just in front of you, legs spread to reveal her bare vagina before you. You weren’t sure when she’d lost her underwear but low and behold here you were face to face with all she had to bear. You’d never eaten a girl out before but you’d seen enough porn and fooled around with yourself enough to know what might work as a good start. 

Cautiously, you started a few kitten licks to her clit, noticing every flinch or shudder that left her lips. Just as you began to get the hang of it, there was a loud rip as you felt the fabric of your panties be literally torn from your body. You gasped loudly, looking back behind you to see Johnny with his tongue between his teeth, admiring your body. 

Johnny ran his surprisingly soft hands up and down your ass before dragging his fingertips through your already dripping folds. You moaned against Marie’s clit, her hands pulling on your hair, as his fingers circled your clit. You pressed your hips back against him, begging for more, and he was more than happy to oblige. 

Before you knew it, the three of you were a tangle of limbs. At all times, you were being touched by someone, whether it was groping your chest, your ass, or your pussy, but it was always a game trying to figure out who it was. The heat was becoming unbearable and you were grateful for the lack of clothing. Your body was slicked in sweat, both yours and Johnny’s mostly. 

He’d taken a clear preference to you and you almost felt bad for Marie but you didn’t feel too bad, seeing as how your lifelong fantasies were coming true. When someone was touching you, it was almost always Johnny, although he didn’t let his bias completely ruin the shot. He was a professional after all. 

Soon, after at least ten minutes of blind fingering and hand jobs, you found yourself straddling Johnny as he lied naked on the bed. This was it, the moment you actually had sex with Johnny Depp. He held his large erection in one hand, guiding it to your entrance and then moved his hands to grip your hips tightly, lowering you down onto this length. 

“Oh my… fuck-” You hissed out, throwing your head back as you adjusted to him. You’d never felt so full before, so complete. Without even moving, he made you feel absolutely incredible. 

He chuckled sexily below you, loving your reaction. This whole scene had been a game with you, fighting for who was seducing who, who was in charge, but here he was finally proving it was him. 

You steadied yourself on his chest, soft hands splayed out against his surprisingly taught, tattooed skin. To look at him like this, you never would have guessed how much older he was than you. He could pass for a very handsome man in his thirties easily. 

You swiveled your hips experimentally and clenched your walls around his cock. Johnny sucked in a sharp breath as his fingertips dug harshly into your skin, sure to leave little bruises in their place. You looked down and locked eye contact with him through your long eyelashes, your hair disheveled and hanging in your face sexily, as you squeezed your muscles around him yet again and moved your hips. 

“Fucking hell.” He groaned out beautifully, short nails digging crescents into your skin. His grip moved to cup your ass cheeks from below, grabbing them firmly and moving you up and down until you found a pace that worked for both of you. 

Marie lied on the bed beside Johnny, one leg strewn across his chest and the other behind your bouncing body, as she toyed with her clit with one hand and fingered herself with the other. 

You reached down to play with her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples between your soft fingertips but the action was half hearted at best. All you could focus on was how Johnny felt inside you, hitting all the right spots. How you had him at your will just as much as you were at his. His hair was strewn around his face on the pillows like a damn god, his eyeliner smeared every so slightly from the sweat. His eyes screwed shut every now and then but otherwise, he looked at you like no other man had ever looked at you before. 

He reached between your bodies and found your clit, rubbing it in small, tight circles. Your walls began to clench uncontrollably as you felt your orgasm nearing. Your back arched as you leaned back, moving your hands to rest on his thighs as you rose and fell on his length. Marie leaned down, attaching her lips to your perked nipples and biting one gently, licking over the skin to soothe it before doing it again. 

Johnny reached down to finger her roughly as she ravaged your breasts. You continued to bounce, the new angle hitting that perfect spot inside you. “I’m gonna-” Marie whined out, her voice high and seductive. 

You nodded quickly, eyes screwed shut, “Me too!” You exclaimed, trying with all your might to stave off your orgasm for as long as possible but the pleasure was just building up too much. 

“Cum for me.” Johnny demanded from both of you and that was all it took for you to crash over the edge. Hot flashes stroke across your body in electric waves as your body failed to keep moving. He continued to lift your body for you, helping you ride out your high but his fingers dug tightly into your skin when your walls spasmed uncontrollably around him. 

“Fuck!” Marie whined out, her legs shaking against Johnny’s body as she came. 

You reluctantly rolled off Johnny’s body when you felt him lift you off and rested off to the side, breathing heavily while you recovered. He got up onto his knees next to you and stroked himself quickly, aggressively, using your slick to glide his hand across his erection, before painting Marie’s body in white ribbons. 

“And cut!” The director’s voice yelled out, harshly returning you from your daydream. Your eyes suddenly snapped as wide as a deer caught in headlights as the studio lights flicked on around you and the crew was visible again. The reality of everything came crashing down on you. Shit, that wasn’t some secret fantasy in your head. That was a pornographic threesome with Johnny Depp and some woman named Marie! 

You glanced over to the more experienced actress and breathed out a sigh of relief to see her looking the same way you did, completely shocked and a little disappointed at what you’d agreed to, but too pleased and amazed at what you’d just done to care too much before. 

Johnny, on the other hand, looked like he was already recovering with a cool exterior. He’d already begun climbing off the bed to get his clothes back on, leaving you and Marie alone on the bed to register what had happened. 

“Fuck me, that was hot.” Marilyn stepped onto the set, completely comfortable and practically ignoring the fact that he’d just watched his best friend fuck two women. You blushed a bright red. Great, you forgot that Marilyn Manson now would have the image of you fucking in his memories for forever. Not exactly the impression you typically went for in Hollywood… Or was it? 

The director watched over the footage, “They looked like they were enjoying themselves a little too much.” He snorted, pointing out something on the screen to Marilyn and you just prayed that it wasn’t a funny face you made in the heat of the moment. 

Marilyn waved him off, “No such thing as too much fun with sex, Paul.”  

Even though the crew were all doing their various jobs, you were convinced that every eye was on you. WIth a beet red face, you slinked out of the bed, hands covering your breasts and keeping your thighs as close together as you could, trying to shield your nudity from the room. It wasn’t that you were ashamed of your body, it was just the feeling of being so exposed to a room full of strangers that made the blood rush to your face. 

You rushed around, trying to pick up whatever small scrap of clothing you could identify as yours. On the ground, beside the bed, was a crumpled heap of thin stringy black fabric. Your underwear! “Thank God!” You murmured to yourself, bending down to pick it up, only to have it fall in two, rendered unwearable. 

Your face dropped when you saw it and sighed, starting to become more comfortable in your naked skin but more so because you had no other choice at the moment. Could you even request clothing from the crew? Where did your actual clothes end up? Why did you even think that was a ridiculous request to want your clothes back? 

Just as you dropped the shredded underwear, ready to find a crew member and get your clothes back, you heard Johnny chuckle, low and sexy behind you, “You’re a great method actor,” He complimented with a wink and slight smirk, knowing damn well what he meant, the nonchalance of his entire being making you dumbfounded, “Perhaps, we could do this again under less professional circumstances.” 

And with the invitation, said in the most casual way - as if inviting you for coffee, he pushed the last button through the loop of his pristine white button up, and walked to find his best friend, leaving you standing on set, naked, clutching the underwear he’d literally ripped from your body just minutes earlier, eyes on his majestic figure and trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened. 

[wiypt-writes]

Riding On

CH7- Home, Sweet Home

Summary: Frank and Fliss find their perfect family home, but there’s something bothering Mary.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Discussions about suicide. A little bit of angst.

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N: This is a bit of an emotionally charged filler chapter…and we move time on a little through to June in the middle. And photos of the Adler house are included at the bottom so you can visualise what I used for inspiration.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 6

You’re giving it another try, staring at the deep blue sky, and you say to the driver just drive, coz you never felt so alive.

 April 2019

“Hey honey, you ok?” Frank juggled his phone, pinning it between his ear and his shoulder as he leaned over his computer in the office, scanning the database on the screen for a filter part they needed to order. 

“No, I mean yes! I’ve just heard some awesome news!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, so you remember the guy that bought the house that backs onto the yard when Old Man River died…” “That wasn’t his name.” Frank chuckled “It was Mr Morris.”

“He called himself River, it was funny and suited him. Anyway, that’s not the point. You know the guy who bought it…guess what I found out before?”

Frank stopped what he was doing and straightened up. He didn’t like that dick, one bit. When Mr Morris had died at the start of the year, Fliss had been quite upset about the news as the old man had been very friendly to her, often popping in for a cup of tea a few afternoons a week for some company. Mr Morris’ son had sold the house without them even knowing it had gone on the market, which was a shame as it would have been perfect for them given the location. The guy who had bought it, Frank didn’t even know his name, nor did he care because he was a dick and a pervert to boot. The way he looked at Fliss made Frank want to punch his face in.

“What’s Douchey Mc Douchebag done now?”

“You’re so childish.” she scoffed “Anyway, I was only commenting to Joanne last night that we haven’t seen him for like a month and she went home and mentioned it to her dad who works with some other guy in the property development business and the long and short of it is he’s gone bankrupt Frank!”

Frank laughed loudly “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy, babe!”

“I know right!” Fliss voice was gathering pace and pitch, the way it always did when she was excited. “So literally about half hour after she’s told me this, someone turns up and there’s a For Sale sign outside, the house is on the market!”

Ok now he was interested. Frank could picture the look of excitement on her face as she spoke to him and he felt the smile cross his face “No shit?”

“Yeah, I’ll send you the website to look at the photos but…oh God, it would be perfect! Some of it is really nice, some of it needs decorating but…”

“Ok, well, why don’t you call the realtor? Arrange a viewing” he said “Hopefully you won’t puke halfway round this one.”

“Ok, first off that wasn’t my fault. Bean objected to the smell. Who the fuck cooks eggs the day they know they have someone coming to view their house?” her indignant tone made Frank chuckle “And second off…”she paused “I already did. He said he can meet us at half 12.”

“Half 12? As in lunch time? Today?” Frank frowned.

“I know I just really don’t want to miss out on this one Frank, and you said you were gonna come up here for lunch and-”

“Ok, ok.” Frank sighed “I’ll shuffle some stuff around, work a little later tonight and take an extra half hour.”

“I love you.” she replied and he could hear the smile in her voice.

“Good job I love you too.” he said back gruffly “Because you’re a pain in my ass.”

He bid her goodbye and just as he was looking at the rota to make sure there were enough staff in to cope if he took a longer lunch, his phone beeped. He clicked through to the link Fliss had sent him and had a scan through the photos. To be fair the house didn’t look in too bad condition. It was deceptive from the outside, looked like a small farmhouse but they knew thanks to the extension Douchebag had put on the back it now formed an L shape and from the look of it, was pretty spacious. The kitchen was new, the main bathroom was new so the big work looked like it had been mostly done. The décor in some of the rooms was really old fashioned, especially the hallway you and the front reception room, but that was all cosmetic. What really grabbed him was the price. It was up for just over 320 thousand, which was a fucking steal considering the size, location, the garden and the garage/outhouse it came with.

“You ok Frank?”

He looked up and smiled as Alan, his boss walked in to the office. “Yeah, sorry, Fliss has found a house and managed to book a viewing for lunch time. Fucking 7th one in 2 weeks.”

Alan snorted “Keeping you on your toes I see?”

“Well I gotta say, this one’s looking pretty good. It’s the house that backs onto our Yard out in Pinellas Park.” Frank explained “It was sold not even 6 months ago to a developer and he’s apparently gone bankrupt so put it back on the market.”

“Huh.” Alan smiled “Sounds like it was meant to be. Take it you’re going then?”

“Yeah, Charlie and Gary are in all afternoon. I thought I could take an extra half hour, work it back tonight or…”

“Frank, when was the last time you actually took a full hour for your lunch and didn’t cut it short by 10 or 15?” Alan looked at him.

Frank hesitated “Yeah, but that’s-”

“No buts.” Alan shook his head. “Do what you gotta do.”

“Thanks Alan.” Frank smiled, “I appreciate it.”

Alan waved away his gratitude before he dropped into the chair on the opposite side of Frank’s small desk and gestured for Frank to sit down.

“I wanted to talk to you in person, before the news gets out. I’m looking at retiring Frank, fully this time.”

“That’s good news, for you I mean.” Frank smiled, taking his seat. “You must be happy?”

“Kinda bitter sweet.” He shrugged “But I hit 70 this year and bout time I let it all go. Bill’s already chomping at the bit to book damned fishing trips so...it’ll be nice to step back. But I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Shoot.”

“My son, James is going to be taking over, that won’t come as any surprise to you as you’ve seen him knocking around a bit and he likes you.”

“Good to know I’m not going to be out on my ass.” Frank smiled, breathing out a little.

“No, not a chance. I wouldn’t allow it.” Alan said “I’ll still be the owner, just stepping back from major decision making and day to day running. Anyway, the point is Frank, James needs a deputy. He is young and a little inexperienced. I’ve seen how quickly over the last year you’ve picked up rotas, staffing issues, dealt with the stock takes, haggled with the supply chain…I wondered if you’d consider it.”

Frank blinked “You wanna make me deputy manager?”

“In a word, yes. And I know you got your hands full at the moment and they’ll be even more full when that boy of yours arrives but the changes won’t come into effect until the end of the year so we got plenty of time to work out the details.”

“Wow, I err…” Frank shook his head “I don’t know what to say.”

“I don’t need an answer now.” Alan said, “Take some time to consider it. Talk it over with Fliss.”

“I will, I’ll give it some thought.”

“Ok, well, that’s all I dropped in for.” Alan said, standing up, groaning a little “Did you just hear my damned knees click?”

Frank laughed and shook his head “No, but to be honest mine click too so I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Getting old sucks.” Alan said, shaking his head “I tell ya, the minute I can’t enjoy the simple things in life, put a bullet in my head.”

Frank snorted as Alan shot him a wink and left him to his thoughts.

******* Frank glanced down at the wooden boards beneath his feet in the entrance hall. They were solid old wood, oak he thought, and with a clean and polish would look stunning. He looked up and saw Fliss talking animatedly to the realtor, a young man called David as he nodded and gestured to his left. Fliss opened the door and looked at Frank who followed her into the first reception room. It smelt musty, and there was an old sofa and threadbare carpet in the room but it was light and had a nice, airey feeling to it thanks to the large windows at the front of the house.

“New carpet and a bit of paint…” Frank mused nodding, “Be good as new.”

She nodded eagerly, her eyes shining a she looked around and nodded at the fire place “Really, in Florida?”

“It gets cold, as you know.” he teased “Besides, we just fill it with some of your million candles or whatever…”

She nudged him and they turned around, David watching them.

“So, you’re obviously in the older part of the house that hasn’t really been touched apart from upstairs.” he explained, “But if you follow me I’ll show you the extension which is all new and, well, to be honest, I think it’s stunning.”

The three of them moved back into the hall and through a door at the end which led into a huge open plan kitchen and living area. The kitchen was gorgeous. Sleek white units, modern appliances, marble tops, a huge breakfast bar. Douchebag had clearly spent a fortune doing this up. The floor was a light grey and white laminate which David pointed out was heavy wearing.  To the left of the kitchen area was a huge space where Frank could clearly picture their sofas and TV, and then just off that was a door which led into another smaller reception room, freshly painted and carpeted.  He was just pondering how they could turn that into a play room when Fliss gave a gasp and nudged Frank pointing to the large bay window at the back which had been converted into a seating nook of sorts. They made their way over and saw that the view extended right over their garden highlighting a small pool area which was surrounded by a low set of railings with a gate that were all painted a glossy black. The pool itself was sparklingly clean and clearly brand new.

“Oh wow… “ Fliss mumbled, looking at the sand stone tiles that surrounded the area and the rest of the garden.

“Yeah the rear garden loops in an L round the house” David said. “There’s a larger fence around this area to keep it private and separate from the land at the front that runs flush to the yard area.”

Frank’s hands dropping to her hips as he nodded to the right “Could extend that little patio area for a table and chairs, maybe build a brick BBQ. Couple of sun-loungers for that bit at the back of the pool.”

She nodded eagerly before they headed back into the hallway they’d entered into where the realtor showed them the little room that was to the right as you came in the door which held a number of shelves and coat hooks and a toilet and sink basin. They then headed up stairs to find 4 bedrooms. The master extended down the entire side of the house overlooking the main yard area of Sandybrook. It needed some work, the plaster and paint was peeling away in some areas, but Frank wasn’t worried at that. It was an easy job. What he was pleased to see was that the rest of it was in good condition. There was a brand new en-suite attached to it, housing a toilet, a huge shower and his and hers sinks. The room also had built in wardrobes and huge ceiling to floor bi-folding doors which opened up onto a small balcony. Douchebag had clearly been focussing on the big jobs first before he got into the cosmetics, which Frank had to give him credit for.

The main bathroom was in between the wall of their en-suite and the next bedroom, both situated at the back of the house over the extension and overlooking the fields belonging to the yard. The plaster was fresh in that bedroom but hadn’t been painted, again, not an issue, because Frank knew a certain little miss would be no doubt picking a colour as soon a she spotted this room.

“Bet Mary chooses this one.” Frank said, voicing his thoughts and Fliss nodded, smiling

“I would if the Master didn’t have that en-suite.” she grinned “Look at that view!”

“Yeah, who’d have thought you could work from home in the equestrian business” he chuckled as they then headed to the next bedroom on the opposite side of the landing. This was also rather large, but like the main part of the master bedroom, was clearly one of the original two bedrooms the house had and it needed some updating.

The 4th bedroom was a smaller one up a narrow set of stairs hidden by door in the hallway. It opened up into an attic room which tucked into the roof of the house.

The realtor then led them back down and the out to the outbuildings. There was a huge garage with a half- finished apartment of sorts above it that had been used as storage but could be easily a guest suite if they so wanted,  and then the thing Frank had really loved was the workshop off the side of the garage, accessed by a small door. It was musty and full of crap but was somewhere for him to store all his tools and work on any side projects he decided to pick up.

All in all Frank was finding it pretty damned hard to pick faults in the place.

As they headed back to the main house and Frank asked David politely to give them a moment to look around alone and he nodded eagerly before Frank and Fliss headed back into the house.

“I’m getting good vibes Sailor.” Fliss said as she turned round, looking at the kitchen, once more heading over to the bay window seat, “really good vibes.” she spun back to him and he smiled at the look on her face. “I mean, ok, a few rooms need decorating and there’s some finishing off bits to do all over but it’s nothing that dad can’t help with and I’m sure-“

At that she stopped dead, and gave a little gasp as her hand flew to her bump.

“You ok?” Frank stepped forward.

“Yeah he’s…” she swallowed “Bean’s kicking, Frankie! Quick!”

He reached out with his hand and she took it, pressing it to the side of her bump. After a second or two he felt something wriggle a little under his palm and he looked at Fliss, his face cracking into an open mouthed smile as he felt his son move for the first time.

“Lissy…” he swallowed his eyes misting over. “That’s…oh my God!”

“You should feel it from my POV!” Fliss smiled her own eyes glassy too.

Frank didn’t want to take his hand away. Instead, he kept moving his palm, tracking their baby’s movements when eventually they stopped.

“I think that means BB likes the house.” Fliss looked at him.

Frank scoffed, shaking his head. “BB’s Momma likes the house.”

“Doesn’t his Daddy?” she asked, her hands sliding round his neck.

“Yeah, his Daddy does.” he replied honestly in a low voice as he looked around the large room. “In fact, I like it a lot.”

“You think Mary will?”

“Are you kidding?” Frank snorted “Soon as she sees that view and that pool, she’ll be packing to move in straight away.”

“Suppose there’s only one way to find out.” Fliss smiled.

So they did. They brought Mary back the next day after school. She had squealed at the window seat, yelled about the pool and as she had shot upstairs and headed into the bedroom Frank had predicted she would like, given a jump for joy as she realised from the upstairs she had a view over the tall picket fencing that shielded the private area of the garden.

“I can see Monty!” she gleefully pointed out before turning to Frank and looking at him then to Fliss, her hands on her hips “If you don’t buy this house you’re a pair of dumbasses.”

The same sentiment was echoed by Bill when he turned up fifteen minutes or so later and walked around with Frank whilst Fliss and Mary headed to feed the horses. He did exactly the same thing he had done when they had looked at the apartment, pointed out what they needed to do, how long it should take them to do, rough estimates of cost. Plus, he also reminded Frank they were in a great position. They could buy the place and then give his months’ notice on the apartment meaning they could stay where they were until it was finished.

So that was it. Decision made. The next morning they went in with a cheeky offer, some twenty thou below the asking price which was rejected instantly. Then they upped their offer by five…then an additional three to total eight, with the fact that they were cash buyers and not in a chain a huge bargaining chip.

It was later that evening, just after they had finished dinner when the realtor called back.

“Evening Mr Adler, ok so…I have spoken to the vendor. He says if you can up your offer by another two thousand then you’ve got a deal.” David spoke. At that, Frank let out a huge grin, as he looked out of the kitchen window at Mary and Fliss who were outside the apartment, both sat on a chair round the table. He and Fliss had both agreed they were prepared to go to the full asking price, in their mind it was worth it, but they were about to seal the deal here for ten thousand less.

 “Ok, two thousand more.” Frank said, keeping his voice level “But the property comes off the market as we don’t want anyone else spotting it and offering him more before we exchange contracts.” he repeated word for word what Greg had instructed him to do when he had asked him to handle the conveyancing earlier that morning.

“Ok, so the offer on the table is Three-ten on the proviso he grants exclusivity…” David repeated. “Ok, leave it with me.”

Frank finished loading the dishwasher, and had just grabbed himself a beer when David called back not even five minutes later.

“Congratulations Mr Adler, you have a deal.”

He thanked him, and grinning ear to ear headed outside, jumping down the steps onto the lawn.

“What you looking so pleased about?” Fliss looked up at him suspiciously.

“David called… we’ve settled on three-ten plus exclusivity” he smiled

“What, you mean…” Fliss’ mouth fell open and Frank nodded.

“Yup, subject to contracts, the place is ours!”

Mary gave a loud cheer as Fliss jumped up and leapt at him as he smiled, wrapping her in his arms, swinging her up slightly.

“I can’t believe it…” she whispered. “Our own home!”

“I know” he beamed, setting her down as he gave her a quick peck. “I’ll call Greg in the morning. When I talked to him about it he said that with no loans involved it shouldn’t take too long. We could be looking a having the keys in a month.” His hands dropped to her hips, palms resting either side of where his son was growing “So plenty of time to do his nursery.”

Fliss grinned and using the arms that were round his neck pulled his face down to hers and pressed a fierce kiss to his mouth. “God I love you.” she mumbled.

“Love you too.” he grinned, kissing her again, ignoring Mary’s fake puking noises in the background.

*****

June 2019

“Mr Adler?"

Frank stopped as he had been striding over the yard to collect Mary and turned to see Mrs McCarthy, her teacher walking towards him.

"Hi." He smiled, removing his sunglasses so he could look her in the eyes.

"I'm so sorry to bother you"

"No bother at all." He assured her "is everything OK?"

Mrs McCarthy glanced over to where Mary was stood talking to her friend, Rosie, and turned back to him

"Yes...nothing too drastic but I wanted to make you aware about a little incident in class this afternoon"

Frank looked at her, blinking "incident?"

"Maybe that's the wrong word." The older, blonde woman said "Look, as you know next week it's the end of year Gala, the fundraiser and we invite the parents to join us for activities.”

Frank nodded, wishing the woman would get to the damned point. He was hot, dirty and bothered after an afternoon of helping the team on a particularly awkward repair and wanted nothing more than to stand under a cold shower for an hour and flop down outside with a beer.

"Well, one of the girls asked Mary if she was bringing her mom and if they were making anything for the bake sale and Mary rather bluntly told the girl her mother was dead and then clammed up. She didn't speak a word for the rest of the afternoon."

Frank felt his chest tighten as he looked over at Mary who was now giggling with Rosie and sighed

"She didn't do anything wrong" Mrs McCarthy pressed "I was just a little worried."

"Thanks for letting me know, I'll talk to her later, make sure she's okay." Frank assured her.

The woman nodded and headed back across the yard as Frank gave a sharp whistle and slid his aviators back onto his face. Mary looked up and said goodbye to Rosie and came wandering over as Frank waved to Rosie's mom who tossed a hand in greeting in response.

"I'm not Thor" She fixed Frank with a stare.

"I know but I couldn't be bothered walking over." He replied honestly as they climbed into the truck

"You have a good day?"

"It was OK." She shrugged. Frank eyed her for a second before she pulled the car away from the kerb and set off down the road.

"What's for dinner?" Mary asked.

"Steak, baked potatoes and salad." He replies "Fliss' choice."

"Are you grilling?" Mary asked.

"Yup." He nodded

"Cool." Mary nodded "Can I go in the pool before?"

"Got any homework?" Frank countered with another question as he looked at her. Mary shook her head

“End of year next week and Uni didn't give me any summer work."

"Then yeah, of course you can.”

Frank didn't raise the so called incident, deciding to let her chill out a little bit at home first and digest how she felt. After 20 minutes or so of general chat Frank pulled up their driveway and stopped the truck next to Fliss' truck. As they hopped out Mary glanced across the garden over the smaller part of the fence where she could just see Fliss walking across the yard.

"Please can I go see Monty?" She looked at Frank and he nodded.

"I'll watch you." He agreed. With a grin she sprinted over the lawn, climbed over the fence and dropped over onto the other side. Thor gave a bark and Fliss turned round and smiled at her, before she waved at Frank. He waved back before he headed down the side of the house, through the gate in the larger fence before he unlocked the back door and stepped inside the cool air conditioned kitchen, kicking off his shoes and heading straight to the fridge for a beer. Draining half in one he stood, looking around and smiling. They’d finally unpacked the last box yesterday evening and Fliss was still in the process of moving things around their new home, positioning them where she wanted them.

True to Greg’s word, they’d had the keys to the house 4 and a half weeks after making the offer, and 2 weeks post that once the bedrooms and hall had been decorated with a lot of help from Bill, Verity and Roberta (who had been happy for them yet still cried her eyes out when they’d left the park, despite the fact they had assured her they would still come visit and she could also come stay with them too) they’d moved in. The only thing left to do was the reception room (which could wait, it was easy to just shut the door and pretend it didn’t exist) and Bean’s nursery, which he, Fliss and Mary had decided to do together as a project. Mary and Fliss had spent nights pouring over Pinterest for ideas and they’d finally settled on a scheme. Frank had picked up all the plastering supplies and the paint, the furniture was on order and should be arriving at any time that week now he thought about it…so hopefully that weekend they could get cracking. That might cheer Mary up now he thought about it.

Taking his beer with him, he picked up his boots and took them to the cloakroom/bathroom by the stairs. He trudged up the steps, shaking his head at Fred who was led at the top, his paws hanging over the edge of the step as he eyed Frank.

"You're gonna cause a fucking accident." He looked at the ginger cat who merely swished his tail in response. Frank headed into their bedroom, stripping off as he went, walking straight into the en-suite, turning on the shower, setting his beer down on the edge of the sink unit. He stepped in and under the stream of cool water, closing the screen behind him, his mind still on Mary and how he was going to bring up what her teacher has said. With a groan he opened the door, reached out of the cubicle for his beer, took another gulp before he set about washing the grime of the day away.

***** "Have you finished grooming him?" Fliss asked, standing in the doorway to Monty's stable. Mary glanced over from where she had been brushing through his white tail and nodded.

"Wanna take him to the paddock?" Fliss smiled. "Cap and Bronson are waiting for their little pal."

"Sure." Mary shrugged and Fliss frowned a little at her demeanour. She was quiet, which was unlike her when she was round the horses. She was normally full of excitement.

"You OK?" She asked and Mary nodded.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seem quiet, that's all."

"No, I'm good." She shrugged, before she tossed her brush into the little grooming box she had, closing the lid and passing it to Fliss. Fliss placed the box into the larger wooden one outside the stable before Mary put Monty's halter on and led him out of his stall. Fliss allowed them to walk ahead, her hand on her bump as she followed them out of the yard and down the little path to the gate that led to the paddocks. They reached the one were Monty was going and undoing the gate, Mary led him in. The white pony stood patiently for her to take his halter off before he stuck his nose into the crook of her neck and shoulder. Fliss smiled as Mary gently stroked his neck and then to her utter horror she saw Mary’s shoulders begin to shake as the girl started to cry.

"Hey, Mary..." she soothed, stepping forward as the small girl turned to her, wrapping her arms around her as best she could, pressing her face into her bump "Oh baby what's wrong?"

Mary didn’t reply, instead she continued to sob and Fliss felt powerless to do anything other than wrap her arms around her, one hand resting on her head, the other between her shoulders.

“Something happened at School…” Mary whispered and Fliss gently tipped her head up to look at her. “Someone said something and…”

“Ok, how about we go back to the office and you can tell me all about it ok?”

Mary nodded, sniffing as her sobs died down. Fliss held out her hand and Mary took it and together they headed back down to the yard. Joanne looked at Mary who was hiccupping slightly with her sobs and frowned but Fliss shook her head.

“Can you feed the top barn for me and then you can go.” she said to Jo who nodded. “I’ll lock up.” “Sure, see you tomorrow. Bye Mary.” she smiled. Mary looked at her and gave a small wave before Fliss led her into the office. She grabbed them both an apple juice from the fridge and then Mary sat on the chair at the end of the desk, wiping her eyes with a tissue that Fliss handed her from the box.

“You ready to talk?”

Mary nodded, and then she stood up and walked over to Fliss who made room for her to clamber up onto her lap. It was a bit awkward but after a little shifting around they found a way she could sit unobstructed by Boston Bean and Mary lay her head against Fliss’ shoulder.

“It was about the gala.” she sniffed “One of them asked me if my mom was coming and…”

“Oh sweetie.” Fliss sighed, rubbing her back. “I get that must have been hard.”

Mary shrugged “I told them she was dead.” she said matter of factly “I get that and I never knew my mom so I don’t miss her as a person…but then I started to think about why she died and I don’t understand.” “Understand what?”

“Why?” Mary looked at her. “Why would she do what she did when she had me? Why did she want to leave me behind?”

Fliss took a deep breath and cradled the girl as best she could, trying to think of a way to explain to which Mary could relate, and then it came to her, she could use her own experience here. There was no getting around the fact this was going to be a heave conversation, but Mary was a smart kid and deserved to be treated as such.

With another deep inhale, Fliss looked down at her, kissing her head before she opened rather bluntly "You know I tried to kill myself."

"You did?" Mary pulled back to look up at her "Why?"

"Because I saw it as my only way out." Fliss gently smoothing Mary’s hair back. "I was stuck in an awful situation. My ex-husband hurt me physically and mentally and I gave up. I wanted out."

Mary remained silent and looked at her.

"For someone to get to that point...they have to have hit rock bottom. Like there is nowhere to go. It's not their fault. And it doesn't mean they don't love the people they leave behind just that they're desperate to escape whatever pain they feel, be it in their head or their body or both."

"But I still don't understand." Mary shook her head.

"And you may never, not fully." Fliss sighed gently "And as horrible as it is that's something you are gonna have to live with but you have to remember that your mom was sick. And for whatever reason she saw this as her only escape. It wasn't Evelyn's fault, it wasn't Frank's fault and it certainly wasn't yours."

"But if she loved me like Frank says she did..."

"You think I don't love my mum and dad? Or Steve? Charlie, Joel?"

Mary blinked before she lay her head back against Fliss' shoulder. "Of course you do.”

"But I was still gonna leave them behind. I was desperate. And you wanna know the real stupid thing?"

"What?"

"When I got better I still went back to John. I went back to a real toxic environment and a man that abused me. Because I felt like it was what I deserved. And even though I left him way before I met you and Frank, it wasn't until me and Frank started dating that I really understood I wasn't to blame. I always thought I did something to make him hurt me but I didn't. Being with Frank, the way he treats me and loves me made me see that it was him with the problem, not me.”

"But that's different" Mary glanced up

"The trigger was, yes." Fliss nodded "But your mom, like me, was in a position so helpless, so unbelievably sad that she thought she was to blame and that the world, including you, would be better off without her even though she was so wrong."

**** Once showered and dried, Frank dressed in a pair of shorts and clean T-shirt before he headed back downstairs. There was no sign of Fliss or Mary but as he strode out into the garden he heard a car heading down the drive by the side of the house from the yard and correctly assumed it was Joanne leaving for the day. He opened the gate and just saw the tail of her car turn onto the main road as he headed into the garage for the charcoal to light the BBQ.

Once that was done, leaving the flames to die down he headed out across the lawn, vaulting over the small fence onto the yard. He headed round the barn and frowned as he couldn't see anyone. After a quick look round he spotted the door to Fliss' office was closed. He went to open it but stopped as he could hear the sound of voices. It was Mary and Fliss but he could tell from the pitch and stutters in Mary's that she was upset. He paused, hand hovering over the handle as he heard Fliss speaking to her softly. "Stack, you are so loved. Frank loves you, I love you, Nanny V, Poppa Bill, Uncle Steeby, Roberta, Evelyn...Thor, Fred and Monty..." she paused "You're such a special little girl and I know I'm not your mom but, well, I feel like I am."

"You do?"

"I'd do anything to keep you safe and happy. And so would Frank"

They both fell silent and Frank swallowed, the lump in his throat almost choking him.

"Don't ever feel like we don't" Fliss continued "and if I have to bake 200 fucking cookies for your Gala next week to prove it then I will."

Mary giggles "You know Bean can hear you swearing."

"Well I won't tell Frank if you don't"

"Do you think Frank feels like my dad?" Mary asked a moment later and at that point Frank really wanted to walk away. He couldn't listen to this, he didn't want to listen to this...but something kept him rooted to the spot.

"I know he does." Fliss replied.

"But he doesn't like it when people say it. I know that, I heard him talking to you. Bill’s not your real dad but you still say he is…."

“That’s slightly different sweetheart.” Fliss sighed "My real dad left my mom before I was born, so when he died. I didn’t even know him and I don’t care that I didn’t either. But your mom was Frank's sister. He wants to make sure you remember her, understand who she was. He could have easily just pretended to be your dad all this time, you would never have known any different but he didn't. Because he loves you and your mom too much. He's too honest and it’s important to him that you understand. But that doesn't mean he doesn't love you like he is your dad, or that you can't love him like he is."

Frank turned away from the door, looking up at the sky and taking a deep shuddering breath. Fuck, this was hard to hear. He knew Mary had been upset before but the thought that it ran this deep was killing me. Wiping at his face, his hands then dropped to his hips and he looked down at his sneakers before he turned to the door, reaching for the handle but once more pausing as he couldn’t face interrupting them, not whilst they were in the middle of a moment.

“I suppose that makes sense.” Mary continued  “And I do love him like he is. And I love you like you’re my mom too.”

“Well that’s all that matters.” Fliss replied “It may be unconventional but we’re a family, and that’s the main thing huh?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks Lissy.” Mary spoke.

“You’re welcome Stack” Fliss’s voice was soft and there was a pause as Frank could picture the pair of them hugging.

“Hey, did you now I’m going to be doing all the money stuff for the bake stall?” Mary’s voice was suddenly up beat as she switched topic “Because I’m good at maths they said I could be in charge of payments and handing people their change and stuff.”

“Nice work kiddo.” Fliss smiled, “Tell you what, we’ll put Nanny V on the case, her baking is way better than mine. We can get her over one night next week whilst Pops is helping Frank with the plastering in the nursery.”

Ok, that was it, safe to enter without interrupting anything. Frank gave a little knock and then opened the door, fixing a smile on his face.

“Hope I haven’t interrupted any girl talk” he smiled and Mary jumped up and ran to him, giving him a hug. He looked at Fliss who wiped her eyes.

“Ok?” he mouthed at her and she nodded back, her lips moving silently as she replied.

“Tell you later.”

“BBQ is lit.” Frank said, looking down at Mary “You still wanna play in the pool?”

She nodded and grinned. “Yeah.”

“Sounds like a great idea.” Fliss grinned “Let’s lock up and head home…oh wait, we don’t need to head home because…” “We’re already there!” Mary grinned, and then she spun round to see Fred peering round the door. “Hey, look who came to visit!” “Bout time he earned his keep.” Frank grumbled “Go catch some mice.”

Fred stalked past him into the office, looked around, before he sauntered back out, clearly not interested.

“He’s a lover not a killer Frank.” Mary grinned, as Frank watched the cat walk off into the evening sun.

The three of them locked up before they headed back to the house and Mary shot upstairs to get changed.

“So, how much did you hear?” Fliss turned to Frank as he pulled a beer from the fridge along with a bottle of water, sliding it over to her.

“Enough.” he sighed “Her teacher collared me before. Said that one of the kids had asked about her mom in class and she’d gotten upset.”

“She asked me why Diane did what she did.” Fliss sighed, “Why she left her behind if she loved her so much.”

Frank swallowed. “What did you say?”

“I explained about why I tried to kill myself.” Fliss shrugged “Told her about the desperation I felt…but that didn’t mean that I didn’t love my family just that I saw it as my only way out. I know it was heavy and maybe not really the right thing to do but...”

She was cut off as Frank stepped forward, taking her face in his hands as he kissed her, hard. It took her a moment to catch up but once she did she melted into him, her mouth opening to grant him access as he ran his tongue along her bottom lip.

“Thank you.” He said gently as he pulled away, his hands still cupping her face.

“What for?” Fliss asked, reaching up to gently wrap her fingers around his wrists.

“For loving her as much as you do.” he shrugged. “For loving us both as much as you do.”

“Oh, Sailor.” Fliss’ eyes brimmed with tears “How could I not?”

***** Frank didn’t sleep particularly well that night. Mary’s conversation with Fliss was running through his brain and every time he drifted off he would wake about an hour or so later, fresh worries and concerns running through his mind. In the end, at just before 5 am he gave up and climbed out of bed. He grabbed a T-shirt and a pair of sweats and putting them on he headed downstairs. He flipped on the TV in the hope the early morning new would distract him, but it didn’t.

It was clear to him that Mary was struggling with where she was going to fit in the family dynamic. He hadn’t really worried much up to that point, being convinced by Fliss that if they kept her involved with stuff to do with Bean she would be ok but this went much deeper than the fact they were expecting a baby.

He’d be lying if he said the thought of him claiming to be Mary’s Father had never entered his mind. It would have been a lot easier but out of loyalty and love to Diane he had wanted to make sure she knew about her mother, and understood the truth because in the end, a lie would always come round to bite you on the ass. It wasn’t that he had a problem with people assuming he was Mary’s father but…

God what a fucking mess.

“Hey…” a soft voice drew him from his thoughts and he looked up to see Fliss stood in the doorway, his T-shirt she was wearing now hardly covered the top of her thighs thanks to her Bean bump.

“Sorry beautiful, did I wake you?” he asked.

“No.” she shook her head, dropping down next to him. “I got up to pee and you were gone.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” he shrugged.

“What’s wrong handsome?”  she lay her head on his shoulder and he took a deep breath.

“Just thinking about Mary that’s all.” he shrugged. “She’s always asked questions about Diane but not like that.”

“She’s getting older Frank.” Fliss said, her hand reaching out for his as she began to play with his fingers “She’s bound to start thinking about things differently. She was ok last night after she talked to me, and then later you when you tucked her in. She doesn’t keep her feelings bottled up, and that’s good. It’s a testament to you that she feels like she can talk to us about things.”

“I know.” Frank looked down at her, kissing her head “I guess I just worry Lissy, worry about how she’s gonna feel when Bean is here and he’s calling us mom and dad and she doesn’t.”

“Frank.” Fliss sighed as she sat up straight. “Mary knows we love her. And what she calls us doesn’t change a damned thing. You’re worrying unduly now. We can’t do anything about that other than-“

“Yes, yes we could.” Frank looked at her. Fliss took a deep breath as his eyes locked onto hers, instantly understanding.

“I thought you said you���d never even consider adopting her?”

“I never thought I would.” he shrugged. “But it’s been playing on my mind after what mother said and then after last night…” “Why? What did Evelyn say?” Fliss asked.

“When she was here last, she told me that Diane’s memory wouldn’t suddenly fade if Mary called me dad…” he licked his lips “It was almost like she was giving me permission to do it…you know? Not that I need it or really give a shit what she thinks.” he paused, taking a deep breath “If I’m totally honest Diane isn’t the only reason I said I didn’t want to. I just never thought of myself as being dad material. I was such a screw up until I met you and I thought that by staying as her Uncle, it would give her that distance, you know?”

“Not dad material?” Fliss looked at him, shaking her head “Oh Frank, you idiot. You’ve done an amazing job with her…and you will do with Bean too.”

He smiled at her, sniffing slightly as she continued.

“But there is one person who’s opinion counts most here.” Fliss said gently “And that’s Mary. If you’re serious then you should ask her if it’s what she wants. Because after 9 years of calling you Frank…”

“I know.” Frank agreed, “And I agree, completely. It would have to be her decision. But at least if I ask her if she would like us to then-“

“Us?” Fliss looked at him, blinking. “You mean you want me to?”

“Of course I do.” Frank nodded, before he frowned slightly “But if that isn’t what you want, I understand. It’s a big-“ Fliss cut him off by pressing a kiss to his lips “Of course I do Frank. I love Mary like she is my own anyway so…” Frank beamed at her and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her head. “So, we’re agreed. We ask her?”

Fliss nodded and pulled back, her hand resting on his cheek. “We ask her.”

Chapter 8

[gentlemen-of-lies]

Gentlemen of Lies, chapter 2

(Carvour)ting around London with a British bastard and some classified files.

(Next chapter) (Chapter 1)

————

Curt stayed up until late, studying the files he’d been given. He’d luckily escaped another power cut, and his bedside lamp stayed firmly on, flickering in desperation for a new bulb.

There were only four suspects to memorise, three men and a woman. There was little evidence against them; in fact the most damning evidence was against one of the men- Andrew Hayes- who spoke three languages: English, German and Russian. Two of those languages were very much unfavourable in this social climate, although very useful for being a spy of course.

By midnight, Curt was starting to fall asleep. He knew he had to study the files but God... they were so boring.

He soon decided he’d studied them enough; even if he didn’t know every piece of information, too late a night would do him no favours in the morning.

His watch beeped at five am the following day, and for once he didn’t sleep through it. ‘Okay, Mega,’ he thought to himself. ‘Time to get your act together. Show that Carvour bastard he’s not the only one who can do his job.’ Curt sat up in bed, the cogs in his head turning as he worked out a brief schedule. He had to get dressed first of all; whether Owen really was going to lend him some clothes, he didn’t know. But at the moment, he still only had his three day old outfit, which was hanging over the back of the chair, in an attempt at getting aired, despite the air in the room being as damp as the outside weather.

He needed a shower, that was essential. Just some running water to get himself clean and shave off the itchy stubble on his chin... he sighed. Was he really going to have to ask that woman down the hall? He supposed it was worth a shot. If worst came to worse, he’d just have to ask Bill for a solution, although the less he interacted with him the better.

He got himself dressed, shaking his clothes to try and rid them of creases. His hair was patted down and he chewed around three mints at once, crunching them into dust. He looked at himself in the cracked mirror.

‘Not bad, Mega.’ Hopefully in the short walk from his room to the woman’s he’d magically gain the skill of flirting, and win her over into letting him use her bathroom.

Amazingly, he did convince her, ten minutes after leaving his room. But only because his flirting was so desperate and pathetic sounding that she had no choice but to take pity.

“It’s surely a mark of how needy you are that I’m even letting a strange man into my room,” the woman said.

“Cut me some slack,” replied Curt, making a beeline for her bathroom and shutting the door behind him. “All I’ve heard since I’ve been here are remarks of how much of a mess I am,” he continued through the locked, wooden door. “Maybe if your country had better facilities.”

“Maybe if your country didn’t produce such weak men.”

“Huh. Feisty. I like that in a woman.” The woman didn’t reply, but Curt was hardly that invested in the conversation anyway. What mattered right now was finally- he had a shower. And holy, did it feel fantastic! If it was up to him, he’d spend all day in there. But he didn’t have time. It was edging on six now, and while it was still a good four hours until he had to meet Owen, he still had plenty to do. Besides, there was certainly no harm in getting there early, before Owen. In fact, he decided he was going to do just that. Make Owen the one running late. Who was incompetent now?

Curt accidentally nicked his chin a few times while shaving, but he brushed the droplets of blood away with his fingers and splashed his face with the rusty water from the tap. By the time he reopened the bathroom door, he was feeling like a new man.

The woman was still there, writing at her own table, which looked much less rotten that Curt’s.

“Thanks for letting me use your bathroom, Mrs...?”

“Miss. Miss Dorothy Lowe.”

“Well, Miss Lowe. I appreciate the hospitality.” Dorothy didn’t bother to respond, so Curt- as awkwardly as always whenever he had to try and act smooth around a woman- showed himself out. It was quarter to seven. All he had to do was grab the files and find the station. How hard could that be?

————

“It’s not far from here,” Owen had said. “Here’s a map,” Owen had said. The map was bullshit, it was in black and white and Curt could barely read it. The streets were as disorientating as always, and Curt was almost knocked down by a bus trying to cross the street at the same time as studying the stupid map.

He gave up, and decided to ask passers by.

“Go all the way up the street, turn left, right again and it’ll be there,” said the first person he came across, a man wearing a trench coat and sporting the biggest moustache Curt had ever seen.

“Thanks.” Curt followed the instructions given, but it soon became clear that moustache man had no clue what he was on about. And Curt had to ask two more people before he finally spotted the red and blue circle of the underground.

9:30. Had he really been wandering around London for an hour and a half? An hour if he discounted the sandwich he’d picked up from a local café, which he did. And either way, he was still early.

Beat that, Owen.

At ten o’clock on the dot, Owen showed up, once again wearing his brown cap pulled over his eyes. Typical, he wasn’t even late.

“Good morning, Mega,” he greeted. “I see you’ve shaved at least.”

“Shaved, showered and ready to go.” Was that line as bad as it had sounded? Owen ignored it altogether.

“I hope you didn’t arrive too early. Don’t want you hanging around looking suspicious.”

“Uh... no. No I arrived five minutes ago,” Curt lied. He was beginning to think that Owen could see right through him, and the feeling was unsettling to say the least. He barely even knew the man, and nor did he particularly like him.

“Good. We’ll get a move on then.” Owen crossed the street, Curt following closely behind. “You read the files then?”

“Yeah,” replied Curt. “And none of them seem much like suspects except the guy who speaks Russian.”

“Well if there was too much evidence against them they would have been fired by now.”

“Sure, but why them and not everyone else as well. Why were they singled out?”

“Favouritism? Who knows.” Curt didn’t know if he was going to get anywhere with this case.

“What am I even doing here?” Curt asked, finally voicing the question that had been on his mind ever since he’d arrived. “Can’t MI6 sort this out themselves? It’s just a mole, and I don’t know anyone who works there.”

“My best guess would be experience. How long have you been in the field?”

“Less than two years, and even then I mainly just sit at a desk reading through files.”

“Hm. Experience then. I got a lot of unnecessary cases myself. Was sent off to Belarus in my first year because of a suspected assignation plot.”

“That’s quite big.”

“Oh hardly, both the assassin and the assassinated were civilians, and it had nothing to do with the war either. Simple case of a murder charge and jail time. All I got out of it was an improvement on my Russian accent.”

“How long have you been in the field?”

“Going on four years now. Joined when I was twenty.

“So did I.”

“Then perhaps we have more in common than I thought.” Curt took that as a rare compliment. “Now then, I have a flat in Nevern Square. As you can tell by the name, there is a square in the middle. We can talk there. It’s usually empty at this time of day.”

“You sure it’s not too open?”

“It’s surrounded by a gate and only residents have the key. It’s private enough.”

So they made the short walk to Nevern Square, truly a square surrounded by tall, thin flats. The garden itself was fairly bare, much more so than the other gardens that Curt had walked past during his vague exploration of Earl’s Court when he first arrived, which wasn’t so much an exploration as a hunt for somewhere to sleep.

Owen took out a small key and opened one of the locked gates with it. The gate squeaked as it opened, the rusty iron bars dragging along the floor. Owen closed it behind him.

They went to sit on the nearest bench. Curt scanned the park. It really was empty, which wasn’t surprising. Even if everyone wasn’t at work, there was hardly anything to do in here. You could barely walk a dog since its parameter was so small.

“So out of all the suspects,” Owen began, launching back onto the case. “Did any of them stand out to you?”

“Yeah, actually. What about you?” Owen hesitated, an unfamiliar reaction of his.

“To be honest, no. I haven’t found any evidence worth checking out.” Curt raised his eyebrows in suppressed excitement. Did he finally know something that the great Owen Carvour didn’t? Owen paid no attention to his clear look of arrogance.

“I’m surprised,” said Curt, his voice almost gloating.

“Why, what did you find? You’re not going to mention the Russian-speaker again are you? Half the people in MI6 speak Russian. You can’t be a spy if you only know one language.”

“No not him. I’m talking about that other guy, light hair...” Curt took a second to recall the name. “John Lawson.” Something crossed Owen’s face for a split second, not long enough for Curt to properly catch.

“It’s not him,” replied Owen, with a strangely firm voice.

“Well, how do you know?”

“I just do.”

“But he has a history of working with explosives.”

“So? We’re looking for a Russian spy, not someone who blows things up.”

“No we’re looking for a bad guy, and that’s what bad guys do. Blow shit up.”

“Do you realise how childish you sound? Bad guys and good guys. This is the real world, Mega, not a comic book. It’s not Lawson. Move on.”

“Jeez, why are you getting so defensive?” Owen just rolled his eyes, and wouldn’t reply.

“I’ll take you to Bletchley Park. That’s where Andrew Hayes works. Languages aside, I never trusted him myself. Can’t put my finger on why, though. We can follow him, spy on him, and you...” he turned to Curt. “Can make friends with him.”

“Me?” Owen nodded.

“Of course, he doesn’t know who you are. Although I suggest using your real accent. Your British one could really use some work.”

“I thought I sounded alright.”

“You sound like someone mimicking a film star. Just tell him you have family here or something, no links whatsoever to any secret service. Get him to open up. Also...” Owen handed Curt a brown duffel bag that he’d been carrying around the entire time. “Change of clothes. You can give them back to me when you leave.” Curt assumed he meant leave the country, but he could never really tell with Owen. Nevertheless, he took the bag, with a stiff thank you, setting it down beside his feet.

“Wear them tomorrow when you’re trailing Hayes. You want him to think you’re a well-groomed, strapping American. Not a hard-done-by yank, lost in a foreign country.”

“Fine.” Curt ignored the thinly veiled insult, focused as he was on the case itself. He still suspected Lawson, but clearly he was getting nowhere on that lead with Owen around. But perhaps he didn’t need to.

Andrew Hayes wasn’t the only one who worked at Bletchley.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Riding On Ch7: Home, Sweet Home!

Summary: Frank and Fliss find their perfect family home, but there’s something bothering Mary.

Warnings: Bad Language words. Discussions about suicide. A little bit of angst.

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N: This is a bit of an emotionally charged filler chapter…and we move time on a little through to June in the middle. And photos of the Adler house are included so you can visualise what I used for inspiration! Chapter Song: Kill For A Dream by Beady Eye

Series Masterlist //  WIYPT Masterlist

You’re giving it another try, staring at the deep blue sky, and you say to the driver just drive, coz you never felt so alive.

April 2019

“Hey honey, you ok?” Frank juggled his phone, pinning it between his ear and his shoulder as he leaned over his computer in the office, scanning the database on the screen for a filter part they needed to order.

“No, I mean yes! I’ve just heard some awesome news!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, so you remember the guy that bought the house that backs onto the yard when Old Man River died…” “That wasn’t his name.” Frank chuckled “It was Mr Morris.”

“He called himself River, it was funny and suited him. Anyway, that’s not the point. You know the guy who bought it…guess what I found out before?”

Frank stopped what he was doing and straightened up. He didn’t like that dick, one bit. When Mr Morris had died at the start of the year, Fliss had been quite upset about the news as the old man had been very friendly to her, often popping in for a cup of tea a few afternoons a week for some company. Mr Morris’ son had sold the house without them even knowing it had gone on the market, which was a shame as it would have been perfect for them given the location. The guy who had bought it, Frank didn’t even know his name, nor did he care because he was a douchebag and a pervert to boot. The way he looked at Fliss made Frank want to punch his face in.

“What’s Douchey Mc Douchebag done now?”

“You’re so childish.” she scoffed “Anyway, I was only commenting to Joanne last night that we haven’t seen him for like a month and she went home and mentioned it to her dad who works with some other guy in the property development business and the long and short of it is he’s gone bankrupt Frank!”

Frank laughed loudly “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy, babe!”

“I know right!” Fliss voice was gathering pace and pitch, the way it always did when she was excited. “So literally about half hour after she’s told me this, someone turns up and there’s a For Sale sign outside, the house is on the market!”

Ok now he was interested. Frank could picture the look of excitement on her face as she spoke to him and he felt the smile cross his face “No shit?”

“Yeah, I’ll send you the website to look at the photos but…oh God, it would be perfect! Some of it is really nice, some of it needs decorating but…” “Ok, well, why don’t you call the realtor? Arrange a viewing” he said “Hopefully you won’t puke halfway round this one.” “Ok, first off that wasn’t my fault. Bean objected to the smell. Who the fuck cooks eggs the day they know they have someone coming to view their house?” her indignant tone made Frank chuckle “And second off…”she paused “I already did. He said he can meet us at half 12.”

“Half 12? As in lunch time? Today?” Frank frowned.

“I know I just really don’t want to miss out on this one Frank, and you said you were gonna come up here for lunch and-”

“Ok, ok.” Frank sighed “I’ll shuffle some stuff around, work a little later tonight and take an extra half hour.”

“I love you.” she replied and he could hear the smile in her voice.

“Good job I love you too.” he said back gruffly “Because you’re a pain in my ass.”

He bid her goodbye and just as he was looking at the rota to make sure there were enough staff in to cope if he took a longer lunch, his phone beeped. He clicked through to the link Fliss had sent him and had a scan through the photos. To be fair the house didn’t look in too bad condition. It was deceptive from the outside, looked like a small farmhouse but they knew thanks to the extension Douchebag had put on the back it now formed an L shape and from the look of it, was pretty spacious. The kitchen was new, the main bathroom was new so the big work looked like it had been mostly done. The décor in some of the rooms was really old fashioned, especially the hallway you and the front reception room, but that was all cosmetic. What really grabbed him was the price. It was up for just over 320 thousand, which was a fucking steal considering the size, location, the garden and the garge/outhouse it came with.

“You ok Frank?”

He looked up and smiled as Alan, his boss walked in to the office. “Yeah, sorry, Fliss has found a house and managed to book a viewing for lunch time. Fucking 7th one in 2 weeks.”

Alan snorted “Keeping you on your toes I see?”

“Well I gotta say, this one’s looking pretty good. It’s the house that backs onto our Yard out in Pinellas Park.” Frank explained “It was sold not even 6 months ago to a developer and he’s apparently gone bankrupt so put it back on the market.”

“Huh.” Alan smiled “Sounds like it was meant to be. Take it you’re going then?”

“Yeah, Charlie and Gary are in all afternoon. I thought I could take an extra half hour, work it back tonight or…” “Frank, when was the last time you actually took a full hour for your lunch and didn’t cut it short by 10 or 15?” Alan looked at him.

Frank hesitated “Yeah, but that’s-”

“No buts.” Alan shook his head. “Do what you gotta do.”

“Thanks Alan.” Frank smiled, “I appreciate it.”

Alan waved away his gratitude before he dropped into the chair on the opposite side of Frank’s small desk and gestured for Frank to sit down.

“I wanted to talk to you in person.” Alan said, “Before the news gets out. I’m looking at retiring Frank, fully this time.”

“That’s good news, for you I mean.” Frank smiled, taking his seat. “You must be happy?”

“Kinda bitter sweet.” he shrugged “But I hit 70 this year and bout time I let it all go. Bill’s already chomping at the bit to book damned fishing trips so...it’ll be nice to step back. But I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Shoot.”

“My son, James is going to be taking over, that won’t come as any surprise to you as you’ve seen him knocking around a bit and he likes you.”

“Good to know I’m not going to be out on my ass.” Frank smiled, breathing out a little.

“No, not a chance. I wouldn’t allow it.” Alan said “I’ll still be the owner, just stepping back from major decision making and day to day running. Anyway, the point is Frank, James needs a deputy. He is young and a little inexperienced. I’ve seen how quickly over the last year you’ve picked up rotas, staffing issues, dealt with the stock takes, haggled with the supply chain…I wondered if you’d consider it.”

Frank blinked “You wanna make me deputy manager?”

“In a word, yes. And I know you got your hands full at the moment and they’ll be even more full when that boy of yours arrives but the changes won’t come into effect until the end of the year so we got plenty of time to work out the details.”

“Wow, I err…” Frank shook his head “I don’t know what to say.” “I don’t need an answer now.” Alan said, “Take some time to consider it. Talk it over with Fliss.”

“I will, I’ll give it some thought.” “Ok, well, that’s all I dropped in for.” Alan said, standing up, groaning a little “Did you just hear my damned knees click?”

Frank laughed and shook his head “No, but to be honest mine click too so I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Getting old sucks.” Alan said, shaking his head “I tell ya, the minute I can’t enjoy the simple things in life, put a bullet in my head.”

Frank snorted as Alan shot him a wink and left him to his thoughts.

******* Frank glanced down at the wooden boards beneath his feet in the entrance hall. They were solid old wood, oak he thought, and with a clean and polish would look stunning. He looked up and saw Fliss talking animatedly to the realtor, a young man called David as he nodded and gestured to his left. Fliss opened the door and looked at Frank who followed her into the first reception room. It smelt musty, and there was an old sofa and threadbare carpet in the room but it was light and had a nice, airey feeling to it thanks to the large windows at the front of the house.

“New carpet and a bit of paint…” Frank mused nodding, “Be good as new.”

She nodded eagerly, her eyes shining a she looked around and nodded at the fire place “Really, in Florida?”

“It gets cold, as you know.” he teased “Besides, we just fill it with some of your million candles or whatever…”

She nudged him and they turned around, David watching them.

“So, you’re obviously in the older part of the house that hasn’t really been touched apart from upstairs.” he explained, “But if you follow me I’ll show you the extension which is all new and, well, to be honest, I think it’s stunning.”

The three of them moved back into the hall and through a door at the end which led into a huge open plan kitchen and living area. The kitchen was gorgeous. Sleek white units, modern appliances, marble tops, a huge breakfast bar. Douchebag had clearly spent a fortune doing this up. The floor was a light grey and white laminate which David pointed out was heavy wearing.  To the left of the kitchen area was a huge space where Frank could clearly picture their sofas and TV, and then just off that was a door which led into another smaller reception room, freshly painted and carpeted.  He was just pondering how they could turn that into a play room when Fliss gave a gasp and nudged Frank pointing to the large bay window at the back which had been converted into a seating nook of sorts. They made their way over and saw that the view extended right over their garden highlighting a small pool area which was surrounded by a low set of railings with a gate that were all painted a glossy black. The pool itself was sparklingly clean and clearly brand new.

“Oh wow… “ Fliss mumbled, looking at the sand stone tiles that surrounded the area and the rest of the garden.

“Yeah the rear garden loops in an L round the house” David said. “There’s a larger fence around this area to keep it private and separate from the land at the front that runs flush to the yard area.”

Frank’s hands dropping to her hips as he nodded to the right “Could extend that little patio area for a table and chairs, maybe build a brick BBQ. Couple of sun-loungers for that bit at the back of the pool.”

She nodded eagerly before they headed back into the hallway they’d entered into where the realtor showed them the little room that was to the right as you came in the door which held a number of shelves and coat hooks and a toilet and sink basin. They then headed up stairs to find 4 bedrooms. The master extended down the entire side of the house overlooking the main yard area of Sandybrook. It needed some work, the plaster and paint was peeling away in some areas, but Frank wasn’t worried at that. It was an easy job. What he was pleased to see was that the rest of it was in good condition. There was a brand new en-suite attached to it, housing a toilet, a huge shower and his and hers sinks. The room also had built in wardrobes and huge ceiling to floor bi-folding doors which opened up onto a small balcony. Douchebag had clearly been focussing on the big jobs first before he got into the cosmetics, which Frank had to give him credit for.

The main bathroom was in between the wall of their en-suite and the next bedroom, both situated at the back of the house over the extension and overlooking the fields belonging to the yard. The plaster was fresh in that bedroom but hadn’t been painted, again, not an issue, because Frank knew a certain little miss would be no doubt picking a colour as soon a she spotted this room.

“Bet Mary chooses this one.” Frank said, voicing his thoughts and Fliss nodded, smiling

“I would if the Master didn’t have that en-suite.” she grinned “Look at that view!”

“Yeah, who’d have thought you could work from home in the equestrian business” he chuckled as they then headed to the next bedroom on the opposite side of the landing. This was also rather large, but like the main part of the master bedroom, was clearly one of the original two bedrooms the house had and it needed some updating.

The 4th bedroom was a smaller one up a narrow set of stairs hidden by door in the hallway. It opened up into an attic room which tucked into the roof of the house.

The realtor then led them back down and the out to the outbuildings. There was a huge garage with a half- finished apartment of sorts above it that had been used as storage but could be easily a guest suite if they so wanted,  and then the thing Frank had really loved was the workshop off the side of the garage, accessed by a small door. It was musty and full of crap but was somewhere for him to store all his tools and work on any side projects he decided to pick up.

All in all Frank was finding it pretty damned hard to pick faults in the place.

As they headed back to the main house and Frank asked David politely to give them a moment to look around alone and he nodded eagerly before Frank and Fliss headed back into the house.

“I’m getting good vibes Sailor.” Fliss said as she turned round, looking at the kitchen, once more heading over to the bay window seat, “really good vibes.” she spun back to him and he smiled at the look on her face. “I mean, ok, a few rooms need decorating and there’s some finishing off bits to do all over but it’s nothing that dad can’t help with and I’m sure-“

At that she stopped dead, and gave a little gasp as her hand flew to her bump.

“You ok?” Frank stepped forward.

“Yeah he’s…” she swallowed “Bean’s kicking, Frankie! Quick!”

He reached out with his hand and she took it, pressing it to the side of her bump. After a second or two he felt something wriggle a little under his palm and he looked at Fliss, his face cracking into an open mouthed smile as he felt his son move for the first time.

“Lissy…” he swallowed his eyes misting over. “That’s…oh my God!”

“You should feel it from my POV!” Fliss smiled her own eyes glassy too.

Frank didn’t want to take his hand away. Instead, he kept moving his palm, tracking their baby’s movements when eventually they stopped.

“I think that means BB likes the house.” Fliss looked at him.

Frank scoffed, shaking his head. “BB’s Momma likes the house.”

“Doesn’t his Daddy?” she asked, her hands sliding round his neck.

“Yeah, his Daddy does.” he replied honestly in a low voice as he looked around the large room. “In fact, I like it a lot.”

“You think Mary will?”

“Are you kidding?” Frank snorted “Soon as she sees that view and that pool, she’ll be packing to move in straight away.”

“Suppose there’s only one way to find out.” Fliss smiled.

So they did. They brought Mary back the next day after school. She had squealed at the window seat, yelled about the pool and as she had shot upstairs and headed into the bedroom Frank had predicted she would like, given a jump for joy as she realised from the upstairs she had a view over the tall picket fencing that shielded the private area of the garden.

“I can see Monty!” she gleefully pointed out before turning to Frank and looking at him then to Fliss, her hands on her hips “If you don’t buy this house you’re a pair of dumbasses.”

The same sentiment was echoed by Bill when he turned up fifteen minutes or so later and walked around with Frank whilst Fliss and Mary headed to feed the horses. He did exactly the same thing he had done when they had looked at the apartment, pointed out what they needed to do, how long it should take them to do, rough estimates of cost. Plus, he also reminded Frank they were in a great position. They could buy the place and then give his months’ notice on the apartment meaning they could stay where they were until it was finished.

So that was it. Decision made. The next morning they went in with a cheeky offer, some twenty thou below the asking price which was rejected instantly. Then they upped their offer by five…then an additional three to total eight, with the fact that they were cash buyers and not in a chain a huge bargaining chip.

It was later that evening, just after they had finished dinner when the realtor called back.

“Evening Mr Adler, ok so…I have spoken to the vendor. He says if you can up your offer by another two thousand then you’ve got a deal.” David spoke. At that, Frank let out a huge grin, as he looked out of the kitchen window at Mary and Fliss who were outside the apartment, both sat on a chair round the table. He and Fliss had both agreed they were prepared to go to the full asking price, in their mind it was worth it, but they were about to seal the deal here for ten thousand less.

“Ok, two thousand more.” Frank said, keeping his voice level “But the property comes off the market as we don’t want anyone else spotting it and offering him more before we exchange contracts.” he repeated word for word what Greg had instructed him to do when he had asked him to handle the conveyancing earlier that morning.

“Ok, so the offer on the table is Three-ten on the proviso he grants exclusivity…” David repeated. “Ok, leave it with me.”

Frank finished loading the dishwasher, and had just grabbed himself a beer when David called back not even five minutes later.

“Congratulations Mr Adler, you have a deal.”

He thanked him, and grinning ear to ear headed outside, jumping down the steps onto the lawn.

“What you looking so pleased about?” Fliss looked up at him suspiciously.

“David called… we’ve settled on three-ten plus exclusivity” he smiled

“What, you mean…” Fliss’ mouth fell open and Frank nodded.

“Yup, subject to contracts, the place is ours!”

Mary gave a loud cheer as Fliss jumped up and leapt at him as he smiled, wrapping her in his arms, swinging her up slightly.

“I can’t believe it…” she whispered. “Our own home!”

“I know” he beamed, setting her down as he gave her a quick peck. “I’ll call Greg in the morning. When I talked to him about it he said that with no loans involved it shouldn’t take too long. We could be looking a having the keys in a month.” His hands dropped to her hips, palms resting either side of where his son was growing “So plenty of time to do his nursery.” Fliss grinned and using the arms that were round his neck pulled his face down to hers and pressed a fierce kiss to his mouth. “God I love you.” she mumbled. “Love you too.” he grinned, kissing her again, ignoring Mary’s fake puking noises in the background.

*******

******

June 2019

“Mr Adler?"

Frank stopped as he had been striding over the yard to collect Mary and turned to see Mrs McCarthy, her teacher walking towards him.

"Hi." He smiled, removing his sunglasses so he could look her in the eyes.

"I'm so sorry to bother you"

"No bother at all." He assured her "is everything OK?"

Mrs McCarthy glanced over to where Mary was stood talking to her friend, Rosie, and turned back to him

"Yes...nothing too drastic but I wanted to make you aware about a little incident in class this afternoon"

Frank looked at her, blinking "incident?"

"Maybe that's the wrong word." The older, blonde woman said "Look, as you know next week it's the end of year Gala, the fundraiser and we invite the parents to join us for activities.”

Frank nodded, wishing the woman would get to the damned point. He was hot, dirty and bothered after an afternoon of helping the team on a particularly awkward repair and wanted nothing more than to stand under a cold shower for an hour and flop down outside with a beer.

"Well, one of the girls asked Mary if she was bringing her mom and if they were making anything for the bake sale and Mary rather bluntly told the girl her mother was dead and then clammed up. She didn't speak a word for the rest of the afternoon."

Frank felt his chest tighten as he looked over at Mary who was now giggling with Rosie and sighed

"She didn't do anything wrong" Mrs McCarthy pressed "I was just a little worried."

"OK...thanks for letting me know, I'll make sure she's ok." Frank assured her.

The woman nodded and headed back across the yard as Frank gave a sharp whistle and slid his aviators back onto his face. Mary looked up and said goodbye to Rosie and came wandering over as Frank waved to Rosie's mom who tossed a hand in greeting in response.

"I'm not Thor" she said, fixing Frank with a stare.

"I know but I couldn't be bothered walking over." He said honestly as they climbed into the truck

"You have a good day?"

"It was OK." She shrugged. Frank eyed her for a second before she pulled the car away from the kerb and set off down the road.

"What's for dinner." Mary asked.

"Steak, baked potatoes and salad." He replies "Fliss' choice."

"Are you grilling?" Mary asked.

"Yup." He nodded

"Cool." Mary nodded "Can I go in the pool before?"

"Got any homework?" Frank countered with another question as he looked at her. Mary shook her head

“End of year next week and Uni didn't give me any summer work."

"Then yeah, of course you can.”

Frank didn't raise the so called incident, deciding to let her chill out a little bit at home first and digest how she felt. After 20 minutes or so of general chat Frank pulled up their driveway and stopped the truck next to Fliss' truck. As they hopped out Mary glanced across the garden over the smaller part of the fence where she could just see Fliss walking across the yard.

"Please can I go see Monty?" She looked at Frank and he nodded.

"I'll watch you." He agreed. With a grin she sprinted over the lawn, climbed over the fence and dropped over onto the other side. Thor gave a bark and Fliss turned round and smiled at her, before she waved at Frank. He waved back before he headed down the side of the house, through the gate in the larger fence before he unlocked the back door and stepped inside the cool air conditioned kitchen, kicking off his shoes and heading straight to the fridge for a beer. Draining half in one he stood, looking around and smiling. They’d finally unpacked the last box yesterday evening and Fliss was still in the process of moving things around their new home, positioning them where she wanted them.

True to Greg’s word, they’d had the keys to the house 4 and a half weeks after making the offer, and 2 weeks post that once the bedrooms and hall had been decorated with a lot of help from Bill, Verity and Roberta (who had been happy for them yet still cried her eyes out when they’d left the park, despite the fact they had assured her they would still come visit and she could also come stay with them too) they’d moved in. The only thing left to do was the reception room (which could wait, it was easy to just shut the door and pretend it didn’t exist) and Bean’s nursery, which he, Fliss and Mary had decided to do together as a project. Mary and Fliss had spent nights pouring over Pinterest for ideas and they’d finally settled on a scheme. Frank had picked up all the plastering supplies and the paint, the furniture was on order and should be arriving at any time that week now he thought about it…so hopefully that weekend they could get cracking. That might cheer Mary up now he thought about it.

Taking his beer with him, he picked up his boots and took them to the cloakroom/bathroom by the stairs. He trudged up the steps, shaking his head at Fred who was led at the top, his paws hanging over the edge of the step as he eyed Frank.

"You're gonna cause a fucking accident." He looked at the ginger cat who merely swished his tail in response. Frank headed into their bedroom, stripping off as he went, walking straight into the en-suite, turning on the shower, setting his beer down on the edge of the sink unit. He stepped in and under the stream of cool water, closing the screen behind him, his mind still on Mary and how he was going to bring up what her teacher has said. With a groan he opened the door, reached out of the cubicle for his beer, took another gulp before he set about washing the grime of the day away.

***** "Have you finished grooming him?" Fliss asked, standing in the doorway to Monty's stable. Mary glanced over from where she had been brushing through his white tail and nodded.

"Wanna take him to the paddock?" Fliss smiled. "Cap and Bronson are waiting for their little pal."

"Sure." Mary shrugged and Fliss frowned a little at her demeanour. She was quiet, which was unlike her when she was round the horses. She was normally full of excitement.

"You OK?" She asked and Mary nodded.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seem quiet, that's all."

"No, I'm good." She shrugged, before she tossed her brush into the little grooming box she had, closing the lid and passing it to Fliss. Fliss placed the box into the larger wooden one outside the stable before Mary put Monty's halter on and led him out of his stall. Fliss allowed them to walk ahead, her hand on her bump as she followed them out of the yard and down the little path to the gate that led to the paddocks. They reached the one were Monty was going and undoing the gate, Mary led him in. The white pony stood patiently for her to take his halter off before he stuck his nose into the crook of her neck and shoulder. Fliss smiled as Mary gently stroked his neck and then to her utter horror she saw Mary’s shoulders begin to shake as the girl started to cry.

"Hey, Mary..." she soothed, stepping forward as the small girl turned to her, wrapping her arms around her as best she could, pressing her face into her bump "Oh baby what's wrong?"

Mary didn’t reply, instead she continued to sob and Fliss felt powerless to do anything other than wrap her arms around her, one hand resting on her head, the other between her shoulders.

“Something happened at School…” Mary whispered and Fliss gently tipped her head up to look at her. “Someone said something and…”

“Ok, how about we go back to the office and you can tell me all about it ok?”

Mary nodded, sniffing as her sobs died down. Fliss held out her hand and Mary took it and together they headed back down to the yard. Joanne looked at Mary who was hiccupping slightly with her sobs and frowned but Fliss shook her head.

“Can you feed the top barn for me and then you can go.” she said to Jo who nodded. “I’ll lock up.” “Sure, see you tomorrow. Bye Mary.” she smiled. Mary looked at her and gave a small wave before Fliss led her into the office. She grabbed them both an apple juice from the fridge and then Mary sat on the chair at the end of the desk, wiping her eyes with a tissue that Fliss handed her from the box.

“You ready to talk?”

Mary nodded, and then she stood up and walked over to Fliss who made room for her to clamber up onto her lap. It was a bit awkward but after a little shifting around they found a way she could sit unobstructed by Boston Bean and Mary lay her head against Fliss’ shoulder.

“It was about the gala.” she said gently “One of them asked me if my mom was coming and…”

“Oh sweetie.” Fliss sighed, rubbing her back. “I get that must have been hard.”

Mary shrugged “I told them she was dead.” she said matter of factly “I get that and I never knew my mom so I don’t miss her as a person…but then I started to think about why she died and I don’t understand.” “Understand what?”

“Why?” Mary looked at her. “Why would she do what she did when she had me? Why did she want to leave me behind?”

Fliss took a deep breath and cradled the girl as best she could, trying to think of a way to explain to which Mary could relate, and then it came to her, she could use her own experience here. There was no getting around the fact this was going to be a heave conversation, but Mary was a smart kid and deserved to be treated as such.

With another deep inhale, Fliss looked down at her, kissing her head before she opened rather bluntly "You know I tried to kill myself."

"You did?" Mary pulled back to look up at her "Why?"

"Because I saw it as my only way out." Fliss said gently, smoothing her hair back. "I was stuck in an awful situation. My ex-husband hurt me physically and mentally and I gave up. I wanted out."

Mary remained silent and looked at her.

"For someone to get to that point...they have to have hit rock bottom. Like there is nowhere to go. It's not their fault. And it doesn't mean they don't love the people they leave behind just that they're desperate to escape whatever pain they feel, be it in their head or their body or both."

"But I still don't understand." Mary shook her head.

"And you may never, not fully." Fliss said gently "And as horrible as it is that's something you are gonna have to live with but you have to remember that your mom was sick. And for whatever reason she saw this as her only escape. It wasn't Evelyn's fault, it wasn't Frank's fault and it certainly wasn't yours."

"But if she loved me like Frank says she did..."

"You think I don't love my mum? Or Bill? Or Steve?"

Mary blinked before she lay her head back against Fliss' shoulder. "Yeah"

"But I was still gonna leave them behind." Fliss sighed "I was desperate. And you wanna know the real stupid thing?"

"What?"

"When I got better I still went back. I went back to a real toxic environment and a man that abused me. Because I felt like it was what I deserved. And even though I left him way before I met you and Frank, it wasn't until me and Frank started dating that I really understood I wasn't to blame. I always thought I did something to make him hurt me but I didn't. Being with Frank, the way he treats me and loves me made me see that it was him with the problem, not me.”

"But that's different" Mary glanced up

"The trigger was, yes." Fliss nodded "But your mom, like me, was in a position so helpless, so unbelievably sad that she thought she was to blame and that the world, including you, would be better off without her even though she was so wrong."

**** Once showered and dried, Frank dressed in a pair of shorts and clean T-shirt before he headed back downstairs. There was no sign of Fliss or Mary but as he strode out into the garden he heard a car heading down the drive by the side of the house from the yard and correctly assumed it was Joanne leaving for the day. He opened the gate and just saw the tail of her car turn onto the main road as he headed into the garage for the charcoal to light the BBQ.

Once that was done, leaving the flames to die down he headed out across the lawn, vaulting over the small fence onto the yard. He headed round the barn and frowned as he couldn't see anyone. After a quick look round he spotted the door to Fliss' office was closed. He went to open it but stopped as he could hear the sound of voices. It was Mary and Fliss but he could tell from the pitch and stutters in Mary's that she was upset. He paused, hand hovering over the handle as he heard Fliss speaking to her softly. "Stack, you are so loved. Frank loves you, I love you, Nanny V, Poppa Bill, Uncle Steeby, Roberta, Evelyn...Thor, Fred and Monty..." she paused "You're such a special little girl and I know I'm not your mom but...I feel like I am."

"You do?"

"I'd do anything to keep you safe and happy. And so would Frank"

They both fell silent and Frank swallowed, the lump in his throat almost choking him.

"Don't ever feel like we don't" Fliss continued "and if I have to bake 200 fucking cookies for your Gala next week to prove it then I will."

Mary giggles "You know Bean can hear you swearing."

"Well I won't tell Frank if you don't"

"Do you think Frank feels like my dad?" Mary asked a moment later and at that point Frank really wanted to walk away. He couldn't listen to this, he didn't want to listen to this...but something kept him rooted to the spot.

"I know he does." Fliss replied.

"But he doesn't like it when people say it. I know that, I heard him talking to you. Bill’s not your real dad but you still say he is…."

“That’s slightly different sweetheart.” Fliss sighed "My real dad left my mom before I was born, so when he died…I didn’t even know him and I don’t care that I didn’t either. But your mom was Frank's sister. He wants to make sure you remember her, understand who she was. He could have easily just pretended to be your dad all this time, you would never have known any different but he didn't. Because he loves you and your mom too much. He's too honest and it’s important to him that you understand. But that doesn't mean he doesn't love you like he is your dad, or that you can't love him like he is."

Frank turned away from the door, looking up at the sky and taking a deep shuddering breath. Fuck, this was hard to hear. He knew Mary had been upset before but the thought that it ran this deep was killing me. Wiping at his face, his hands then dropped to his hips and he looked down at his sneakers before he turned to the door, reaching for the handle but once more pausing as he couldn’t face interrupting them, not whilst they were in the middle of a moment.

“I suppose that makes sense.” Mary continued  “And I do love him like he is. And I love you like you’re my mom too.”

“Well that’s all that matters.” Fliss replied “It may be unconventional but we’re a family, and that’s the main thing huh?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks Lissy.” Mary spoke.

“You’re welcome Stack” Lissy’s voice was soft and there was a pause as Frank could picture the pair of them hugging.

“Hey, did you now I’m going to be doing all the money stuff for the bake stall?” Mary’s voice was suddenly up beat as she switched topic “Because I’m good at maths they said I could be in charge of payments and handing people their change and stuff.”

“Nice work kiddo.” Fliss smiled, “Tell you what, we’ll put Nanny V on the case, her baking is way better than mine. We can get her over one night next week whilst Pops is helping Frank with the plastering in the nursery.”

Ok, that was it, safe to enter without interrupting anything. Frank gave a little knock and then opened the door, fixing a smile on his face.

“Hope I haven’t interrupted any girl talk” he smiled and Mary jumped up and ran to him, giving him a hug. He looked at Fliss who wiped her eyes.

“Ok?” he mouthed at her and she nodded back, her lips moving silently as she replied.

“Tell you later.”

“BBQ is lit.” Frank said, looking down at Mary “You still wanna play in the pool?”

She nodded and grinned. “Yeah.”

“Sounds like a great idea.” Fliss grinned “Let’s lock up and head home…oh wait, we don’t need to head home because…” “We’re already there!” Mary grinned, and then she spun round to see Fred peering round the door. “Hey, look who came to visit!” “Bout time he earned his keep.” Frank grumbled “Go catch some mice.”

Fred stalked past him into the office, looked around, before he sauntered back out, clearly not interested.

“He’s a lover not a killer Frank.” Mary grinned, as Frank watched the cat walk off into the evening sun.

The three of them locked up before they headed back to the house and Mary shot upstairs to get changed.

“So, how much did you hear?” Fliss turned to Frank as he pulled a beer from the fridge along with a bottle of water, sliding it over to her.

“Enough.” he sighed “Her teacher collared me before. Said that one of the kids had asked about her mom in class and she’d gotten upset.”

“She asked me why Diane did what she did.” Fliss sighed, “Why she left her behind if she loved her so much.”

Frank swallowed. “What did you say?”

“I explained about why I tried to kill myself.” Fliss shrugged “Told her about the desperation I felt…but that didn’t mean that I didn’t love my family just that I saw it as my only way out. I know it was heavy and maybe not really the right thing to do but...”

She was cut off as Frank stepped forward, taking her face in his hands as he kissed her, hard. It took her a moment to catch up but once she did she melted into him, her mouth opening to grant him access as he ran his tongue along her bottom lip.

“Thank you.” he said gently as he pulled away, his hands still cupping her face.

“What for?” Fliss asked, reaching up to gently wrap her fingers around his wrists.

“For loving her as much as you do.” he said simply “for loving us both as much as you do.”

“Oh Sailor.” Fliss’ eyes brimmed with tears “How could I not?”

***** Frank didn’t sleep particularly well that night. Mary’s conversation with Fliss was running through his brain and every time he drifted off he would wake about an hour or so later, fresh worries and concerns running through his mind. In the end, at just before 5 am he gave up and climbed out of bed. He grabbed a T-shirt and a pair of sweats and putting them on he headed downstairs. He flipped on the TV in the hope the early morning new would distract him, but it didn’t.

It was clear to him that Mary was struggling with where she was going to fit in the family dynamic. He hadn’t really worried much up to that point, being convinced by Fliss that if they kept her involved with stuff to do with Bean she would be ok but this went much deeper than the fact they were expecting a baby.

He’d be lying if he said the thought of him claiming to be Mary’s Father had never entered his mind. It would have been a lot easier but out of loyalty and love to Diane he had wanted to make sure she knew about her mother, and understood the truth because in the end, a lie would always come round to bite you on the ass. It wasn’t that he had a problem with people assuming he was Mary’s father but…

God what a fucking mess.

“Hey…” a soft voice drew him from his thoughts and he looked up to see Fliss stood in the doorway, his T-shirt she was wearing now hardly covered the top of her thighs thanks to her Bean bump.

“Sorry beautiful, did I wake you?” he asked.

“No.” she shook her head, dropping down next to him. “I got up to pee and you were gone.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” he shrugged.

“What’s wrong handsome?”  she lay her head on his shoulder and he took a deep breath.

“Just thinking about Mary that’s all.” he shrugged. “She’s always asked questions about Diane but not like that.”

“She’s getting older Frank.” Fliss said, her hand reaching out for his as she began to play with his fingers “She’s bound to start thinking about things differently. She was ok last night after she talked to me, and then later you when you tucked her in. She doesn’t keep her feelings bottled up, and that’s good. It’s a testament to you that she feels like she can talk to us about things.”

“I know.” Frank looked down at her, kissing her head “I guess I just worry Lissy, worry about how she’s gonna feel when Bean is here and he’s calling us mom and dad and she doesn’t.”

“Frank.” Fliss sighed as she sat up straight. “Mary knows we love her. And what she calls us doesn’t change a damned thing. You’re worrying unduly now. We can’t do anything about that other than-“

“Yes, yes we could.” Frank looked at her. Fliss took a deep breath as his eyes locked onto hers, instantly understanding.

“I thought you said you’d never even consider adopting her?”

“I never thought I would.” he shrugged. “But it’s been playing on my mind after what mother said and then after last night…” “Why? What did Evelyn say?” Fliss asked.

“When she was here last, she told me that Diane’s memory wouldn’t suddenly fade if Mary called me dad…” he licked his lips “It was almost like she was giving me permission to do it…you know? Not that I need it or really give a shit what she thinks.” he paused, taking a deep breath “If I’m totally honest Diane isn’t the only reason I said I didn’t want to. I just never thought of myself as being dad material. I was such a screw up until I met you and I thought that by staying as her Uncle, it would give her that distance, you know?”

“Not dad material?” Fliss looked at him, shaking her head “Oh Frank, you idiot. You’ve done an amazing job with her…and you will do with Bean too.”

He smiled at her, sniffing slightly as she continued.

“But there is one person who’s opinion counts most here.” Fliss said gently “And that’s Mary. If you’re serious then you should ask her if it’s what she wants. Because after 9 years of calling you Frank…”

“I know.” Frank agreed, “And I agree, completely. It would have to be her decision. But at least if I ask her if she would like us to then-“

“Us?” Fliss looked at him, blinking. “You mean you want me to?”

“Of course I do.” Frank nodded, before he frowned slightly “But if that isn’t what you want, I understand. It’s a big-“ Fliss cut him off by pressing a kiss to his lips “Of course I do Frank. I love Mary like she is my own anyway so…” Frank beamed at her and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her head. “So, we’re agreed. We ask her?”

Fliss nodded and pulled back, her hand resting on his cheek. “We ask her.”

[holyfuckthisfishcandrive]

Professors and Shortbread

First, Previous (Chap. 18), Ao3

Word count: 2186

Warnings: smoking, swearing, bones (talked about)

Roman woke up to someone violently shaking him.

"Wake up," Remus hissed. "Wake up, wake up, wake up, asshole!"

"What is it?" Roman grumbled, trying to shake Remus' hand off. "Fuck, Remus, it's like three am! We have school tomorrow, you fucking dick."

"Roman, I just realized something! Stop hitting me, this is important!"

Roman groaned and finally sat up.

"What is so important that you have to wake me up at three am on a school night?"

"It's more like four am, but that's beside the point," Remus waved off. "I just realized that Professor Logic is really fucking stupid."

Roman blinked at him exasperatedly.

"Okay," he said after a moment. "Mind if I go back to sleep now?"

"No, this is important! When I called him Mr Logic he complained, saying that he didn't go to school for years to get called Mister. If that's true that would mean that he's actually a Professor!" Remus whisper yelled.

Roman glanced from one side to the other than back to Remus.

"Yeah?"

"There can't be that many Professors in this city right? Especially not that many young, male, tall ones!"

Finally, it dawned on Roman what Remus was saying.

"So... we can try to find out his civilian identity," he mumbled and a wide grin spread over Remus' face.

"Exactly!"

---

Usually, Roman stuck around after rehearsal for a little while, chatted with the other members of the drama club or helped out with something while Remus goofed around with his friends in the club but on this Wednesday he and Remus grabbed their bags as soon as the bell rung and were the first ones out of the door.

They all but ran out all the way back home, almost getting hit by a taxi and earning a few looks and glares on the way.

The elevator ride was way too long in Roman's opinion.

They dropped their bags in their rooms,  Remus got the list he had created of all Professors whose addresses he could find in the phone book or on the internet and Roman put on his 'good kid' mask to ask Ma for a little money, pretending that it was just for him. She gave him a fifty-dollar bill. The money was for the subway and a quick lunch on the go and Roman was pretty sure that it was way more than they would need but better safe than sorry. He wasn't sure how much fast food would cost.

And just a few minutes after they had come home they were already on their way out again.

Most Professors lived downtown or at least near downtown so they first took a train downtown and went to a small Chinese place for lunch (which was a lot cheaper than Roman had expected).

Remus pulled out a map and they began marking down the addresses to see which route would be the best. Roman doubted they could check out all of them in one day but they would do their best  either way.

33 Professors was a lot for one city but Remus guessed it made sense since apparently here in downtown housing was cheap and the university was very close.

The first name on their list was Professor Jacobs.

They sauntered through the streets, using their map as a guide.

The house they ended up in front of was a trashy apartment building with at least five notes at the doorbell signs saying that the bells didn't work.

Roman pressed the Professors bell and turned to Remus.

"I'll do the talking, okay? Cause if we do find Logic I don't want you blurting out the actual we're here."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Sorry, I'm honest."

He didn't really mean it, well aware of how many times he had gotten on trouble for blurting out the truth without thinking.

The door buzzed and the pushed it open.

"Who's there?" an old-sounding voice called and as he looked up through the stairs Remus spotted a man that looked like one of those fivehundred-year-old turtles trying to look down.

"We have the pizza you ordered," Roman called back.

"I didn't order any pizza!"

"Are you sure- Oh, my mistake, sir! I misread the name! I'm terribly sorry, have a nice day!" Roman did his typical Prince Charming smile even though the man couldn't see - It was simply part of the performance - and pushed Remus back out of the door. As soon as it fell shut the smile fell again.

"If that was Logic I'm eating Ma's hats," Remus said.

Roman snorted and Remus' grin widened at the real smile on his brother's face. They were too rare.

"Okay, who's next on the list?" Roman said and Remus crossed Professor Jacobs off.

The next door they rang at was opened by a young woman named Professor Jain who looked like the living embodiment of the muddle-headed professor cliche. Roman asked which apartment someone they had seen on the bell sign an L. Williams lived in, claiming they had found their purse and awkwardly thanked her when she didn't know. Remus glanced at the door across from Prof Jain's that clearly said Williams and tried not to laugh out loud.

They visited Professor Davis and Professor Brown, Professor Price and Morgan and Professor Underweather.

Too old, too fat, too much boob, too brown, too short.

It was around seven pm now and they had had seven flukes which somehow was both too much (because why couldn't they just fucking find that asshole? Remus lit a cigarette in frustration) and too little (because how could they only have stopped by seven people so far? It was already getting too late, goddammit).

"Let's do one more and then go home," Roman yawned.

"So whose last for today?" Remus asked glancing at the list Roman was currently holding.

"Some Professor Youngblood. About as weird a name as Underweather. Good news: it's just a block away."

They walked down the street and Remus watched the smoke from his cig curl and fade into the evening sky. A few times he tried to make rings but he still couldn't figure out how to. Maybe that was just a cartoon thing though he could have sworn to have seen it in live-action movies too. Were there YouTube tutorials on this kind of stuff?

"Here it is," Roman said and Remus blinked back to reality.

They stood in front of a simple townhouse. The most notable thing was the flower bouquet visible in one of the windows that looked like something Patton would make.

"Let's give it a shot," Remus said dropped his cig and extinguished it with his shoe.

They walked up the three steps to the front door and Roman rung the doorbell. It was only one with two names. Youngblood and Youngblood-Smith.

Probably a marriage, Remus thought with distaste and prepared himself for some old dick to open up.

The door swung open and to Remus' surprise, it was a teenager probably even younger than them who leaned against the doorframe and glared at them. His eyeliner was sharper and neater than Remus would be able to make it in a thousand years and his lips were painted in a nice shade of dark purple. Maybe Remus should ask him what brand it was. It looked awesome.

"What do you want?" the boy asked with a scowl.

Remus waited for Roman to answer with some kind of excuse or something.

Roman remained silent.

The boy's glare became darker with every passing moment.

At this rate, he probably wouldn't tell Remus what lipstick he was using.

Annoyed Remus glanced over at Roman to see what the fuck was keeping him from saying anything.

The look on Roman's face almost made him gag.

Roman stared at the boy in front of them like he was the most incredible thing in the world. Like he had put the stars in the sky or was made from pure moonlight or some stupid shit like that. He stared at him as he stared into the air when he had some stupid crush or played some lovestruck idiot. He stared like he was going to start waxing poetry at any second now.

Remus doubted he had even heard the boy speak at all.

So he would have to take the situation into his own hands.

"You don't happen to be Professor Youngblood, do you?" Remus asked.

The boy raised an eyebrow.

"Do I look like I'm a fucking Professor? I'm his son, dumbass."

"Is he home?"

"No, not at the moment. What do you want from him?"

The he/him pronouns were a good sign so far and Remus couldn't imagine this guy's dad to be a Doderer. The British accent, on the other hand, wasn't a good sign but Logic could probably cover his accent or something if he really wanted to.

Roman also seemed to finally be back on earth and not on cloud nine.

"We're students of his and we have a question about this homework he gave us," he lied before Remus could say anything.

"You are?" the boy raised his other eyebrow.

"Yes, we are. Do you happen to know if he'll be back soon?"

"Not sure," the boy shrugged. "If it's that important you can come in and wait though. I could also offer you some black tea."

"Really? Yeah, er that would be awe- I mean, that would be nice!" Roman agreed.

"What are your names?" the boy asked as he led them inside. He walked past a door that probably went down to a basement and a staircase up into a small living room.

"I'm Roman," Roman said with a small bow - Jesus fucking Christ was he going fucking insane over this guy?

"And I'm Remus. I'm the good-looking twin, obviously."

The Professor's son chuckled, hiding his mouth behind his hand. "Obviously."

"And what's your name?" Roman sounded like he was asking for a precious gift rather than a fucking name.

"It's Virgil. Do you take milk and sugar in your tea?"

"Milk in tea?" Roman asked confused.

"Yeah, sure!" Remus agreed. Maybe the milk would flake as it did in juice.

Virgil came back with two cups and poured them, giving Roman a little bit of milk anyway, saying that it would be way too strong otherwise and he couldn't allow Roman to drink it pure but somehow Roman didn't complain when Virgil stood over him to pour it in. God, he was being fucking gross and sappy.

Virgil picked up his own cup again and offered them some weird cookies he called shortbread even though they didn't taste like bread at all.

Remus dumped two in his tea - which sadly hadn't flaked - and mushed them around with his spoon.

For a few minutes, it was quiet until Remus got bored with the steady clicking of the clock hanging on the wall behind him.

"So, do you like bones?" he blurted out the first question that came to mind.

Roman looked at him with barely concealed horror but Virgil's dark expression lightened up slightly to both of the twins' surprise.

"I do. It's fun to find them and clean them. I have a few in a cupboard in my room I've found in subways and other places over the years."

"Really?" Remus lit up excitedly. "I collect them too! My favourite is a   near-complete snake skeleton with a rat skull stuck inside!"

"Wow! That sounds so cool!" Virgil didn't quite smile but he wasn't scowling anymore either. "I once found a dog jaw in a quite good conditiion. And I have this really nice possum skull."

"Ooh! Can I see them?" Remus asked bouncing slightly in his seat.

"Sure. Wait here, I'll go get them," Virgil stood up and left the room. Remus could hear him walk upstairs.

"He seems nice," he commented.

"He's beautiful," Roman sighed dreamily.

"Yuck."

"You get to rant about sexy people to me, I get to talk about crushes, that's the deal," Roman reminded him.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Fine, sure. But don't be too gross about it."

They heard Virgil come back downstairs.

He showed Remus the bones and gave him some tips when Remus asked how he had gotten them so clean.

"Oh, jeez it's almost eight. We should probably get going," Roman said after a while. "Maybe we'll get to talk to the Professor some other time."

Virgil seemed to study his face for a few moments.

"Yeah, maybe," he finally said and accompanied them to the door.

"Can I have your number?" Remus asked  holding out his phone. "Then I can send you some pics of my bones and stuff!"

"Sure," Virgil took it and typed something in. "Maybe we'll get the chance to talk again sometime."

The door closed behind them and Roman swirled around to face Remus.

"You got his number?!"

"Yeah, duh."

"That's not fair! Why did he give you his number and not me!"

"Well, I didn't drool over him," Remus shrugged.

Roman pouted the entire way to the train station.

Next

Taglist:

@patton-cake

[graphicabyss]

Avalanche and the Fallout

So, last time I commented on Tegoshi’s tell-all book and now it’s released and the damage is done. Such an appropriate name seeing as avalanches are sudden and destroy everything in their path. As I read the book and the related news, I struggled with both the need to convey how I felt and stop giving him so much time and attention. Sure enough, I ended up with a long review/analysis/bitching post. It's rough and mean and very long so please read at your own risk.

Facts first. The book released on Aug 5 was originally supposed to run 10,000 copies but they reportedly increased it to 50,000 due to high demand. Tegoshi also held a press-conference to talk about it on release day. It ended up being one of the best-selling books on Amazon and top seller in Entertainment.

It’s hard to talk about the book briefly. It’s 270 pages long and I had absolutely no intention to read it all but still ended up reading a good deal and words just kept pouring out of me. I could not imagine how much this book would fuck me up. I knew it would be bad but honestly I was shocked about the publication because it’s both incredibly cruel to so many people and incredibly stupid as it’s going to severely damage his reputation and future career.

I won’t even try to pretend to be objective because there’s nothing objective about the book itself. It’s a book of unsolicited opinions. If there’s one word I’d to describe it it’s ‘delusional’. Every chapter reeks of vanity and a sense of superiority as he judges every single celebrity he came in contact with and gives plenty of advice. It's a mess of careless words hastily and haphazardly thrown together in an attempt to let the world know the Real Tegoshi.

Of course, that's not how he sees it. He mentions the likes of Steve Jobs and Bill Gates saying their books give people motivation and inspiration and he wanted to do the same. Bitch, you haven't done anything to get you on that level yet.

There’s a video on his channel where he goes to the publisher to talk about the book and while he says about sending an inspirational message, the publisher only wants him to talk about Yukirin and other juicy gossip. And it’s not like poor Tegoshi was tricked into it, he readily agreed to it and he knew full well what he was doing. The book’s cover does not advertise life advice, it advertises celebrity gossip. Also nudes, which by the way, turned out to be mere topless shots. Add false advertising to the list of offenses. He really gave Bunsun a run for their money discussing half his scandals and even adding some extra. He keeps saying he only wants to clear up the rumours but somehow ends up saying things that make absolutely no difference or even make him look worse. It's like if Bunshun said "Tegoshi was partying with 5 younger women, ran around naked and then passed out drunk" and Tegoshi would be like "That's not true! There were 4 women!"

He also said he absolutely could not hide how he truly felt. And that seems to make sense except it’s one thing to just be honest and reveal some of your relevant thoughts in a carefully worded manner. But this is another thing entirely. It’s some kind of emotional exhibitionism, a compulsory desire to share his every thought and opinion on everything and everyone. Dear, there is middle ground between hiding how you really feel and giving your every single opinion. That doesn't make you honest. It makes you an asshole.

The book is divided into small chapters and most are about NEWS, past and present members and related topics, as well as most other JE artists. Some chapters are about the women he had or did not have relations with. Some are about the people he admires and his delusional plans for the future. Only a small number of chapters do not mention any names and talk about his personal experiences and thoughts.

At this point, I do not even have all the scans but I have more than enough to go off the parts I read. First off, I am now allergic to the word ‘positive’ and the phrase ‘as a man’. What the fuck does that even mean? Also, a lot of the stuff he says in the book is not new in any way and was either said before or known through other sources or rumours. There are hardly any shocking revelations anywhere, at least if you were following him as closely as I have. But hearing all these terrible opinions at once is sure a treat.

Actually, he himself described it as whining and that seems accurate because he does that for a good portion of the book, explaining how unfairly he (and other people) was treated by the industry and the press. There are many stories of hardship and resilience. There’s the good old "I suffered so much when I wasn’t the center of attention for the first time in my life”. There’s the classic “The media spreads lies about me” and other familiar narratives. Also a few tragic stories of unfulfilled love.

And not all of it is horrible. In fact, there are a few parts that I could relate to, such as the terrible way Koyama had been treated when he had to resign from ‘every’, the strange limitations for idols and how excessively strict the rules of Japanese showbiz are. But by telling those stories and complaining about JE and Japan’s entertainment industry, he is not going to make a change. All he accomplished is make things harder for himself. Bringing up the names of many artists, especially those he doesn’t even know personally, and discussing their problems is incredibly rude, intrusive and potentially damaging. Yes, the rules of Japanese entertainment suck but see how much you can achieve going against them.

And I don't like JE and not going to defend it but bitching about JE in particular is unwise for two reasons: One - not only does he owe everything to it, NEWS is still in it and what’s bad for JE is bad for NEWS. Two - JE is very powerful and has immense influence in the industry so making them your enemy when your career barely started may lead to it ending prematurely. In the end, Tegoshi Yuya’s biggest obstacle to fame isn’t JE or media. It’s Tegoshi Yuya.

It is not an autobiography book so it doesn't start with childhood. Which is a pity because I was hoping to get a glimpse of how we got to this point. There are a few clues though. 

I can tell.

Perhaps the most important chapters are those connected to his leaving the band, his reasons and motivations and that shit made me livid. He basically says that one day he imagined how awesome his solo career would be and decided he was too good to be in NEWS and the world will fall at his feet at soon as he lets it. He literally says that when he had to stay home because of the Covid-19 pandemic, he realized that God sent him a sign saying “Quickly, leave the agency!”. The pandemic is serendipity. Fuck me.

I honestly expected that the part about NEWS members at least would be nothing but praise but it also left me with very mixed feelings. First, there's a chapter "What I Told the NEWS Members" and it sounds so solemn and inspirational like "Are you sure you didn't copy that from some drama or anime? Because people do not talk like that, especially after being hit with such news." I'd love to hear their side of the story. There's also a chapter calling the members his comrades and expressing his eternal gratitude. But it's pretty clear that's not really for the members, it's to appease the fans.

There are several more chapters about the members specifically. Tegoshi has to be perfectly honest so there’s evaluation of every member, as he positions himself as the best performer by default and tells some stories that he apparently seems to think necessary to share.

For instance, there’s his story of choosing to stay in NEWS in 2011 as he told Koyashige they were miles behind Tegomass and needed to improve their singing and dancing to not drag the band down. Wait, since when can Tegoshi dance? Also the time Massu could not get a certain song right and got unresponsive as Tegoshi kept poking his mistake, so Tegoshi went berserk and thrashed Massu's things.

There is also a whole chapter about Shige and it's so weird as a former biggest Tegoshige shipper. Before I'd be happy for all the praise. Sadly, at this point if Tegoshi praises you too much it's almost a little suspicious. The whole thing is basically Tegoshi deciding that Shige is his top choice as... a man? deciding he makes the best leader and entrusting him the band. "Take care of my NEWS, Kato!" he says at the end. Fuck this shit!

Also, whatever happened to “Shige-chan?” He has made no effort to spend time with Shige out of work. And you know, they used to hang out and go on trips together when they were younger but not in recent years as Tegoshi got 'cooler' friends. I mean, his and Shige's friends probably have a 20+ difference in IQ level but still... He also only read a few of his books and unlike Massu, he does read. Mostly shitty 'how to succeed' types. All of that speaks of remarkable disinterest in Shige's actual life and thoughts.

There are several more chapters regarding NEWS as a band and what he thinks they should do and it makes me furious just talking about it. You lost any right to decide the band's future when you left them high and dry, asshole. He also claims he loves NEWS so so much and even wears the tour T-shirts (impressive!) and sings their songs in karaoke and cries! (poor thing!) On top of that he can't wait to see the STORY tour and go to see it and also broadcast it on his Youtube and do a review.......... I can't with this shit. Let's move on.

He also analyzed former members, basically calling Ryo spineless and saying he and Pi should have left sooner if they had no interest being in the band. And that’s coming from someone who tried to leave what? 4 times at least? Yes. It turns out he wanted to leave the band in 2017, in addition to 2011 and 2013. The way I see it now, 4nin NEWS was a hostage situation where Tegoshi constantly threatened to leave and other members trying to keep him happy and make him stay. He knew he was important and he got away with all kind of shit, both within the band and the agency.

In a similar manner, he takes each JE group and artist and evaluates them - what's good about it and what’s not, who’s popular and capable, what the group needs to do and so on. It’s amazingly condescending. There’s even a whole part about wanting to unite NEWS and KAT-TUN. What the fuck? Who asked you? Go film your ugly wardrobe or something.

I bet Tegoshi is so obsessed with popularity and rankings that he sees numbers over every person's and groups’ heads. Not everything in the world can be ranked and measured in numbers. He also says there are many celebrities who fucked up and acted like divas but are still popular. Way to go! Except it seems you have mistaken the order. You should succeed first, then be a dick. Also bitch, you're not Lady Gaga.

One of the biggest reasons for the anger of fans, at least the Western ones, was the way he talked about the mental issues of the former King & Prince member Iwahashi Genki and SEXY ZONE member Matsushima Sou both of whom had to step back from the industry because of their panic attacks. Even though he intended to encourage them, he expressed a fundamental misunderstanding of how panic attacks work suggesting they just had to cheer up and stay positive.

There's a whole section where he talks about a dozen female celebrities, mostly idols and actresses, dedicating a whole chapter to each. Of course, only to ‘set the record straight’. Because that’s exactly how the rumours work, you know. Particularly old ones. You tell the whole story and they go away. It's disgusting. Female artists' whole careers depend on their pure image and being associated with him can easily end it.

He also speaks of the first three girls he dated, which all sound like huge and tragic love stories as he said he loved them so much he considered marrying them but they all actually happened when he was about 16 to 20 years and after turning 20 he hasn't had a single woman that he loved that much.

And then some parts are only about himself and they are things that one should really, really keep to oneself. Nobody needs to know you drink so hard you can’t get it up. The chapter's called "I have no interest in sex" but it should really be called "I have a drinking problem". I couldn’t help but remember the scandalous article that came out in 2017 where one of his 'girl friends' sold the story of their relationship with all unsightly intimate details. I chose to defend him at the time but now I’m not even sure I can blame her. Perhaps it should be viewed as whistle-blower insider info as she warned others of what they may expect. The chapter "I have easily over a 1000 female friends" says he has this many girl contacts all over Japan and overseas but they aren't what you think they are. He only had 10 girls who he considered girlfriends, those he met 1 on 1 with. I guess the rest he just fucked so that doesn't count. Now that I think about it, I feel like 99% of all the Bunshun articles were mostly accurate.

Speaking of which... There's also a chapter where he explains why he cried during Neverland tour and he explains it by the photo with the two cons from 2011. We all know that was just a small part of it and the far bigger reason was people exposing his private messages and leaking intimate photos and stories. So much for the whole truth. Also, he whines about his reputation being hurt by the photo but has a whole chapter praising the man called Horiemon who was imprisoned for securities fraud.

There's another major revelation that shows his character. He mentions several cases where he had hissy fits in the dressing rooms, actually throwing chairs and things. Of course, for important reasons - being frustrated and angry at terrible injustices. Such as Koyama being fired from ‘every’ or him losing some parts in ChumChum after his scandal. Also the fight with Massu back in 2010 when he threw Massu’s things on the floor... It’s horrible as it is but for Massu, knowing he freaks out if you so much as breathe on his things... What a bitch.

There are also some chapters about his delusions of becoming a worldwide phenomenon but he doesn't seem to have a real plan how to achieve it. There are his ideas that are all over the place. There's the bold "Creating a new mold of entertainment" so that's producing. There's Youtube stuff. There's creating a "Tegoshi village" with ex-TOKIO Yamaguchi. He just had to pick the most problematic of his senpai. And there's an actual chapter called "Expanding to China and US Simultaneously”? Also English lessons? That all sounds very impressive, hon, but all you did so far was piggybacking on other people's fame and work. His book sold largely due to scandals and other people's names. He had a solo concert with just his NEWS solos and cover versions. And he just released a video that is an exact replica of his ItteQ segment.

One question is: how is he so confident he'll succeed fast? Well, apart form the usual delusions of grandeur. One reason for his excessive confidence is having friends in high places. At one point he's casually namedropping Abe Shinzo and the First Lady who was supposedly expected to come to the Story tour. Tegoshi said he would invite both of them to his solo concert. Yeah, I'm sure they'll come, nothing controversial about that.

I can’t imagine how it’s going to go from here but I don’t know how anyone would still want to work with him. He fucked over people he worked with for 18 years, people he claims to love, in a heartbeat so what can a new partner expect?

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

As expected by literally everyone but Tegoshi, the book made an uproar and not in a good way, with fans and agencies enraged over his words about the artists. There were many articles calling this book 'exposé book', especially focusing on him using the real names of female celebrities. Some newspapers followed up with petty articles. My favourite is an article from Tokyo Sports that specifically dug up a story that was not in the book about the way he adamantly pursued a certain female idol trying to conquer her and culminating in doing a dogeza in front of her but she still rejected him saying "Zettai yada! I will be your girlfriend number what?". Her name is not revealed, which is unfortunate, I'd like to know who that queen is.

Not all feedback was bad, of course. According to this article, many men brought it and enjoyed it. I'm sure they did. Plenty of aspirational douchebags out there. Anyway. Many fans wrote to him long angry and very detailed letters. His social media accounts have been losing followers for the past several weeks.

Perhaps the strangest thing is that he seemed genuinely surprised that instead of praise for his courage and honesty he got anger and disapproval. It wouldn't happen if he got his head out of his ass and literally asked a single one of the people he wrote about what they thought of it. 

The feedback must have been very focused as the very next day he wrote a few posts on his Twitter and Instagram indicating his concern over the feedback. On Twitter, he used the word “yacchimatta ka” as in “I messed up, didn’t I?” though stylistically I read it as “whoopsie”. Then there were two Insta stories.

2020/08/06 Ah, I'm a little tired. I'm also human. (sometimes I whine)

2020/08/06 I don't bother with those who criticize me in whatever they do. But I can't stand to see my fans, whom I treasure like my life, leave. I'm sorry. From now on, I won't whine anymore.

"I whine sometimes?" Really? that's what you call a 272 pages tell-all book? Also "I won't whine anymore"?? You think pulling off shit like that and then saying "whoopsie" is enough? It got quiet for a few days and on Aug 10 there was the apology video, which was named "This is my first and last whining". Doubt it. He uses the word ‘弱音’ which has a somewhat vague meaning, using it in an apology video in that context is confusing. Why not call apology as it is? That seems like another politician’s technique.

The apology was impressive in a way. At least it was not a blanket apology, he (or his employees) correctly identified what exactly people were mad about. He said he was really sorry for hurting his fans and causing trouble to people he wrote about. He said he understood that he doesn't have to reveal everything. He also said that he felt the love behind the anger, that fans wrote to him because they cared and were disappointed. Also said he realized that he was protected till now. It was all pretty good right until the very end when he gave a loud 'TEI!' effectively ruining the effect.

Of course, it was good that he did that but I still don't think it even began to make up for all the shit he wrote. The apology would be an adequate step after a shitty Tweet, not a fucking book. Also, I feel like more than anything he just got scared of losing his fans, maybe even sorry for hurting their feelings but not really sorry for what he did. He has no plans to change his behaviour. He wants to be at his 100% assholeness and still be adored.

Of course thousands of merciful women turned to his defence because he looked 'so sad' and even 'thinner'. That's right! He's the real victim here. Must be terrible to hear such hard criticism for the things you actually said and did.

By now I'm barely even angry anymore and a part of me feels sorry for Tegoshi. He's like a dumb spoiled child who wreaks havoc. But I have to remind myself I should not feel sorry. He is in fact an adult man of 32 who is so used he always gets his way that even a minor opposition is viewed by him as a violation of his freedom. And his charm is the very reason he always got away with all the shit he did in life up to this point. I bet he is getting a lot of hate mail and I hope his positivity prepared him for it. I remember him calling Koyama in the middle of the night to come and comfort him while he cried. Also calling Shige to come only to fall asleep in his lap. Now he's on his own. God, right now I just really wish Tegoshi would send himself to the corner and thought about what he's done. Just step aside and shut up for 5 minutes.

But he isn't gonna do it. Of course not. He had a solo concert today and is doing Youtube videos and moving even faster so that people forget about the book.

But fans never will. I can't even say if the book changed my perception or just unveiled what I knew was there all along. For years I've been discarding and questioning all the bad rumours and stories telling myself "He didn't mean it" or "That can't be true" but now it all comes together like pieces of a puzzle, and there's no need to guess anymore because he's shouting "Oh yes I fucking did and I'll do it again!"

All in all, the book paints a picture of a man who is anything but Prince Charming. It chips away any remaining illusions of a 'perfect idol' showing someone who is vain, petty, and chauvinistic. Someone who is obsessed with status and popularity so much that he is willing to sacrifice everything for it and thinks it doesn't matter how bad your reputation is as long as you succeed. Someone who is the very epitome of toxic masculinity, drinks himself to oblivion and treats women like toys. And yet, somehow, I still find myself having to fight the strong urge deep inside of me that makes me want to like him.

[96thdayofrage]

A data breach at a Christian crowdfunding website has revealed that serving police officers and public officials have donated money to fundraisers for accused vigilante murderers, far-right activists, and fellow officers accused of shooting black Americans.

In many of these cases, the donations were attached to their official email addresses, raising questions about the use of public resources in supporting such campaigns.

The breach, shared with journalists by transparency group Distributed Denial of Secrets, revealed the details of some donors who had previously attempted to conceal their identities using GiveSendGo’s anonymity feature, but whose identifying details the website preserved.

The beneficiaries of donations from public officials include Kyle Rittenhouse, who stands accused of murdering two leftwing protesters in Kenosha, Wisconsin, last August. Rittenhouse traveled with weapons from neighboring Illinois to, by his own account, offer armed protection to businesses during protests over the police shooting of Jacob Blake.

Rittenhouse, who became a cause célèbre across conservative media throughout late 2020, and was even supported by then president Donald Trump, held a fundraiser on GiveSendGo billed as a contribution to his legal defense. According to data from the site, he raised $586,940 between 27 August last year and 7 January .

Among the donors were several associated with email addresses traceable to police and other public officials.

One donation for $25, made on 3 September last year, was made anonymously, but associated with the official email address for Sgt William Kelly, who currently serves as the executive officer of internal affairs in the Norfolk police department in Virginia.

That donation also carried a comment, reading: “God bless. Thank you for your courage. Keep your head up. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

The comment continued: “Every rank and file police officer supports you. Don’t be discouraged by actions of the political class of law enforcement leadership.”

Another Rittenhouse donor using an official email address was Craig Shepherd, who public records show is a paramedic in Utah. This donor gave $10 to Rittenhouse on 30 August.

Donations also came to Rittenhouse associated with official email addresses for Keith Silvers, and employee of the city of Huntsville, Alabama, and another $100 was associated with the official address of Michael Crosley, an engineer at the Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, a body which is charged with maintaining the US’s nuclear weapons stockpile.

Meanwhile, several Wisconsin police officers donated to a fundraiser, “Support Rusten Sheskey”, held for the Kenosha police department officer whose shooting of a black man, Jacob Blake, led to the protests that drew Rittenhouse to the city.

Two $20 donations to Sheskey’s fund were associated with email addresses of a pair of lieutenants in Green Bay, Wisconsin’s police department. One, given under the name, “GBPD Officer”, was tied to an address associated with Chad Ramos, a training lieutenant in the department; another anonymous donation was associated with Keith A Gehring, who is listed as a school resources officer lieutenant.

Another donation to Sheskey was associated with the official email address of officer Pat Gainer of the Pleasant Prairie, Wisconsin police department. Given under the screen name “PPPD Motor 179”, the donation also carried the comment: “Stay strong brother.”

About 32 more donations, totaling more than $5,000, came to Sheskey from private email addresses associated with Kenosha officers, but under badge numbers rather than names.

More anonymous donations on the site came from city employees of Houston, Texas, who were objecting to the actions of the then police chief, Art Acevedo, who fired four Houston police officers after they shot and killed a man, Nicolas Chavez, who was on his knees, and in an apparent mental health crisis.

One anonymous donation of $100 was associated with the official address of that city’s fire chief, Samuel Peña, who has himself faced recent employee revolts over cost-cutting, but who has been publicly supportive of Acevedo, describing him in a tweet as a “brother & partner in Public Safety” in March, when Acevedo announced that he would be taking up an appointment as Miami’s chief of police.

Another anonymous donation of $400 was attributed in site data to an email linked to Chris Andersen and carried the comment: “I think that Chief Acevedo is part of the ‘unrecognized form of police corruption’ that Chris Anderson [sic] wrote about in his book’. Hang in there guys!!!”

Andersen’s book, The Sniper: Hunting A Serial Killer – A True Story, purports to tell the story of the hunt for a serial killer by Houston police at a time when “the United States was experiencing a wave of civil discontent regarding the unwarranted shootings (either true or perceived) of black men by law enforcement (the Black Lives Matter era)”.

In his Amazon bio, Andersen describes himself as a “39-year veteran of the Houston police department”, and as having worked in roles including homicide detective, supervising a Swat team and internal affairs.

In an email, the Green Bay police chief, Andrew Smith, wrote of the donations that “we are looking into the matter”, but added on Sheskey’s actions that his department “does not take a position on other agencies use of force”.

Lynda Seaver, director of public affairs at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, wrote in an email that Michael Crosley had made “an honest mistake”, and had “never intended to use his Lab email on this matter”.

All other agencies and individuals who were included in the Guardian’s reporting did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

The Guardian previously reported on the use of the site for fundraising purposes for far-right groups like the Proud Boys, who have been banned from other crowdfunding platforms after violent incidents including the alleged participation of members of the group in an attack on the United States Capitol building on 6 January.

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

I have a ton of insomnia writing in the drafts, so time to start unloading some of it. The usual “as is” rules apply, and I’ll try to keep most of it under the cut,

It just occured to me that I actually have one piece of good advice to give:

If you challenge someone to a duel, ALWAYS have a witness for the fight!

I learned this the hard way when I was a little girl. But to understand why I felt the need to even duel someone, you need to understand the background.

When I was a little girl my family lived in our house in town, which meant until I was 9 I was running around with a gang of kids. I say “kids”, but I pretty much mean boys. There were a couple of years during that time when a girl was inthe neighborhood, one being one of the best friends I had in my life and the other....not, but almost the entire time I was the only girl in the neighborhood.

Now some folks think being the only girl would be terrible, but in a lot of ways it was fine. Kids are kids, rampaging around the neighborhood, and thanks to my family I never felt things should be “girl stuff” and “boy stuff”. I just played.

 In fact, at times being the only girl even gave me a curious power position. I knew “girl things” they didn’t. I can still remember the shock on the face of one of the boys when I tried to explain that I didn’t just piss outside like them because of anatomical differences. He just assumed girls had dicks too. 

BTW, groups of very little boys can get awfully competitive about their dicks. Not that they called them that. They honest to god called them “ding-a-lings”! LOL  In fact, a few times they even had a contest where they would line up with their pants dropped wanting me (the only one that was exempt)  to decide which looked “best”. Remember, at the time we were very little kids, so the concept of “best” was exceptionally vague.** I hope I didn’t give any of those boys a lifelong complex because of something I said in all innocence! But geez, they were obsessed with the idea that whatever hung between their legs was very, very important.

Anyway, running around playing being a girl among boys wasn’t bad all the time. Heck, while the boys could fight over who got to play Han and Luke when we played “Star Wars” or Mark and Jason when we played “Battle of the Planets”, I always knew I wouldn’t have to compete for my part in the games. Though I’m still a little irked to the way their only solution to Gargantuas in War of the Gargantuas being both male was I’d play “the green Gargantua’s wife, at least we always found a way even if what we were playing didn’t have a token girl.

All that being said, there were real disadvantages too, especially as the bots came to learn the rules around gender. I was a girl. They knew it and at times they would think it meant I was supposed to defer to them. This led to many a fight and tears.

For instance, once one of the boys got a BB gun. 

Naturally we all wanted to take turns using it in a makeshift backyard shooting gallery. Trouble was, as far as they were concerned girls weren’t supposed to shoot. Now considering all the toy cap guns they borrowed from me when we played, and the gun I had that shot cork balls had been the envy of all the kids*** until this BB gun, it seems crazy they would think girls weren’t allowed “real” guns. I begged a turn, outshot them all, and never was allowed to touch the gun again. ****Having a girl be the best shot kinda stung for them! LOL

The boys would do this now and then, throw me for a loop with “you are a girl” as a reason I should or shouldn’t do a thing. Being a “sissy” was a common insult used among the kids. A kid should be tough and brave, try never to get crying or show weakness, or sometimes they would even use “like a girl” as an insult. 

I learned that my “girly” side was more of a target, so I got so in the toy chest in the living room I kept the guns, cars, blocks, etc for the boys to use, but kept hidden away in my bedroom the girly stuff like dolls. In fact I kept things like play makeup buried in drawer where no one could find them...

Yes, I was a girl, both in my personal identification and as the whole world saw me, and yet I hid my “girl stuff” like a teenager hiding drugs or dirty magazines. It was the big drawback of usually being the only girl. The girly side of being a girl was something to be quiet about.

So grew up thinking that the way to impress a guy was to be strong, tough,  smart, brave, and not at all squeamish. If boys admire each other for not being a sissy, then certainly they would admire a girl for being that way.  

Oddly enough, never once did a boy reciprocate my crushes because I wasn’t a sissy. Oh, they would like me for it, but it was seeing me as one of the guys and never as romantic potential. Or maybe not oddly. I may be hetero CIS female, but the world sees me as not girly enough in my presentation to quite believe me.

TBH, I still have a problem with that. I never learned the rules of being girly. I never was taught how to put on makeup, do hair, know about fashion, move in that swaying hips and crossed ankles when you sit kind of way... 

And down deep I don’t want to have to put on that act. I want to be me. I want someone to love me without makeup or styling, not because of the clothes I wear or because of skills with flirting games. I want to be loved for me, and girly is only part of me. Part of me is walks in the woods where I photograph snakes and spiders. Part of me is climbing in the roof to repair a leak or taking apart the hot water heater to figure out how to fix it....

I have always been a combination of things. Things like how I like romantic comedies and horror films, I picked out my antique sword because it felt like it would swing in my hand well and it had little flowers on the hand guard, or how I love classical and punk.I never wear dresses during the day, because they aren’t practical for my rough and dirty life, plus  they can make you very vulnerable. And yet at night I always wear the prettiest nightgown I can find. I had a unique “Captain’s Canopy Bed” as a child, because I loved both the captain’s bed (a bunk woth drawers under it billed as a “boy bed” by people that gender everything) and longed for a canopy bed. My father sensibly combined the two for me. To me it has never been about a contradiction or conflict, but just that different aspects manifest under different circumstances. 

I really can’t understand why people are expected to fit into catagories neatly, label themselves, force themselves to deny parts if themselves just to belong. Still,  I expect I would be happier if I could have at least forced myself to fake it.

Anyway, the boys were learning girls were “supposed” to be a certain way, and I was constantly insisting this wasn’t true. They would pick on me amd we would fight. Oddly, this “girls can’t” attitude never applied to fighting. They never went easier on me because I was a girl. 

Once they got me treed and the henchman boy was told to go get something to hit me with. I warned him not to, but he didn’t listen. As he went to get the weapon I lept out of the tree in a tackle, and began punching him. My grandmother ran out shouting for me to stop. “It’s not ladylike!!” she cried, while  I shouted back in frustration “They were going to hit me!!” 

Don’t worry, I wasn’t punished. Grandma..well, it’s complicated with her...and my parents would never punish me for something like that. Years later Mom would admit she and Pop were proud if me after that fight. “The boys picked on you so much I was glad you hit them”...

Hmmm, now that I think about it, Mom’s most common response to sexist attitudes in movies and tv shows is to grumble “Oh hit him!” Folks have no idea about Mom’s violent side, the part that watched Xena: Warrior Princess and sighed “I always wanted to be able to leap around and fight like that!” People think she is “sweet”, when Pop was always the family softie! LOL

As we got older, the sexism of the boys got worse and so did our conflict. One boy, a year older than me and the oldest of the usual gang, was the worst. His own mother was a rather strong and independent person, so it was almost confusing how he could be that way. As far as he was concerned the social structure was thatthe older the boy the higher the rank, and girls were at the bottom. It was inevitable that one day their would be an explosion.

The final straw came over, of all things, me wanting to make our gang of friends into a club. It was all the fault if a kids magazine called Dynamite, that put out a book on making your own club, complete with membership cards printed in a fold out of the cover you could cut out. It sounded like a great idea. It wasn’t.

To be honest, I shouldn’t have been at all surprised. By this point the oldest boy had gotten to be a complete pain about gender roles, but also about me in particular. My first day of kindergarten he’d been the only person I knew all day, so when I passed him in the hall I’d said “Hello”. The boy next to him asked who I was and he said “I don’t know!” right in front of me. I had started to consider our “friendship” differently after that, and his now increased insistence that boys were superior increased the rift.

To make matters worse, the boys had developed some sort of age based ranking. When I invited the oldest boy’s little brother to come to the club meeting too, the guy had been outraged. It had seemed natural to me, I mean I invited my little brother. I always wanted to include everyone. To the boys, the younger boys didn’t count and the older you were the more power you were “supposed” to have.

Now for the club I’d fixed up a corner of the shed out back. I put up posters, made a candle (I just loved making candles and melting wax when I was little...us GenXers lived dangerous lives!LOL), set up chairs and a table, had refreshments and, of course, the membership cards. I couldn’t wait for them to show up.

Once the boys arrived I said it was time to elect officers. Immediately the oldest boy announced there was no need and started to pass out the cards. He said he would be president because he was oldest, my favorite boy would be vice president, the thieving henchman would be treasurer because he was next oldest, the other boys would be just members, and I would be...secretary. 

Oh he was glad to explain. Girls are always secretaries. Only girls can be secretaries. Girls can never be president. The other boys accepted this.

Naturally I was outraged. This was NOT right! We were supposed to vote! And we were supposed to vote for who would be best for the job, not who was oldest or a boy. Girls CAN be president! And besides, the club was my idea and the clubhouse in my yard so I shouldn’t be stuck being the stupid secretary without even voting!!!!

There was a lot of shouting after that. The boys stormed off, taking the cards with them. I went in the house to take the refreshments, and the boys snuck back to trash the place. They tore the posters, smashed my candle, and turned over the furniture. 

I cried.

I was also furious.

I was beyond fed up with the oldest boy and his assumption of leadership. Now my favorite boy did apologize, but he was always the nice one. The others were unrepentant. The oldest boy insisted he was right that girls could never lead. 

There was only one thing left to do: Challenge the oldest boy to a duel.

I went right up to him and said I’d had enough. I was challenging him to a fight. One on one, just him and me. No weapons, just our strength. The winner would be the leader of the kids.

I know it’s absurd, but since physical fighting is what they valued I figured I had to go with it. Actually, if anything, a fight would be skewed in my favor. While the boy was a year older, I was a head taller. Where he was lanky, I’d gotten to be a sort of muscular and agile fat.***** Physically the avantage was mine, an since refusing to fight me would be so embarrassing to him I knew I’d get the fight. 

He agreed, and then I made a very stupid mistake. I decided to show him a bit of mercy. Since losing to a girl would be so humilating, I set the time and place where we would meet alone for our fight. I wanted to win, to make my point, but  I wasn’t trying to shame him.

And so the time came. We met in a back yard, in clear area  hidden from windows in case an adult was looking by trees. I wish I could tell you some dramatic blow by blow, but honestly I remember it as very quick. He fancied he knew fighting moves, got into a pose, and I flattened him. Almost admittedly I had him pinned to the ground where I sat on top of him until he admitted I had won. 

I went home overjoyed. This lasted until the kids got together. I, oh so foolishly, assumed I was now leader. The boy, however, was not about to give up power...or tell the truth. 

As an adult I realize my naivety, but at the time I was 7 or 8. I honestly had believed the boy would have been honest. I always told the truth, so why wouldn’t he? And since we had made a sort of “official” deal, he would be obliged to tell the truth. 

He lied. Right there, right in front of me, he lied. 

The boy announced he had won. I said he was lying, that I had won, and he laughed. Of course he had won. He was a boy. Did the boys really think  a girl could beat him?

 I offered to fight him again right there, but he refused saying he’d already won. I couldn’t get him to feel pressured to fight me again because now the boys wouldn’t really want him to. On some level I think they believed me and knew I would win if we fought again. As long as they didn’t see me clobber him they could pretend the boys “deserved” to be in charge. They needed the lie as much as he did.

And so I learned a lesson: witneses matter. People will almost always lie if the truth threatens them. 

You know, I think this is why I have always been obsessed with watching when something horrible is happening. I always had this feeling that even when I can’t help, I can be there for the person in some way. I’d listen, watch, and remember. When I was 9 I stood in the snow, no coat and no socks, waiting until a man was removed from a crashed car because I didn’t want to “abandon” him. I would report teachers that did something incredibly wrong, even though I knew the teacher would deny it and I knew my classmates were too afraid to back me up, because the truth had to be known. I wanted to be the witness I needed for that fight, someone to back me up when no one wants to hear the truth.

As a footnote, after the duel failed I tried one more way to defeat the oldest boy: Voodoo!

Well, voodoo by way of a book I’d been reading. It wasn’t real voodoo, or probably like any realistic magical practices. In the book someone had carved a skull into a tree, written someone’s name under it, and the  hammered a nail into the center of the skull with devastating consequences to the victim. I had a pocket knife and a nail, so I gave it a go.

Sadly voodoo didn’t work. 

Even more sadly the boy grew up to move away from this hick town, get a good job, get married and have kids. In other words, he got a far better life than I’ve had. Oh well, the universe never cares about fairness.

** Actually one boy always won, because TBH I liked everything about him best.

***Hilariously, one of the boys tried to steal my cork gun, claiming it was his. Pop had engraved my name in the gun sight, and when my father pointed at to ask what it said, the boy claimed it was his name! That boy was never very bright, always dishonest, and a born henchman! LOL You know, I bet that toy gun would have been illegal to make just a few years later, just because it literally fired things. Heck, maybe it already was and had been sitting on the store shelf for years before I got it. We couldn’t find one like it a coulle years later for my little brother.... 

****I want to point out being a good shot runs in the family. Back in the 1960s when my family had to shoot for self defense (long story) Mom was apparently a crack shot. On one side of her family she has had relatives that were at times the official best shot for their branch of the military. One, even as an old man in poor health, liked to show off how he could selectively shoot off small tree top branches a long diatance uphill from him. Plus, Mom likes to mention she is distantly related to Annie Oakley, which is apparenty true.

*****Traumatic stuff happened when I started school, triggering a bunch of sudden changes with me. One was weight gain, but I had stayed strong as ever. 

[almondmilkygay]

Reddie; Isolation.

Richard Tozier had been in and out of various hospitals for the majority of his childhood, slowly transitioning into his teenage-hood. His condition was described as terminal - a phrase of with Richie didn't understand. He longed more than anything for his pain to be over. Whether this was through the form of a miracle, or his death - he didn't mind. When describing these feelings to his mother, she was distraught. And so, among the tumultuous amount of doctors and nurses came a psychologist, and a therapist. They barely helped however, and merely prescribed Richie to a diary, in which he would submit a daily entry - in an attempt to let some of his emotions out. Richie couldn't have seen true love if it had stared him in the face, and one day it did.

Eddie's trip to the hospital was in a whirlwind of emotion and colour. One moment he was confessing his biggest secret to his mother, and the next she was collapsed onto her knees - sobbing aggressively. Then then, through loud sirens and bright flashing lights, Eddie found himself in a hospital bed. Crisp white bed sheets were pulled tightly over his petite figure. His vision was slightly impaired, and he could barely make out who was lying in the neighbouring beds.

"Hey," A voice chuckled beside him, before stopping abruptly and muttering, "Welcome to hell,"

"God?" Eddie replied back snidely as the voice let out another laugh before letting out an audible wince. As Eddie's vision reappeared, he looked from his right (to an old man who was clearly unconscious) and then to his left. A boy, tall and lanky lay in the bed - less pristine than Eddie's. A wide pair of glasses were propped against his nose, reflecting his eyes back drastically huge. His curly ravenette locks flopped over his eyes, as he pushed it away clumsily. In a word, he was pretty. Weak and fragile, but pretty nonetheless.

"Why can't you laugh?" Eddie asked softly, propping himself up onto his arm and giving his fullattention the mysterious boy in the neighbouring bed to him.

"It's my condition," he said, weakly, "What're you in for?" He finished, mimicking a prisoner. Eddie chuckled, and Richie glowed.

"Just woke up here, maybe for my phobia of germs - but who would go to that extent?" Eddie said wistfully.

"Ah I see," Richie said, struggling as he stretched his hand across the beds, "I'm Richie,"

Eddie looked at the hand and shook his head gently, which Richie laughed at before groaning slightly and retracting his hand.

"Eddie," He said, gesturing to himself. Richie nodded, lying slowly back into his bed and sinking into the plump pillow below is head.

"What do you mean by hell?" Eddie asked softly, after a few moments of silence.

"I've been here my whole life. Like the opposite of a miracle," Richie whispered, "If it wasn't here, it was the next one, if not there - the next. I just want this shit to be over, to be honest,"

Eddies insides turned to mush inside of him in sadness and sorrow for the vulnerable boy in the neighbouring bed.

"Mh, I'm sorry," Eddie muttered.

"It's alright, 'specially when cuties like you get sick," Richie said smoothly, to which Eddie choked on his own saliva. Richie had read his sexuality like a book, and a small one at that.

"Mh," Was all that Eddie could utter, sinking into the bed below him.

"People don't compliment you much, do they Ed's?"

Eddie shook his head, blushing profusely.

"Who are your friends, anyways? I might know them,"

"You've been confided to a hospital bed your whole life," Eddie snorted.

"Family friends, Ed's," Richie said, feigning his exasperation as Eddie tutted, "The Denbrough Family are my bitches,"

"Wait, Bill Denbrough?"

"Stuttering Bill, the one and only,"

"He's like my best friend," Eddie laughed, "Fuckin' Bowers gave him that nickname,"

"Ah, Henry Bowers. The downfall of my childhood as I knew it. That prick still not thrown in Juvie yet?"

Eddie shook his head, wide smile spreading across his face.

"Sadly, a negative,"

"Mh," Richie let out a breath before saying, "Where's your mommy, Eddie Bear?"

Eddie spat out the water he had been sipping on silently.

"How in the hell do you know about that?"

"Mommy wouldn't stop yelling," Richie explained, "'Don't worry Eddie Bear! Mommy's here! Mommy's always here!'"

Eddie snorted at the shitty impression.

"She is always there," Eddie said, "Oh, and shut the fuck up Einstein,"

Richie laughed, and his pain was numbed. His insides felt like mush. Not the bad kind, however, not the kind his illness made him feel - but a good mush. Like Jello - as he would write later on in his diary.

"Whatcha' writing?" Eddie whined playfully.

"Diary or some shit - therapist gave it to me,"

"Aw shucks, that's a bit sweet,"

"More like chucks, I ain't some sexually confused tween,"

"Well.."

"I beg of you to stop talking," Richie said softly, turning back to the diary. Eddie shushed , closing his eyes and eventually falling into a deep slumber. He woke peacefully the next morning, as the sound of a gentle chattering filled the hospital ward, and the sun bounced off of his face.

"Mornin', sunshine," Richie chuckled wheezily, "Best seat in the house,"

"Far out," Eddie moaned, throwing his pillow over his head - shielding himself from the blindingly bright sun.

"Richard?" A skeptical nurse said, in a feigned gentle voice. Eddie lowered the pillow a little, in fear.

"Just Richie, ma'am," He replied quietly.

"Richard, it's time for your injections," She said as another nurse snapped he curtains back quickly. Richie didn't say another word as he was shielded from Eddie's view. A mere, painful hiss could be heard from behind the baby blue curtains - before they were shunned back quickly, leaving Richie clutching at the inside of his arm, eyes glazed over with tears.

"You okay, 'Chee?" Eddie asked softly. Richie nodded in silence.

"Same thing as every day, needles man - I'll never get used to them," He sighed, "And, 'Chee?" He finished, grinning from ear to ear and facing Eddie now - letting go of his sore arm.

"It's cute, do not dare judge me,"

"You're cute," Richie muttered, smiling maliciously as Eddie turned a subtle shade of crimson, "Don't even try and hide your red ass face, Ed's - you know you love me,"

Eddie stared at him, wide eyed.

"Jus' pulling your leg, Ed's. Your face is a damn chuckalicious,"

"Shut up," Eddie giggled, covering his cheeks, "What is it with you n' that word? It's not even a word,"

Eddie was downright thankful for the change in subject, letting his cheeks return to their usual tan shade.

"Watch it become a word when we play Scrabble, though," Richie pointed out, to which Eddie frowned.

"When are we playing Scrabble, 'Chee?"

"This evening, my bed. Why, you got somewhere to be?" Richie feigned a pout before chuckling heartily and clutching his stomach.

"Fine, sook,"

"You," Richie said loudly in retaliation, before being shushed by an embarrassed Eddie, "Dumbass," He finished in a lowered voice. Eddie laughed - his trip to the hospital had not been too bad, indeed. As they finished their jokes, Richie's therapist entered the room - wooden clipboard clutched in her hand.

"Richard.."

"It's Richie, Miss,"

"Richie, time for your therapy session,"

"I'm okay, I promise Ma'am," Richie attempted to reassure her as she kneeled by the side of his bed.

"Just a check, honey," She said softly, to which Richie gave a little nod.

"Can we.. close the curtains?" Richie shifted in his bed slightly. The woman nodded and shunned them close - Eddie and Richie's eye contact being broken for the first time in minutes.

The woman and the boy spoke indistinctly for many minutes - hours, as it felt to Eddie. The curtains were finally shunned open again and the woman thanked Richie briskly, gave Eddie a small smile before departing.

"Hey, Rich?"

"Yes, M'Lord?"

"You never actually told me your condition," Eddie pointed out, "You're not allergic to laughter, are you?"

Richie shook his head.

"My bones are like brittle - like, really fragile. They're decaying over time. With my organs and shit. Started when I was younger and has spread ever since, I guess. I take pain meds and shots but they just slow the process,"

Eddie's heart broke in two.

"Holy.. shit," Eddie said finally. Unaware of it, tears were flowing down his face.

"Ed's, you're uh - crying,"

Eddie touched his face as his fingertips came back wet.

"Mh, fuck," He said, dabbing his face with the duvet cover. The tears continued to flow, and finally - a sob made its way out of Eddie's throat.

"Eddie, I'm fine - really," Richie tried to reassure him, wanting nothing more than to hold the shaking boy beside him. Wanting to hold him, press kisses against his head and lips-

Richie's breath stopped as the truth dawned upon him. Of course he would fall for somebody who he couldn't be with. Someone (according to Richie) out of his league by miles.

The days went on - and so did the relentlessly brutal and competitive games of Scrabble. It all fell apart one day, when a clipboard was turned upside down, in perfect view for a bored Richie Tozier to read. A small post-it-note sat, attached to the bottom of the clipboard. A small scrawled message was written precariously on it.

Sonia Kaspbrak states he is ill for being attracted to boys - agree and take cheque.

Richie's breath hitched. Eddie was sound asleep, and in a peaceful oblivion. Richie's heart ached with decision. Continue lying to the boy whom of which he had fallen for, or tell him the truth and possibly lose him forever. He lay back in his bed, dabbling the thoughts in his mind. Eddie woke eventually, gently. He sat up a little and immediately sensed Richie's discomfort. The clipboard had since been taken away by a doctor, who received glares from Richie.

"Rich, what's wrong?"

A lump in Richie's throat formed, and he pushed it down with an audible gulp.

"Mh, Ed's," Richie began, "You're perfectly healthy,"

"Excuse me?"

"The hospital, your illness - it's bullshit, Ed's. It's all bullshit,"

Eddie wiped sleep from his eyes before shooting a glare at Richie.

"You're bullshit, fucker,"

"I'm not kidding, Ed's,"

"Do not fucking call me that," Eddie spat, suddenly wounded.

"Look," Richie sat calmly, "Your mother payed these guys - bribed them, to keep you here because.."

His voice trailed of slightly.

"Because what?"

"Because you like dudes, Eddie!" Richie spoke clearly. The use of Eddie's real voice pained him, but he would have never showed it. As Eddie was preparing to retaliate, a nurse returned back to the foot of his bed.

"Excuse me, Miss?" Eddie asked, feigning sweetness. Richie rolled his eyes, but couldn't get enough of Eddie's voice.

"Yes, dear?"

"Is it true I'm perfectly healthy?" He asked quietly, fiddling with the duvet cover. The woman didn't say a word. Instead, she called over a doctor and had a quiet conversation with him.

"Edward," The doctor spoke, "You have to remain in the confines of the hospital, upon your mother's orders,"

Richie watched as tears began to well up in Eddie's eyes. He wanted to hold him, for the millionth time that day. Eddie shook his head, attempting to stand from the bed. The doctor placed a hand on his small wrist quickly. In a single movement, Eddie had slammed his left fist into the doctor's nose and sprinted out of the hospital ward - giving a fleeting, desperate look at Richie before disappearing in a flash. Richie sat still, his heart skipping a beat.

Months passed, and not a word nor sight from Eddie. Richie had begun to forget him. But the thought of him or the sound of his name hurt him more than his illness ever did. One day, a few days from his birthday - he was met by a strangely familiar sight. A petite boy stood at the foot of his bed. His rosy cheeks and honey brown hair glowed with the reflection of the sun in the hospital ward. Freckles were painted across his nose and cheeks, and his hazel eyes sparkled.

Richie practically fell in love all over again as Eddie stood at the foot of his bed.

"Ed's-" Richie began, before his face was smashed together with Eddie's. He immediately sunk into the kiss, and only began to pull away as he realised Eddie was standing in front of him.

"H-Holy fuck," He hiccoughed suddenly, as Eddie began chortling.

"I missed you, 'Chee," Eddie said, wide smile across his face. Richie couldn't say a word, instead sat stock still - face a glowing red. Eddie sat down on the bed and took Richie's head in his hand.

"I had to see you one last time," Eddie said gently, taking advantage of the silence, "I'm getting out of this shit hole, 'Chee!"

"Please don't leave me, Ed's," Richie managed to spit, before tears began to flow down his face. Eddie shook his head, as tears began to flow down his own face.

"Fuck.. 'Chee. You know I can't stay," Eddie chuckled slightly, despite the tears.

"I don't want to fuckin' die alone,"

"You're not going to die, 'Chee,"

"Who're you kidding, Ed's - look at me!" Richie said, weakly gesturing to his vulnerable figure, "I'm going to die, and I-I love you..”

"I don't want to watch you die, 'Chee," Eddie sighed gently, "I have to go,"

"You don't have to do anything," Richie finally said, before closing his eyes and stopping the flow of tears. He felt as Eddie pressed a kiss onto his forehead, down to his nose and finally his lips. Richie tried his best to not lean into the kiss, but ended up doing so - his hand resting on Eddie's cheek before Eddie pulled away, letting Richie's hand fall.

Years have passed since the two had their last conversation. Eddie left, contrary to Richie's belief. He came back months later, but it was all too late. Richie had passed, and buried in the nearby graveyard. Eddie still dwells upon their late night Scrabble sessions. He still dwells on the nicknames, sarcasm and jokes. The pain within the laughs, all that Eddie feels. Eddie's first, and only love. The love that would remain inside of his heart for centuries to come. The grave - littered with rose petals and flowers, all courtesy of Eddie. The sweet gifts that Eddie gives to Richie. The place he goes alone, always alone. Eddie never had the chance to say four simple words, four words that - for all Eddie knows, could've saved Richie's life.

"I love you too,"

With the second thoughtful;

"'Chee,"

[beepbeeprichiellc]

Every single one of your 74 and 86 end sadly and I am not here for it!!! I want a part four please, with some type of happy ending, please, please, please!! I’ll name my first born after you💕 (also I loveeee this story)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

When Richie had agreed to come celebrate Eddie’s birthday it was out of guilt. 

The group hadn’t been the same since his and Eddie’s fallout, lines now being drawn between the seven of them. Richie rarely ever spent time with Beverly now, her Ben always walking Eddie to and from school leaving no room for the trashmouth to sneak in quality time with his used-to-be closed friend. So instead he stayed close to Stan who stayed close to Mike who stayed close to Bill. Richie was the definition of a fourth wheel and even though the three of them did their best to keep their relationship from interfering with the time they spent with Richie-there was no way around the fact that when they were together Richie was the odd man out. 

So it was easier to be alone, which he preferred more and more now a days. When Beverly had shown up one night explaining that Eddie’s birthday was coming up-which Richie already knew-and that he was expected to attend their traditional party he had first opted to bow out. That hadn’t gone over well and Beverly used every guilt trip in the book to get him to agree to attend-and to behave as well. 

The gift decision however, was done out of utter desperation. 

Richie had bought the damn thing on a whim, watching Eddie fawn over the music box caused him to spend every cent he had collected mowing lawns just to get it out of that antique store. It taunted him after the fallout, sitting on his nightstand and staring at him each and every time he tried to forget the guilt he carried. It was a reminder that he had broken Eddie, that he had rejected him in the worst way possible and that in life there was no going back. 

Stan had suggested that he talk to Eddie but every time Richie tried it was like his voice was stolen, his throat clenching and heart stopping. It was almost impossible to catch Eddie alone-between Beverly, Ben and that fucking Rick guy-and when he did Eddie would turn away and leave. Richie decided to deserve this but knew that if he was going to make it through the party with his sanity intact he would have to give talking one last, honest try. 

Que the Eddie’s birthday, the music box and that horribly awkward interaction. Eddie hadn’t even reacted to him, staring blankly as Richie tried to get him to accept the wrapped present. When he finally gave up and shoved it onto Eddie’s desk-retreating to the safety of his seat right after-Eddie ran out of class. 

Now here he was sitting in the hay inside of Mike’s barn listening to the other Losers badger Ben about where Eddie was. At first they had just figured that he had gone to spend some time with Rick-that assumption left a slimy lining in Richie’s stomach-but as time crawled on things got more and more out of hand. 

“Okay but where is he! It’s his party for God’s sake.” Bill said, pulling down some minor decorations that had been left from Stan’s birthday-four months ago. “Eddie wouldn’t just ditch us for Rick would he?” 

“No, he wouldn’t.” Mike assured, soothing his boyfriend with a gentle hand on his back. “I went to talk to him after third period but he wasn’t there. Betty Ripson told me that he had ran out of class, I guess he never came back.” 

“You share first period with him Richie, what in the hell happened?” 

Stan’s question caught him off guard and the balloon he had been busying himself with slipped, letting out a long whine as it shot across the room-exhaling Richie’s breath. “I don’t know, he just left.” He defended, the image of Eddie gathering his things and bolting from class still fresh in his brain. “Ran right out.” 

“Did you call home?” Beverly asked Ben, making Richie perk up a bit. “Did your mom say anything?” 

“No, mom hasn’t seen him since this morning.” Ben answered with a shrug, 

“I’m sorry, hold up.” Richie sputtered out, “Why would your mom know where he was?” 

Beverly and Ben looked at one another, sharing a silent conversation before sighing and turning back to a very confused group of friends. “Eddie’s been living with me for the past month or so. Sonia kicked him out.” 

Richie was on his feet then, “What the fuck?” 

“What happened?” Stan asked, “And why didn’t anyone tell us! Why wouldn’t you of-”

“Eddie didn’t want to bother you guys with it.” Beverly interjected, “He said that it wasn’t a big deal.” 

“Uh, it is a very big deal.” Bill shot back. 

“We know.” Beverly replied defensively. “That’s what we said but shit has been all fucked up lately and it was obvious you guys picked Richie’s side so-”

“We didn’t pick any side.” Stan shot right back. “The Losers don’t have sides.” 

“Bullshit.” She nipped, rolling her eyes and puffing out her cheeks in frustration. “Let’s all just be honest here, okay? Ever since that little fiasco between Eddie and Richie things have been falling apart, and you know what? You guys have been keeping things from us too so don’t act so high and mighty over there Stanley.” 

Even Stan’s face went white he still managed to speak, “We haven’t been keeping anything from you.” 

“Oh no? So you, Bill and Mike aren’t dating?” The three of them went silent under Beverly’s burning gaze and the tension was pulled taught. Crossing her arms along her chest she finished with a cold, “That’s what I thought.” 

“We were going to tell you,” Mike started, frowning, “it’s just-well-it’s just-”

“It’s fine.” Ben said, cooling the flame that Beverly had started. “Like Bev said, things have been messed up lately. We were hoping this party help relieve some of the pressure but obviously it’s just making things worse.” Everyone became silent then and Richie wanted to just scream. All of this was his fault, and it gnawed at his skin like an angry monster leaving nasty gashes along his body. 

Just when everything seemed lost a voice called them all back, “What’s going on?” 

Six eyes shot to Eddie who stood at the entrance, his face twisted in confusion. It was enough to break the trance, and Beverly was on him in an instant. “Eddie! The birthday boy is here!” 

“What took you so long?” Bill poked fun, although his question was a little jaded. “You’re two hours late!” 

“Sorry.” Eddie defended, pulling himself out of Beverly’s hug only go be engulfed by Mike. “I went back home for some clothes.” 

Ben shook his head, “Wh-but I called mom and she said-” 

“No, I went back to get my stuff from my moms.” Eddie said, “Took a while but I won’t have to borrow your clothes anymore.” 

“Oh shit.” Beverly gasped, “How did that go.” 

“About as well as you would think.” Eddie laughed, it was hollow and cold and Richie saw though it instantly but the others apparently bought it because the party moved forward with that explanation. Drinks were served and the fire was lit and for just a few moments it was like the Losers were back to how they were supposed to be. Friends talked like they hadn’t talked in months, Mike joked and Ben laughed, Beverly argued and Stan rolled his eyes, Eddie even talked to Bill about his mom as if he hadn’t been left alone to die. It was perfect. 

Except it was all fake. 

Richie watched them, sitting back and letting things unfold. Every now and then he would catch a glimpse of the real Eddie, his face falling and eyes darkening in between conversations. It was like his mask was slipping and the only person who cared enough to notice was the only other person who wore one themselves. Eventually the Losers got drunk on the cheap beer, and things began to get sloppy. The only two that were still of sound mind was Eddie and the trashmouth who had been nursing the same beer the entire night. 

With Mike leading Stan towards where Bill already lay inside of the barn Richie decided he couldn’t take it any longer and went to sit beside Eddie. Eddie immediately stiffened, keeping the conversation he was having with Ben going as long as he could before Beverly came to steal him away. Once Ben was gone Eddie stood and Richie caught him by the hand, sending a spark right to his chest. “Eddie wait, please.” 

Eddie pulled his hand away and Richie almost whined. “What is it Richie?” He asked in a flat tone. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat he replied, “I wanted to talk to you.” 

“I-” Eddie started, looking back to where their friends were inside of the barn and shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“It won’t be but a minute.” Richie whispered, his chest collapsing in on him. “I promise.”

Eddie shook his head and his face fell. “Promises mean nothing to me nowadays.” 

“Eds-” 

“Sorry.” Eddie said quickly, as if realizing his mask had been pulled back without his permission and Richie had seen his beaten and battered face. “No right, wh-what do you want to talk about?” 

“You don’t have to do that with me.” Richie said softly, the flames light dancing along Eddie’s tanned skin painting him with it’s warm tones. He was just as beautiful as he had been that night, the night he had laid his heart on the floor so that Richie could stomp on it.

“Do what?” 

“Pretend.” Richie answered, nearly crumbling under the weight of it all. Eddie must have seen himself in Richie’s gaze because he sat back down into the folding chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose and muttering under his breath. “I wanted to tell you I was sorry.” 

“For what?” Eddie asked, eyeing him. 

Richie shrugged, “For what happened with your mom, for you feeling like you had to keep the secret from all of us, for breaking your heart, take your pick.” 

Eddie scanned his face, obviously looking for some sign of humor or inconsistency but Richie knew there was none and Eddie pursed his lips. “None of those things are your fault.” 

“We both know that is bullshit.” Richie said, sucking in his bottom lip to keep the blubbering to a minimum. “Let’s not kid ourselves.” 

“Well, even if I tell you it’s okay does that help anything?” When Richie didn’t answer Eddie nodded, “Exactly so why are you apologizing? Can’t we just go back to pretending that we can tolerate being in the same room?” 

“I don’t want to pretend anymore.” Richie said honestly, letting out the breath he didn’t know that he had been holding. “I’m tired of trying to be something I’m not.” 

Eddie looked like he was about to cry, his nostrils flaring and lip trembling. “That’s fair I guess.” He sniffled and Richie’s heart ached, “I’ll keep away then, I can talk to Ben and Bev and figure out a way that we can keep our hangouts separate so that you don’t have to-” 

“No that’s not what I meant.” Richie defended, shaking his head, “Eddie I don’t want to have separate hangouts or whatever. I think you misunderstood-” He noticed that Eddie had started to weep silently beside him, his tears falling onto his collar where they lay untouched. “No Eds, don’t cry-please don’t-” 

“I’m sorry.” Eddie choked out, wiping his eyes. “I didn’t mean to-things have just so horrible lately and I just-I’m sorry.” 

Richie moved from his chair and knelt in front of his friend, unable to keep away any longer he placed a reassuring hand on top of the smaller boys knees. Eddie didn’t even put up a fight, it seemed that the fire that Richie had admired about him had been put out weeks ago, now it seemed that what was left was a confused and broken boy unable to keep the tears in. “Alright, come on now if you keep crying then I’m gonna start to cry and you know I’m an ugly crier Eds, no one wants to see that.” 

With a sniffle Eddie nodded, sitting up straighter in his chair and sucking in the snot that had began to descend from his nose. “God how could I forget, you look weird and pathetic when you cry.” 

“Okay ouch,” Richie laughed, “That’s a low blow.” 

Eddie laughed, the noise honest and pure as it rang in Richie’s ears. This made the trashmouth smile, his hands still on Eddie’s knees and Richie couldn’t bring himself to back away. It felt so right being this close, this entangled and Richie wished it could be always like this. “Eddie, I need to tell you that I-”

His words stopped as Eddie pushed his hands off of his knees, making him gape up in surprise. As Eddie stood Richie was forced to stand as well, a feeling of fear washing over him. “I should go, I don’t want to cause another fiasco because I can’t control myself.” 

“Eds, no wait-”

“This has been great-well not not really great but uh-yeah.” 

Eddie was leaving and Richie felt panic hit him full force. “Hey, no I’m not done talking and-” 

“It’s fine Richie we are good.” Eddie lied, the lines on his face slowly forming his mask again. “I’m sorry I blubbered but it is my birthday and I’ll cry if I want to or-whatever the song says.” 

“Eddie-”

“It’s fine.” 

“Eddie I lied when I said I wasn’t a faggot.” Richie blurted, his confession lifting the hundred pound weight that had been on his chest. “I-I lied to you.” 

“Y-You lied?” Eddie repeated, stopping in his tracks. 

Richie nodded, “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re sorry?” 

“Yes.” 

“You lied and you are sorry.” 

“Is there an echo in here?” Richie joked, biting his bottom lip. 

He waited patiently for Eddie’s implosion, for the yelling and cursing, for the accusations and slurs but it never came and instead Eddie let out soft and harmonious “Huh.” 

“That’s it?” He asked, shocked by the lack of response. The ground should be shaking with fury, the earth opening up to swallow Richie up whole and burn him in hellfire. None of that happened of course because at the end of the day Richie was still Richie. Loud, crass-laughable Richie and that was just that. 

“Alright then.” Eddie muttered, turning heel to leave once again. 

“What no comeback? No nothing?” 

Eddie stopped again, only this time he didn’t turn as he said coldly, “What are you wanting here Richie? Are you wanting me to jump into your arms and praise you for telling the truth? Or maybe grovel at your feet for admitting you are indeed a faggot like myself?” 

“No.” Richie felt his stomach drop, “But I expected more? Relief, maybe? Anger definitely.” 

“I don’t have anything for you.” 

“Eds.” 

“No.” Eddie cut sharply, “No, you know what just stop with the Eds. I’m so sick and tired of you calling me that like you don’t know it doesn’t fucking hurt.” 

“But I-” There was a pause, a small one inside of him as the damn holding the truth broke. “I love you.” 

“Is that right?” Eddie asked, his tone almost mocking in cadence. “Richie Tozier has decided that he loves me! Oh, call the presses! I’m the luckiest guy alive.” 

“Why are you being like this?” Richie choked out, his self preservation tethering on the edge of agony. He moved so that he could see Eddie, trudging in front of him with a mixture of desperation and devastation. “You’re being mean.” 

“Mean?” Eddie repeated, actually sounding shocked. His face twisted in what could only be described as pain as he nearly exploded with emotion, “You ruined me Richie, absolutely ruined me! Just because you had some kind of aphenemy does not fix anything! All it does is make me feel about a thousand times worse!” 

The earth stood still then, the starless sky hanging above them, the only light coming from the dying fire that sizzled some feet away. With hearts hanging on a thin line Richie looked at his best friend, the love of his short pathetic life and felt absolutely broken. Eddie had never been fragile-contrary to Sonia’s beliefs-but it seemed that Richie had managed to shatter his very being. 

“I shouted at my mom because of you, I called her a bitch because of you, I got kicked out of my house because of you! If not for Beverly’s pity I would be homeless! God, I gave you everything, did everything to get you to love me back and finally when I’m beginning to get my shit together you give me that god damn music box and tell me ‘oh just kidding I am a fucking faggot’.” His breathing was ragged and strained, his words begging for attention as they spilled from his lips. “So yeah, congratulations you won. You, Richie Tozier have won.” 

They stood there staring at each other for an eternity, tears blurring Richie’s vision as he tried to see things from the other side. Finally Richie took a step forward, feeling a sudden puff of confidence hidden in his tears. “Eddie Kaspbrak, I fucking love you.” Eddie let out a long sigh but Richie was not detoured, “I loved you when we met and you told me I was gross and dirty. I loved you when you pushed me down into the mud for making fun of your fanny pack. I loved you when I tackled you in the barrens and you stopped talking to me for a week. I loved you when you punched Henry Bowers in the face for calling me a fairy and I fucking loved you when you laughed as he was breaking your arm.That night, when you told me you loved me back my father replied, not me. I have always loved you, and will always love you even if you turn me away and we never talk again but you deserve to know the truth so this is the truth.” 

“I can never make up for what I did to you. I know this but that doesn’t mean I won’t try every goddamn day.” With a deep intake of air he allowed his heart roll in between them, ready for Eddie’s scuffed up Nike’s. “I, Richard Wentworth Tozier am gay and I’m in love with you, Edward Frank Kaspbrak.” 

Eddie was crying but Richie wasn’t sure if it was from happiness or not so he did the most daring thing he could think of and stepped in close, brushing his lips against Eddie’s barely grazing the forbidden flesh. Eddie’s hands flew to his chest and Richie leaned in, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist and diving in. It was a short kiss, but enough to taste the tears on Eddie’s skin, leaving his own lips salty and warm. “Eddie, I love you.” Richie whispered, leaning his forehead against Eddie’s. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I-I love you too, you fucking idiot.” 

Things weren’t fixed in that moment, not at all but Richie felt better than he had in months, setting free the love that had always been trapped inside. They would talk, discuss all the pain and agony that had been experienced between them but that was for another time, another place. For now they cried in each others arms as Eddie’s birthday bleed into the next day. 

Life, it seemed, could indeed get better.

[baddyxangel]

Go is not like chess. Chess is a battle, Go is a war. Go is played by laying stones on the intersections of lines that form the board, or Goban’s, grid – these are called Moku and represent 1 territory. The two players take opposing sides and unlike chess in Go black goes first but white is awarded a ½ moku handicap, because Go is a game of skill players can be awarded up to twenty stones handicap, and it can be played on three sizes of board. A master might play with a neophyte in a game called Shidou-Go where the point is not to win but to teach. Go is unique in this. Play falls into two forms, Gote and Sente, or aggressive and defensive play, it is generally the player who stays in Gote (aggressive) longest who wins the game. When the board is full (the other way to win is if the other play concedes due to a lack of territory and being unable to catch up) the moku are marked with stones to make them easier to count, the person with the most moku wins. However, again unlike Chess, Go presents the possibility of the Divine Move, sometimes called The Hand of God, a move so out of left field and amazing it turns the game around and takes a player from Sente to Gote. A divine move is considered so rare that professional Go players might go their whole lifetime without one being played – not that they might not see it played against them, but it won’t even be played in their lifetime. Yet a Divine Move might not win the game, it just turns the game from crushing defeat to offer a hope. Understanding Go and how it’s played it becomes apparent how very rare it is. Now, like Chess, Go is rarely played with the move at hand, it’s played as many moves ahead as is possible and between two equals in skill it’s the one how plays that one move more that wins. It becomes a matter of if I move here, he’ll move there, which mean I can move there and he’ll move there and I can then capture that territory for example. A reactionary player will get crushed – speaking from experience. So the idea that Stiles was sat at that Goban playing against the Nogitsune was ludicrous, where a child who knows the moves could possibly beat a chess grand master it wouldn’t happen with Go, and it was a full sized board. I can’t look at the board and say who was winning, I can’t look at finished games and tell you who won without counting off the stones, and until the game is considered complete it can go either way in the placement of a single stone. It’s not like Chess at all in that, so although people could look at the chess board and point out the errant pieces we cannot simply do that with Go, so the point becomes not the moves that are played but who is playing them. Now when Derek rebuilt the chessboard he had seen in Stiles’ bedroom Peter distinctly said “chess was Stiles’ game” and he was right. Stiles admitted in 3a that he could play chess (badly, it was his father’s game) and Go is a game that takes years to master. When Noshiko tried to teach Kira Go Mr Yukimura was able to immediately tell who was who by the style of play and Kira was playing against the Nogitsune – her mother. And that was the final piece I needed, the Divine Move I needed to process the information. Noshiko is the Nogitsune, she always was. A nogitsune is not necessarily evil, it can’t be, it’s not subject to our morality. It is a trickster and vampiric in nature, feeding on chaos, but the only thing that separates a nogitsune from a kitsune is the affiliation to O-Inari. A nogitsune is a free kitsune. Now, a nogitsune is a trickster and because it’s tricks don’t share our morality they might seem needlessly cruel. The old example is if you asked a kitsune (or nogitsune) to make you richer than Bill Gates it would bankrupt Bill Gates so you had more money than him. If a kitsune affiliated with a family saw that the family were poor it would steal money not understanding that this was wrong. Noshiko, in her flashback, incites the riot. Satomi, the wolf lady, tells her that her mischief will end badly but she does it anyway. When the riot happens it gets out of control and Rhys is immolated and Noshiko herself is shot. On the way to death she begs her ancestors to send a powerful Nogitsune but there is no evidence that they did, she merely assumed that they did. Instead Void showed up. It’s quite obvious in retrospect, when the Nogitsune appeared to Stiles it begged him for permission to possess him, but there was no way that it could possess Rhys the same way, it needed permission which Noshiko knew because she offered it to the spirits of her ancestors. So it couldn’t have been a Nogitsune that possessed Rhys, also look at it’s actions, it didn’t play pranks or get even, it slaughtered everyone who came near. There are many shows I would discount it as bad writing but not Teen Wolf, so I just looked more closely. I knew by that point there was a second possessing force, Void, so it was easy to make the leap that Void possessed Rhys, but Void was antagonistic to Noshiko, after all she had trapped it, and this explained why she summoned the Oni to destroy it. We knew it couldn’t be a Nogitsune that was possessing Stiles because of how easily it destroyed the Oni and how easily the Oni had killed the Nogitsune before in Chris’ flashback – therefore it had to be something else and something more powerful – ergo Void. But, we had seen the Nogitsune ask for and gain possession, not once but twice, so we knew that Stiles WAS possessed by the Nogitsune and that the Nogitsune for reasons was appearing as Rhys (looking exactly like the Batman Villain Hush, a character who works primarily on misdirection btw) If we turn our attention back to Noshiko we find inconsistencies, she said she was 900 years old which means she would have 9 Kaiken, she had spaces for 9 in the book but we actually only see 8, the original five Oni, the two she summoned to replace those who were killed and the Kaiken that Void uses to take control of the Oni. So where was the ninth? I think she used it to summon the Nogitsune that possessed Stiles, adoppelgänger form of herself to possess Stiles and she did it to defeat Void. This is where Go becomes important. When Scott and Lydia entered the dreamscape they saw Stiles sitting on the Nemeton playing Go with the Nogitsune, but we’ve already proved Stiles couldn’t play Go against a master, it wouldn’t be a competition, so we have to make the assumption it wasn’t Stiles that was playing Go, that means it was Void. The Nogitsune appeared at the coyote den when Stiles went missing, and this is a good example of the Nogitsune fighting Void. Void wants despair, and by taking Stiles to the coyote den Stiles was meant to die, by alerting Scott and setting up a manhunt it was meant to show them fail. It was only luck that Rafael McCall found him, it wasn’t planned that way, we know that because the Nogitsune asked for possession his exact words “we’re trying to save your life, Stiles.” Now imagine for a moment that Agent McCall had not found him in time, imagine the despair that would have wreaked the town, Scott, Derek, the sheriff would all have lost hope. The brain scans happened before the Nogitsune took possession in the machine, and the cable was doctored before then. If the Nogitsune HAD possession it wouldn’t have needed permission. This is when they start playing Go, the Nogitsune and Void are playing against each other, using Stiles as their Goban. Possessed Stiles went to see Mr Yukimura and caused a fly to go inside Mr Yukimura forcing Noshiko to go to the school to expel it. This meant that Noshiko told Scott in front of Mr Yukimura who urged her to be more honest. But the point of it from Void’s perspective was simple – the sword was broken and couldn't be used to defeat him this time. This would cause despair. This then became the Nogitsune’s move. The Nogitsune knew Kira was a thunder kitsune and could reforge the sword, thus preventing Void’s move and setting up an attack of his own, but it had it’s downsides, Nogitsune knew that Noshiko, seeing the photo, would go to the basement and take the Kaiken with her – thus revealing the Kaiken to Void. Ie the move that Void had put in play to get the Kaiken directly was thwarted but everything was in place for it to get it another way. But with Nogitsune still in control when Noshiko appeared in the basement it used the Kaiken to expel the flies seemingly working for Void but preventing it taking the Oni that early. And although Void could control a corpse – possibly part of it’s idea for killing Stiles – because it controlled Rhys, Nogitsune could create a double so when Scott and Lydia faced it at the nemeton in the dreamscape it did that – which of them made that move I don’t know because it helped both of them – but it meant that the Shugendo scroll suddenly applied. A fox could possess a wolf, but the fox’s fake body was entirely that of a fox and it couldn’t sustain the bite. But look at how Nogitsune acted in the dreamscape, it drove Lydia to the double doors- it pushed her to the solution. The same thing happened in the illusion with Stiles, in pressing Stiles to kill himself it gave him the sword’s reflection allowing him to see that it was an illusion – all without revealing to Void it was working to SAVE Stiles. That was the Divine Move, not that Stiles overcame the illusion, but that the nogitsune managed to play void to the point where it could both be captured and destroyed. The nogitsune’s false body was susceptible to the sword meaning that Void could not maintain it and the sword expelled it, and it did it all without revealing to Void that it was antagonistic. Void wasn’t affected by the bite – but the Nogitsune’s own body was. Nogitsune wouldn’t be affected by the sword – but Void was. It had to be both or Void wouldn’t have tried to escape to be caught in the jar. The victor of the game wasn’t Void who threw aside the pieces in the dreamscape, but Nogitsune who played that many more moves ahead. Nogitsune sacrificed the Oni to get the flies out of Stiles, Nogitsune who led Stiles and Lydia to save themselves. Nogitsune who played consistently in Gote was revealed to be leading Void into the moves it needed to gain final victory. A divine move indeed. And the biggest hint that Noshiko was the Nogitsune was in her interactions with possessed Stiles, and possessed Stiles’ own words. Noshiko recognised Void in the hospital and spoke of it’s choice of host and how it wouldn’t stop her, this was just after Nogitsune had been given possession. It could be argued that she knew because of the killing on the Oni but why wait until afterwards to confront him. Noshiko could play Go. Noshiko was nice to unpossessed Stiles. So we had a kitsune of indeterminate type who had both a vendetta against the force that killed Rhys and could play Go – and then Stiles’ own words – you can’t trust a fox, they’ll trick you every time. It’s unclear if it was Nogitsune speaking here but it is clear that it wasn’t really aimed at Scott at all. If it was Nogitsune it was telling Scott that it would defeat Void and if it was Void it was telling Scott it couldn’t trust Nogitsune – but in reality it was the warning that the fox would always come out triumphant – and that is the moral of Japanese Fox myths = you don’t mess with foxes they always win. The Go game was between Noshiko – Nogitsune and Void, Nogitsune tricked Void and defeated it by showing Stiles how to defeat it and creating the fake body.

[sweets-fanfics]

Homecoming 20

Title: It’s been a day

Word count: 2713

Warnings: Fucking Micah i guess, and dutch is goin’ crazy.

Tags: @rollyjogerjones

AN: This was going to be a lot longer but for your sake’s it’s being split into part 21 when my favorite side mission begins (Charlotte)

__________________

“You are mighty brave, Micah Bell. I could shoot you right now,” You clicked back the hammer and glared at him. 

“Aw well, you can’t do that.”

“And why not?” 

A gun clicked behind you, “Because he isn’t alone, Miss Van Der Linde.” Agent Milton added. “Get off the horse.”

“We are in the middle of the city, you want to do this now?” You ask as you put your pistol away and hop off of Suzie.

“We need to have a chat.”

“I already said I won’t work for you-” 

“That’s not what this meeting is about.” Milton cut you off. “You haven’t been a very well behaved lady since your husband’s return.”

“He came back yesterday. How have I fucked up so badly?” You ask sarcastically.

“Well one, you told Dutch.” Micah grinned. “But luckily your father is a complete idiot and trusts me unlike you.”

“You had two years on a godforsaken island to get in his head.” You mumble.

“And two, you are planning on leaving the gang,” Micah added over you.

Shit. He knew? Does that mean your father will know? “How the hell did you-”

“Oh, it’s obvious. You visiting your rich friends here in town. Morgan being hush hush and talking alone to Jonny Boy. You all want to leave. But I can’t let ya do that.”

“Why not?”

“Who knows what might happen to that little girl of yours…” Agent Milton hints making you reach for your pistol and aim it at him. Micah pulled out one of his and aimed it at you making you stop. 

“You don’t get to threaten her.” You growl. “I guarantee you’ll end up in the ground.” You put away your pistol and climb back onto Suzie.

“We aren’t done here, Miss Van-”

“It’s Mrs. Morgan, agent Milton. And we are done.” You glare at Micah, “This is your one chance to disappear forever. If I see you take a damn step towards my family, I’ll shoot you where you stand.”

“Why? Dutch trusts me more than he trusts you.”

You roll your eyes as you turn Suzie to leave, “Yeah, I only held this damn family together while ya’ll were gone.”

____________________

You rode into the new camp and hitched Suzie near Athena. You hadn’t meant to get to camp so fast, you wanted to get some distance from everything for a while but next thing you knew you were in camp. 

“Momma!” Bea’s voice ripped you from your thoughts as she waddled up to you and grabbed onto your leg. “Hi.” She mumbled.

“Hi baby,” You lifted her up and hugged her close to you. “Momma got lost.” You lied.

“Lost?” Arthur asked walking up. 

You smiled as he kissed your cheek, “Yeah… I guess I spaced out and next thing I knew I was lost.” You could tell Arthur knew you were bullshitting but he wasn’t going to ask now.

“Well let’s get you some stew.” He says as the three of you walk up to Pearson. 

As Arthur grabs two bowls you hear your father yelling. When you glance over you see it’s him yelling at Susan.

“What’s goin’ on?” You ask your husband.

“Someone smashed the donation box.”

“What the hell?” You watch as Dutch gets angrier and gets in Susan’s face calling her mean names. “He’s become such a nasty man.”

“What an awful thing to say about your own father,” Bill grumbles nearby where he’s eating.

“That’s so strange because I don’t believe I was talkin’ to you.” You say sweetly as you feed a bit of stew from your bowl to Bea.

“Maybe you should learn some manners?” Bill stood up.

As he walked over Arthur got between the two of you and glared at Bill, “Maybe you should go cool off, Bill.” Arthur's voice comes off as a threat.

“This woman has changed you, Morgan.”

“That woman is only thing keeping me from beating you right here and now so it be best you walk away right now.” Arthur’s voice was a low growl. It worked though because Bill backed up and walked away grumbling.

“Thank you, Arthur.” 

“Best you stay near me for a while,” Arthur says pushing you towards your shared tent to eat. 

___________

“I found her,” Uncle says making you glance up from your spot on the ground where you were combing Bea’s hair.

Uncle walked up with a very drunk Molly. After everything happened she would only stay in camp for a little bit from time to time but was out most of the time. You and Sadie always knew where she was but gave her her space.

“So nice of you to finally join us, Miss O’Shea.” Your father says sarcastically.

“I loved you, Dutch!” Molly slurs, “I gave you everything! Everything! And all I got was nothing!”

“Please calm down!” Dutch snaps. 

Bea turns and climbs into your arms as you stand. She hides her face in your hair as you move in to listen to them.

“...I told them!” You catch Molly say at the end of her sentence as you walk up. 

“What?” Dutch asks as the whole camp goes quiet.

“You heard me! I told them everything!” Molly slurred and pointed at Dutch.

Dutch pulls out his pistol but Arthur stops him, “Dutch, she ain’t worth it. She’s lost it.”

“You know the rules, Arthur!” Dutch warns.

“Why couldn’t you just love me back?” Molly asks.

“What did you tell them?” Dutch asks.

“Why couldn’t you just treat me with some god damn respect!”

“Woman, what did you say to them!” Dutch asks again getting louder. Bea at this point is squeezing your neck.

“I loved you-” A shot rang out making you jump and Bea and the other ladies let out a quick scream. You turn and look at Susan holding a shotgun.

“Susan!” You yell, angry.

“She knew the rules, Y/N.” You could feel yourself getting angry so you just turned away trying to calm a now crying Bea. “Mr. Williamson, burn her body.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.” You say to Susan again. Instead of replying she only sighs and walks away as you watch Bill and the other men move Molly’s body.

You glance at Arthur as he’s racking his hands through his hair, equally as stressed out as you. He walks up and hugs you and Bea. “We’ll go soon,” He whispers so only you hear. You nod as Bea reaches for Arthur.

He instantly smiles and takes his daughter. “Wanna go look at the water before bed?” He asks her.

“Yes,” Bea replies instantly.

“Y/N, can I speak to you and Henry a moment?” Dutch asks as you begin to walk away with Arthur. 

You glance at your husband and give him a sad smile, “I’ll join you two in a bit.” He kisses you softly before walking away as you walked up to your father.

He was sitting in his tent with a book in hand, acting as if the woman he ‘loved’ wasn’t just shot in front of him. Henry steps up next to you and smiles at you.

“In times like this, I need you two to be my biggest supporters…” Dutch begins.

“You know we will always trust you a hundred percent, father,” Henry says without a second thought.

“Daughter, do you feel the same way?” He had noticed how you hadn’t looked up from your shoes. You glanced up at him. You could tell this was a test. 

“I… Am I allowed to be honest?” You ask.

“That’s all I want.”

“I think we are in over our heads at the moment. Someone was just killed in our camp before we were even able to see if she was telling the truth.” You look back at Molly’s blood still wet on the floor. “I used to have full faith in you, Pa. But something is different about you and it scares me.”

“Hm.” Is all he says.

“Y/N, you should really put more faith in him,” Henry speaks up. “He took us in when we lost everything.”

“Because one of his enemies burnt our house down.” You snap. “I don’t mean to be so upfront, but someone needs to be since Hosea is gone.”

“You can’t replace him.” You glare at Henry. “Just do your job and stand by our father. You have way too much freedom in my opinion.” Henry had never spoken to you this way. “You get too many ideas from the family you visit in Saint Denise.”

“What family?” Dutch asks.

“It’s nothing-”

“It’s Bronte’s son and his wife,” Henry answers over you. “She goes to visit them.”

“Only because they have a child Bea’s age.” 

As if you needed another excuse to be lectured a horse rode into camp making everyone lookup. And of course, it was Luca.

You hurry to him before anyone else can. But you hear your father stomping behind you. “Now is a really, really bad time.” You say as he hops off his horse.

“I have what you asked for.” He says giving Dutch a worried glance. Luca quickly slips the papers into your pocket and then pulls out a toy rabbit. “You said you had been looking for one like Nick’s, isn’t that right?” 

You smile in relief at Luca coming prepared with an alibi. “Uh… yes, of course.”

“Daughter, what’s he doing here?” 

“Oh, Pa, you remember Luca Bronte. His son has a toy that Bea was always fond of so he brought one for her.” You lie effortlessly.

“I hope I’m not intruding sir, I was in Annesburg for business and thought I’d drop it off on the way.

“Leave. And I better not see you here again.” Dutch says before giving you a dirty look and stomping back to his tent.

“He’s in a really bad mood.” 

“Are you and your family safe here?” You thought back to Micah and Milton threatening you earlier. 

“I have no choice at the moment…” You smile at him as he gets back on his horse. “We’ll have a playdate again soon.”

“You or Arthur let me know if you need a place to hide,” Luca whispers before riding off.

You turn around and Henry is standing close behind you. “Why did you tell him where the camp was?” 

You rolled your eyes and began walking to your tent, “I didn’t, I just said we are near Annesburg.” 

“Bullshit. You are single-handedly going to ruin this camp.” He spat towards you.

“Oh shut your mouth. Trying to act tough because you think Micah is your friend. You’re still the boy who didn’t know how to shoot a gun properly till we met these people.” You put the toy in Bea’s small bed before turning to look at Henry who was fuming. 

“You can’t speak to me that way.”

“Until you realize how dumb you are acting I will speak to you however I may please.” 

If it was possible. Steam would be coming out of his ears. “You need to learn your place-” 

You can tell the camp went silent as you smacked his cheek as hard as you could. “You are not the same brother I used to know.” You say in a low voice so the others couldn’t eavesdrop. “You’re more like Dutch than you are like Henry. I think it best we don’t talk for a while.” 

Henry rubbed his cheek and turned to walk away. You noticed that when Tilly ran up to check on him he swatted her away. She gave you a sad look before going to her tent with the other girls. 

You took a deep breath to compose yourself before heading down to the water where Arthur and Bea were. He smiled at you when he noticed you but it soon disappeared when he saw you quickly wipe your eyes.

“What did your father say to you?” He asked, getting angry. 

“It’s Henry. I’m used to Dutch but not used to how Henry is acting. He told Dutch about Luca Bronte and Dutch said stuff about Henry and I being his biggest supporters. Then Luca showed up to give me more papers he had found and Dutch saw him. Luckily he acted fast and acted as if he was giving me a toy for Bea.” You pulled the folded papers from your pocket and opened them. 

It was two properties, Beecher’s Hope down near Blackwater and an old apple orchard near Saint Denise and the Bayou. You had seen it from time to time but it always looked so well kept you didn’t know it was empty.

“Those the properties?” You nod to Arthur’s question.

“Land to make a ranch near Blackwater,” You eye Arthur who rolls his eyes to going near that town again. “And a place near Saint Denise, an old apple orchard. It’s a cute farm.”

“Well, we gotta think about it. Don’t very much feel safe going that close to Blackwater and I don’t want Bea near gators…” You smile at him before glancing at Bea who’s splashing in the water. You see a fisherman a bit a way down near the deeper part of the river who does not look happy about a toddler spooking all the fish.

“Charles asked me to help him with somethin’,” Arthur mumbles after a moment.

“Oh? Where you goin’?” 

“The natives at the Wapiti are having some issues. They asked if I can steal some papers for ‘em.”

“You are the best thief I know.” You tease. “I wanted to take Bea up to that big old waterfall.” 

“Uncle Arthur?” Jack says behind you both. You hadn’t even seen him walk up but you still smiled and acted as if he hadn’t surprised you. “Have You guys seen Cain and Bear?” 

You thought about it before realizing you hadn’t seen either dog. “Ah, I’m sure they are somewhere.” Arthur shrugs, “Maybe they are chasing squirrels.”

“I hope so.” Jack sighs.

“How about you play with Bea to take your mind off of it.” You suggest. Jack smiles and walks up to Bea who immediately splashes him. 

“Bear didn’t walk with you guys when you moved to this campsite?” You ask Arthur.

“Both dogs were here at first… I’m sure they are fine.” He looks up towards the sunset. “Are you takin’ Bea tomorrow?”

“Maybe. It’d be nice to give her a day away after… the events earlier.” Arthur nods in agreement. “Will you talk to John about the properties if you get a moment alone with him?” 

“I will.”

“You got my back, Arthur?” You ask him. He looks at you as if to see if this was a real question. But when he looks towards you all he sees is raw worry from how everything in the group was falling apart. He saw a pang of sadness in your eyes he had never seen before.

“Always, Y/N.”

_____________

You set off for the waterfall before Bea or the rest of the camp was even awake. Arthur had helped you wrap the sleeping toddler to your body before kissing you goodbye. You took your time riding through the forest. You always loved how it looked in the morning. Mist lightly covering the floor, animals running around. It was peaceful. 

“Change for the blind?” And old man asks, seemingly appearing from nowhere. 

“Oh, good morning sir.” You say to hide your shock.

“Help a blind man, Miss?” He asks again holding up an empty cup. 

“Of course,” You hop off Suzie carefully, to not wake Bea and put five dollars in his cup.

As you begin to turn he grabs your wrist with his bony hand. “Your family is seduced by the one with the forked tongue... it's no use hoping...” He says in a deadpan tone of voice.

“Oh… I’ll keep that in mind, have a good day sir.” You quickly climb back onto Suzie.

As you begin to trot off the man calls again, “Your daughter will follow the right star even if leaves her alone in the end.” You glance at him one more time wondering how he knew you had a daughter. “Please leave me now.” 

“Oh, sorry.” You mumble and ride off.

[mininky]

Love is for the birds baby!

Summary: You refuse to believe in love. It’s a concept created by big corporations like hallmark to get sad saps like you to buy their shit. But it’s all fake. You’re convinced of that at least until a series of events with a certain tattoo artist who you loved to hate makes you question everything you’ve ever known.

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Yoongi x (fem) reader

Genre/Warnings: Romance, slow burn, fluff, comedy, smut warnings include: unsafe sex (always wear a condom), oral sex (male & fem receiving), multiple orgasms, spanking, light breath play, mentions of squirting. Non smut warnings for lots of cussing. Lots.

Word Count: 13.3K

A/N: A special shout out to @mzpandylu for inspiring me with such odd dialogue. Also challenge accepted, a quivering starfish is mentioned.

   Love is a completely abstract and intangible concept to you, at least romantic love is. There are many forms of love. Familial love is a concept you sort of understand, let's just say that your home life wasn't the greatest but you do at least understand the concept. Platonic love you completely understand. But romantic love? You very secretly yearn to understand it, desperately trying to figure out how the fuck some people get so lucky that the spark happens. You've dated, sure. But try as you might none of them have ever made your head spin or your heart sing. Lust you get. You've had plenty of flings and even some longer relationships, but love? Love is for the birds baby.

   You refuse, absolutely refuse, to admit that you have in any way shape or form an interest in this bizarre concept that is the investment and endeavor of romantic love. You've carefully hidden away all of your fanfics and all of your shojo mangas and all of the things that others would say is honestly completely normal to keep questions at bay. You know that your friends are interested in love, and unlike you they have no shame in admitting it. They talk about it all the time. They fall in 'love' with each man they date. But you're convinced that's not love. It's something more than like, sure you'll give them that but you're sure that it'll all end eventually. Love isn't sustainable because it's all a lie. Maybe you're too romantic at being romantic, perhaps you've just been suckered into all these stories into believing that a whirlwind romance is possible until one day the crushing realization that it wasn't possible occurred. That the sparks of electricity and burning hot embers of passion aren't sustainable and aren't indicative of love.

   You were twenty, he was twenty-one. The two of you had been dating mutually for three years at that point, a lifetime in college years. Billy Johnson. Fucking Billy. He was smart and funny and he actually knew what a clit was, and he kissed you under the night stars and made you feel like you were in love. Maybe you were, but you like to think that the feelings you felt weren't actually that strong. It made the fallout easier. Which brings you to the fallout, that realization that romantic love is all a big corporate lie to sell shitty grocery store roses and cute snuggly teddy bears and dime back novels to sad sops like you. A marketing ploy. Not a reality. Fuck Plato for being the first to sell the idea of soulmates, and fuck Billy too. Billy Johnson was a cruel heartless asshole who fucked your best friend. And in one day you lost two loves, one romantic and one platonic. In turn, you gained a distinct hatred for romantic concepts and a world-weary view on relationships, waiting for the other shoe to drop every time you encountered someone new.

   You dated again after that, but now at the young age of twenty-six, you've decided that it's time to give up. Or maybe you gave up after Billy. You can't say you've ever actually given it a real try after that if you're being honest. You know when to call it quits. You refuse, absolutely refuse, to be a corporate sellout. And your feelings are in no way shape or form reflective of the animosity at being broken up with by Johny last week because you were too 'sarcastic' in the middle of your vacation to Busan. Too sarcastic your ass. You'll show that motherfucker sarcastic. God, sorry, you're getting off track here. Where were you again?

   Ah yes, love is for apparently everyone that isn't you. So you'll just be a cat lady. An affection earned entirely by ear scritches and feeding them. A reward system that makes sense. You take care of them and they tolerate you. Now that you understand. That makes sense. Why in the ever loving fuck would you try romance again when instead you can have a mutually beneficial understanding with something as cute as a cat that can't tell you 'I think you're a bitch' in a language you understand? Fuck Johnny, and Billy. And every other man for that matter.

   You're ruminating in anger as you order your coffee, eyes staring straight into the young and timid barista as you slap down the change. Poor kid, it's not his fault but today you just hate the world. You try to smile but you're pretty sure that just scares him more if the way his eyes go large and round in fear is anything to go by. Christ, you need to work on your people skills. And you're totally not thinking that because of that dick weasel who you've decided will no longer be named.

   Normally once you get your caffeine fix you're in a much better mood, but today the only thing you want to do is karate chop your own throat. Or maybe just play Red Dead Redemption 2 and kill a bunch of people in a completely legal way. Not online though, you really don't need another 13-year-old boy slurring about how much girls suck unless you want to unleash the crazy bitch inside of you to the point of no return. But unfortunately, you have bills to pay. Caffeine fixes to afford. Student loans to pretend you'll someday actually pay off except interest is a bitch. Which means going to work. Normally something you love, but today you're really not in the mood to edit another shitty sci-fi story where the physics of breasts go beyond the dudebro fedora lover that wrote the shitty thing.

   Be an editor they said. You love books they said. You'll be great they said. They hadn't warned you that being an editor at a major publishing house still meant reading through a painful amount of crap writing that you would, in turn, make all pretty and nice and somewhat more presentable garbage for public consumption with no acknowledgment or credit for all the hours you spent trying not to bash your screen in with your face. At least you were close enough to walk to work.

   You grab your piping hot venti quad shot vanilla latte (with soy) as you go back out into the frigid air. Your eyes are cast down on the pavement, trying not to bump into too many of the zombie state morning foot traffic as you make your way into the office. At least you have an office of your own, a salvation of peace and quiet away from prying eyes that allows you to wallow in self-pity safely. The rest of the day goes by in a blur, your normally somewhat antisocial personality becomes far more present as you hide away from even your beloved breakroom coffee pot to avoid too many interactions. You just knew that you would end up running into Susan. Nice gal, but she talks way too much and she set you up with Johnny no wait, the douche canoe. You forgot he must never be named again. The last thing you need is her bringing up how he dumped in you in the middle of your vacation.

   You're also the last one to leave tonight. For someone who didn't really want to step foot into the building, you sure do seem to be having a hard time getting out of here. But there are deadlines to meet and your vacation meant that there's a pileup of work that needs to be done. That and you really don't feel like going into your empty apartment to binge watch on Netflix while you host another internal pity party.

   By the time you're finally out the door and into the freezing winter night, you can feel exhaustion seeping deep into your bones. Or that might just be the joint pain that this super shitty winter is causing. That's another thing the world lied about, joint pain isn't just for old people. It's apparently also for future cat spinsters who hate everything no matter their current age. Your head is stuck on the last chapter you were editing, trying to make sense of how exactly you might be able to convince the author to scrap the whole damn thing politely as your nose picks up on the smell of a cigarette wafting over. Your stomach rumbles, brain shutting off as fingers twitch. God, it's been two years since you stopped smoking but it smells so painfully fucking good right now.

   Your face whips up as you see the small trail of smoke wafting over to you. It's the guy from the tattoo shop, Min fucking Yoongi. You should've known. The guy is hot you'll give him that. Eyes just sharp enough to give him that bad boy image when paired with his full sleeve tattoos and the crawling cherry blossoms on his neck. The chronic scowl that says 'try me' in a way that oddly makes him hotter. Hair that looks like he spends way too much time on usually. Today however he's decked out in a beanie and black leather jacket with pants just tight enough to make you wish he would turn around and walk away. But in the last year since you've unfortunately gotten to know him you know that he's every bit as snarky, bitchy, and firey as you. He's also as much bite as he is bark, although so far you've never been the one he's pointed his bite at.

   "(Y/N), I see you were working late again." He takes a lazy drag on his cigarette, eyes staring straight through you as his lips quirk up into a smirk.

   "Yoongi." Your eyes narrow in on his, fingers twitching at your side as you bite down the incessant desire to beg for a cigarette. You won’t break, especially not in front of him. Just because you’ve had a series of bad days doesn’t mean you actually need that cigarette.

   "Jesus, what's wrong with you? You seem even bitchier than normal. I guess this cold snap we're having is because the ice queen decided to control your body."

   "Har-har-har little man." He bristles at the jab and you can't help but cackle internally at your small victory (pun completely intended.) "No for your information the world is a cruel, evil bitch and yet again I fell for its corporate seductions and evil capitalist ploys."

   "Right, I'm going to nod my head and pretend I understood what that meant just so you don't kill me. Hey, so are you ever going to get that tattoo or not?"

   You reach into the trenches of your memory, recalling months ago on a particularly good day when you told this same tiny Satan that you wanted to get a tattoo. He had seemed oddly impressed that you wanted a snake on your upper thigh and all was well until he told you that he pictured you wanting some shitty positive statement, most likely placed on your collarbone or ribcage and adorned with little doves or a dreamcatcher or some other shit. Bleh. That's when he first learned that you are possibly insane and most certainly a bit of a bitch. It's all been downhill with him since, each run in turning into a battle of insults.

   He stubs out the little remaining part of his Marlboro before gesturing to the warm shop. "I've got an opening to do a consult if you wanna talk about it more."

   Perhaps this is it, maybe this is what you need to do. Something different. Something that doesn't include your usual routine of wake up, caffeinate, work, work, work, and Netflix binge all in between minor anxiety driven breakdowns. Besides, it's just a consult, not the actual tattoo. "How do I know this isn't an elaborate plan to eventually see me half naked?"

   Yoongi rolls his eyes as he opens the door to the shop, glaring at you as he speaks slowly. "You might be hot, but I have a feeling you'd be the type of girl to try to peg me with no lube. I prefer cuddling. Trust me, I'm not interested in getting you naked and seeing where it goes." You're thrown for a loop at that one, shuffling slowly behind him as your brain tries to make sense of it. You know you should be offended that he seriously thinks you wouldn't use lube, but Yoongi likes cuddling? The guy who scowls at life itself? The guy who you've watched physically throw out a neo-nazi who wanted a tattoo? The same guy who rides a motorcycle and refuses sugar in his coffee because he likes it as bitter as his very soul? Man, life is really fucking weird.

   You follow behind him tentatively, shocked to hear rather calm hip hop station on. Maybe you stereotype too much but you pegged him (pun not intended this time) as a Lamb of God kind of guy, definitely not a Dean and PH-1 fan. He takes you over to his office, gesturing at a free seat before he sits down at his desk. Every surface is covered with intricate artwork. From Japanese style tattoos to Sailor Jerry flash pieces to pops of dystopian Disney paintings. "So, you still thinking about doing the same thing?"

   "Yeah. Red Belly black snake. I'm thinking upper thigh/hip area." You stand up and move your coat to the side to point to the area.

   "That's a good sized piece. Have you thought about adding anything more to it? Maybe some hyacinths on the left and right of the snake, I'm thinking in maybe a pale pink so it doesn't offset the red in the snake too much."

   "You know what a hyacinth is?" You snort slightly, glaring back at him when he leans onto his elbows to shoot a look that he's probably hoping will kill you.

   "I'm a tattoo artist. Do you know how many fucking flowers I have to draw every day? Swear to god I should open up a flower shop next door and make a killing with my amazing arrangements." This time you give a full-blown laugh, shocked to hear him mirroring quietly. In all the time you've kinda sorta known him you've never heard him laugh. It's nice, deep, and the gummy smile he gives has your heart doing little flip flops that you absolutely refuse to analyze.

   You take just a beat too long to look at him, your head tilted slightly as you mentally murder the lone butterfly that has survived all of the anger you've culminated in the last few years. "How about a peony instead? I think it would look better."

   "We can do that. With the size you're looking for and all the color work I'd guess that we're looking at at least 6 hours if we want to make sure it's done right. We can split it into two three hours sessions. I charge $200 an hour so you're looking at at least $1200, but you might want to be thinking to around the $1600 range just to be safe. I also require a $300 deposit usually just for a consult and another $300 later but I figure I can always hound you if you don't come in." He opens up his computer, clicking away for a moment before adding, "I have enough time to get started this Friday night if you want? At 8:00."

   "Gee thanks for the trust. Yeah that all sounds good, I'm down."

   He nods quickly, hands grabbing at some paper as he starts making drafting up some rough sketches. You try not to invade his space as you look over the paper, brain desperately searching for a small talk topic. God, you've always been bad at this. "So...how long have you been a tattoo artist?"

   "Well I started my apprenticeship right out of high school at 18 so 10 years total, but as an actual artist only about 8 years." Interesting, so that would make him two years older than you. For some reason, you feel a need to put that in one of your mental files. "What exactly do you do at that giant office building down the street?"

   "I work for a publishing house in there as one of their many editors."

   Yoongi snorts, nodding his head as he keeps sketching away. "Yeah, I can see you working with books. Your creative insults suddenly make so much more sense."

   "I'll take that as a compliment." You lean back into your chair, taking in your surroundings a little more closely before focusing unabashedly at the man before you. His tattoos are on full display now that he's taken off his jacket. Almost all are black and white with small splashes of reds and pinks laced mostly on his neck where cherry blossoms fall delicately off a branch. His eyes are cast in complete concentration, lower lip bitten as he works. There's something painfully sexy about the image. You almost want to burn it into your brain to use for late night consumption.

   You aren't sure how long the two of you sit there in silence, but it's comfortable. There's something soothing about listening to the way his markers glide over the paper as soft music, buzzing tattoo guns, and chatter filters in fuzzily through the closed door. You can feel yourself finally start to relax, all of the earlier rage and grudges held at the world slipping away momentarily as you enter a near-meditative state just watching him work.

   Finally, he glances up, a smile on his face as he pushes the paper over the desk to you. It's beautiful, a little rough around the edges without the finishing touches but it's better than anything you thought of. "Wow, Yoongi this looks great."

   "It's just a rough drawing. I still need to work on some of the other touches but if you're good with that I'll get started on making the transfer later this week."

   "Yeah..." You words are quiet as you look at the picture, elation growing in your heart. You might turn into a cat lady, but at least you'll be a badass one. "Okay, so seriously though do you want me to put down the deposit now? I have no problem with that."

   "Nah, don't sweat it. Oh, but I do need your full name and number to actually book it. And don't give me some shit about this being a ploy for your number." You roll your eyes before giving him the information. Standing up slowly when he opens up the office door and leads you back out to light snowfall. "Alright, see you this Friday (y/n)."

   "See you Yoongi. Thanks again." As you turn back to send a smile something painfully familiar stirs in your brain when he flashes that gummy smile and sends you on your way.

---------------Friday----------------

   By the time Friday rolls around you've been through a whole litany of emotions. You're of course excited about the tattoo, that's not the problem. No the source of all evils is Min Yoongi. Sexy. Witty. Can handle your sarcasm. Enjoys cuddling. He's plagued your thoughts, gummy smiles invading your daydreams and inky tattoos hovering over you at night. It's been a long time since you've actually crushed on anyone. Dating as an adult is an entirely different experience. Usually, you know someone who knows them or met them on tinder and you're just praying that they aren't a secret serial killer and that you share enough interests to talk in between getting railed while praying for an orgasm. At least, that's been your shitty experiences anyway. You know that it isn't always the case considering that just about all of your friends have gotten magically engaged or married recently. But Yoongi? There's something about him that stirs up all of your previously assumed dead thoughts on love. All of the secret romantic pinings combines with lust in a painful swirl but luckily the thoughts you have of him are usually fleeting.

   You step forward into the tattoo shop after grabbing a bite to eat, two warm cocoas in your hand as you try not to freak out that the big event is finally here and you'll be face to face with tiny, sexy, tattooed satan yet again. The man behind the counter looks over at you, and you can't help but wonder for a moment if being really good looking is a requirement to work here. Deep dimples, sunkissed skin, glasses perched on his nose.

   "Hi, do you have an appointment?" You shake your head yes, staring at the floor for a moment before finally squeaking out that you're there to see Yoongi.

   "Ay, (Y/N)'s here!" He shouts out towards Yoongi's office and you see him strolling out just a moment later.

   "Jesus Joon, you've been spending too much time around Hobi. I think the whole shop could hear you." Yoongi steps around the desk eyeing the other cup before you hand it out to him.

   "It's just cocoa, I didn't lace it. This time. Also, it's made with soy milk." You can hear the man called Joon laughing in the background as Yoongi slowly grabs the cup and squints at it before taking a tentative sip.

   He gives a small nod that you assume is to signify satisfaction before he starts walking over to a curtained-off section in the back. "You ready to get started?"

   "Yep, all ready!" You take a sip of the cocoa and sit down on the tattoo chair slowly.

   "Alright, just check over this transfer and let me know what you think before you undress so I can put it on." You look over the image, heart warming up slightly at the brush of his fingers before you finally nod a silent affirmation. "I need words babe, is it good or not?"

   You can feel yourself bristle at the tone, sighing wearily before you finally bite out, "Yes, babe, it's perfect."

   "Cool. I'll leave you to get undressed, I'll be back in just a moment." The one shitty thing about the placement of your tattoo is that it will require not only pants to come off but underwear too. Before nerves can take over you strip quickly, laying back down on your side before you can think about it too much. Getting undressed faster than you can sneeze was probably a bad idea though because now you're forced to just sit there with your ass cheeks freezing and mind shutting down while you wait for him to come back. After a minute you hear him announcing that he's coming in before opening up the curtain.

   Your eyes are trained on the floors. Jesus, you wish you could get your tiles to glisten the way their's does. They must mop a thousand times a day, you can't even see a speck of dirt in the grout. The sound of him clearing his throat has you jolting a bit before turning around to glare at the sound of his laughter. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm just going to disinfect the area and put the transfer on then I'll have you take a look and let me know what you think of the placement." You decide to go mute apparently as your only response is a feeble thumbs up before quickly turning to resume your ever so interesting study on what floor cleaner they use. Probably Fabuloso.

   You force yourself to stay stock still when you feel his warm hands on your hip as he cleans the area and peels the transfer on before he gives a light tap to your thigh. "Alright, take a look." With all the grace of a hospice patient you slowly swing your legs off and walk over to the mirror, trying to not pay attention to the fact that you're awkwardly half naked in front of arguably the hottest man who's admitted he enjoys cuddling before you finally relax at the sight of the transfer. "Man, this is going to look rad. Alright little satan, do your thing!"

   "Little Satan? Really? What happened to all your usual creative bitchiness? What was it you called me that one time?"

   "Oh! Degenerate Malfoy with a nicotine problem? Or was it wannabe colon inspector?"

   "Neither actually, it wasn't even something you called me now that I remember it. You once told me 'Ah I see the fuck up fairy decided to mess with my life and force me to see you yet again.' That's a good one by the way, I've used it a few times."

   "Glad I could help, but I wish I could copyright it so you could pay me the rights to use it." You try not to get too nervous as you hear him slip on his gloves and the needle buzzing ominously behind you. The pain won't be that bad right? "Relax, you'll be fine." His voice for once isn't laced with sarcasm. It seems that even the formidable Yoongi has a professional voice that he employs occasionally.

   After what feels like ages filled with anxiety-ridden thoughts you feel the needle prodding away, moving quickly while leaving tingling and ever slight burning sensations in its wake. It does hurt, but not to the point of being unbearable. "See it's not so bad, scaredy cat." You resist the urge to turn around and pummel him in his annoyingly handsome face.

   "If you weren't tattooing me right now I'd choke you out."

   "Kinky, but I prefer a chick to at least buy me a drink first."

   "Already did jackass, the cocoa remember."

   "Huh, you did didn't you. Okay, well it's still off the table for you. You'd probably keep going until I actually died."

   "Hell misses it's little satan though, I'd just be helping you reunite with all your friends."

   "Do you have a snarky remark for everything princess?"

   "Nah, depends on the day and the person. You're a special one Min Yoongi, something about you makes me want to bludgeon things."

   "Oh, what a sweet compliment. Isn't that how people feel when things are too cute too?" You don't even need to look over to know that he's smirking as you flip him off.

   "Or annoying." The rest of the three hours the two of you spend going back and forth with each other to the point that some of the other artists passing by started to call out their two cents in. By the time you're done, you have the outline complete and some of the black shaded in. The rest will be done in just two weeks time at his next opening.

-------------2 weeks later-----------

   Oddly enough for once, you haven't seen Yoongi outside during his normal smoke break time when you leave work for the last couple of weeks. You also haven't seen him getting his normal disgusting black coffee either. Not that you've been looking for him. Okay...so maybe you have. There's just something about him other than the really good looks you like. In one sense it's almost like walking on a blade the entire time you're with him, never sure when he's going to make a jab. On the other hand, he's also easy to talk to. In a way where everything is oddly comfortable even with this underlying lurking sexual tension. Or maybe that's just in your head. Maybe there's no sexual tension and it's just been so long since you last had a good lay (the dingleberry boy who shall not be named was terrible) that you're starting to hallucinate. Which is a rather real possibility.

   This time when you walk in with another cocoa it's with far fewer nerves. No, you're ready for the battlefield and only tremble ever so slightly when you have to face him with a bare ass in his face.

   "Alright sunshine, let's finish this bad boy up." Is all he states before he gets right into it, ever the professional. By the time he's finished, you're 110% positive that you were just imagining the sexual tension because his eyes don't even wander as you check the tattoo in the mirror. Which is a good thing right? Because you're supposed to be on your fast track to nundom not trying to bag the super hot tattoo artist who works near you.

   There's a bizarre sinking feeling in your heart though when you realize the tattoo is done and you won't be able to see him for extended periods of time on such a good excuse. An expensive excuse, but an excuse nonetheless. Now, however, with your beautiful, intricate, and very sore skin you'll have to go back to happenstance run-ins. You think that maybe, just maybe, if the somewhat hollow looking smile he gives you when you leave is anything to go by that he doesn't really want it to end either. But that's probably just the few embers of hope remaining in you that needs to be crushed out.

--------1 month later---------

   You've spent another night overworking yourself. This time there wasn't really a good reason to either. You're not only on schedule but way ahead and yet you've decided to just keep busting through work until dusk begins to fall and the shitty flickering streetlights by you turn on. Almost every night for the past few weeks you've been working longer days and as much as you hate to admit it it's to try to keep yourself from wallowing too much at night about your impending lonely doom. Tonight will be different though. Tonight you'll ruminate and bask in the fucked up world with your dear old friend Irene as she's finally decided to have a night away from her obnoxiously good looking fiance Taehyung. She might not be able to relate to your doom and gloom sentiments on life but she's always a good friend for a pick me up.

   You set off in the opposite direction of your usual route, winding through the chilly streets until you get to your favorite bar that serves oddly impressively delicious fried chicken. The moment you step in you notice Irene sitting at one of the few tables at the place, glaring at a man who clearly can't take a hint. Marching over you grab the seat across from her before biting off a 'Jesus how much aftershave do you use? Did you put in on your asshole too or something?' Knowing he's now outnumbered, and out bitched, the two of you watch the man leave without protest.

   "You know you really should be careful. People are crazy, aren't you ever afraid that you might get hurt or something?"

   You shrug nonchalantly before sighing at the doe eyes she gives you. "Irene, I love you but I'm not curtailing my inner bitch just because some douche might murder me. There are countless absurd ways I could die, if I have to check myself in fear of that then I just let all those asshats continue being menaces to society without being put in their shitty sad places."

   "So what you're like a superwoman with a bad attitude only you save the world one dick at a time with well-timed insults?" You know that voice, you know that voice all too well. Your ears perk up and your jaw drops open as you whip around to come eye to eye with Yoongi. For one whole month, you haven't seen him even with perfectly timed coffee runs around his smoke breaks. Not that you learned his habitual schedule or anything. Nope. Nothing like that at all. Just coincidence is all. And you just happened to notice he wasn't there. That's all.

   "Yoongi!" You hate the way your voice goes up an octave, excitement making your voice quiver like a little puppy reuniting with their owner after a short separation. You can already feel the heat bursting on your cheeks as his head tilts, eyes watching you carefully before he cracks a lazy smile.

   "Um, (y/n), who is this guy? Do I need to mace him or something?" Irene whispers to you, but just loud enough that as Yoongi steps closer he can hear her.

   "Please don't mace me. I promise, I only bite if you're into that."

   "Hey, watch it, mister. She's a taken woman." Reluctantly you wave your hand over the free seat to invite him over before looking back at Irene. "Irene this is Yoongi, Yoongi this is Irene. Yoongi did my tattoo for me."

   "Oh, you got a tattoo? Can I see it?"

   "We'll definitely get a free round of drinks if you show it off, that's for sure." You can't help but smack Yoongi's shoulder, shocked at the sturdiness of it. Considering how slight he looks you really didn't think that he worked out but now your mind is starting to wander.

   "Yeah well, kind of can't show you in public considering I have to take my pants off. Oh! But I do have some pictures!" You pull out your phone, swiping through until you find one and turning it to show her.

   "Wow, that looks like it hurt. It looks great though you did a good job..." Irene pauses, eyes going wide with panic before she finally adds, "Yoongi."

   "Thanks." He almost looks shy and you can feel your heart breaking. Yeah, typical to have the hot dude fall for your friend and not you.

   "Did you order drinks yet?" At the shake of Irene's head, you're grateful to have an excuse to flee to the bar not rushing to grab the bartenders attention and face falling slightly when he sidles up next to you immediately. The world is a cruel place. You want them to take their time and they're there immediately. You want them there right away and suddenly so do seventy other people. Luck. Or murphy's law maybe. Whatever.

   You huff out a sigh before plastering a smile on your face, "Two cranberry vodkas, please. Tall and stiff." The bartender nods as you slap down a twenty, praying that perhaps he'll at least make the drinks slowly but oh no this man must be one of those bartenders that enters fucking speed competitions because he's sliding both drinks over before you can fucking blink. Unbelievable. The service at this place is just too good and it's making you twitch slightly in irritation.

   Trying not to huff, you grab the two drinks and make your way back to your table. Heart sinking even more at the sound of Yoongi being strangely amicable to Irene. This was not the night you wanted at all. You wanted to get drunk and hang out with Irene and forget about how shitty boys are, not have glaring reminders everywhere about how the capitalist ploy that is romance will suffocate you to death. Okay so maybe you're being a little melodramatic. A lot. Whatever. It's your pity party, you can cry if you want to.

   When you finally sit back down and hand Irene her drink you can't help but guzzle yours back right away, ignoring the acidic burn in your throat and the quirked eyebrow from Yoongi.

   "So...(y/n)...any new boys after Johnny?" Irene refuses to look you in the eyes as she asks, smart enough to sit just out of reach from your possible rage.

   "I refuse to fall victim to the bullshit masquerade we call love yet again. I've called it quits. I'm just going to be a spinster with a million cats who will inevitably be forgotten until my landlord finds that mittens, my favorite cat, has eaten my left asscheek for sustenance after my untimely death."

   Irene bawks, trying immediately to rush into lengthy reasoning as to why you shouldn't stop searching for love as Yoongi nearly falls off his chair laughing so hard. At the end of Irene's dialogue, Yoongi wipes away a stray tear before shooting you a gummy smile. The kind that makes you want to hate him less, but you refuse to. Because that's dangerous territory. Territory you've sworn to never cross again. "You don't actually mean all that bullshit right? Love is natural, it's needed. It's biologically ingrained in us to be social creatures and affectionate."

   "Don't you judge me and mitten's life path!"

   "You don't even have a cat!" Irene looks exasperated as she takes a sip of her drink, silently judging you. "Listen, I get it. You've been fucked over a million times by terrible guys. But that doesn't mean that the whole world is that way." At the withering look you send her Irene sighs, shaking her head but falling mute. You feel a little bad that yet again you've ruined the mood so you try to lighten it up a bit, reaching over to pinch her cheek lightly.

   "Thanks, Irene. I'm sorry. I'm just...I don't know. I've been in a bit of a mood." You bit your tongue from further sarcasm at the pointed look she gives you. "Things haven't been so hot lately. I'll get over it. In like a decade. But you know that's better than never." You can feel Yoongi peering at you, analyzing you from the corner of your eye.

   "Why though? Why are you so convinced that love is such a sham?" Yoongi's words don't seem to hold any judgment or his usual quiet hostility, instead just honest curiosity.

   "Well if they don't cheat on me they always grow tired of me. I'm a bit too much of a bitch for my own good. I should really work on that." You shrug, staring at your almost empty glass as you try to shush the self-loathing thoughts that want to invade.

   "I like that part about you though. You've got spunk doll, it ain't a bad thing. You just need to find a guy who can match it." He smirks at the way you go quiet before leaning slightly into you at the table. "I don't know, I think I'm up for the challenge if you are." He grabs a card from his pocket, placing it next to your cup as he stands up. "That's my cell on there. Text me sometime babe." You hate the way your brain shuts down, playing back the way he calls you babe until all senses fail.

   "You should do it. You know he was asking about you the entire time you were getting drinks?" You feel your heart sink even further at the realization that you judged the situation too quickly before suddenly soaring at the idea that Min Yoongi asked you out on a date. You. Snarky, bitchy you found a match in hell. Capitalist ploys be damned! You'll at least find out if he's cocky for a reason. If you don't chicken out that is.

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

   Later that night after all the alcohol has left your system and you're snuggled up under enough blankets to possibly suffocate you, you find yourself staring at your phone. You entered in his contact almost immediately after he left at the urging of Irene. Apprehension has held you back from actually sending anything though. Your fingers hover over the screen, bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you suck in a breath. What have you got to lose?

[You]: Hey...

[Yoongi]: (Y/N)?

[You]: Yeah

[Yoongi]: This is unusual. I'm used to quippy remarks. Don't tell me you've grown soft?

[You]: Fuck off. I'm just confused that's all.

[Yoongi]: What's there to be confused about? You're funny, you have no problem with giving it right back to me, and you have a fantastic ass

[You]: Well that was blunt

[Yoongi]: I'm an honest man [Yoongi]: So listen, about that date, I wanna take you out Sunday

[You]: That's in like a day from now

[Yoongi]: Yeah well I've wanted to take you out from the first time you told me off for smoking on the street. And that time you told me you were going to shove my tattoo needle up my ass solidified it.

[You]: You have some odd kinks sir

[Yoongi]: Is that a yes babe?

[You]: Hmmm....yeah I'll go

[Yoongi]: Great send me your address I'll pick you up at noon

[You]: You aren't going to chop me up in a million pieces and feed me to the fishes right?

[Yoongi]: No I prefer my women in one piece

   You send over your address, butterflies swarming around as you squeal into a pillow before sending him a quick good night. You don't need to embarrass yourself by saying something off the wall as exhaustion starts to set in. Like "I want to kiss your face" or "Fuck me in your office." Yeah, that's not good pre-date material. You need to keep it kosher for now.

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

   You had spent all day Saturday cleaning to keep your nerves at bay. Not that you can really tell much in your closet after you ransacked it. And not that you can tell you went through all of that energy just to pick a simple oversized black hoodie and jeans. It's too cold to go all out anyway. You've been staring in the mirror, double checking your hair and makeup a thousand times as you hear the doorbell chime through the apartment. It's a good thing no one else is around to see you nearly trip over yourself as you slip on your shoes and answer the door. "Hi!"

   Yoongi is wearing his usual black leather jackets, skin-tight black jeans, and cat-like smirk. "Hey. You ready?"

   "Yeah, oh just let me grab a jacket." Pulling one off the rack you shut the door behind you, locking the door before shuffling behind Yoongi. Much to your surprise, he slows down until your right next to him, clasping his hand around yours and smiling as he silently leads you to his car.

   "What, no motorcycle today?"

   "Nah, I figured you'd strangle me and we'd crash. Dieing on the first date just seems tragic. We need to get on date number five at least." He shoots you a wink as he opens your door, shutting it lightly behind him as he jogs around to the other side.

   "So...where exactly are you taking me?"

   "You're a curious little thing today, aren't you? Well at first I was thinking something simple like coffee, but let's be honest that's overplayed and boring. So then I thought about going to an aquarium just so I could make a joke about feeding you to the fishes but then I thought nah too easy. So I spent more time than I'll tell you plotting. And I realized exactly where we needed to go. We're going to the river for a picnic. Something that's oddly ordinary and you'll secretly love but no dude's ever actually done for you. Am I right?"

   You're at a loss. You certainly didn't expect him to think this through to this extent. Honestly, no guy has ever cared this much about a first date before. You figured that only existed in stories and movies at this point. "You're certainly right. Isn't it a little cold for a picnic though?"

   "I have brought plenty of cocoa and jjigae to keep us warm, don't you worry your pretty little head about it." You can't help but fidget slightly, nerves boiling over until his hand rests soothingly on your thigh and you feel yourself melt. Or maybe boil over until you malfunction. But that's something to dwell on at a later time.

   It doesn't take long after that until you pull up at the river. During springtime it's packed, everyone comes out to drink under the cherry blossoms, but right now it's serenely quiet. You're almost the only people in sight save the zealous runners and elderly couples strolling through on their daily walks. When you try to help set up the blanket and food Yoongi refuses, so instead you watch him meticulously lay everything out. Maybe this is a post-season Christmas movie because you swear you can feel your dead cold heart grow as you watch him. It's an oddly domestic feeling. Certainly romantic. Painfully sweet. And for once all of your usual bitter snarkiness has drowned it's self in the river to leave you a heart-eyed mess.

   "Come on, come sit. I told you before, I don't bite unless you're into that."

   "I'm into that, but right now I'd rather have cocoa and jjigae." You watch him pour out your drink as you sit down, carefully handing you the piping hot drink before pulling the still boiling soup out of the basket.

   "Alright, so I figured that being you'd probably refuse to tell me too much out of wariness. So I propose that we play 21 questions. What's your favorite food?"

   "Tofu, in all it's many forms. What's your favorite color?"

   "Black, just like my coffee."

   "And your soul." You duck as he tosses a napkin at your face, laughing at the gummy expression he sends your way.

   "Aish. Okay, next question, what are your hobbies?"

   "Reading and video games. Why'd you become a tattoo artist?"

   "I love drawing, but I especially love the idea of a living canvas. It's just so interesting. Although I hate that I don't usually get to control the outcome of it, some people have god awful tattoo ideas. Most people actually. I'm at least booked enough now that I can refuse those ones without worrying about my bank account too much. Why are you so afraid of love?"

   You weren't expecting that question. You figured he'd keep things easy but then again you should have known better. Of all the many ways you can describe the man before you easy isn't one of them. "Trust problems I guess. I didn't have the best home, parents kicked me out young and we haven't talked since so that's probably at the root of it all. I don't know though, never seen a shrink about it so that's just an educated guess. Add all the boys that I've dated either dumped me or cheated on me and it makes it tough to believe that love, especially romantic love is real. Why do you believe in it?"

   "Because love is the very essence of humanity. The best way to fight a shitty system that tries to keep us all down is through love. It's not power or money or any of that other bullshit they tell us we need. It's love. We all just need someone who understands us. It doesn't need to be a ton of people, just one who really gets us and bam! Everything's good. Sometimes those people come and go, but that doesn't make the love you held for that time discounted. It just means that now you need to find someone else who understands you." He chooses his words carefully at first, but when he sees that you're held in rapt attention he grows passionate. Eyes blazing as if to dare you to disagree. And suddenly you're seeing the world through a different lens. Here you had been chalking romance up to marketing, which isn't entirely untrue but that's just one part of it. But love the way he sees it? To him, love isn't about marketing or money it's just about human connection. And suddenly you're starting to understand that abstract intangible concept. You also realize that what you were looking for wasn't love, but perfection. You didn't want to do all the work, you just wanted all the pieces to magically fall into place for you and gave up when expectations weren't instantly met. "Next question, why'd you say yes to this date?"

   "Because you're hot." You roll his eyes at the exaggerated wink he sends you before eating a bit of the jjigae. "Okay so that was a part of it but mostly I was curious. You're this weird enigma Yoongi. At first, I thought I had you all figured out. Tough dude with tats and a motorcycle who probably has a slew of booty calls waiting for him. But then you said you liked to cuddle and I got curious. And then I realized that I didn't have the whole picture, just a glimpse. Why in the world did you ask me out? And for the love of god don't say 'dat ass.'"

   "Okay but dat ass though." The way he laughs full heartedly, slapping his knees at the sight of your glare almost makes you not elbow him. Almost. But you have a reputation to uphold. "You've just got this thing about you. You're like a fortress. A puzzle. I guess that same idea of wanting to figure a person out is the same reason why I'm so attracted to you. You see at first glance you seem to be just brutally honest, but then when you look closer it's easy to see that you're vulnerable. Fragile. Callous due to a previous naivety that landed you in shit places by the sounds of it. I like that you have spirit, you aren't afraid to tell people to fuck off. But what I like most of all is under that there's this heart of gold. At least if your interaction with your friends is anything to go by you do." Fuck, you think you have something in your eye. It's definitely not your long extinct tear ducts learning how to work again. Nope.

   You can feel his thumb brush a stray tear, hand cupping your face as you automatically nuzzle into the warmth before he clears his throat. "Next question-"

   Before he can finish the question your lips are on his. They're chapped but still soft, plush under yours. And suddenly that tailwind romance you thought was all fake feels so real as a spark of electricity zaps you. Or maybe that's more carnal, but whatever it is it feels so right. As if his lips were made to be against yours. And when you feel him kiss back roughly, hands weaving through your hair as he pulls you in closer you know that he must be feeling the same thing. You're floating. High in the clouds. Weightless. The sound of someone running past finally has the two of you breaking apart slowly. "Right next question, can we do that again?"

   This time there's a fire behind the kiss as your hands grab onto his jacket and his tongue slips into your mouth. This time you know it's more carnal. Burning bright. Passionate. Hungry. Needy. But before it can devolve into public debauchery you reluctantly pull back, blush creeping up your neck as you see his molten brown eyes focused on you in a way that clearly states that he is indeed as dangerous as he looks. At least if your definition of dangerous is sex right out in the open at a very public park anyway.

   "My turn. What's your favorite music?"

   The rest of the date goes by too quickly and you learn about everything Yoongi related and he learns everything about you. You're positive that you've never learned so much about a person on a first date, or hell even by the third. You've learned his birthday, his favorite music, all about his friends, how he actually co-owns the tattoo shop and how that all happened. You've learned about how he came from a poor family and how he makes sure to send a little bit each week to help out on top of the apartment he bought them. Suddenly the $200 an hour fee makes a whole lot more sense.

   By the time you're pulling back into your apartment, the two of you have already planned a date for next Sunday. And as he puts the car in park you can't hope but wish that somehow it was already magically next week. But when he pulls you in for a heated kiss and presses his forehead against yours before sending you off you're too much on cloud nine to pay any attention. You'll have to add that Yoongi is certainly the best kisser you've ever known to your mental file.

-------------1 week later---------------

   Well, it's official. You're nuts. You'd like to blame Yoongi but let's be honest, all you needed was a little help to push you over the ledge. Except the problem is that before you were very sure of life. Completely comfortable with anger, bitterness, and believing that everything inevitably fails. And in some sick twist of fate, his words have been playing back in your head over and over every single day for the last week. Before you thought it was all or nothing. Love was there or it wasn't. You get one shot at true love and if it fails then it never existed. Except now your world is flipped upside down.

   Perfection is a fruitless endeavor. An impossible task. One with zero rewards. And what you've been looking for all this time is perfection. A perfect love. A whirlwind romance. But if it's perfect it's fake. It's all a lie. An elaborate performance. Which is mostly all you've ever gotten, granted usually in short-lived moments but sometimes longer. And when the curtains closed each time you thought, "this show wasn't a real show. I'll go to a better play next door." Except the play was still very much real. A part of you. A part of them. Which means that love is indeed real it's just not always very grand. But when it was there it was beautiful, you were just blind and ignorant in even the good moments. Unaware of the magic in small acts. But with Yoongi suddenly you want to see all the small acts. You want to not just see the show but be a part of it. Go behind the scenes with him. See how this plays out.

   Which is completely fucking nuts. You're already talking about your entire worldview changing and the concept as something as obscure as falling in love with a man you barely know and have only been out on a date with once. It makes you afraid. It makes you feel free. It gives you options. It's like being able to use all of your senses at once for the first time. Except that's scary because there's too much coming at you at once. But it's equal parts exhilarating. You've been through every single possible emotion a person could have every day.

   By the time your second date finally arrives, you're suddenly calm about it all. As if everything is right and the puzzle pieces to life are aligning and maybe just maybe you have a chance to see things differently. And while before you would have rather poked your eyes out than face rejection again this time you just want to see where this takes you. You aren't thinking so much about the end results, rather the journey.

   Tonight Yoongi is taking you out to his favorite record store. While you don't own a record player you can certainly appreciate the aesthetics of vinyl. There's something oddly charming about them, even if it is ridiculously impractical in the modern world of space-saving technology and cramped apartments. Perhaps the impracticality of it is apart of the appeal, however. This time you aren't tripping over yourself to get to the door. But that's because you're standing right by it giving yourself a pep talk. Not that he needs to know that of course. After smoothing down your hair and doing a quick checklist in your head your pulling the door open.

   This time he's wearing an oversized sweater but again the same tight black jeans. The man must have stock in them. Not that you blame him, it looks good after all. "You look great, babe." Heat blossoms on your face as his eyes scan you from head to toe, that signature lazy smile adorning his face before he takes your hand in his and leads you to his car.

   "Still no motorcycle?"

   "Nope, still don't trust that you won't freak out and kill me accidentally. Why? You seem oddly keen on the bike."

   "It just looks fun that's all."

   "It is. There's nothing better than a good ride, and you can take that any way you please." He winks at you, laughing when you scoff and punch his shoulder. If any other guy said that line you would have jumped out of the now moving vehicle, but for some reason when he says it you turn into putty. Maybe it's the charm of being absurdly good looking. Or that tattoos. The bad-boy charm. Or maybe it's because in all his infinite aloof glory he's just Yoongi. Comfortable and confident in his own skin without being sleazy.

   The record store is quiet, playing a selection of upbeat jazz. Your brain is trying to figure out the tune until you finally snap your fingers and softly say, "Giant Steps!"

   "You know jazz? Are you a secret Coltrane fan or something?" Yoongi is giving you that look. The look that says he's clearly analyzing you. Studying you. Dissecting your brain as you speak.

   "Sort of. I dated this guy in college for years, he was a jazz major. His thesis was going to be on Giant Steps, it's been years since I've heard it though. Are you secretly into jazz, Min Yoongi?"  

   You watch him shake his head no as he scans the records before pulling one out. Outkast, ATliens. A great album, one that invokes nostalgia. He quickly puts the record under his arm before he continues searching. "Nah, I'm more of a blues guy myself. Nina Simone. Etta James. Bill Withers. The building blocks to all modern music. At least hip hop, R&B, and all the subgenres of rock."

   "You know an awful lot about music considering you're a tattoo artist. What's the background story on that?" You peruse next to him as you speak, flicking through the music slowly.

   "Once upon a time I wanted to be a rapper." There's something far off about his voice. As if he's reliving the memories. A gentle smile on his lips as he shakes his head as if to push them back into their little file in his brain to not be disturbed for some time. "But I had bills to pay. I'm not complaining though. I love music, adore it. But I love what I do too. It's almost like trying to pick between your two children. You might actually have a favorite, but it changes depending on the day."

   "Let's hope you only have one kid then."

   "Nah, I'm going to have a horde of mini Mins. Take over the world with them and overthrow capitalism. It's my diabolical plan to get housing prices back to normal and get student debt forgiveness."

   "And how exactly do you plan to have this army of darkness? Polygamy? A sex cult?"

   "God that just sounds exhausting. I can hardly keep up with you let alone more women. No, I think I'll actually stick with two children. You know, just so on tough days I can look at one and go 'ah yes today you didn't fuck up.'" You pray that he doesn't look over to see your cherry red face. He in a way made it sound like he's thought about children with you. Clearly, that's not what he means but now your mind is wandering. Mini mins. They'd be cute. Probably slightly evil but cute nevertheless. They might be born glaring though. Or smirking instead of crying.

   "What happens when they both fuck up?"

   "Then I've got you." Fuck, he was implying you. Holy shit. Holy shit. Act natural. Don't look at him. "Ooh look! They have a Frank Ocean Blonde vinyl. Unopened this bad boy is worth a few hundred. Man, I can't believe how cheap they're selling it for." He tucks it under his arm before cataloging through some more. For a short while the two of you work in silence, falling into a pattern that when you stare at one for just a little too long he's plucking it out of your hands and refusing to listen to you protest.

   By the end of it all, the two of you are walking out with a dozen records after learning a wealth of information on all of Yoongi's favorite artists. You also learned that once upon a time his rap name was 'Suga.' Which led to you immediately and passionately singing Sugar by System of the Down quickly increasing in volume until he clamps his hand over your mouth and stares at you with the rage of a thousand suns. Totally worth it though. Especially when the dude behind the counter picks up where you left off.

   Dinner goes by too quickly. You wish you could freeze time, force it to slow so you can languidly explore his world. It's with a heavy heart that you unbuckle your seat belt before leaning over and pulling him into a heated kiss. One that makes your head spin again and proves that the first date wasn't a series of flukes. Nope, Min Yoongi really does have a skilled tongue. When you pull away you can see stars in his eyes, his hair ruffled and cheeks red as he tries to even out his breathing. The most dangerous part about Yoongi is his duality. The way he can flit between sexy to cute and somewhere in between without trying.

------------2 months later----------

   You've lost count on how many dates you've gone on at this point. He's taken you out on his bike finally to go stargazing. Out to plays and art galleries. Sometimes you've just stayed in and watched movies together. You have lunch together at least twice a week now, grabbing coffee together for a short reunion in the mornings after spending all night talking about everything and nothing over the phone. It's as if a time before Yoongi didn't exist. It's comfortable. Oddly easy.

   It's to your chagrin and surprise that you learn that Yoongi wants to take things slow. He doesn't rush you into bed. He's the perfect gentleman. A punk Disney prince, albeit with a sharp tongue. No even after the third and fourth date when you try to heat things up he's quick to pull away and tell you that he doesn't want to rush things. Not with you, he says. He wants you to trust him first. He wants you to be truly comfortable first. He doesn't want you to think that he's only in it for that.  

   You get it. In fact, in a twist, it actually makes things hotter. But the build-up is getting almost painful now. The sexual tension mounting to epic proportions. Your poor vibrator would hate you if it wasn't inanimate. He wasn't lying about loving cuddling. He's also apparently a man of extreme patience because no matter how many times you've felt his hard dick against your ass mid-spooning he's refused to act on it. Or let you. It's left you more than slightly frustrated on multiple occasions. It also wasn't helpful that it, in turn, made you an awkward mess. In fact, you remember jokingly mentioning some gibberish about your starfish quivering to try and crack the tension and for a while you thought he would never let you live that terrible joke down. Starfish, really? What were you thinking?

   What you belatedly realize though is that his master plan fucking works. Because somewhere along the way you started letting down your guards. Somewhere along all your dates, you find yourself falling. Allowing yourself to be human. Allowing yourself to stop fearing love. Allowing yourself to trust. Without fighting it. Without running. It's no longer terrifying. It's no longer something that gnaws at you in the chasm of anxiety.

   And just shy of three months into dating Yoongi you realize that you love him. Love. Abstract. Intangible. Yet not. It's the way he looks at you. The way he holds your hands. The way he thinks about the things that make you tick. The way the two of you try to find joy in the tiniest of things. Marie Kondo would tell you that you've finally found something that sparks joy. But it's not just from him. No, even when he's not around you feel lighter. Freer. Happier. You're still sarcastic. A bit of a bitch. But this time it's no longer from a place of longheld bitterness and pain, rather it's from your twisted brand of humor.

   This realization comes to you as you after hanging out with Yoongi's friends and coming back to his place to just chill and listen to his vinyls. When his thumb soothingly rubs your hand as you curl up into his chest. It's so natural. So right. "I love you." The words come out a soft sigh, muffled slightly into his chest but he hears them loud and clear.

   Yoongi twists, pulling your face up to his. "Did you just say you love me?"

   "Min Yoongi I love you." You don't expect to hear anything back. You aren't saying it for affirmation or reciprocation. You just want him to know.

   "I don't think I've ever heard better words. Say it again." That gummy smile is back. The one that stirs up butterflies. The one that warms your soul. The one that you fell in love with.

   You swing your legs over his lap, straddling him as you stare into his eyes. "I. Love. You."

   "God, you don't know how bad I've wanted to hear that. I love you so fucking much. So much. Holy fuck. I want to kiss you, can I kiss-" Before he can finish the sentence your lips are on his. Soft and pliant under yours, a lingering taste of leftover chapstick and nicotine. It's captivating. Dizzying. It's so easy to get drunk off his lips. His taste. The soft groans that leave him. Tongues intertwine as his hands roam your body before landing on your ass with a firm squeeze. It's messy. Needy. Sloppy but full of passion. As if you're the only cure for each other. Each emotion lingering in the air. Your hips swivel down, grinding against his pants as one hand weaves into your hair to pull your neck back and attach his lips to there.

   You can feel the small bruises blossoming already. Love bites and harsh sucks leave cherry blossoms along your neck, mirroring the pattern of his own tattoo. Quiet moans of need are spilling out, desire pooling into your panties each time his teeth scrape against you. "You, doll, are the hottest thing I've ever seen. I could worship you. Dedicate a temple to you. Can't wait to feel you. God, I want you so bad. I love you so fucking much." Each word spills out from him like a deep moan, reverberating through his chest and chewing them off at the end. A loud mewl of satisfaction leaves you. He loves you. He loves you. You're in love. Over the moon. How could you ever think that love wasn't for you? How could you ever give up? How could you honestly think that you were destined to be a spinster when a man like him wants you?

   His hands claw at your shirt, quick to remove your bra and leave you partially bare. Even with the slight chill seeping in through his apartment you still feel feverish. Each time his calloused hands roam your skin you can feel your temperature increase. God, you've never wanted someone so much. It's almost an out of body experience. Sex elevated off the mortal plane. You swear you might cum just from him touching you at this rate. His lips brush against your nipples before biting down, one hand reaching back into your hair as you arch into the touch.

   "Wanna touch you Yoongi. Wanna feel you." The words come out drunkenly. Wobbly. Laced with honey through your swollen lips. When his grip lets go of your hair you lean down to his neck, pressing kisses around his tattoo, tongue laving at the branch as your teeth scrape against his soft skin. The deep moans hiccuping out of him are music to your ears, urging you on as your grind against him. Desperate for friction. Desperate for release. Your hands toy at his shirt before finally breaking away to pry it over his head. Your eyes dance over his half-naked form, taking in the sight before you. Almost every square inch is covered, ink swirling around in intricate stories. God, you're about the fuck the hottest living canvas.

   His chest is heaving, breathing uneven as the two of you make eye contact again before lips come crashing together and he's picking you up. Carrying you out of the living room and into his bedroom, stopping occasionally to push you against a wall just to latch onto your neck or chest. By the time you make it to the bed, you're sure that for the first time in your life you could actually forgo foreplay. You're so wet that you can feel it seeping through your underwear and leaving a mark on your jeans. He stumbles onto the bed, your head hitting the wall with a loud thwack that has both of you pausing for a moment. "Shit, are you okay?"

   "Mmokay, take your pants off." You rub at the sore spot before reaching up to place a reassuring kiss on his lips. You hold your breath as you watch him strip, dick springing out proudly. Smeared with precum. Red. Throbbing and twitching. "You don't wear underwear?"

   He looks almost bashful for a moment. "It's laundry day actually..." At the sound of your giggles, he takes the opportunity while you're disarmed to unbutton your pants, freeing you from your jeans and leaving you in just your flimsy lacy panties. The mood shifts back again when you see the hunger in his eyes. As if he's staring at a feast. "Christ, can't wait to taste this pussy. Make you cry my name." His hands are shaking slightly as he slowly pries your underwear off, eyes narrowing on the way your juices stick to your underwear finally tossing it off the side of the best.

   "Please taste me, I need you. I can't wait."

   "Who knew you'd be so needy? So quick to beg for my tongue?" That usual lazy smirk is back on his face as he looks at you, hands hooking around your thighs and pulling them over his shoulders. His tongue flattens against your sex before you can respond, a choked moan drowning out your words. Jesus, he's good with his tongue. It moves slowly, languidly against your dripping pussy. Rhythmically. Diving into your folds only to swirl up around your clit, sucking lightly and releasing with a soft pop before going back down all over again. It's when his tongue dips even lower, swirling around your puckered rim that you can feel your eyes roll back and breathing cut off. Two fingers slip into your dripping cunt with ease, scissoring to stretch you. The dual sensation of his tongue on your ass and fingers filling you up has you clenching. Spiraling. Bright white flashing behind your eyes as a silent scream tries to leave your throat. Toes curling, his name finally rolling off your tongue as you chase the sensation, your orgasm consuming your senses. It leaves you dizzy. Panting. A mewling, drenched mess under him.

   Through fuzzy ears you can hear his low voice, "God how do you taste so good? Fuck, I could watch you all day baby girl."

   His fingers move slowly as he watches you return to earth, twitching underneath him at the oversensitivity. You feel so sated, but at the same time, you want so much more. The look in his eyes makes you hungry all over again. You want him to feel just as good as you. You look up with hooded eyes, hand wrapping around his drooling cock as you speak. "I wanna taste you too Yoongi."

   His adam's apple bobs, hands leaving your thighs as he pulls you into another messy kiss. It's almost all teeth and tongue this time, a thin line of saliva breaks apart when you separate. You shuffle off the bed slowly, knees gingerly falling to the floor before looking back up as your tongue swirls around his head before pulling back to lick a long stripe along his prominent vein. You pepper tiny kisses along his base, one hand cupping his balls gently as the other one twists around his base. You envelop his velvety length in your mouth, working slowly into a steady rhythm. Each sigh from him, soft moans of pleasure spurs you deeper. Jaw aching slightly as you try to take him deeper, using your hand to help stimulate the places you can't reach. His hands grip your hair tightly as he reaches past your molars, pulling you off of him with a loud pop. "Sorry love, I'm not gonna last much longer if you keep doing that and I really want to fuck you."

   You gulp at the way he's watching you. As if he's a predator and you're his prey. A feast for the night. You wouldn't have it any other way. He helps guide you back onto the bed, twisting you onto all fours as his hands glide over your ass. "Best ass I've ever seen. God, I've had so many wet dreams over this ass." His hand comes down sharply, the sting bringing a wave of pleasure to ripple through you as it soothingly rubs over. Your thoughts are quickly brought back to the throbbing between your thighs as his cock rubs against your swollen clit. "Please, fuck. God." You're incoherent, words stringing together slowly.

   "What's my name doll?"

   "Yoongi, come on. Fuck me before I bite your head off!"

   "Yeah yeah, we'll see how much sass you have left in you when I'm done." You wiggle your hips impatiently as you hear him spit into his palm, adding lubrication before he glides into you. "Holy shit." He stays still for a moment as you spasm around the intrusion. He's just thick enough to have you crying out in pleasure, just long enough to have you seeing stars as he sinks deeper.

   "Oh, fuck. Move, please move." You push back, sinker further onto him as he stays still before his hands snake around your throat.

   "God, you are so mouthy. And as much as I normally love hearing you talk back right now I really just wanna fuck you." He pulls out almost completely before slamming back in, balls slapping into your clit in a way that has you seeing stars. Each movement is harsh, quick, with stamina and vigor you didn't foresee him having. The feeling of his hand wrapped around your throat, cutting off just enough circulation to stutter your breathing, has you gasping and rutting underneath him. Fuck, was sex supposed to feel this good? In your fucked out state, you can barely make out the sound of him chuckling darkly behind you. "Look at you baby, already fucked out and I've barely started. Do you wanna cum again baby? Already?"

   "Fuck, please. Don't stop!" Your high pitched begging has him drilling in deeper, his free hand moving off your ass and onto your clit in quick circular motions that has you clenching around him. This time your orgasm is earth-shattering. Loud. Wet. When his hand finally lets go of your throat you face plant into the pillow, legs shaking around him as he keeps moving.

   "You're so beautiful when you cum, did you know that? My pretty baby girl, all fucked out on my cock. Now that's a sight I never want to stop seeing." Another loud smack to your ass has you sobbing into the pillow, moans spilling out as your release gushes around him. "Jesus, how is your pussy so fucking wet? Are you always this wet?"

   "No. It's just for you Yoongi."

   "That's right. This pussy is mine, isn't it? Say it, doll."

   "This pussy is yours Yoongi, fuck. Hold on, I wanna ride you." He stutters, pausing before pulling out so the two of you can shuffle around. You smirk as you crawl over his lap, one hand holding onto his cock as the other grabs his arm while you sink down. You're sure you look a fucked out mess, but so does he. Sweat is making his fringe cling to his forehead, kiss-swollen lips, hickies covering his neck visible even over his tattoos.

   You neck snaps back as you sink down completely, the new angle bringing him right to your g-spot and making your legs shake in overstimulation. You fall forward onto his chest, pulling him into another kiss as you circle your hips in small figure eights. You bite down on his lower lip, pulling it between your teeth as you reach behind you and gently roll his balls in your hand. You delight in the way he groans, eyes rolling back at the sensation. "Keep doing that and I'm not going to last (y/n)."

   "That's the point. Come on, cum with me Yoongi." It doesn't take much in your overstimulated state to get right back to the point again. Hanging over the edge as you dip your hand down to circle your clit, relishing in the dulcet moans from him as the two of you climax together. His nose scrunches up, eyebrows furrowing as he grips at your hips as you ride him into his own orgasm right after your third. It doesn't take long before he twitches inside you, painting your insides white as you slow down. At the feeling of him coming to his own completion you slump forward, your head falling into the crook of his neck as his hands circle your waist.

   "Wow. That might easily have been the best sex of my life."

   "Yeah, that was, wow." Your breathing is still unsteady, legs shaking as you feel him soften inside you.

   "Did you realize you squirted?"

   "Ah, yeah. Sorry to break your heart but that's actually somewhat normal for me."

   "God that is so fucking hot." You laugh into his neck, exhaustion taking over as you sigh. "You know, the first time I ever saw you I knew. I just knew. You were all sass and fire, and I just knew that you were it. You were the one."

   You wish you could reciprocate and say you thought the same thing when you first saw Yoongi, but you suppose it's better late than never. "I never would've guessed when I first met you that you liked cuddling, or saying such cheesy lines, or absolutely hated scary movies."

   "Yeah, but you love that about me."

   "Yeah. But I'm pretty sure I just love everything about you Min Yoongi."

   "You know, when you say my full name like that I get oddly turned on. Do you think you're up for a round two in like, half an hour?"

   You really should say no, you really just want to sleep. But just the thought has your mind spinning. Lord give you strength because you're going to need it, or at least better stamina, to last in survive this man.

   You never would've guessed that love could feel so right. So natural. So normal. It isn't always a crazy spark. It isn't all fire and passion, even though it certainly has its moments. No, it's softer. Gentler. It grows and evolves with you. It changes. It takes work. And the two of you do somehow make it work. Even after moving in and trying to learn how to love someone when there's only one bathroom. Even after you get married and fall into a routine. Even after you get pregnant and go a smidge hormonally insane both times. Even on days when both of the kids drive you batty. Even when they leave home and leave you with an empty nest all over again. Because love is something beautiful. It's something innate within us all, it's just a matter of both parties wanting it enough. Working at it enough. And whenever anyone asks you what love means to you it was simple from that day forward. Min Yoongi.