#he’s so big… he’s so big it’s actually crazy… i’d slide his robe to the side and go craaaxy on it

[introloves]

uzui 😭

[bun-lapin]

YuYu the Universe - Chapter 1 (part 2)

Summary: Yuna and Yuuji wake up in Twisted Wonderland

Word Count: 1.5k Genre: Slice of life / comedy Characters: (ocs) Yuna & Yuuji, Dire Crowley, Grim CW: light swearing, rude as hell dark mirror /hj

Start/Previous Part - Next Part - Fic on AO3

“What the-? Why is it so dark? Where the hell am I?!”

“...Yuna?”

“Yuuji! Are you here? I can’t see anything! Where are we?”

“Girl, seriously? You’re literally laying on top of me. How did you not realize I was here?” Yuuji raises his hand in the cramped space and feels a flat, wooden surface against his fingertips. “It seems like we’re in some sort of box.”

“Honestly, I thought you were some kind of super lumpy pillow or something- oww! Dude, did you just pinch me?!”

Yuuji clicks his tongue in annoyance and says, “We’ve somehow been trapped in a wooden box together. This is a very stressful situation so I’d appreciate you not commenting on my beautiful, non-lumpy body!” He takes a few deep breaths to steady his frazzled nerves. “First order of business: we need to find a way out of here. We should...hmm let’s see...maybe you could punch the box open?”

“Punch it open?” Yuna scoffs, “There’s not enough room in here for me to draw my arm back!”

“What about that move the guy uses in that one kung fu movie we watched last week? Like, he was trapped in a tiny closet or something?”

“What move-? Oh! Are you talking about the one-inch punch?” Yuna continues in an animated tone, “I can see where you’re coming from. That move looks really cool and has lots of interesting physics behind it, but realistically, it’s not an actual option here. You see, the secret behind the move is all about-”

“YUNA! I’m about to freak the fuck out!” Yuuji suddenly shouts, cutting short her impromptu lecture. “We need to get out of here! You know I don’t do well in confined spaces!”

Raising her hand to feel along the solid barrier in front of her, Yuna says with a smirk in her voice, “That’s true! Remember in elementary school when you got stuck in the big tube slide and-” her story abruptly cuts off and, in the sudden silence, a hollow, rattling sound fills the space. “...Hmm. It looks like this box has a lid or something because I can move this part...”

Yuuji lets out a long, aggravated sigh. A few beats of silence pass by before he finally says, “I’m sorry for freaking out earlier. Now please get us out of here.”

Pushing firmly against the wooden surface, Yuna throws open the lid to the mysterious box. Blinking against the sudden light, she takes a step forward and immediately begins to fall several feet down towards a polished marble floor. Acting on instinct, she twists to grab Yuuji’s shoulder and they both fall through the air into a crumpled heap below.

“I say! How very rude of you to step out all by yourself- Huh?! There's two of you? What were both of you doing in the coffin??”

Wincing slightly in pain, both Yuna and Yuuji look up to see an elegantly dressed man, sporting a crow mask and a black top hat, standing before them. Behind him is a seated crowd wearing dark, hooded robes. Gazing around the room, they take in the sight of floating coffins in the air above them and candle-lit lanterns that glow with a gentle green light.

With a blank expression, Yuuji softly murmurs to himself, “Ah, I see. I’m dreaming right now…”

Jumping up from the floor, Yuna tugs on his arm in a panic and says, “Get up! We’re definitely not dreaming! For starters, there’s no way my imagination is good enough to come up with something this crazy. And second of all, my foot hurts like hell from when we landed!” Dropping into a fighting stance, she yells, “We’ve obviously been abducted by some kind of dangerous cult who want to sacrifice us or something! You make a run for it and I’ll try to hold them off for as long as I can!”

Putting his hands up in a calming motion, the man in the crow mask says, “Please! Settle down, you two! You are in no danger. It seems the transportation spell has made you confused.” He places a hand against his chest in a refined pose and states in a somewhat fanciful voice, “My name is Dire Crowley, headmage of Night Raven College! The most prestigious school for mages in Twisted Wonderland!”

“Hmm… I see. Seems we’ve been isekai’d...” Yuuji states flatly, still obviously stunned by the current situation.

“Isekai?” Yuna rises out of her combat stance and turns to Yuuji. “Does that mean we have magic powers now?” She raises her hands towards Crowley and shouts, “Fire Ball!! Ice Beam!! Lightning Attack!!”

A deep and mysterious voice suddenly fills the room, “These two souls. They possess no magic.”

All eyes turn towards the source of the ominous voice. A large, ornate mirror depicting dark flames flickering behind a pale mask, floats at the center point of the room. The mirror speaks again, “I sense no magic from these two. No color, no shape, no sound. The nature of their souls is utterly vacant.”

Yuna gently tugs on the sleeve of Yuuji’s jacket as she whispers, “Is it just me, or did that talking mirror just throw mad shade on the nature of our souls?”

Shaking his head with a sigh, Yuuji replies, “I can’t believe we got transported to another world and we don’t even get any magical powers. What a ripoff...”

The crowd of hooded figures begins murmuring and whispering in surprise at the mirror’s words. Placing a hand to his mouth in shock, Crowley cries out, “Oh my! How could something like this have happened? This is an unprecedented-”

“HOLD IT! If they don’t have any magic, I’ll just take their place!” Another voice, this time high-pitched and scratchy, rings out through the air.

Turning towards a darkened corner, everyone in the room stares at the sight of some sort of furry, cat-like creature standing up in a large birdcage. The creature, blue flames flickering from its ears, flashes a sharp-toothed grin at Crowley and yells, “Did ya hear me, headmage?! I, the great and amazing Grim, will take their place!” He places his small paws on the bars of the cage and fiercely rattles them for added emphasis.

Crowley shouts, “Silence, you impertinent weasel! It’s bad enough I caught you trying to break into the ceremony. We even had to spend all that time putting out that blasted fire you started! I’ll deal with you in a minute. Now go back to being quiet while I handle these two magic-less students!”

Grim responds by gnashing his teeth angrily and furiously clawing at the lock on the cage.

Clearing his throat, Crowley turns back towards Yuna and Yuuji. “It’s clear that some sort of mistake has been made. Without magic, you cannot attend this school. The Dark Mirror shall now send you back to where you belong.”

The Dark Mirror suddenly speaks up again, “There is no place in this world for these two souls. There is nowhere they belong.”

Yuna scoffs and whispers to Yuuji, “Seriously? Why is this mirror so rude? Did we personally offend it or something??”

Crowley stands speechless, his mouth hanging open in shock. After a moment, he heaves a loud sigh and shakes his head tiredly. “It’s getting late... Housewardens, please escort your new students back to the dorms.” He walks over to pick up the cage containing Grim and then points at Yuna and Yuuji, “You two, follow me. I will show you where you can sleep for the night and then in the morning we will sort out this whole mess.”

The two friends follow Crowley out of the strange mirror room and out into the night. Walking in silence, the curious looking group travels down a dark and winding road lined with apple trees. In the distance, several distinguished and academic looking buildings can be seen.

Stopping in front of a rusted gate, Crowley gestures towards the run-down building ahead of them and says, “You may stay here for tonight.”

The pair stare skeptically at the decrepit and barely standing house. Yuuji silently shoots Yuna a look of dismay. In response, she shrugs and shakes her head. Turning to Crowley, they simultaneously say, in a resigned-to-their fate kind of way, “Looks great. Thanks.”

Crowley shoves the caged Grim into Yuna’s arms and then swiftly turns on his heel to begin walking back back towards the school. Smiling pleasantly over his shoulder, he call out, “Sweet dreams then~! I’ll be back first thing in the morning!”

Yuna holds the cage over her head and shouts, “Hey! Wait a minute! You forgot your weird cat!!”

Grim stomps his paws against the bottom of the cage and yowls angrily, “I am NOT a cat!! I’m a great and powerful mage!!”

Walking a little faster, Crowley yells back, “If you would be so kind, I’d like you two to look after him for the night. Thank you very much for your assistance~!” His parting words echo out into the night air and he soon disappears from view as he practically runs down the road.

The two humans and Grim silently exchange distrustful looks. Reluctantly, Yuna and Yuuji open the worn-down and rusty looking gate and start walking towards their less-than-perfect accommodations for the night.

~ To Be Continued ~

Previous Part - Next Part

A/N: And that's the end of chapter one~! Now that we've got our two protagonists properly isekai'd , I can start working on the halloween fic featuring them and the first years! (rubs my hands together evilly) So Chapter 2 will probably be out after that! Thanks for reading~! <3

(Please let me know if you'd like to be added!) Tag List: @twstfanblog @immortal-heartspell

[slasherbaby]

Call Me [read on ao3 or under the cut! ♡]

Pairing: Danny Johnson x Trans Masc reader (he/him pronouns)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: smut, very mild breeding kink, knifeplay, cock/cunt used to describe the reader’s junk

Length: 4676 words

“Fuck,” Danny grunted into the phone, his voice low and forced. From sound alone, you can tell how he’s holding himself. It doesn’t take much imagination to envision the way his jaw strained, his eyebrows pulled down in the middle. “Wanna slide right into that cunt, fuck. Know you’d be so wet, such a fucking slut for me.”

Historically speaking, you’ve never been into dirty talk. It always sounded stiff, the guy talking to you usually too unsure of himself to sound even remotely sexy. But god, did it feel different with Danny. His deep voice, the rough edge around each syllable, and the naturally monotone way he spoke has always been enough to drive you crazy, ever since the first ‘hello.’

“Maybe I’d suck on that pretty fucking cock too, gotta make sure my baby’s nice and hard before I fuck him, right?”

It’s easy to picture how he’d look, looking up at you with his dark, dilated eyes. Holding your gaze as he worked your cock in his mouth. You bite down on your lower lip, stifling a groan at the sparks of pain that follow.

The laugh that comes through the receiver is rough and hoarse, sending a shiver of delight up your spine. “Don’t hide from me, angel. I already know how much of a whore you are,” Another laugh rasps through. “Everyone knows how you act at the bar after a few drinks, fucking brat. Drooling for attention, dancing around like you’re asking for it. Giving a show to everyone.”

“Yours,” You gasp, your voice just a touch away from sounding desperate. It’s the truth, afterall, but Danny already knows it. You both know that he’s the only one you’d let touch you, the only one you want to touch you. “Just yours.”

“And don’t fucking forget it.” Danny’s voice drops into a growl, making you whimper. “I’m the only one who gets you like this. You’re fucking mine, baby. Mine and mine alone.”

Another gasp falls from your lips, nodding your head even though you know he can’t see. Your cock is hard and aching, but you move your fingers away from where you’ve been circling it, going lower and lower until you reach your entrance.

“Danny…” You groan, squeezing your eyes shut as you wait for him to keep talking, to keep bringing you closer to the edge.

“You’ve got no idea how crazy it makes me to see how people look at you. Makes me wanna put a collar on you, fucking let everyone know who you belong to.” There’s a grunt from the other side of the phone, slick noises punctuating every breath Danny takes. “Or maybe the next time you wanna act like a whore, I’ll make you wear that little red dress in your closet. You know the one, don’t you?”

You groan out a noise of confirmation, chest swelling up when he hums in approval.

“I’ll bring you out to Walleyes with me after work, and I’ll fuck you in the bathroom. I know how dirty sluts like you want it, don’t worry. I’ll make sure to fill you up real good before sending you off to dance. Without your panties, of course. Gotta see if you can keep my come in without it dripping out. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I know I would. Letting everyone know how fucking good I breed my baby.”

Your hole clenches around nothing, desperately seeking out something to fill it as Danny spews filth into your ear. Pretending it’s Danny, you slowly push in a single digit. It’s not nearly enough to satisfy, but that’s nothing you aren’t used to.

Adding another finger gives you a bit of a stretch, but it pales in comparison to how Danny’s fingers would feel. His hand dwarfs yours, his fingers long and thick and perfect for curling up at just the right angle.

“S’not enough.” You groan as you thrust into yourself, but it’s hardly a groan of pleasure.

“What’s not enough?”

“My fingers, it’s-” Another groan comes from your lips, but this time it’s filled with frustration. You’ve been pent up all day, even though you just saw Danny the night before. And yet you still can’t satisfy yourself. Not by yourself, anyway.

You know you could come in a matter of minutes if you really wanted to. From your fingers pressed against your cock. It’s how you usually get off, rubbing one out quickly. Rarely do you try and fuck yourself, only dipping down to collect some of your wet and use it to make your cock nice and slick to finish yourself off.

But those orgasms are bland. Fun, of course, but not what you really want. You want the thigh shaking, eye rolling, screaming orgasm that you know can only come from being properly fucked.

Little tears of frustration well up in your eyes as you adjust your hips, trying and failing to find a better angle. “It’s just not enough.”

“Baby,” Danny coos mockingly, his deep voice vibrating through the phone. “You don’t have anything else to fill you up? No toys?”

Your first instinct is to snap back at him, but you refrain, biting down on your tongue instead. It’s embarrassing, how needy you feel. But your desire’s rolling off of you in waves of heat, and it’s a thirst you can’t quench on your own.

“Don’t make fun of me,” You mumble, pressing the side of your face into your pillow. “S’not my fault…”

“Are you pouting?” Danny’s voice is a shade away from being more condescending than you can bear, his tone unlawfully sweet. You can tell he’s talking through a grin. “Fucking yourself while pouting? Fuck, angel. You’re too much.”

“You’re so mean to me,” Your voice cracks halfway through the sentence, but it’s not from the way you're grinding your hips. The lump in your throat and the tears in your eyes don’t do anything but make you feel stupid, so fucking stupid that a part of you wants to hang up right then and there. As delicious as his voice is, you crave your boyfriend’s touch more than phone sex.

“Darling, are you crying?”

You sniffle, shaking your head. You’re too far gone, too lost in your head to realize he won’t be able to see you. After a moment, you hear Danny chuckle. It’s too much, your face is burning something fierce and you can’t handle anymore embarrassment. With a click, you hang up the phone, pulling your fingers out of yourself and cramming your face properly into the pillow.

A minute passes in silence, before you hear the sound of your phone trilling next to you. You pick it up before it can get to the second ring, fully ready to apologize for acting like such a baby. It was supposed to be a sexy thing, not something so dramatic.

“Danny?”

“You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You roll over, facing the ceiling with a pinched expression. “I-“

“I’ll be over in thirty.”

“Minutes?” You sit completely upright, clutching onto your phone like a vice.

“Be ready for me, Angel. ”

Your heart jolts in your chest when the line cuts out, and you immediately drop your phone back onto the receiver. You slap your hand over your face, covering up the grin that’s started to grow.

You didn’t expect Danny to be so… down? Especially so late at night, when he has work in the morning, nonetheless. Jumping off the bed, you rush to your dresser, grabbing the folded robe on top of it.

You slip your arms through the sleeves before turning to face the mirror, eyes darting across your body. It’s a simple little thing, something vintage and pretty that caught your eye when you were shopping for clothes a while back. It’s light blue, made from silky satin that hardly reaches your upper thighs and delicate white lace that kisses the hem of the fabric. You tie the robe shut at the small of your waist, looping the sash into a messy bow at the front.

There’s a knock at your door the second you finish looking yourself over, making you nearly jump out of your skin in surprise. You leave your bedroom in a rush, but as you pass by the living room to get to the front door, you pause. Licking your lips, you shoot a glance towards the grandfather clock. Hardly five minutes had passed since he called you.

There was no way Danny could’ve gotten to your place that fast. The excitement in your chest pops, deflating like a sad balloon as you approach the front door, leaning forward with your hands against the wood. When you look through the keyhole, you frown. There’s no one in sight.

“Probably just kids messing around…” You murmur, fiddling with sash at your waist.

But before you can turn away from the door, something leather slams over your mouth, and your cheek is being shoved up against the wood. You try to kick back at whoever grabbed you, but it’s no use. They have an iron grip, and all fighting back gets you is their front shoved against your back, holding you tight against the front door.

You can’t move your hands with the way they’ve been trapped between your body and the door, no matter how hard you struggle against it. They release your mouth, but you’re still too stunned to speak. It’s only then, when you feel the sharp end of a blade press against your thigh, that you realize how vulnerable you are.

“My boyfriend’s gonna be home any minute now.” You grit out as they put the tip of their knife against your sensitive inner thigh. They press hard, hard enough to break skin if you don’t open your legs wider, so you’re forced to move with it. “He’s big and tall and he’ll-“ You’re breath hitches as the person behind you trails the knife up, getting closer and closer to the space between your legs. “He’s a scary motherfucker and he’ll fucking kill you if you touch me!” Your voice breaks as you shout, and to your surprise, the person actually pulls the knife away.

The chuckle that comes next, low and familiar, surprises you as well.

“A ‘scary motherfucker’?” It’s Danny’s voice that greets you, his lips kissing the shell of your ear as he speaks. “Hmm. I guess I am.”

“Danny,” You breathe out, the fear leaving your body like a tidal wave. “What the fuck are you-“

One of his gloved hands cuts you off again before you can finish your sentence, pressing tight against your mouth. His other hand slides eagerly between your legs, slipping inside you without warning.

“You know I don’t like being hung up on.” His voice was far from what you were familiar with, low and grating in your ear. The laugh that follows it equally as foreign. “Ha… should’ve know that you’d get wet from that, fucking slut.”

Like you’re any better, you try to growl, but the leather trapping your mouth makes it impossible to speak, your words coming out in muffled irritation instead.

He laughs, kicking your legs further apart with one of his heavy boots. With a slick sound that makes you blush, he removes his fingers from your slit.

The zipper on his pants hardly makes a noise as he frees himself, but it’s enough to make you press back against him by instinct alone. He moves his hand away from your mouth, pressing his palm against your upper back instead, keeping you pinned to the wall.

You gasp out- something warm and hard pressing up against your entrance. He laughs as he slots his cock between your thighs, right up against your sex, dragging the head along your hardness.

“Danny,” You moan, arching your back and wiggling your hips, hoping to angle it just enough so that he slips inside of you. He’s never taken you like this before, even though you know he’s wanted to, and the rush of it nearly makes your head spin.

“Hmm?” He asks, voice terribly calm for the situation. “What is it? Do you wanna stop?” And just as easily as he started, he pulls back. Grunting a bit before the zipper on his pants is pulled back up. “C’mere.”

You want to cry all over again, so desperately close to getting what you need and yet so far all the same.

“I didn’t mean sto-“

You cut yourself off with a noise of surprise as he grabs you by the hair, pulling you around harshly and forcing you to face him. After he lets go, he takes a few steps back, leather boots thudding heavy against the wooden floor.

You open your mouth, but whatever words you want to say die on your tongue as he reaches out, touching your cheek. The back of his knuckles brush delicately against your cheekbone.

Your stomach does somersaults as he looks you over, taking your body in full. His hand moves down, tracing the outline of your waist through the robe. You can hardly feel his touch, but it makes you shiver all the same.

“I must be the luckiest guy,” Danny murmurs as he takes hold of the end of the bow tying your robe together, slowly pulling it until it comes undone. He lets your robe fall open, the night air cool on your front, and slips his hand inside the fabric to stroke your hip. “To have such a pretty baby.”

Your eyes flutter shut at the praise, but Danny doesn’t let it slide. He takes you by the chin, the pad of his gloved thumb stroking the skin under your lower lip.

“You know that, right?” He nods your head for you, gently tilting your head up and down. You open your eyes, brows slightly furrowed, only to meet his smile. “There we go, pretty thing. Always so ready for me… Always so good…”

You push up on your tiptoes, pressing yourself further into Danny’s touch. You don’t say a word as you slip your hands under his leather jacket, running along the fabric of his shirt before going under it as well. Your lips quirk up when you feel his abdomen tighten, straining with the muscle you already know is there. You trail one of your hands down, letting a stray finger hook into his belt loop.

“Rode all this way,” You murmur, ignoring the way your gut squirms with confusion. There’s no way Danny could’ve gotten to your place so fast, not even if he was speeding the whole way. “And you won’t even kiss me…”

Danny snorts, his hand turning tight on your hip, gripping you hard. “That’s all you want?” He leans down to press his lips against yours, so soft it makes your heart ache.

It’s the contrast with him. The push and pull. So hot and eager one minute, yet so cold and distant the next. But his lips are sweet and kind against yours, and you can’t bring yourself to pick at the scabs of question that litter your relationship with him.

When he pulls back, his voice is rough against your mouth, lips moving like butterfly kisses against yours. “Just one kiss?”

You unzip his jeans in response, nipping at his lower lip when he chuckles.

“Mmhm. That’s what I thought.”

In a quick motion, Danny wraps one arm under your thigh and the other tight around your waist, hoisting you up like you weigh nothing. You nearly yelp at him, your hands slipping out from under his shirt. Before you have the chance to respond, he has your back pressed up against the door once again.

He kisses you with ferocity you’ve never felt from another. Licking into your open mouth, he waits for you to moan before biting down on your lower lip. You grab a fistful of his hair, yanking down when he sinks his teeth down into it again.

Danny works his way down from your lips, sucking dark bruises on your neck and jawline. You gasp and let go of his hair, grabbing onto the back of his neck instead.

“Danny,” You try to speak but the second you start, he’s biting down hard. Right under your jawline, where he knows you’re most sensitive, making you melt into a gasping mess.

He pulls back by a fraction, leaving his lips to rest against the mark he’s made. You can feel the smile on his lips when he speaks, low and so gravely that you swear you can feel it thrumming through your throat. “What was that?”

You laugh, something that starts out soft but turns breathless once he replaces his lips with his tongue. “Choke me,” You rush, as if you’re worried you might forget if he keeps going. The tongue on your neck disappears, and doubt flashes in your mind. “If you want.” You clarify, just as fast. “You can if you want, I mean. I… I don’t mind.”

“Is that right, baby? You don’t mind?”

You nod your head as he adjusts his hips, keeping you stable against the wall so he can pull away from your neck. The look on his face is diabolical, and if you weren’t being held up you’re sure it would be enough to send you to your knees.

“Wanna know what I think?”

You lick over your kiss-bitten lips and nod.

“I think my baby’s a fucking freak.” His hand goes around your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure. You press into the touch, exhaling through your nose. Your cheeks are on fire, butterflies batting their wings in your stomach.

“I just... I-” Your stammer is cut off by the hand on your throat tightening, stopping the words before they can fall from your tongue.

Your eyes widen as Danny leans in, propping up his thigh to keep you up against the wall. His hand slides down then, squeezing the inner of your upper thigh. You know where he’s going, and let out a shaky exhale, wrapping your legs tighter around him in anticipation. When he touches you, you bite your lower lip.

“You’re still dripping,” Danny sing-songs, dragging two fingers through your folds. He avoids your cock, but just him touching you is enough for you to groan. “I’d say you’re even more wet now.”

Your eyes bulge as he flexes his arm muscles, the veins on his forearm straining from the pressure. The ease at which he can cut off your breath should scare you, but all you can process is the heavy, humid heat that’s filling up your mind. You don’t struggle for breath, you don’t need to yet, but you do open your mouth when he squeezes even tighter.

“It’s so hot,” He groans, pressing forward until his arm is trapped between both of your chests, and his mouth is panting against your ear. “Feeling how bad you need me,”

If his fist wasn’t wrapped around your throat, you would’ve whined. You can feel his heavy puffs of air on the side of your face, and how his chest moves with every ragged breath. You tilt your hips up, trying to get him to move his fingers down. You’ve been waiting so long, and all you want is to feel him inside you. But he just chuckles, presses closer, stilling your hips.

“Desperate,” Danny rasps. “Fucking slut, can’t come unless I’m inside you?”

Your cheeks burn, mouth opening and closing like a fish. You’re nearly spaced out, your head beginning to spin from the lack of oxygen.

“So fucking wet for it, so wet for me,” He inhales shakily, like he’s trying to pull himself together, before letting you breathe again.

You suck in a deep breath, head spinning from the sudden rush of oxygen. He keeps his hand on your throat, not tight enough to choke, but just enough to serve as a reminder of what he could do. Danny presses further up against you, crushing you into the door as he slips a digit inside your heat.

“Oh,” You groan as he adds another, curling them upwards as his thumb starts to massage your cock. “Danny,”

He doesn’t respond, too far gone to speak as he watches you. His eyes are dark and open wide, with an unfamiliar, wild glint in them. The way he works you feels the same, rough and fast, almost in time with his heavy pants.

“You’re driving me crazy,” He grunts, squeezing your neck. “Having you like this-” he cuts himself off with a deep inhale before pulling out completely.

Before you have the time to complain, he’s grabbing you by the hips again, walking a few feet over to the kitchen table, and slamming you down onto it. Your back thuds when it hits the old wood, your eyes wide with shock. He shoves your legs apart, grabbing you by the thighs so he can drag you closer to him.

The skillful way he unbuckles and unzips his pants could almost seem calm if it wasn’t betrayed by the near frantic look in his eyes. He only gets his jeans undone enough to pull his cock out before grabbing you again, pulling until your ass is almost hanging over the table, and thrusting into you.

You can’t be embarrassed by the noise he drags from your throat, something high and strangled and fuck, you know that if it wasn’t for him stretching you out before, he’s big enough that it would’ve hurt. He doesn’t speak as he thrusts, fucking you as you’ve never been fucked before. He’s like a man on the brink, his hands gripping you hard enough to leave bruises.

There’s a moan stuck in your throat, some words too. An assortment of garbled sentences, but each thrust punches them right out until you’re being pounded into a whining, half-crying mess. He’s hitting all the right places, angling his hips just right, and slamming into you until you see stars.

It’s only after you get close, your thighs shaking and straining with the effort, that Danny grabs your throat, squeezing hard as he slows down his thrusts. “If I had my way, I’d keep you like this all the time.”

You swallow back another moan, your eyes still wide when they meet his.

“So wet and open, like you were fucking made for me.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust, hard and slow. His hand turns to a fist, cutting off your airflow. “Gonna give you what you need, gonna take good care of my baby,” Danny moves his hand from your thigh to your waist, ghosting over your stomach. “And if you’re good, I might even fuck one into you.”

Your back arches as you come, his words are all you need to go right over the edge. Black ebbs away at your vision as Danny fucks you through it, hard and fast, choking you as you writhe on his cock. He’s set the pace now, and keeps it steady even as you come back down into your body. It’s nearly too much, but you can’t find the strength to articulate your words.

His hand leaves your throat, but only to trail down your chest, moving to your navel. His fingers find your cock easily, and you yelp in some sort of mix between pain and pleasure. It’s too much, and you arch your back off the table, shimming your hips, doing anything to escape his touch. It’s fire, his touch. Blinding, painful, but so damn hot you can’t help but crave more.

It lasts for years, the constant mix between pain and pleasure. The digit on your cock only lets up once Danny’s breathing turns to pants, sweat beading on his forehead. His hips stutter, slowing down for a moment before gripping your hips with a sudden, newfound intensity. Your skin pales where he’s applied pressure, slamming you down hard onto his cock.

“Angel,” Danny groans, fucking into you once, twice, three times. He comes with a growl, his eyes never shutting as he rides out his pleasure.

There’s a whine in your throat, spilling from your lips just as he fills you up. You’ve never done this without a condom before, but now that you have, you don’t know how you could ever go back to wrapping it up. He leans back, still inside you, catching his breath. Sucking in greedy lungfuls as you watch, your chest heaving with the same intensity.

When he moves to pull out, you grab both of his wrists, not giving him the option of letting go of your hips.

“Wait,” You murmur, pulling him in closer. There’s no real strength behind it, but Danny humors you all the same. You bring one of his hands up to your cheek and nuzzle into it, peppering a few light kisses on his knuckles.

He leans forward, and you kiss him softly, both of you smiling into it. You free his hands, having gotten what you wanted, and he moves them to trail down your chest, caressing your sides. He leaves one to rest on your belly, the other one moving to the side of your neck.

“You really liked that, huh?” Danny asks quietly, his voice a low whisper against your skin.

“Shut up.”

He huffs, kissing the side of your head in what you can tell is exasperation.

A part of you wishes you could stay like this forever. It makes you feel safe, having Danny surrounding you so fully. It makes you feel loved. But the smarter part of you knows that he has to be up at six tomorrow morning, and you don’t know if he’ll stay once you fall asleep. If you’re already in the bedroom, clinging to him under the covers, he’ll stay the night. But if you doze off on the kitchen table, you know he’ll only tuck you into bed before leaving.

“Bed?” You ask, looking up at Danny with half lidded eyes. You can feel the fondness in his gaze as he stares down at you, waiting a few seconds before nodding.

“Yeah baby. C’mere.”

His hands are gentle as they slide over your body, and you have to stop him before he can try and carry you himself.

“I can walk, you know. I’m not gonna break.” You try to chastise, but a smile breaks through your facade. He grins back, lips spreading to reveal teeth, sharp and as deadly as ever. But his lips are soft, plush against your skin and gentle in a way that is too hard for your muddled mind to try and describe. “You know that first hand.”

Danny slips his arms around you once more, chuckling softly against your skin. “I sure do.” He leans up, taking you into his arms as he straightens out his body. “It’ll take a lot more to break you, darling. I know that first hand.”

He carries you to bed with your face tucked into the crook of his neck and your arms slung loosely around his shoulders, and he only needs one arm to pull back the sheets, keeping the other around your waist, before laying you down and tucking you in.

“Stay?” The space between your thighs is sore, and your voice is hoarse from his hand wrapped around your neck. But you amplify it just a bit, making your voice a bit more gravely than it ought to. You have to stay. you’re trying to convey. Look what you’ve done to me, you can’t just leave me like this.

He shucks off his jeans and jacket before slipping in beside you. Warming your bed like he has all the times before, with his arms around you and his face buried in your hair.

You shut your eyes to the sound of him murmuring, and even though you can’t quite hear what he’s saying, you repeat the words back on instinct.

“Love you too, Danny. Love you forever.”

[emospritelet]

Heatstroke - chapter 23/24

I was planning on this being the final chapter, but it got away from me, so it's the penultimate chapter instead :)

Last time, Gold and Lacey banged :D

Word count: 3,721

[AO3]

x

Gold made her dinner, fillet steak with a sauce made from beef stock, red wine and rosemary, alongside soft, creamy mashed potatoes and carrots glazed with butter. They drank wine with it, rich and red, and afterwards carried the dessert upstairs to bed, where they took turns spooning dark chocolate mousse and raspberries into their mouths until their lips were sticky and sweet. Gold watched as Lacey sucked the last of the chocolate mousse from her spoon and dropped it into the glass dish with a contented sigh.

“That,” she said. “Was pretty bloody amazing. You can definitely cook.”

“Thank you.”

He set the dish on the nightstand, handing her a glass of wine, and Lacey wriggled, sitting up against the pillows as she took it. Darcy had curled up at the end of the bed with his tail over his nose, and Lacey gestured at him with a foot.

“You do realise now he’s been up here, he’s probably gonna spend as much time sleeping in your bed as he does mine,” she said, and Gold grinned.

“I don’t mind that too much,” he said. “Maybe he’ll keep the mice away.”

“No sign of that so far,” she remarked. “Not that I’ve seen any mice. Only rats.”

“You’ve seen rats around here?” he asked, surprised, and she shrugged.

“I saw one the day I moved in,” she said. “Standing on his hind legs, bold as brass. Not the best welcome gift, to be honest.”

“I don’t suppose it was.”

“Yeah, Darcy came to get me to chase it off,” she said casually. “So if you’re hoping he’ll deal with any vermin that turn up, you’re out of luck. Turns out he’s a coward.”

Gold laughed.

“Well, he’s a very handsome coward,” he said. “If we get a rodent problem I can always deal with it another way. I can’t say I’ve seen any rats here, though.”

“I guess it might have wandered in from the forest,” she acknowledged. “I was worried there might be a nest of the little buggers, but I haven’t seen any since then. It was definitely male, though. All big balls and unimpressive cock.”

Gold blinked as a feeling of déjà vu washed over him.

“Really?” he asked neutrally.

“Yeah.” She wriggled onto her side, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Have you ever seen a rat’s balls? They’re huge!”

“I can’t say I’ve looked all that closely,” he said, and licked his lips. “Uh - you said his - other equipment - was somewhat lacking.”

“Yeah. Minuscule.” She held up her little finger. “Still, I guess they manage okay, right?”

“Right,” he said, and hesitated. “And this was the day you moved in?”

“As I was carrying my stuff in.”

“Uh-huh.” He sucked his teeth, nodding slowly. “You - didn’t happen to mention this to Miss Lucas in the bar that night, did you?”

“Huh.” Lacey pursed her lips, a vague expression on her face. “Yeah, I did. Why?”

Gold sighed heavily.

“Because I might have thought you were talking about me.”

Lacey stared at him for a moment, mouth slightly open, then burst out laughing. It bubbled out of her, washing over him as her eyes sparkled with mirth, and he felt a little of his awkwardness melt away.

“You thought I was telling Ruby about what you were packing?” she giggled, and he shrugged.

“Let’s just say I overheard your conversation and made some assumptions.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what you get for eavesdropping,” she said, and pushed up on her elbow. “Wish you hadn’t?”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Good.” She planted a kiss on his cheek. “Because your assumptions were shit.”

“That happens more often than you might think,” he said, and she giggled again.

“Oh, but I’m definitely telling Ruby about your junk now,” she said, and winked at him. “She did ask for a blow by blow description if you and I ever got up to anything.”

“In that case.” Gold put down his wine. “I’d better give you lots to talk about.”

-

Lacey stretched, eyes closed, mouth widening in a grin as she felt the press of hot flesh against her own. She was nestled in soft sheets, Gold’s arm around her waist and his cool breath on the back of her neck, making her shudder in pleasure. Morning light was shining through a tiny gap in the curtains, sending a shaft of golden dawn across the bed and making the pink walls glow. The bed smelled of musk and sex and the faintest hint of his cologne, and she wriggled, turning in his arms to kiss his chest. At the touch of her lips he inhaled sharply, body stiffening as he woke, and she heard a contented rumble from deep in his chest as his arms went around her.

“Morning,” she said, and sucked at his nipple.

Gold jerked, snickering, and tugged her close against him so that she had to kiss back up his chest to get some air. He pushed her onto her back, one hand sliding down over her hip to squeeze her rear as his mouth found her ear.

“Morning,” he murmured, and Lacey moaned as he sucked at her throat. His hand strayed to her hip again, sliding along the crease at the top of her thigh, and she caught his fingers in hers before he could reach between her legs.

“Really interested in where your mind’s going,” she said. “But I need the bathroom. And coffee, to be honest.”

Gold pulled back immediately, rolling onto his side, and she slipped from the bed, drawing on his discarded shirt. He was watching her with a sleepy-eyed grin, his hair dishevelled and a day’s growth of stubble on his cheeks. It made her want to crawl straight back in bed with him.

“I guess I’ll make the coffee, then,” he said. “You want some breakfast?”

Lacey sighed.

“Does that mean getting up?”

“Doesn’t have to.”

“Well, alright then.”

She winked at him, making his grin widen, and trotted off to the bathroom.

When she returned he had already gone downstairs, and she poked around on his dresser for a hairbrush, dragging it through her curls and teasing out the knots that had formed over several hours of the best sex she’d ever had. Gold had stamina. He was also extremely generous, and wanted to please her, which was a first in her experience. She could see herself falling deeply in love with the guy if she wasn’t too careful, and was surprised to find that the idea didn’t bother her. Glancing in the mirror she shook out her hair and set down the hairbrush, sending her reflection a satisfied grin. Apparently Ruby was right. I do want more than hot crazy sex. Although the hot crazy sex is amazing.

She padded downstairs, following the sound of him clattering around in the kitchen. The scent of coffee was drifting towards her, and she took a seat at the kitchen table, watching Gold in his silk robe as he made scrambled eggs and spooned it onto hot buttered toast.

“Hot sex, great coffee and a delicious breakfast,” she remarked, as he set a plate in front of her. “How is it you’ve been single for so long?”

Gold chuckled, sliding into the chair opposite.

“My son would say it’s because I’m completely dense and have no idea when someone is interested,” he said.

“Well, he’s not wrong about that,” said Lacey, making him grin. “Although I guess I shouldn’t really tease you about it. Pot, kettle, and all that.”

He grinned at her, eyes gleaming, and she felt herself fall in love with him a little more. She turned to her breakfast to stop herself blushing with the thrill of it. The eggs were soft and buttery, seasoned to perfection, and she made a noise of approval and cut a piece of toast, pushing it into the growing pool of melted butter and popping it into her mouth. Gold was watching her over the rim of his coffee cup, and she took a sip of her own and set down her cup.

“Any chance we can finish that interview today?” she asked. “I had other questions to ask and you kind of distracted me with orgasms.”

He smirked.

“I have to open the shop at some point,” he said. “Can it wait until later?”

Lacey pursed her lips, trying to hide her smile.

“You want me to come over tonight, is that what you’re saying?”

“You’re the one that wants to interview me,” he said, one eyebrow flicking. “Maybe I’d be more inclined to open up if we were more - intimate.”

His voice had dropped to a low purr, and Lacey squeezed her thighs together.

“Okay, but no distracting me this time!” she ordered, gesturing with a fork. “I have to get some stuff on tape I can actually use! I don’t want Sidney weaselling out of this pay rise he promised.”

Gold pressed a hand to his heart with a wounded expression, and she wrinkled her nose at him. He turned back to his breakfast, a tiny grin on his face.

“I suppose he’ll have you covering the mayoral election,” he said, and Lacey nodded, chewing and swallowing.

“There’s gonna be a debate next week.”

“Really?” Gold pulled a face. “So maybe that’s why I’m starting to hear whispers against Regina.”

“Whispers?” Lacey sat up. “What are they saying?”

Gold took a drink of coffee, setting the cup back down and sucking at his teeth a little.

“The rumour,” he said, “is that money has gone missing from the accounts. Not a huge amount, perhaps a few thousand dollars, but enough to trigger an investigation. The whispering I’ve heard is that it’s the Mayor herself getting greedy. Trying to maintain a lifestyle she can’t afford on the back of hard-working townsfolk.”

“That can’t be true,” she said in disbelief. “It’s election year. There’s no way the Mayor would risk her position, right?”

“Regina and I have certainly had our differences,” he agreed, “but I don’t believe for one second that she’s been stealing town funds.”

“Me neither,” said Lacey. “I think it’s Zelena stirring shit.”

Gold gave her a slanted grin, cutting a piece of toast.

“And where’s your proof of that?”

“Don’t have it yet,” she admitted. “But a friend of mine gave me some info on her New York dealings that makes all this sound kind of familiar. Given what you told me last night, I think we can guess that there’s a personal element as far as Zelena’s concerned.”

“So what’s your plan?” he asked.

“I guess we could tell Regina what she’s up to,” said Lacey. “Give her a chance to stop Zelena.”

“It’ll just look like dirty politics if it’s Regina against her rival,” he said, and she nodded in agreement.

“Okay, how about this?” she said. “We tell Zelena what we know. Maybe it’ll make her stop scheming and leave town.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then we go to the town,” said Lacey. “Let them all know what she’s up to.”

“Difficult to do that without evidence,” he said, and she shrugged.

“Maybe we’ll get a confession.”

“You think she’s going to reveal her diabolical plan to you in some sort of tell-all interview?” he asked, with a grin, and she sent him a flat look, reaching for her coffee.

“Not in a million years,” she said. “She can’t stand me.”

She took a sip of her coffee, setting down her cup.

“But she might tell you,” she added.

-

Gold drummed his fingers slowly on the counter top, eyes fixed on the shop door. The clock on the wall opposite showed that it was nine-thirty, and he was expecting a visitor. Right on time, the door opened, the bell above jingling as Zelena stepped into the shop, a predatory smile on her face. She strode towards him with purpose, and Gold eyed her with a flat stare as she leaned on the counter, pushing her face towards him as though hoping for a kiss of greeting.

“Mr Gold,” she said, in a breathy voice. “I can’t tell you how thrilled I was when you said you wanted to discuss my election campaign.”

“Well, before you get too excited,” he said. “I want to talk to you about these rumours against the Mayor.”

“Rumours?” She tried to look puzzled, but it was unconvincing.

“The ridiculous talk of her embezzling town funds.”

Zelena gasped, hand to heart.

“She’s been stealing from the town?” she said, in a hushed voice. “Well. About time someone else took over, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Don’t play games with me,” said Gold, in a bored tone. “You know she didn’t do it.”

“That’ll be for the investigation to determine,” she said smoothly.

“Which you’re hoping will overshadow the campaign and leave you the victor.”

“If the people of this town decide they want me rather than her, who am I to deny them?”

Gold sighed heavily, pushing back from the counter and walking around it. Zelena turned to face him, and he grounded the cane between his feet.

“I know what you’re doing,” he said. “I’m a little unclear as to why.”

“I’m running for Mayor,” she said, showing her teeth in a somewhat manic smile. “As I said, it’s all about wanting to help the town. Family values, that sort of thing.”

“Really?” said Gold. “That’s interesting. Especially as the current Mayor is your half-sister. Perhaps those family values only stretch so far, hmm?”

Zelena’s mouth fell open, eyes wide with shock, and he bit back a smirk.

“Interesting how differently your lives turned out, isn’t it?” he went on. “You raised in England by your adoptive parents, Regina over here with your birth mother. I suppose that must sting, being abandoned. As I understand it, she left you at the kids’ home in Boston with a note saying she had to give herself her best life and she couldn’t do that with a baby.”

Zelena’s eyes widened further, her jaw tightening.

“How the hell do you know that?” she demanded. “Who told you?”

“I have my sources,” he said. “Which I obviously won’t reveal.”

“That slut of a reporter’s been poking her nose in where it doesn’t belong and then selling to the highest bidder, I suppose,” she said bitterly, and he felt his fist clench around the handle of his cane.

“If you mean Miss French,” he said evenly. “Then no. My information predates her arrival in Storybrooke.”

Zelena drew herself up, brushing her hands against her skirts as though ridding herself of something unpleasant.

“Well,” she said. “My tragic history is none of anyone’s business.”

“It’s my business when you try to use it to take over my town.”

“Your town?” she said, letting out a humourless laugh. “Did you become Mayor when I wasn’t looking?”

Gold smiled coldly.

“Regina may have the title of Mayor,” he said. “But I’m the one with the power around here, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. Disruption, disputes – family drama – it hurts the bottom line.”

Zelena took a step closer, licking her lips. It was repellent, but he made himself meet her eyes.

“Well, if you could see your way to supporting my campaign,” she said throatily. “I’m sure we could - work something out. Help each other, so to speak. Perhaps we can discuss it over dinner.”

She reached out to touch his chest, and Gold stepped back smoothly, resisting the urge to swat her hand away.

“I try not to get involved in politics.”

Zelena looked as though she’d bitten a lemon.

“And yet,” she said. “Here you are. Getting in my way.”

“I know where I am with Regina,” he said. “She may be a little hard-headed at times, but she has fairly good judgement, and a genuine concern for her citizens. You have neither.”

“Perhaps I’m just untested.”

“Perhaps you’re unstable.”

She clenched her jaw, her eyes flashing.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly rude?”

“Usually I get ‘heartless’,” said Gold. “I like to think I’m merely a good judge of character.”

“And you judge the Mayor’s character to be better than mine?”

“I imagine most of this town does,” he said calmly, and Zelena sniffed.

“In case you haven’t noticed, most of the residents of this town are incredibly stupid,” she said. “Small-minded. Stuck in the past and terrified of change. It didn’t take much effort on my part to find bad feelings towards the Mayor.”

“Which you’ve no doubt been exploiting.”

“Well, that’s politics,” she said airily. “Can I help it if the townsfolk have had a difficult year and I remind them that while they struggle to pay their bills, Regina Mills and that wife of hers are lounging around doing heaven knows what on the taxpayer dime?”

“What is it you think they’re doing?” asked Gold, puzzled. “Mallory is a lawyer. Regina is the Mayor. They both earn a respectable living and I’m fairly sure neither one of them is lounging around.”

“Respectable?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Well, that’s not the concern I’ve heard from some of the townsfolk. There’s talk of some seedy club that’s been approved by the Mayor to open next month. Queens of Darkness, or something?”

“Yes,” said Gold patiently. “It’s a gay bar. So?”

“From what I hear there is deep concern amongst the townsfolk about the image of Storybrooke,” she said. “I’m told it could attract all kinds of perverts to the town. Think of the poor children.”

Gold stared at her, then burst out laughing.

“Are you expecting to challenge Regina on some sort of morality grounds?” he asked. “Good luck with that. No one but a tiny, bigoted minority cares that she’s a lesbian. If you think you can win with their votes alone, you’re wasting your time.”

“I think the family values crowd is more numerous than you might believe,” she said. “Something tells me I’m on the right track. Outrage is so easily manipulated and weaponized, don’t you agree?”

Gold stared at her for a moment.

“So you don’t care about being Mayor at all,” he said. “You just want to take it away from Regina.”

Zelena smirked

“Can you imagine the look on her face?” she asked. “Because I have a little scene in my head that I’m hoping will play out on election day. I’m announced as the winner in a landslide victory, the simpletons that voted for me erupt with cheers, and she runs out of the town hall crying.”

“Clearly you don’t know her very well,” remarked Gold. “Why do this? You don’t want this position, you clearly don’t give a flying fuck about any of the townsfolk, why go to so much trouble to take it from Regina?”

Zelena rounded on him, nostrils flaring.

“Because she deserves it!” she hissed. “Because she had everything that was supposed to be mine! Because she was given the world on a silver platter and even that’s not enough for her!”

Gold shook his head.

“You’re saying that like any of this is Regina’s fault,” he said. “She can’t help it if your mother abandoned you. If you have to take your anger out on someone, surely your mother is the place to start?”

“Well, I can’t very well talk to her about it, she’s dead!”

“Then let it go,” said Gold patiently. “Stop blaming your sister for the two of you having a terrible parent.”

“This life should have been mine!” said Zelena, eyes flashing. “She doesn’t deserve any of this!”

“My thoughts exactly,” he said dryly. “You won’t beat her, you know. The town has supported Regina for years because she does a good job. They won’t simply choose you because you bat your eyelashes at them.”

“Well, maybe they’d prefer a Mayor who isn’t corrupt,” she said. “I think you’ll be surprised at what the townsfolk might want, when the truth is presented to them.”

Perhaps so, he thought. Aloud he said: “You know as well as I do that there’s no truth to the corruption rumours.”

Zelena smiled brightly.

“Do I?”

“Yes,” he said evenly. “So unless you’ve planted a bunch of phoney evidence, this vendetta of yours is doomed.”

Zelena had pursed her lips at his words, and he wanted to shake her.

“You’re telling me you have planted evidence?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Gold sighed heavily.

“I don’t even know why I’m trying to help you,” he said, almost to himself. “Why don’t you just leave town? Go and live your life and stop worrying about what you think you’re entitled to.”

“I will destroy her happiness!” spat Zelena. “If it’s the last thing I do!”

She whirled away, red curls tossing, and stomped towards the door.

“If you try to bring her down,” he called, making her pause. “I’ll stop you.”

Zelena swivelled slowly on her toes to face him, a smirk twisting her lips.

“Oh, really?”

“Really,” he said. “I’ve taken time out of my busy day to try to make you see sense, but I can just as easily talk to the entire town.”

She laughed at that, eyes gleaming with mirth.

“The reclusive Mr Gold, whom the entire town distrusts, is going to convince them that their beloved charity queen is really a fraudster with an axe to grind?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

She looked him up and down briefly, pursing her lips, and took a step forward.

“Go ahead and try, then,” she said. “You’ve no proof.”

Gold held her gaze for a moment, then nodded.

“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t.”

Zelena nodded in satisfaction.

“In that case, I think we’re done, don’t you?” she said. “Unless you want to take me up on that offer of dinner, of course.”

“I think not,” he said coldly, and she sniffed.

“Your loss,” she said, and flounced off, the bell above the door jingling on her way out.

Gold stared after her, shaking his head, and heard the click of heels on the floor behind him.

“Well.” Lacey’s voice made him turn. “That was interesting.”

She was leaning in the doorway, the curtain to the back room draping the curve of her hip, and he smiled.

“Did you get it?” he asked, and she held up her camera.

“Every word.”

[darkredehmption]

From This Life To The Next

#SL - From This Life To The Next

Written by @DamagedBrother and @OfFeatherNFang 

*~*~*~*

Zsadist: 

This was it. Today was the day that I was going to be officially mated to my angel. I still couldn’t believe it. Like somehow, this was all a dream that I was going to sadly wake up from. But it wasn’t. He was mine and would be mine until we went into the fade. 

Quietly, I slipped out of bed and left him to rest while I moved to our closet. Finding the ceremonial robes in the back as well as something special I had Vishous make for me as a gift to my male. With my arms full, I give the angel one more glance before I head out to get ready in another room. 

My head lifts to see Phury already waiting in the hallway, a huge grin on his face. “Figured I could lend a hand.” Chuckling as I made my way over to my twin, turning to watch as Rhage came up from the stairs with four donuts in his hands and one shoved in his mouth. 

“You. Go help him get ready and make sure he doesn’t sleep through it.” Hollywood flashed a bright smile that would make hundreds of women swoon. 

“You got it chief!” He replied with his mouth full, practically skipping off towards our bedroom where I just left my male. 

“Crazy.” I mutter, gazing at my Brother. “Rhage might send Malachi running for the hills.”

“The angel isn’t going anywhere, he loves you too much.” My twin replied as we made our way to one of the guest rooms on the other side of the stairs. 

“You say that, but somehow I feel like I’m gonna fuck up.” As I reached for the door, I felt his heavy hand on my shoulder. 

“Hey...He loves you, and you love him. Matings...are wonderful...and yes you will fight, but the love doesn’t go away. And if his does...so help me I will-”

I cut him off with a laugh. “Okay. Easy now. Please don’t scare him away.” Phury smiled at me as we moved inside the guest room to prepare for the ceremony. 

Mal:

I felt the soft rustle of sheets as Zsadist slipped from the bed. Half asleep, I didn’t bother trying to follow straight away, not until I heard the soft click of the door as it closed. There was a murmur of voices beyond it, and with a slow blink I opened my eyes. 

A lull, brief enough that I barely got to feel the anxious thrill as I thought of what the day held, before the door burst in and I started up. Rhage stood on the threshold, grinning around a donut then sauntering in as he shut the door.

“Rise n’ shine princess! It’s the big day! Gotta get you up and ready!”

I actually rolled my eyes and groaned as I flopped back to the sheets. I was glad my wings weren’t out, but then again, keeping them retracted seemed the better idea when I was going to have a name carved into my back. 

Zsadist’s name.

The thought earned a smile as I extracted myself from the sheets without any prompt from Rhage and rose, stretching with a yawn and a pleasant smile. Moving past the Hollywood-worthy male, I snagged a donut amidst protest, and entered the closet. Rhage followed, grinning at the robes I ran one hand down.

“Can’t believe this is actually happening for me.”

Somewhere in the manse, my mahmen was with the females, helping prepare for the day. The Brothers had no doubt set up whatever else happened in a mating ceremony, and Z had no doubt gone to get ready with Phury. My heart gave a nervous flutter as my stomach backflipped.

“Hey, you n’ Z? I’ve never seen him happier. N’ you look a lot different than the first time I saw you,” he added thoughtfully. 

Surprised at his words, I glanced back to him.

“How did I look?”

Rhage shrugged, taking a bite of his last donut. “Lonely. Cold. Real quick on the defence, y’know? Like you were used to always fighting to survive. To live. But since you’ve been here?” His smile, unfairly, could’ve stopped traffic in Times Square. “You’re lighter. All bright n’ shiny. You laugh. Did you laugh a lot before?”

The question stunned me for its accuracy. For all the talk that Rhage was a pretty face, the dude was damn insightful. Maybe Mary was rubbing off on him.

“Not really…”

A nod, a grin, and the last of the donut vanished. “Well, now you get a new family. A new life. N’ a new reason to laugh and be happy or whatever. So c’mon. Let’s do this! You need me to step out while you drop drawers or you want help arranging the robes?”

Zsadist:

I moved into the closet to slide on the ceremonial robes, while Phury changed in the bathroom. “I can’t believe this is happening…” I call out. “Like whoever thought I’d be getting mated.” Snorts.

“Oh I knew you would.” Phury chimes in. “I didn’t know when it would be, but I knew it would happen sooner or later.”

I hear shuffling around then a deep breath. Pausing as I look in the full length mirror only to see my twin standing behind me. “Well…?” I murmur as my hands smooth down the robes. 

“Perfect.” His golden eyes shine bright as he stares at me through the mirror, turning to meet his gaze. 

“Let me show you what Vishous helped me out with.” Phury perks up as I move to grab the black velvet pouch off of the bed. Slowly I pull out two twin silver daggers. They were so light that they almost looked white, and at the hilt were black wings on each side that V carved himself into the metal 

Phury’s jaw drops. “Whoa. Okay he’s going to love those, and can I get a set?” He chuckles, landing a hand on my shoulder. “They look amazing.” 

Nodding as my fingers move over the blades. “Let’s go down and make sure everything is ready, true?” My twin nods as I secure the daggers back into the bag, heading out of the guest room, and making my way down the grand staircase to find my family already waiting. 

Mal:

The robes almost remind me of the Chosen, and then of angels. Not sure why. It’s not like I ever met my father to know how he dressed, and Lassiter has clearly got to be the exception to the rule of the whole ‘angelic presence’ thing. Nothing ‘angelic’ about his presence. Staring at myself in the mirror though, I can’t help but think of the father I never met. The angel blood in my veins. 

Would he have approved of this? Would he have come? Would he care?

“You clean up nice,” Rhage complimented, slapping my shoulder in that brotherly way as he examines me in the mirror too. “Y’ready to head down? Need anything else? If you need to puke now’s the time.”

I elbowed him with a faint smirk. His words had the desired effect though; thoughts of my father faded into the background. And while I didn’t need to upchuck, my stomach definitely had a bad case of the butterflies going on.

“Fuck off. Y’know I still don’t remember half of the ceremonial stuff. I can recite a latin incantation to exorcise a demon but I can’t fucking remember how my own mating ceremony is supposed to go,” I mutter, glancing down and fiddling with the lining of the robe.

Rhage waved off my concern like it was an insect he was swatting.

“S’just nerves my man. You’ll be fine n’ everything’ll be great. You n’ Z being happy are all that matters, so if the day ends with that it was a success, right?”

My smile’s lopsided in the mirror. “Right.”

“Then let’s go!” He declared, grinning as he backed his massive frame out of the walk in and moved to the door. 

Before leaving, I moved to my weapons shelf - mine being the one that housed demonic tools in addition to Lesser fighting gear - and opened the small box I’d tucked in amongst the others. Something I knew Zsadist wouldn’t notice. 

Nestled amongst the velvet cushions inside was a pendant, the silver chain that looped through it long and pooling in the bottom of the box. The pendant itself was perfectly smooth, clear resin, and within it, in an almost gentle curve, was one of my feathers. It was small, glossy dark, and came from that sensitive spot right by my back. The spot only Zsadist got to touch. 

Swallowing a fresh hit of nerves, I closed the lid and spirited the box in amongst the robes. Then, squaring my shoulders, I followed Rhage out into the hall and downstairs, having zero idea what to expect, but ready for it anyway.

Zsadist:

I was gathered with my family in the foyer. Everyone was there, even most of the Doggen. They all had these big smiles on their faces, and I swear a few of them were crying. Like yeah, the big bad scarred one is getting mated. As if this day would never come.

Though honestly, I never thought it would. I thought that I was doomed to spend a life by myself, and I’d accepted that long ago. But things have changed; I have changed for the better. That’s the thing about finding your other half, they make you a better person. 

“Z man, you gonna puke?” Butch chimes in and I swear I saw Fritz giving him a dirty look. 

“He does look as green as the field in Fenway Park,” Vishous replies back with a smirk. 

“Everyone shut up, and no mention of the Soxs at my mating ceremony,” I growled out, hearing both Brothers crack up. Then one throat clear from Wrath had them both silenced. At a quick glance, I saw them still smirking at me, but a heartbeat later, all amusement left their faces as their heads snapped up towards the stairs. 

And there he was. My male.

I watched with light in my eyes as he descended the grand staircase with Rhage trailing close behind. He looked so handsome in the ceremonial robes that I couldn’t wait to peel off later. Biting back a growl as they reach us, nodding off Rhage as I take Mal’s hand. 

Lassiter soon appeared beside us, asking if I would basically do anything for my mate. Which of course, I replied that I would, but I couldn’t help but get lost in Mal’s eyes. He was finally going to officially be mine. 

After Mal is asked much of the same, I tug him into my arms to share a passionate kiss with him. Trying not to get too crazy as everyone erupts with joy. The clapping dies down as I pull back to begin the carving. Tugging free the shash, the robe falls to reveal my bare chest, scars and all. I give my male one final look before I move down onto my knees. 

Wrath steps forward first with George close behind. His hand blindly reaches out until it makes contact with my back. “What is the name of your Hellren?” The King’s booming voice echoes in the foyer. 

“Malachi.” I say proudly. 

In a quick swift movement, I felt Wrath dig the tip of the dagger into my flesh to form an M in the old language. I didn’t doubt for one second that he couldn’t do it properly. Blind or not, the male still could slice up anything with a blade. 

One by one each Brother stepped forward to mark a letter, when it was finally Phury’s turn, I couldn’t help but stare into his eyes that matched my own. 

With unshed tears in his eyes he mouthed ‘I’m so proud of you’.

I nod in return, feeling him at my back to dig in the final letter. Once it was all said and done Fritz stepped forward with a pitcher of water and a bowl of salt. This was one wound that I didn’t mind scarring my flesh. 

After the water is mixed with the salt, Phury dumps the thick, briny liquid down my back. But I don’t cry out. I just accept the pain as I stare into the eyes of the one I loved, my Brothers growling in approval. 

Soon after Phury bent down and opened the lacquer box, taking out a pristine white cloth. He dried the wounds then rolled the material up and put it back inside. 

“Rise my twin.” He spoke.

Slowly I got up. Across my shoulders, in an arch of Old English letters, was the angel’s name in my skin. 

My twin handed over the box with a big smile on his face. “Take this to your Hellren as a symbol of your strength, so he will know that you are worthy of him and that your body, your heart, and your soul are now his to command.”

Slowly I turned around to face the angel and I quickly dropped to my knees, lifting the box to present it to him. “Will you take me as your own?” I asked as my eyes just stared deeply into his.

Mal:

Standing aside to watch Zsadist have my name carved first was a test of willpower. I’d never actively stood by and watched another make my mate bleed, and I swallowed every growl and every snarl that rose in my throat as the scent of his blood stained the air.

My mahmen stepped in beside me, the only female here that truly knew me, and I gratefully accepted the grip of her hand as she held on and squeezed. She was smiling though, the look on her face one that could only be described as proud and happy. Because I’d found someone that made me happy. 

Bending down, I brushed my lips to her cheek, earning a gentle pat to my chest in response. Then I was focusing on Zsadist again, watching as the blades made every line of my stupidly long name. Should’ve just gone with ‘Mal’. 

As Phury placed the clothe in the box, and Zsadist came to me, kneeling, I somehow kept my hands from trembling as I accepted it, instead of spinning him and examining the wound like I wanted. Later, I would pin him to the mattress and examine every line, every etching, to make sure he was alright.

“I take you as my own. From this life to the next,” I whisper back, my heart ‘aching’ with raw affection and love. 

As soon as he was back on his feet I stepped in, pressing my lips to his in a further affirmation of that vow. Vampires believed in the Fade, but reincarnation wasn’t out of the picture. If I didn’t get forever in the afterlife with Zsadist I would find him again, in another life, another time. I would always find him.

Managing a smile and a wink, I carefully set aside the box and unfastened my own robes to reveal my back. Glancing amongst the Brothers, I then took a knee, sensing as Wrath approached again. His voice rang with approval. 

“What is the name of your Hellren?”

I smiled. At the word. At this moment. At what my life had become after so long being alone.

“Zsadist.”

The sharpness of the blade made the first cut almost painless, though with each additional mark, the sting deepened. I didn’t flinch though, didn’t move as one after another the Brothers approached and sliced into my flesh. The muscles that supported my wings shuddered, and I fought the need to summon them, keeping my back smooth and feather-limb free. Though the idea of a Brother accidentally touching my wing and Zsadist ‘accidentally’ flipping a table during our mating earned a small smile. 

When they finished, and the salt water etched my mate’s name forever into my skin, it was Rhage who approached with the box. I flashed him a grin, which he returned, and then I was facing Zsadist, kneeling as he had, and lifting the box to him. 

“Will you take me as your own?”

Zsadist:

Watching Mal get carved up was harder than I thought it was going to be. I mean, I knew my Brother's weren’t hurting him. This was the ceremony, but I couldn’t help the bonded male in me that wanted to tear everyone off of him. 

“Easy now…” Phury said in my ear.

I turned to meet my twin’s gaze with a raised brow. 

“I can smell your bonding scent, it’s telling me to back the fuck off right now.” He chuckled quietly, eyes shining bright as they gaze into mine before focusing on my male. “It’s almost over, enjoy this moment.” He breathed.

Slowly my head moves to gaze back at my angel on the floor. He was really doing this, becoming mine. Fuck. What did I do to deserve him? 

Suddenly I felt an unfamiliar hand at my back, causing me to stiffen. Jerking my head to the side to watch Mal’s Mahmen retreat her hand carefully. 

“I’m sorry to startle you.” She whispers. I could feel Phury’s eyes burning at the back of my skull. 

“No need. I uh...you just caught me off guard.” I grunt.

She smiles softly then murmurs. “It’s okay, big day for you two. I’m so proud and happy to have...another son.” 

I stare, dumbfounded for a moment. Another son? Me? Suddenly I felt my chest tighten, wishing somehow I got to spend more time with my real Mahmen. Clearing my throat after I realized I was taking too long to answer. 

“Of course, Elieanora,” I replied, watching as she smiled at me before we both turned our attention back to her son on the floor. 

Moments later he was up, heading over towards me with a box, just like the one I presented to him moments ago. 

“I will take you as my own, from this life to the next,” I replied calmly as I reached for the box, handing it off to my twin so I could pull my male up and into my arms. When my lips met his, a loud roar from the family filled the foyer. But I didn’t even bother to look up, I just continued to kiss the male that was officially mine. 

Soon as we break the kiss, the chanting starts, followed by a song in the old language. My angelic voice breaks through all the others in the foyer as I join in. My eyes on the angel, like he was the only one in the room, and I was singing for him. 

Mal:

My shoulders ached in a way I savoured, but nothing was better than Zsadist’s lips as he pulled me to him. The kiss seared through me, turning my blood to liquid fire as I clung to the male, /my/ male, and relished in this moment. The cacophony around us was a nice backdrop, but more than anything I wanted to taste him. Hold him. Drown in the bliss that he was mine, and I was his. 

Easing back from the kiss, my heart ached as he lifted his voice with the others, the pure melody bringing tears to the eyes of the females and rendering me utterly speechless as I watched him. He was a gift. 

As the song came to a beautiful end, I didn’t hesitate in claiming that perfect mouth again, as if I could taste the music, the melody on his tongue. There was wolf-whistling from the males and ‘awwwwwws’ from the females, and then the smell of food and delicious things that weren’t Zsadist.  

When I finally stepped back my mahmen approached, placing one hand over my heart, and the other over Z’s. The message was clear, and as she smiled up at me I finally let go of my male to sweep her into my arms. My mahmen, who’d raised me all alone, who’d found us a life and a purpose and done everything in her power to make sure I was safe. And now she blessed me, my union with this male I loved. Took him as her own. 

“Thank you,” I whispered to her, not trusting myself to let go yet, feeling the lump in my throat. “Thank you for being my mahmen.”

Her hands stroked at my back, reassuring as she laughed gently. “I don’t think either of us had a say in it,” she replied softly, “but I wouldn’t change anything. My beautiful boy. My angel.” She leaned back to cradle my face, then pressed a kiss to my brow. 

Around us, the first family and every other occupant of the house had begun to chatter and drift toward the food, celebrating with Zsadist. Elieanora nudged me.

“Did you like it? Was it how you wanted it?”

I blinked then reached for the box amongst my robes, withdrawing it with a relieved smile and a nod.

“It was perfect. Thank you.” Between my mahmen and the doggen, they’d found the right jeweller to make what I’d asked for. Looking to Zsadist, another gentle nudge was all it took for me to cross the distance, holding out the box. When his golden gaze alighted on it, my heart skipped.

“I… I wanted to get you something else. You have my name… but I wanted you to have a piece of me too. With you always.”

Zsadist:

As Mal and his Mahmen had a private moment, I took it upon myself to receive some hugs and handshakes from my Brothers. Even from afar, I saw Hadrian had joined in on this celebration. He stood off to the side with Lassiter as they shared some drinks. Raising my head as I gave him a nod, implying that I was grateful he was here and celebrating with us today. When I received one back, I turned my attention back towards my male. 

When he pulled away from Elieanora, I watched with a curious stare as he handed me a box. What in the world could he have gotten me? Slowly I open the lid. My golden eyes go wide as I see a single feather, his feather, attached to a silver chain that I could wear around my neck. 

Holy shit.

I’m speechless as I stand there gazing at it, my fingers dragging over the coated feather that I almost didn’t notice Phury nudging me. 

“Z...the daggers.” He whispers in my ear. 

“Shit, right.” I grabbed the black velvet bag from my twin and handed it off to my mate. Watching with amusement as he opened the gift I had made for him. 

“You are one of us now.” I say as he pulls the blades out and inspects them. “So you need something epic to carry when you are on rotation.” I grin.

“Yeah, and you better not lose them.” Vishous calls out from across the room.

Snorting at my Brother as I clasp the chain around my neck, dipping my head to watch the black feather rest upon my chest. I wore a part of him around my throat, his name on my back, and together we were one. 

So I reached out to grab his hand and shared one more kiss before we moved to enjoy this night filled with food, laughter, family, and friends. 

#EndSL #FromThisLifeToTheNext

[allthingsfangirl101]

Chapter 6: Skype Session 2

Masterlist

Abby's POV

After the disastrous lunch with my dad, I was off the rest of the day. Jenna noticed it the second she walked out of her office as I sat down at my desk with a huff.

"How was lunch with your dad?" Jenna asked gently as she sat in one of the chairs across from my desk. I looked up at her and rolled my eyes.

"That bad, huh?"

"Well, it started with him talking about my job, then went to him offering Caleb a job at his office, and to wrap it all up, he offered to pay for the whole wedding. Oh, and he threw in his offer to have Caleb and I move in with him and the step-monster."

"Sounds. . . Eventful," she said with a small laugh.

"How come, every time I talk to him, it ends with me storming out?"

"You stormed out?" She asked gently.

"Of course I stormed out," I sighed. "He tried to convince me that it was Hannah's place to take control of the wedding." She just nodded, knowing I needed to vent, not have my problems solved.

"Is it crazy that I don't want to plan the wedding until Caleb comes home?" I hesitated to ask.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I don't think it's crazy. I actually think it's sweet that you're waiting. Plus, I understand why you're waiting."

"I'm waiting so he can participate," I clarified.

"I know," she nodded. "That's great. But aren't you also waiting in case. . . "

"In case he doesn't come home," I whispered. She sent me a sad smile as she sighed.

"Why don't you take the rest of the day off? I'll just be doing paperwork. Plus, isn't tonight a Skype night?"

They had it scheduled out that at the end of the first week of each month, the workers were able to Skype home. Since it was the end of the first week of their second month on the rig, Caleb and I were able to Skype again tonight.

"I can't," I stuttered. "I should probably. . . I have a lot to do."

"Abby," she sighed. "Honey, go home. I can handle things here."

                       * * * * *

When I got home, I took a well-needed bath. I sunk lower into the tub as I went over WWIII that happened barely an hour ago. I closed my eyes and let the hot water relax my muscles.

My thoughts immediately drifted to Caleb. After the hellish week I've had with the support group making me feel worse and my dad sticking his nose into things that he should really stay out of, I needed another Skype session with Caleb. I needed to see him. I needed to hear his voice. I needed to talk to him. I needed him.

I smiled as I imagined him coming home from work, calling me from the doorway. I'd yell down to him, letting him know where I was. I would hear the thumping of jogging footsteps up the stairs.

"Abs?" He'd call out the nickname he gave me senior year that I love so much.

"In here," I'd say. I'd turn my head as the bathroom door opened. A blush would make its way to my lips the second a smirk formed on his.

"Rough day?" He guessed as he leaned against the doorway.

"I had lunch with my dad," I'd sigh. He'd send me a sad smile as he walked over, sitting on the edge of the tub. He'd reach down and grab my hand, instantly intertwining our fingers.

"I'm sorry," he'd whisper, slowly scanning my face. I'd just shrug, not wanting to talk about it.

I'd raised my eyebrows as Caleb suddenly smirked. "Why are you looking at me like that?" I'd asked with a small giggle, already knowing what he was going to do.

"Just thinking about how I can help you relax." He'd say, lowering his voice. He'd glance at the bubbles covering my body and then back up at me.

"Get in," I'd tease before he could vocalize what he wanted to do.

He'd laugh as he reached up and undid his tie. I'd watch as he quickly got undressed, tossing his clothes in the hamper. I'd scoot over slightly so he could get in. I'd laugh when he hissed as he slowly got in the tub.

"Damn, girl. You trying to cook yourself or something?" He'd joke as he laid next to me and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me back against his bare chest.

"It's called I had a rough day and needed to melt my problems away," I'd smile as I relaxed into his hold. I'd bite my bottom lip as he started to press soft kisses to my neck.

I'd accidentally let out a moan as he started to massage my shoulders. "I'm sorry you're so stressed, baby." He'd whisper in my ear.

We'd lay in the tub together, neither one of us saying anything. Eventually, the bubbles would be gone. I wouldn't make a move to get out until I felt myself starting to fall asleep.

"Where are you going?" He'd whisper as I tried to get out of the tub. I'd turn around and hold in a laugh when I noticed his eyes were closed.

"I'm falling asleep and as much as I enjoy being in the tub with you, I'd rather not drown." My comment would make him open one of his eyes, a smirk present on his lips.

"Fine," he'd sigh. We'd get out of the tub, wrapping towels around ourselves and I would unplug the drain.

I'd walk into the bedroom, Caleb right behind me. I'd start to walk towards the closet, but gasp when I felt Caleb wrap his arms around my waist and pull me against his chest.

Without a word, he'd turn me around and instantly press his lips to mine. Our lips would move in sync as he walked us over to the bed. I'd get goosebumps the second our towels pooled around our ankles.

I jumped back to reality before I got too lost in the fantasy of Caleb being home. I sighed as I got up and wrapped my robe around my body. I unplugged the tub, tears involuntarily sliding down my cheeks.

I walked over to the vanity and started brushing out my hair, all with tears streaming down my cheeks. I looked over at a picture I had on the counter of Caleb and I. It was a simple picture of us at the beach. He was standing behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist as he rested his chin on my shoulder.

As I scanned the big smile I had on my face in the picture, a sob escaped my lips. I put my face in my hands and let go of the sob I have been holding back since he left.

When the sobs finally subsided, I took a deep breath and looked at my reflection in the vanity mirror. I stood up and walked over to the sink. I turned it on, put my hands under the water and splashed my face. I looked up and let out a sigh of relief when I noticed the redness in my eyes and cheek starting to go away.

As I dried my face off, I heard my laptop ringing. I threw the towel in the hamper and jumped onto my bed. I didn't hesitate to answer the call.

"Hey, babe." Just hearing his voice made me relax.

"Hi, baby," I said, my voice still scratchy from crying.

"You doing okay?" He asked gently. I nodded but stopped when I saw the look on his face. "What's going on, Abs?"

"It's just," I said, my voice breaking. "This week has been a little rough. . ."

"How?" He asked, almost a whisper.

"Well," I cleared my throat. "I went to that support group that Felicia suggested."

"And? Did it help?"

"Honestly? Not really." He smiled softly at my response. "I mean. . . I know that it should've reassured me that other people were feeling the way I do, but. . . All it did was make all the fears and nerves I have worse."

"I'm sorry, baby. I wish there was something I could do," he sighed.

"It's okay," I said instantly. "I mean. . . It's not your fault. I'm fine."

He sent me a look that told me he knew better. "Abby, I don't want you to be miserable while I'm gone. I hate how this is affecting you."

"Caleb," I interrupted before he could start rambling. "I'm so proud of what you are doing. Yes, I miss you. But, I'll be fine. Please don't worry about me."

"I always worry about you, baby."

"I know," I said with a soft laugh. "And I love you for it."

"I love you too."

We sat there, neither one of us saying a word. Caleb suddenly laughed when he looked down, noticing I was sitting in my bathrobe.

"Sorry," I said, my cheeks burning. "I was taking a bath and had just gotten out before you called. I didn't have time to get dressed."

"It's alright," he laughed. Suddenly, the smile fell from his lips. "You took a bath. . . Everything okay?"

I looked down, hesitating to tell him about the lunch with my dad. "Abby?" He said, making me look up at him.

"I had lunch with my dad," I rushed out, making his face fall.

"Let me guess," he sighed. "Did he try to pay for the wedding? And offered to have us live with them for the first year?"

"And offered you a job." His eyes widened slightly.

"Oh," he cleared his throat. "That's. . . New."

"I told him off," I quickly added. "I told him that we were going to figure things out. I told him. . ."

I closed my eyes when my voice broke. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my eyes still closed.

"Abby?" Caleb's voice came out soft. "Please look at me, baby."

I took a deep breath before slowly opening my eyes. "I love you, Abby. So much."

"I love you too," I said, barely audible. "I miss you."

"I miss you too."

"I didn't think this would be so hard," I said mostly to myself. I looked up to see him nodding. I cleared my throat and sat up straighter.

"Enough about me. How's the rig?"

I smiled as his eyes brightened. "It's gotten better."

"Really? That's great, babe. I told you it would."

"I know," he laughed. "I need to listen to you more."

I laughed as he told a story about something that happened this week. I tried to follow along even though I barely understood half of what he was saying.

Suddenly, he stopped talking. "Caleb? You okay?"

"Yeah," he stuttered. "I just. . . I can't help but feel guilty."

"Guilty?"

"Well, yeah." He sighed. "I'm having a good time, learning a lot and you're. . ."

"Caleb," I sighed. I sent him a look that made him laugh. "Babe, I agreed to this, so you shouldn't feel guilty. I'm glad you're having a good time and learning a lot. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

"I'll always worry about you, Abs. Even when I'm right next to you."

[badsext]

What I Could Do With A Pen

My inspiration: I remember being a high school theatre kid hanging out backstage during rehearsals. We’d give each other massages and play with each other’s hair, but my favorite thing was when someone would take out a pen and draw on me. There was something so relaxing, and maybe a bit naughty, but definitely intimate, even sensual about it…

***Contains language and smmmut***

While working for an entertainment news website you meet Robert Sheehan at a press event. This isn’t your first interview, but probably your most significant. Umbrella academy season two is coming out in two weeks and he and his cast mates were there to promote it. You’d admit to being a casual fan of his, but no more. Plus you know as well as anyone that celebrities are rarely who they seem to be in the media. So why are you so nervous?

He comes in wearing tight black jeans, a deep v neck sweater and a bunch of funky jewelry. You manage to calm your nerves and the interview goes better than expected. Robert is so passionate about his character and it’s refreshing how candid his answers are. You have gotten used to actors looking bored on these press junkets. Robert seems to actually kind of enjoy it. It’s hard not to get charmed by his enthusiasm. You find yourself getting a little sad as the interview wraps up, but you try to put it out of your mind.

Then just as you have resigned yourself to never seeing him again he catches you packing up your stuff to go home. “Thank you for asking intelligent questions,” Y/N

“Well, thank you for actually giving a shit about this interview, Robert.” you reply, cringing at your tone of voice. His name sounds strange on your tongue post-interview.

“Call me Robbie. And I get it. Actors don’t always respect these things, sometimes I’m guilty of that too, but you made it fun.” You feel your cheeks blush.

Then he asks to exchange numbers, but instead of reaching for his phone, he grabs a pen. That’s odd, you think to yourself. You go to reach for your phone, but instead, he grabs your hand. “May, I?” He asks. You nod. He holds your hand, palm facing up and pulls the pen cap off with his teeth. You notice he’s left handed. He first writes ‘Robbie,’ as if to distinguish this one from the dozens of other phone numbers written on your hand, you laugh to yourself. Then you notice the sensation of the pen sliding across your palm. It feels good. He takes his time and when he’s done he looks up at you. His eyes search yours as if asking a question. You get lost for a second, then realize that it’s your turn to give him your number. He hands you the pen. As you begin writing your name on his palm you hear him inhale. He closes his eyes and bites his lip. Seeing him react this way sends a surprise tingle running down your body. It’s hard to separate yourself from him. Your heart is beating fast now and you’re afraid you might embarrass yourself if you linger any longer.

“I have to go back to my hotel and make some edits” you mumble. “Maybe I’ll see you later” you add, trying to sound as casual as possible with the moist heat rising between your legs.

You walk out to your car silently screaming. FUCK! What was that?!

You drive back to the hotel in a haze and take an actual cold shower followed by a big glass of chilled white wine. You open your laptop to make the edits and quickly realize that looking at the interview footage is only going to make you horny again. What happened to my sense of professionalism?, you think as you pour another yourself another glass of wine. Your mind wanders and so does your hand. You’re seconds away from making yourself cum when a buzz from your nightstand startles you half to death.

Robbie texted you - I know this is crazy, but can I come over to see you?

Your fingers start typing and before you’ve even had time to think, you’ve pasted the address of the hotel and your room number into the text and hit send. God damn it!

Now your mind is racing. You are wearing just a robe. You consider changing back into the clothes you were wearing for the interview so you don’t look too thirsty. But then fuck that! You are both adults. You know exactly what this is! Wait, what is this? Just as your internal dialogue starts spiraling out of control you hear a knock at the door.

It’s Robbie. He is standing there barefoot with a bottle in one hand and a box in the other, wearing an open, knee length floral silk robe and boxer briefs. You invite him in, breathless.

“Sorry if I freaked you out. I am staying at this hotel. Upstairs in the penthouse.” He says apologetically.

“I brought us some desert.” He sets the box and the wine on the table and sits down in a chair. You can’t help but laugh at the situation. It’s three o'clock in the afternoon on a Wednesday and Robert Sheehan has left his penthouse suite for your hotel room half naked with wine and pastry.

“This is so weird” you say.

“I like weird,” he smiles.

“I like it too.” You are convinced now. This is happening. You allow your robe to become slightly parted at the chest, still too nervous to make a move and so you keep talking. “So, why aren’t we in the Penthouse right now?,” you ask.

“It’s too big and empty up there,” he says pouring wine and taking a sip. You can hear the loneliness in his voice. His vulnerability is sexy. It encourages your boldness. You lean against the wall in front of him and slowly untie your robe. He stands up and slides his hand up the curve of your waist to your breast and runs his thumb lightly over your sensitive nipple.

“You have no tattoos and yet you are always playing characters with them. Why is that?,” you say looking over his tight, lean torso, tracing your finger along his chest.

“Well, I could give you the bullshit answer I’d give in an interview or I could show you.” He reaches into the pocket of his robe and hands you a pen. He lets his silk robe fall off his shoulders and pool on the carpet at his feet.

Your hesitation is gone. Something about this just makes sense to you. You press him into the wall with the pen in your hand. When the pen makes contact with his skin you watch him swallow hard. First you write your name and then a series of patterns and lines, a stream of consciousness. Each pen stroke makes him squirm and groan with pleasure. You savor each reaction. His cock is pressing up against his boxer briefs. You kneel down and lightly press your face against the fabric before pulling them down. You take him into your mouth, grazing his other sensitive bits with the back of your hand, feeling his blood pulse and further stiffen his cock. You slowly start working his length, but he stops you, not wanting to come yet.

He pulls you up to eye level and kisses you hungrily, causing both of to tumble backwards into the chair. He parts your wetness with his hand and then looks you in the eyes while he tastes you off his fingers. His green eyes are glassy and dilated. He slides below you and begins licking your clit, which soon turns to gentle rhythmic sucking. The orgasm makes you shudder and writhe in the chair. You cry out at the moment of your release.

Robbie lifts you up and pulls you down on top of him in the adjacent bed. You slide down on his cock and start riding him. Your hair is falling all around you and your perky little tits bounce subtly. He looks up at you with intensity, biting his lip. He grabs your ass. You stretch out on top of him so you can grind your clit against him while he is inside you. You are fucking him so hard, taking what you want. This orgasm is so powerful it puts the previous one to shame. Your muscles squeeze him so tightly, you feel his orgasm gush inside you.

You collapse in his arms, looking down at your artwork and then suddenly feel a flood of emotions. Maybe it’s the intensity of the sex or the newness of it all, but you feel your eyes welling up with tears.

“What is it, love?,” he is holding your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“I’m sorry I got so carried away.”

“This?,” he gestures to the words on his chest. “Y/N, I thought you understood. This is my thing. Don’t you dare feel bad. That was amazing. You are amazing - and look…” He wets his finger in his mouth and wipes at the design on his arm. It’s only temporary. “I have a whole system for getting this off my skin that involves baby oil and I definitely want you to be a part of it,” he smiles.

You smile back, taking a big sip of wine. He brings the pastries over to the bed and starts feeding you. The rest of the night is filled with more wine, room service and getting to know each other better.

@amyyrobertss3 @oopsdude @watermelon-slyz @badboysobsession @this-bitch-actually @litzyruiz123 @greta-myk @jaekoo @illuminevie @death-lie @xdtrashy

[luckyspike]

Familiar, but not too familiar

I would like to dedicate this fanfiction to the McElroy brothers, Hasbro, the artist geothebio, my sofa, a patient that one time told me he tried to destroy a Ouija board and it caught fire and he almost died, some of the not-spooky parts of Paranormal Activity, and my stupid brain. Oh and also Good Omens. Thank you to John Roderick and the Long Winters for the title of this fanfiction, It’s a Departure off of their album Putting the Days to Bed, and thank you to the Maximum Fun Network for hosting some podcasts I enjoy.

--

The Ouija board is Brian’s. His parents got it for him for his fifteenth birthday, and during one summer night after the end of the school year, the Them found themselves studying it by light of a lantern, in a tent in their hollow. “My parents,” Wensleydale says, “said that we aren’t to play with Ouija boards, because they’re the vessels of demons.”

“Yeah, well,” Adam shrugs. “I mean so what? Why bother, then?”

“Yeah,” Pepper seconds. “If we want to talk to a demon we can just call Crowley - no need to mess around with this whole board situation.”

“It’s supposed to tell you the future,” Brian says, sullenly, arms crossed over his chest.

“Anathema could tell us the future,” Wensleydale says.

“But she doesn’t. We could ask it all kinds of questions.” He picks up the planchette. “And anyway, it might not be a demon. They’re called spirit boards, aren’t they? Might be a ghost.” He sighs, and sags a little. “Come on, guys, at least it’ll be a laugh.”

Pepper looks to Adam. “I don’t think -”

“Yeah, I’m not playing,” Adam says, before she can finish. “If you guys want to, that’s fine, but I’ll watch. Just … I dunno, just in case, I guess.” Wensleydale and Brian nod, solemn, and Pepper sighs.

“I’ll play. But for the record, I think this is stupid.” Brian beams, though, and she helps set the board on the lid of the box, which is the flattest surface they can find in the tent. Adam doesn’t move, but he keeps his arms wrapped around his knees, nose wrinkled in thought.

He isn’t sure this is a very good idea. It has been four years since the Nah-pocalypse, and Crowley and Aziraphale and Anathema have all taught him all kinds of things about the occult, although nobody has ever mentioned Ouija boards. He’d certainly never seen any of them with one. It’s probably, he thinks, perfectly safe. It’s a game, after all, and they sell them at stores all over - it’s not as if the company has necromancers binding demons to each board. But still …

“Alright,” Brian says, seated at the top of the board. “Nobody move the planchette.”

“Duh,” says Pepper.

“Right. I’ll start. So, uh, mighty - mighty?” He glances to Adam, who shrugs. “Might Ouija. It is me, Brian, coming to seek wisdom. Is there a spirit here with us?”

Nothing happens for a minute. Adam, internally, breathes a sigh of relief. But then the planchette moves. Slowly, achingly slowly, it slides to ‘Yes’.

Brian, Wensleydale, and Pepper exchange a look. “I didn’t do it,” Wensley says in hushed tones.

“Me neither,” Brian and Pepper agree.

Adam shifts, suddenly uncomfortable. “This might be a bad idea.”

Wensley manages a weak smile at Adam. “Nah, I’m sure we’re all just moving it subconsciously together.”

“What’s your name?” Brian asks, shakily, and Adam glares at him. The planchette moves faster this time, but the board still isn’t quite even, and it catches. The four watch intently, lips moving as it stops on each letter in turn, and they don’t look away when it comes to a rest back in the center of the board. “Nancy?” Brian cocks his head. “Who’s Nancy?”

“I thought it spelled ‘Kelly’,” Pepper says.

Dog whines. 

“Alright, that’s it, let’s put it back in the box,” Adam says suddenly. “You know, I dunno if we should take it to Anathema tomorrow or whatever, but definitely time to put it away -”

“Yep,” Pepper agrees, withdrawing her hand as if she’d been burned. Brian and Wensley follow suit almost instantly. “Yep, absolutely, we’ll take it to Anathema tomorrow and -”

The planchette moves again. The three human teenagers scream, and the former antichrist winces. This time it doesn’t catch, there’s no halting movement. ‘A D A M Y O U N G’ it spells.

“Oh, shit,” says Adam, before the four teens and the dog bolt from the tent.

The path from the hollow to Jasmine cottage is well-worn, these days, and they don’t need a lantern to get there in the dark. Still, they aren’t stealthy about it, and before they can reach Anathema’s door she is out of bed and pulling her robe on, less out of a sense of premonition and more because they sound of four teenagers crashing through the underbrush, with accompaniment of a frantically barking dog, is fairly difficulty to sleep through. Newton stirs, but she slips from the room and to the front door, pulling it open before Pepper can bring her hand down for the first knock. They all scream. Anathema blinks.

“What’s going on?”

“I didn’t mean it!” Brian says frantically. “I thought it would be a laugh!”

“Brian talked us into a Ouija board,” Pepper explains, when Anathema raises a hand to stop the taller boy.

Adam adds quickly, “I told them it was probably a bad idea. I didn’t touch it.”

Anathema’s eyebrows are raised. “Like the board game?”

“It moved on its own,” Wensleydale insisted. “No, miss, really, I know it sounds crazy, but it did, honestly.”

“It spelled my name,” Adam said quietly. “And they weren’t even touching it.”

“Oh.” Anathema is just about to say that she’s sure there is a logical explanation for this - it’s a board game, for goodness’ sake - when Dog begins his frantic barking once again, this time directed at the garden gate. They all look.

The board is propped up against the gatepost, planchette in the grass just in front of it. It glows.

“Ah.” Anathema swallows, and steps aside. “Why don’t you kids come in. I’ll make tea. And Adam, I’d call your godfathers.”

-

By all the map applications, it takes approximately 2 hours to get from South Downs to Tadfield. In reality, Crowley and Aziraphale arrive at Jasmine Cottage exactly seventy-five minutes after Adam called them and explained the situation. Anathema, Dog, and the Them meet them in the front garden, while the engine of the Bentley quietly cools at the curb. The notes of Queen still hang in the air, faint as the smell of lilac on the breeze.

“I thought you said it was in the front garden,” Aziraphale says, looking around. “By the gate?”

“It was when I called you,” Adam says, looking miserable. “Sorry, guys, I knew it was a bad idea, really, I should have talked Them out of it more -”

“I should have listened,” Brian whimpers.

“Not to worry, my dear boy, they sell them in every games shop. You weren’t to know.” Aziraphale pats Adam on the shoulder, and Brian as well. 

“So it moved inside?” Crowley asks.

Anathema nods, slowly. “Ye-es. How did you -?”

“I recognize the style. What’s it doing now?”

“Well,” Pepper says hesitantly, “we tried to set it on fire -” Crowley winces “- Yeah. And then when it didn’t catch Anathema drew a circle around it with salt and it’s just sitting on the table. The planchette keeps moving.”

“What’s it spelling?”

“My name,” Adam says glumly. “And ‘kill’ and either Kelly or Nancy, we’re not sure. And then it just, bounces back and forth, left-to-right.”

“Sometimes it makes a figure-of-eight,” Wensleydale adds. Crowley groans. 

“Well, that’s alright then. Come on, we can sort this out in a minute.” He pushes past the group and into the cottage, taking a few backwards steps while he asks, “Where’s Newt?”

“Upstairs, asleep.” Anathema sounds somewhat testy about it. Aziraphale tuts, and follows Crowley, indicating for the others to follow.

“Knew I liked him,” Crowley says.

“Just stay behind me,” Aziraphale adds.

In the kitchen, the Ouija board is on the table, surrounded by a circle of salt. The planchette is on fire, swinging right-to-left across the face of the board in a smooth arc. Crowley looks annoyed as he breaks the salt circle from the outside. “Alright, Zozo that’s enough.” The planchette stops for a minute, and then begins to slide across the board. “Don’t do the spelling thing, I don’t have all night.”

There is a flash and a whiff of sulfur and ozone, and then there is a demon standing on the table. They are short, and stout, with frizzled dark hair and smoke rising from their shoulders and a big, toothy grin. “Crawly! It’s been ages!”

“Yeah, it’s Crowley now. Are you still possessing these things?”

“And you’re with the angel, still,” the demon - Zozo, presumably - says, ignoring the question, and taking in the cadre standing in the door to the kitchen. “Oh, and the witch, nice work on the salt circle here, and yes, the young Mr. Young! I’ve heard so much about you.”

“You have?” Adam asks, sounding distinctly unhappy about it.

“Of course! You were the talk of the town Down There after the whole business with the Apocalypse. My if the higher-ups weren’t furious about the whole thing! But I said, he’s his father’s son, I said, rebellious to the last and -”

“That’s enough,” Aziraphale snaps, in a tone that brooked no argument. Zozo’s jaw clapped shut. 

“Well, in a good way,” they said then, after a minute. “Saving Earth instead of destroying it? I tell you what, kid, and don’t let anyone hear me say this, present company excepted, but that was some real slick work.” Zozo winks then, and Crowley groans. “Us Earthside agents weren’t all gung-ho for the whole war business. You guys have some pretty sweet digs going up here.”

“Alright, yes, that’s great Zozo, why are you still possessing Ouija boards?” Crowley groans. “You got freed from that bargain centuries ago, I thought. Just after - was it during the Qing dynasty?”

“During, actually,” Zozo corrects, sitting down on the table and toying with the planchette. “Yeah, I was, but you know, well, the tempting still needed to be done, and old habits and all.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale nods. “And you were going to tempt Adam and his friends, were you?”

“Me? No, angel, never.” Zozo scoffs, and raises their hands placatingly. “What, you think I would go up against Adam Young, former antichrist? Me? A demon of the first circle? Minor tempter and general nuisance Zozo?” Aziraphale shrugs. “No, never. I just wanted to say hello.”

“Well you picked a creepy way of doing it,” Adam snaps. “You didn’t have to follow us. Or catch fire. Or all that.”

“Everybody’s got to have some style, right, Crowley?” Zozo turns to smile at their fellow demon, and when their enthusiasm was met with a scowl, they shrank a little. “Right. Okay, so it was creepy. Noted. Sorry.” 

Crowley sniffs. “I think you ought to go.”

“I’m getting that message, yeah.” Zozo raises a finger. “But, uh, a word of advice? To the kids?”

“Depends,” Aziraphale and Crowley say in unison, and then look embarrassed about it. Zozo just grins.

“Not temptation I promise. Like I said, don’t let anybody catch me giving you this tip, though. I’m not immune to Holy Water.” Zozo spares a glance to Crowley, and then lowers their voice and says, “Adam, listen, you’re lucky it was just me came through tonight, but if I were you I’d get rid of the board, alright? You never know who might show up.”

Adam looks to Crowley and Aziraphale, and then nods. “O-kay. Yeah.” He looks to his friends. “Right?” They nod, fervently. “Right, yeah. Do uh, is there a certain way we have to get rid of it?”

Zozo and Crowley, as one, look amused. “Nah,” says the lesser demon. “This old thing is just cardboard. Doesn’t work unless you really truly believe, and someone on the other end feels like giving you the time of day. But in your case …”

“Yeah. Got it.”

Zozo brightens. “You could probably donate it to a charity or something. Maybe get a tax deduction. Pass the wealth forward, as it were. I promise I won’t tell anybody to murder anyone through it.”

“Hm,” Aziraphale says, lips pressing to a thin line. 

“We’ll think about it,” Anathema says, laying a hand on Adam’s shoulder. 

“Or just burn it,” Zozo sighs, defeated. “That works too.”

“Much more likely,” Crowley agrees. 

“Okay, well, nice meeting you, Adam Young.” Zozo waves, and positions themselves cross-legged on the table, smudged salt ring crackling under their boots. “Good seeing you again, Crowley. If you’re ever around Dallas feel free to stop in.”

“I won’t be.”

“Don’t blame you for that one. Right. Bye!” And with a sort of odd, cold sucking sound, Zozo vanishes, leaving behind a scorched cardboard board and a planchette, clattering to the floor. 

Aziraphale breaks the silence. “Well. They seemed alright, for a demon.”

“Don’t start,” Crowley warns. “Right, let’s burn this thing and then you all can go back to - what were you doing?”

“Camping,” Brian says, from behind Anathema, while Crowley collects the board and the planchette.

“Why?”

Adam shrugs. “Dunno. Seemed fun. Hanging out, camping, playing games.”

Aziraphale nods. “Certainly, well, yes, but perhaps next time snakes and ladders might be more apropos.”

“That’s for little kids,” Pepper points out. 

“Monopoly?”

Crowley brushes past. “Nice try, angel.”

“Are kids not playing Monopoly anymore?”

“I don’t think they ever were,” Anathema says, laying a sympathetic hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder, as they and the Them follow Crowley into the garden. “It’s a more adult game.”

“Is it? I thought children liked it.”

Wensleydale looks interested. “I always liked it.”

“Yeah,” Pepper says, in the tone of one who has experienced first-hand on numerous occasions Wensleydale’s devoted love of the game of Monopoly. “Yeah, you have. Even though it’s a capitalist propaganda game, and no matter how many times I tell you that.”

“We could go back to my place,” Adam says, while Crowley sets the game board in the firepit and sets it aflame. He does not use a lighter. “Play Fortnite.”

“That wouldn’t be camping, would it?” Brian looks put-out. “I like camping. Being outside.”

Crowley sidles away from the firepit as the flames die down, hands in his pockets. “What’s wrong with normal teen stuff? Smoke some weed, drink some cheap booze -”

“Crowley!” Anathema and Aziraphale say in unison, and Crowley has the decency to look slightly apologetic.

“Right, sorry. Do not do those things, teens, Adam. Stay in school and all that.” He moves toward the Bentley. “You ready to go, angel?”

“Yes, I suppose.” Aziraphale looks to Adam and the Them. “Do have fun camping but please, if you ever get the urge to contact the spirit realm or think you might have a possibility of summoning a demon, please call us first next time. Or if you actually need to summon a demon for some reason -”

“Right, call Crowley, I know.” Adam nods, and smiles. “I got it, I promise. No more occulty stuff without you or Anathema. Right, guys?”

“Right,” the Them agree. 

“Promise,” Adam confirms. Aziraphale nods, and turns to head toward the car, and the collected humans wave goodbye. “Drive safe!”

“He doesn’t,” Aziraphale replies with resignation, before the doors to the Bentley close and the car peels off into the night. 

“Hey, Adam?” Wensleydale asks, while the watch the car go, “if they’re all supernatural, right? Why do they always drive?”

“Because they’re kind of stupid,” Adam says, still smiling. Anathema covers her mouth with a hand, and turns away. “But that’s alright. Oh. And don’t tell them I said that.”

“You think they know?” Pepper asks. “6000 years, they ought to know.” Anathema has a coughing fit, which sounds suspiciously like laughter, and retreats into the cottage with a hurried ‘goodnight’ to the Them. 

Adam begins out of the garden, and his friends fall into formation behind him. “I really don’t think they know. Well. Crowley might suspect it. But he has anxiety so I think he probably tells himself it’s all in his own head.”

Brian nods. “Yeah. I get that. So what’re we gonna do now?”

“Sleep?” Wensleydale suggests. “We could sleep. It’s already half three.”

“Not much point in sleeping then, is there?” Pepper points out. “You know, I did bring Clue.”

“I like Clue,” Brian says eagerly. 

Adam nods, and Dog bounds at his side, back toward the tent. “Yeah. Me too. And you can’t summon any demons with Clue, so that’s alright for tonight.”

[1dffexchange]

A Tango at Sea

To: Alexandra @abwritesstuff

From: Lisa @tinyfelthat​

Summary: Theodora "Teddy" Dawson is going on a singles' cruise to forget her ex-boyfriend, but she made a tiny typo when registering, and that could change everything.

“What do you mean there’s no reservation here for Theodora Dawson?!” I exclaimed, “I registered for this cruise a month ago. There’s no way I’m not on that list.”

“There’s a Theodore Dawson listed here,” the singles’ cruise check-in woman told me, “I’m not really supposed to give out other passengers’ information though.”

“Tell me,” I began, “Is Theodore Dawson’s birthdate May 7th, 1993?” She nodded, and I continued, “I obviously made a typo. Can I show you my driver’s license and my passport? Will that help?”

“Yes, we can try that,” she said.

“Okay, good, thanks,” I smiled at her now that she was being helpful, and reached into my bag for my things. “I can’t wait to get on this cruise and meet some men.” I handed her my passport and my license.

“Everything here matches up with Theodore Dawson’s information,” she said after a moment, “There’s just one issue.”

“Oh, no,” I sighed, “Am I not allowed on the cruise because of my stupid mistake?”

“No, that’s not it. You’ve been put in a suite with a man, and the only remaining room is an enormous downgrade from the package you paid for,” she told me.

“I’m fine to be in that suite. They’re pretty big, aren’t they?” I asked.

“Well, yes, but the man you’ve been put with may not appreciate it,” she said.

“It’ll be okay,” I said, taking my passport and license back, and grabbing my ticket off the printer, “Thanks for helping me.” I grabbed my suitcase and walked toward the ship before she could say anything else.

***

When I arrived at the suite, it was empty. My suitemate, whose name I had yet to learn, was either out, or hadn’t arrived yet. My hope was that he would miss the ship or he’d ask for the downgrade once he met me, and that I’d have this wonderful suite all to myself. There were two bedrooms, and they were of equal size, so I chose the one on the left, and set down my bags.

I wandered out to the balcony, and sat down on one of the lounge chairs, turning my face up to the sun. I sighed, enjoying the warm sun on my face, and then I heard the door to the suite open, followed by a thud, and a string of curse words.

“Hello!” I called out as I walked back in. His head whipped toward me at the sound of my voice, and I was stunned into silence by his attractiveness. I knew I’d seen him somewhere before, but I assumed it was just at check-in.

“Wow, Theodore is a quick worker, isn’t he?” he muttered.

“No, actually, I’m Theodora,” I said, “I made a typo when I was registering, and no one caught it until this morning.” I paused for a moment then added, “Please call me Teddy.”

“Wait, what?” he sputtered, “You’re my suitemate?”

“Yeah, I know. At least you’re getting a head start on the matchmaking process,” I laughed.

“Wait, what?” he said again. He stared at me for a solid thirty seconds, while I tried to process where I knew him from, and then it dawned on me. He looked like my ex-boyfriend. No, he didn’t. He looked like he was closely related to my ex. Finally, it all came together.

“You’re Niall Horan! You’re Max’s cousin! You guys are like, best friends!” I shouted, repulsed.

“Um, yeah, that’s my name, and my cousin’s name...I wouldn’t call him my best friend though,” he replied, obviously confused.

“I dated Max for three stupid years,” I told him, angrily, “He broke my heart two months ago, and after a month of wallowing, I booked this cruise so I could get over him.”

“You’re that Teddy. Ugh, I knew you looked oddly familiar,” he sounded disgusted. I flopped onto the couch in the common room of the suite.

“What has he told you about me?” I asked rather coldly.

“Not much,” Niall admitted, “besides complaining about your bitching. He also called you selfish and somehow also clingy.”

“Ugh, he would say those things,” I sighed. “Well, I’m going to go take a shower. I have a lot to talk to you about, so just stay in the suite, okay?” I got up from the couch, and gave Niall my best ‘don’t you dare move’ look.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” he said, looking down at his phone. I was sure that he hadn’t listened to me. Oh, well. I’d confront him at some other point if he left.

***

During my shower, I thought about what I was going to do about Niall. The cruise was a week long, and I didn’t want to share a suite with him for an hour, let alone a week. As I continued to ponder the Niall situation, I found myself thinking about how attractive he was, instead of how much I loathed him and his stupid cousin. Then I realized what I was doing, and I stopped myself.

“You will not have sex with your ex-boyfriend’s cousin,” I told myself sternly in the steamy mirror as I got out of the shower. “No matter how attractive he is. He’s probably not interested anyway.”

“Ah, but he is!” I heard from the hallway outside the bathroom. “He probably wants it more than you do, Teddy,” Niall added.

“How the fuck did you hear me?” I spat, wrapping myself in a robe and my hair in a towel, then opening the door. “Were you listening to my whole shower?”

“Nope,” he said. “I just happened to walk by at the perfect moment.”

“I don’t believe you!” I said, standing up on my tiptoes and poking him in the chest. “I think you’re a sick, perverted…”

Niall cut me off, kissing me hungrily, wildly. I started to kiss him back, then thought better of it and pulled back just far enough to slap him in the face.

“What was that for?” he asked, rubbing his cheek.

“What do you think it was for? Don’t do that again,” I warned.

I stomped off to get dressed, leaving him staring at my door.

***

An hour or so later, freshly dressed and made up, I wandered out of the suite, in search of food. I was staring at a map of the ship near the elevator bank, when someone bumped into me.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” I said, turning around. I went slack-jawed. Standing before me was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. Handsome wasn’t the right word, he was definitely beautiful. Soft green eyes, curly brown hair, and plump pink lips? I could have died there and then from his beauty. Instead I extended my hand to him and said, “Theodora Dawson. Please call me Teddy.”

He took my hand and shook it. “Harry Styles. Pleased to meet you.” He smiled at me and dimples appeared. God, the man was beautiful. “I was just about to go find some lunch. Join me?”

“Sure,” I agreed, as my stomach growled quite loudly and unattractively. “I’m starving.”

Harry chuckled. “Let’s go find some food.”

We walked along, chatting about this and that. I learned that he was twenty four, and that he had a twin sister named Michelle and that the two of them were inseparable as children, and that she was now married with her first child on the way.

“Wow,” I said. “So are you two still close?”

“Yeah, kind of,” he shrugged, “She’s been busy with her husband and they’ve been going crazy with preparations for their baby. They still haven’t decided on a name, and she’s due in three weeks. I keep joking that they’re going to have to call her Frank Junior.” I snickered, and he laughed a little too. “At least someone other than me thinks that’s funny. I told Frank and Michelle and they just glared at me like I had offended them to their cores..”

“How rude of them,” I laughed again. “No really, that’s funny. But maybe don’t joke about it to people who are stressed out about becoming parents to a baby girl for the first time.”

“Maybe,” he said, then pointed. “Oh, look! We found the buffet.”

“Finally!” I exclaimed. “Fair warning, I’ll probably eat like three plates. I didn’t eat breakfast this morning.”

“That’s fine by me,” Harry replied. “I like a woman who can eat half her weight at a buffet.” He winked at me. “I’ll meet you back here with some food and we can find ourselves a table after, all right?”

“Sounds good,” I agreed, and went to pile a tray full of food. On my second trip back to the table, carefully balancing a packed tray of desserts, I slipped on a wet spot, but someone caught me before I hit the floor. The food was not so lucky.

“Careful!” someone said. I looked up and saw Niall’s face. He was the one who’d caught me. I angrily shrugged my way out of his embrace, and stomped back over to the table where Harry sat waiting for me.

“Sorry the dessert didn’t make it,” I said, sliding into my seat and covering my face with shame.

“No big deal,” Harry said, prying my hands from my face. “You’re lucky that guy caught you. You might’ve injured yourself.”

“No, I’m not. Niall’s an asshole,” I told him. When I saw him staring at me blankly, I added, “He’s my ex-boyfriend’s cousin.”

“Oh,” he said. “You know, just because someone’s related to your ex, doesn’t mean that they’re a terrible person also.”

“Yeah, I know,” I sighed. “But Niall is also Max’s best friend. And you don’t know Max, but he was the definition of bad boyfriend. He cheated on me with my sister before my sister met him officially. He knew who she was through me, but she didn’t know who he was and it was this whole big mess.”

“Sorry that happened,” Harry put his hand over mine sympathetically. “My last ex-girlfriend was…” he paused for a little while, obviously trying to come up with the right word. “She was… Let’s just say she was a piece of work that needed a lot of help. Help that I was not the right person to give to her.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Let’s not talk about exes. Let’s go find something silly to do instead.”

“Okay,” he agreed quickly. He pulled out a copy of the ship’s itinerary. “There are tango lessons at 1:30 on deck 8. Maybe we could try that?”

“Sure,” I said. “I’m a great dancer. I took ballroom lessons as a kid. Lead the way.”

***

“Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow,” the tango instructor said as she and the other professional showed us the steps. “Now partner off and show me if you can do what I’ve just shown you, one pair at a time.”

Harry and I looked at each other, and I shrugged. This was going to go terribly; I could tell from his face that he was nervous, and I reached over and patted his hand reassuringly. “You’ll be fine,” I said. “I’m sure you’re not the only beginning dancer here.”

Somehow, it turned out I was wrong. There was only one dancer as bad as Harry, and she’d partnered with Niall, who had showed up about five minutes after we did. The instructor approached us, and said, “Do you mind switching partners? I like to place beginners with beginners, and more advanced dancers together. However, you will need to show your skills with your new partner before we can continue.” I looked at Harry pleadingly, but he didn’t see me, and instead gratefully agreed to the switch. I scowled at Niall as he came over, and he had an equally sour look on his face.

“Don’t even think about any funny business while we’re dancing,” I growled at Niall while he took his place on the floor with me.

The music came on, and we started to tango. It seemed as though we had done it a thousand times before. I closed my eyes as Niall began more complicated steps. I was sure he was expecting me not to know what to do, but the moves I’d learned as a child came flooding back and instinct took over. I opened my eyes as the song ended and we stopped dancing, but then Niall kissed me again, this time sweet and slow, clearly as lost in the moment as I was. I melted into the kiss, clutching at Niall’s shirt, until I realized exactly who I was kissing, and then I backed away cautiously, aware that the rest of the class was watching. They were all staring at us, dreamy-eyed. Everyone except Harry, who was glaring at Niall. I was just glad that Harry had only seen him from afar at the buffet. I was hopeful that he wouldn’t recognize him, and thankfully, blessedly, he didn’t. That being said, he still stalked over to us after his clumsy attempt at a tango and the end of the lesson.

“I thought I said no funny business,” I hissed at Niall while Harry made his way through the crowd of people.

“You said, ‘while we’re dancing’ if you don’t remember. I kissed you after the dance was complete,” he replied calmly and coolly.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said, “I’m going to go find Harry.”

“His name’s Harry?” Niall asked.

“Yes,” I said, curtly. “Why?”

“No reason,” he said. “Just wanted to know. See you in the suite!”

He waved at me, and walked away cheerfully. I stood there for a moment, fuming, disgusted with myself for kissing Niall back, when Harry finally returned.

“What do you want to do now?” he asked me.

“I was thinking about just finding a deck chair and sunbathing for a bit,” I said. “Probably should change into a bathing suit though. Don’t want to get too warm.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “I was thinking about maybe trying one of the other activities. But I could join you sunbathing, if you’d like.”

“That’s okay Harry. I think I’d like some me time,” I smiled at him. “Maybe I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Sure,” he grinned at me. “Meet me at the restaurant entrance at say… 6:45?”

“Sounds perfect,” I said.

He pecked me on the lips with one last smile, and walked away.

***

I had thoroughly enjoyed my sunbathing time. I’d decided to use the balcony of the suite instead of going out to one of the public decks, because I’d been interacting with people all day, and needed a little time to myself. I knew I’d be seeing Harry later, and I wanted to be recharged and refreshed. However, I miscalculated how long it would take me to get from the suite to the ship’s restaurant, and I was running miserably late.

I had no way of contacting Harry aside from calling the operator to get his room, so I hoped he didn’t think he was being stood up. When I got to the restaurant at 6:55, he was nowhere to be found.

“Shit, he probably thought I decided to ditch him,” I cursed to myself.

I figured I’d hope for the best. “Table for two please,” I told the hostess. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“Of course,” she replied. “This way.”

The restaurant was full of people, some very clearly on first dates (as it still was just the first night of the cruise), some sitting in big groups trying to get to know one another, and there were a few stragglers sitting at tables by themselves. I noticed Niall sitting alone out of the corner of my eye, and thought it odd. I thought that by this point he would already be sitting in the middle of a gaggle of women, all fawning over him. I guessed I had misjudged him. But before I looked away, a woman walked over to his table and started obviously and obnoxiously flirting with him. I could tell from across the room that even Niall was uncomfortable with how obvious she was being, and from the short amount of time I’d spent with him, he didn’t seem to be the type to be uncomfortable with anything. He’d already kissed me twice, and it was only the first day of the cruise. There was no way this woman was actually making him uncomfortable. However, watching him, he seemed to be getting more and more twitchy and awkward. I decided to take a gamble, and walked over to his table.

“Oh, Niall! I was just looking for you!” I said as brightly as I could, kissing him on the cheek and sitting down across from him. “The hostess pointed me this way, but I was having trouble finding you.” The woman turned to stare at me.

“You have a date?” She asked Niall. “Why didn’t you tell me that? You’ve made me look like a fool!” She stormed off, muttering the whole way about how much of a waste of time men can be.

“You didn’t have to rescue me, Teddy,” Niall said softly.

“Yes, I did,” I said, reaching over to pat his hand. I saw Harry in the restaurant’s entrance, and we locked eyes. I quickly retracted my hand from Niall’s, but it was too late. Harry had seen. He said something to the hostess, who nodded, and smiled sadly at him.

“Oh, fuck,” I cursed at myself again. “I… fuck… I’ve really screwed this up, haven’t I?”

“What’s up, Teddy?” Niall looked at me concernedly.

“No, it’s nothing,” I started to say, but then the hostess approached the table.

“Ms. Dawson?” she asked, and I nodded. “Mr. Styles called down to say he wasn’t feeling well, and that he hoped he could see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thanks for the message.”

“Aha!” Niall exclaimed as soon as she was out of earshot. “You fucked up, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Please don’t rub it in. I really liked the guy.” I put my face in my hands, but Niall pried them away.

“Look, you’ll make it up to him tomorrow,” Niall said. “For now you can have dinner with me. I’m not such a bad guy, I promise.”

“Yes, but you are Max’s cousin-slash-friend. That automatically puts you in my bad books,” I said. “And also you’ve kissed me twice now, and we barely know each other. I’m not really much for making out with guys I don’t know well, but I have to tell you, you’re a surprisingly good kisser. Especially in comparison with your cousin.”

“Thanks…?” Niall said awkwardly. “You’re not a bad kisser yourself. And don’t tell me Max taught you to kiss like that. I’ve seen the guy kiss, and he likes to literally suck face.” I laughed loudly at this, throwing my head back, earning stares and glares from people at other tables.

“Oh my god, that’s so true,” I said. “Sometimes after a long kiss from Max, my lips literally hurt from the suction.” It was Niall’s turn to laugh now.

“I know you think we’re best friends, but we’re really not. We’re the same age, and we just kind of latched onto each other at family reunions, you know?” Niall said. “And I know he broke your heart, but that doesn’t make him a bad guy.”

“Yes, but cheating on me with my sister before my sister knew he was my boyfriend does,” I interrupted. “I forgave that one, because it was early on in the relationship, but he cheated on me several more times after that. And after I decided I would give him one last shot, he told me that one of the women he had cheated on me with was pregnant, and that he was leaving me for her so that he could help with the baby. That was two months ago, and I couldn’t do anything but wallow for a whole month after.”

“Oh, wow,” he sounded shocked. “I mean, I know Max is a jerk. He did shitty stuff to me all the time. But this is like next level shithead kind of stuff.”

I smiled sadly. “I’m really glad it’s over though, you know? He was an asshole to me enough times. I should’ve ended it a long time before it was actually over, and I should’ve had the guts to end it myself. Well, anyway, you never told me why you decided to go on a singles’ cruise.”

“Me?” Niall asked. “I just wanted to meet some new women. I’ve seen most of what there is to see in my hometown, and none of it is to my liking, so I decided to branch out, see women from all across the country.”

I cackled at this. “And you met me again! Ha!”

“Yeah, well. You’re not from my hometown, now, are you, Teddy?”

“No, but I did date your cousin, Niall. Don’t you think that’s a little weird?”

“Eh,” he shrugged, “I’ve done worse than a woman like you.”

Just then our waiter finally approached the table, super apologetic about us having to wait for him for so long. We gave our food and drink orders to him, and he rushed off to put them in the system.

“What do you mean when you say you’ve done worse than a woman like me?” I asked Niall forcefully as soon as the waiter was out of earshot.

“I mean what I say,” he said. “You’re beautiful and intelligent, and you’re also not nearly as terrible as Max made you sound.”

“How he could ever make me sound like the bad egg in our relationship is beyond me,” I sighed, putting my face in my hands again.

Niall pulled my hands away from my face and tilted my chin up. “You are not a bad egg,” he said simply and sweetly.

I blushed at this. “You’re a real smooth talker, you know that?”

He smiled and sat up a little bit straighter. “I pride myself on that. It got me out of so much trouble when I was a kid. I always blamed whatever it was on my little brother, and nine times out of ten, they believed me.”

“You’re such a shit,” I laughed.

***

An hour and a half later, after a delicious and satisfying meal, Niall and I were strolling along the deck towards our suite, when I saw Harry again, this time from far away. He hadn’t noticed me, but that was because he was with another woman. She was tall with beautiful, long black hair. They were coming our way, and I didn’t want to deal with an awkward conversation, so I pushed Niall into the nearest doorway and kissed him fiercely. This seemed to surprise him, but he started reciprocating quickly.

After about thirty seconds, I trailed kisses down his jaw, and whispered in his ear, “Are they gone?”

“Who?” he asked, panting a little.

“Brown-haired guy and a tall woman with long black hair,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning out of our doorway and into the hall, “I think so. Why?”

“The brown-haired guy was my ‘Mr. Styles,’ and I wanted to avoid awkward conversation,” I said.

“Oh,” he replied, “I thought you wanted to kiss me.” He sounded a little sad.

“It was the best way of keeping my face out of view that I could think of,” I said. “Sorry if I caught you off guard, or if I made you think anything was going to happen between us tonight.”

“Nah,” he waved me off. “I knew nothing was going to happen tonight. I’m just an optimist, and I’m hoping for the best with a beautiful woman like you, Teddy.”

“Don’t make me hit you again,” I said, walking away.

“Again?” he asked. “When did you hit me…? Oh, that’s right.”

“I won’t hesitate to do it again if you continue annoying me,” I said.

“Yeah, okay, I’m sure you will.” I smacked him on the back of the head with the clutch I’d brought to dinner.

“Do you want to try again?” I smirked at him, as he rubbed the spot where I’d hit him.

“Okay,” he said, “I’m sorry. I won’t annoy you again for the rest of the cruise.”

***

That night, as I lay in my bed trying to fall asleep, I couldn’t stop thinking about Niall’s lips. Harry’s plump ones drifted into my subconscious briefly as I remembered the peck he’d given me before we’d parted in the afternoon, but Niall was the main focus of my thoughts. The first time he’d kissed me, it was almost instinctive for me to kiss him back, but then I’d slapped him. The second time, it was an ‘in the moment’ kind of thing, but wow that had been a damn good kiss. And the time I initiated it, it was almost instinctive for him to kiss me back. That had to mean something, right?

The suite had a kitchenette and a living room, and I went out into that common space after tossing and turning for a solid hour at least. I was hoping I could find something to soothe my mind, like milk, a good TV show, or maybe even both. What I was not expecting was to see Niall pacing the living room.

“Hey,” I said softly, and he just about jumped out of his skin.

“Oh,” he said. “I didn’t see you come in.”

“It’s okay Niall, I was just looking to make some hot milk or watch something on the TV or whatever, you know?”

“Do you want to watch a movie with me?” he asked.

“Sure. Nothing scary though, okay? I want to be able to sleep after this,” I said with a shaky laugh.

“Yeah, okay, come here and sit with me.” Niall sat down on the couch and patted the space next to him. “We can even watch a romcom if you want to, Teddy. Your choice.”

The ship had free wifi, so I logged into my Netflix account, and we spent a few minutes deciding between watching a straight-up comedy movie or a romcom, but then we spotted Shrek and our decision was made for us.

***

I woke the next morning to bright sunshine through opened blinds, and it took me a minute to realize I was not in my bed at home, but on the couch of the suite, on the cruise. I sat up, and a blanket fell off of me. Huh, Niall must’ve gotten one for me. My eyes focused on a note on the coffee table.

Teddy,

I went to get some breakfast. Don’t go anywhere, because I’m bringing something back for you.

-Niall

P.S. You snore.

P.P.S. But it’s a cute snore, I promise.

I smiled at the last line, and then got up and picked out some clothes for the day, humming to myself. I got in the shower, and turned my music up, singing along loudly.

When I turned off the shower water, I could hear another voice, presumably Niall’s, singing along with the same music I was playing. He had a nice voice, not quite musician caliber, but with some training… I was losing it. I did not want to think about good qualities of my ex-boyfriend’s cousin, even if I had spent a pleasant evening and night with him. I was not going to have sex with him, I told myself, this time in my head, because after yesterday, I wasn’t going to take the chance of him hearing me.

“Hey, sleepyhead!” he called from outside the bathroom, “I got you a chocolate chip croissant from the breakfast buffet, and some iced coffee. I don’t know how you like your coffee, so I brought a little of everything that can go into coffee. I hope that’s okay.” I didn’t respond right away, because I was processing the thoughtful gesture. “Oh, and I also got you some fruit salad. I put it all on the counter in the kitchenette,” he added.

I opened the bathroom door, and before Niall could say or do anything else, I kissed him. It was a slow, careful kiss, but Niall reciprocated immediately, just as cautiously.

“I… You…” I was stumbling over my words as we separated. “I, um, uh, you getting me breakfast was so sweet, Niall. Especially because you got some of my favorite breakfast foods. You didn’t have to do any of that,” I finally said.

“But I wanted to,” he said simply. “I like you Teddy. You’re funny, you’re smart, and you’re attractive.”

“You… what?” I was shocked. “I’m your cousin’s ex-girlfriend. Wouldn’t that be, you know, awkward?”

“Nah,” Niall said. “Max is a dick. He never deserved you. I liked you when I met you as Max’s girlfriend, but I didn’t do anything then because you were dating him.”

“That makes you a lot more of a gentleman than your cousin,” I sighed, hanging my head. “Why were you so repulsed by me when you first realized it was me if you liked me so much?”

“Well, I’d heard lots of shitty things about you from Max,” It was Niall’s turn to sigh, “I don’t know why I believed him. He’s so stupid to have cheated on you. You’re a lot better of a person than he is.”

“Thanks,” I said, “But that’s not such a high bar.” I laughed at my own little joke, and then my stomach audibly growled. “I should probably eat some of that food you brought me.”

“Yeah, let’s go sit, and we can eat,” he said. “I didn’t know how soon you’d be up, so I brought mine back too.”

We moved to the couch. Niall had put all the food out on the coffee table, and we ate and joked with each other. By the end of the meal, I remembered Harry.

“Oh, shit! I should really call Harry,” I said, getting up.

“Why?” Niall asked.

“To let him down gently. I don’t want him to see us and fly into a jealous rage, you know?”

“We’re on a singles’ cruise, and it’s only the second day out of seven,” he said. “Let’s explore our options a little before we decide to get all couple-y.”

“Fair enough,” I agreed. “If neither of us is happy with anything we find today, we’ll spend the rest of the cruise together. Shake on it?” I put out my hand, and he shook it. “I’m going to go call Harry from the suite phone. Don’t bother me, okay?” He nodded. I grabbed the phone, and dialed the ship’s front desk.

“You’ve reached the front desk. How can I help you?” a male voice asked pleasantly.

“Is it possible to contact someone’s room through you?” I asked.

“Yes, of course,” he said. “To whom would you like to speak?”

“Harry Styles,” I replied.

“One moment,” I heard the clacking of a keyboard and then, “Mr. Styles is in room 642. To dial his room, input his room number, followed by the star key.”

“Great, thanks!” I said.

“You’re very welcome. Have a nice day.”

I put down the phone and ran my fingers through my hair. I was nervous to call Harry, but I resolved to myself that I was going to do it anyway. Quickly, before that feeling faded away, I picked up the phone and dialed 642*. It rang for a moment before Harry answered, and I worried that he was away from his room and that the phone call was useless.

“Hello?” Harry asked tentatively.

“Hi, Harry. It’s Teddy Dawson. I feel terrible about last night. Would you like to go for a swim with me?” I bit my lip nervously. I was torn between hoping he’d say yes and hoping he’d say no. Then I asked myself why I wanted him to say no, and I realized that I liked Niall more than I thought.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, bringing me out of my weird thoughts. “I’ll meet you at the big pool in like 15-20 minutes?”

“Why don’t I come down to your room and we’ll walk over together?” I suggested.

“Yeah, sure,” he repeated. “See you in a few?”

“Okay. Be there in 10,” I said, and hung up. “Hey, Niall?” I called. He came out into the common space wearing gym clothes, and I stared a little. “I’m going to the pool with Harry.” I smiled triumphantly.

“Okay…?” he said, drawing out the word. “Doesn’t bother me. I’ll see you later then,” he added with a wink.

“What’s that supposed to… never mind. See you later,” I huffed. I went to change into my bikini and coverup, and by the time I returned to the common space, he was gone.

***

“Put some sunscreen on my back, Harry?” I asked, when we were at the pool.

“Sure,” he said. “Give me the bottle.” I passed it to him, and he put a blob on my back and started rubbing it in.

“Oh, that feels nice,” I said. “Cold, but nice.”

I heard him mumble something behind me and I turned my head to look at him. He just smiled and winked at me.

“I’m glad you called me today, Teddy. I called the front desk and they told me there was no Theodora Dawson on the ship. Did you give me a fake name?” Harry asked.

“Nah,” I said, “I made a typo on the form. I’m officially entered as Theodore Dawson, though I think they should probably correct that. I’ll call down there later.”

“Oh,” he sounded surprised. “Does that mean…?”

“Does that mean what?” I asked him.

“Does that mean you’re in a room with… with a… man?” he asked.

“Yes, but I’m in one of the big suites. There are two bedrooms. We’ve hardly interacted,” I lied.

“Maybe you should try to get a different room?” he suggested. “I doubt you want a male suitemate.”

“I don’t mind,” I said. “Really, I don’t. And besides, when I asked at check-in, the only room that was available was an extreme downgrade. That was what they told me, anyway.”

“You really,” Harry paused. “You really don’t mind?”

“I really don’t mind,” I confirmed. “Besides, I’ve barely seen the guy.” I doubled down on my lie. “I’m not even sure what his name is.”

“Oh,” he sounded relieved. “Okay.”

We spent a few moments in silence while I finished putting sunscreen all over myself and waited for it to soak in. “Do you want to get in the water?” I asked.

“Sure,” Harry said, pulling his T-shirt over his head. I looked at the male specimen in front of me. He had a lot of tattoos, some that I’d noticed earlier and some that I was just seeing now with his shirt off, and some of them looked really stupid, I had to admit, while others were just… wow. He took off, and  jumped into the deep end, while I waded down the steps in the shallow end, trying to acclimate to the temperature of the water. He swam over to me and splashed me.

“The water’s freezing, Harry!” I exclaimed.

“Jumping in gets your body adjusted to the water temperature much faster,” he shrugged. “I’m used to it now. Get out of the water and do what I did.” He smiled widely, dimples showing, and I couldn’t resist agreeing to do it. So when I got to the edge of the pool, I did what any other childish adult would do and did a cannonball into the water, managing to splash a lot of people, including Harry. Some of them glared at me, and others seemed indifferent, but Harry was grinning at me as I swam to the shallow end.

“Good cannonball?” I asked, feigning innocence.

“Good? Great!” he said. He walked me backwards through the water, until I was trapped between him and the wall. “I like you Teddy,” he said, and then leaned in and kissed me.

The kiss wasn’t at all like the kisses I’d gotten from Niall. It was gentle and sweet and altogether a good kiss, but it was lacking the kind of passion I’d experienced when kissing Niall. Harry was a good kisser, but I wasn’t feeling anything, so I broke the kiss fairly short.

“Is something wrong?” Harry asked, as I leaned back.

“No, I mean, yes. I don’t know,” I said shakily. “I was kissed by somebody else at the tango lesson yesterday. I know you saw. I met him yesterday morning, and I think he followed us to the tango class. I didn’t like him at first, but I rescued him from an obnoxious flirter last night at dinner, and I ended up eating with him because you, um, weren’t feeling well. And he seems to be a great guy, actually.”

“Oh,” Harry said, stepping back from me. “I, um, don’t know what to say, really.”

“Look,” I continued as if Harry hadn’t said anything. “I’m sorry if you feel like I led you on, but I saw you last night as I was walking back from dinner, and you were with another woman, and there are plenty of other women on this cruise to be interested in. So please don’t get hung up on me.”

“Okay,” he said. “Thanks for your honesty, but I wasn’t with anyone else last night. I went to bed early and woke up starving at like 3 in the morning, so I went down to the 24-hour buffet. I’m not sure who you saw, but it wasn’t me.”

“Really?” I gasped. “Oh. Oh, shit. I did something I should not have done.”

“What’s that?” Harry said. “Actually, never mind. I’ll be seeing you around?”

“Yeah,” I said. I climbed out of the pool, gathered my things and went back to the suite.

***

After another quick shower to wash off the chlorine and sunscreen, I was watching a stupid Netflix original romcom when I heard Niall return to the suite. The door closed, and I heard a distinctly female voice, followed by a laugh from Niall. I turned off the TV and snuck into my room, leaving the door slightly open so that I could eavesdrop. I knew that it wasn’t the best idea, but I wanted to know if Niall had the same kind of guilty conscience being with someone else. I wanted to see if he was more like Max than I had been led to believe.

“This suite is really nice!” said the female voice.

“Thanks, Val,” Niall said. “I’m sharing it, though. Couldn’t afford a private suite. That shit’s too expensive. My roommate must be out.” I heard the smile in his voice at the last part.

“Ooh!” she squealed. “Let’s watch a movie. The regular rooms don’t have TVs, and I heard that the suites have free access to wifi.”

“Yeah, we do,” Niall said. “Looks like Teddy is still logged into Netflix.” There was a pause.

“Your roommate sure does have a lot of romcoms on their watch list.” she said. “And it says ‘continue watching’ for To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. Are you sure he’s not gay…?”

“Yeah, I’m sure my roommate’s not gay,” Niall laughed.

“How can you be sure?” Val said. “Some of them are really good at concealing it. Believe me. My ex-boyfriend swore to me that he wasn’t gay until the day I caught him in our bed with another man, and he still says that. He claims he’s bisexual or some shit like that.”

“Wait,” Niall sounded taken aback. “You don’t believe that people can be bisexual?”

“No!” she shouted. “Pick men or women. You don’t get to be attracted to everyone.”

I let out a cackle, and then clapped my hands over my mouth. I hoped neither of them had heard me.

“Wow, okay,” Niall now sounded disgusted, but he had a touch of amusement in his voice too. “I’m going to ask you to leave now, Valerie.”

“Why?” she whined. “We were just getting to know each other.”

“Leave. Please,” he said, and I heard him get up and open the door for her. He closed it heavily once she was gone. “I know you’re here Teddy.” I stayed silent for a moment, but then the door to my room opened.

“Hi?” I said tentatively.

“I can’t believe you were eavesdropping on me,” he shook his head.

“And I can’t believe you were about to use my Netflix account,” I mocked his disappointment.

He stepped closer to me. “I didn’t like her very much. She was too whiny, and she also wasn’t you. I was going to pick a bad sci-fi movie to get rid of her,” he told me.

“I love bad sci-fi movies. You could’ve at least invited me to join you,” I laughed.

“That would’ve gotten rid of her a little too quickly, I think,” Niall said, taking another step toward me. The backs of my knees hit the bed, and I fell back onto it, but I sat up quickly.

He sat next to me. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he told me, and I started to nod, but he captured my lips with his before my head could complete the motion. The kiss started out fairly innocently, but turned hot and heavy seconds later. After a moment, Niall pulled away, breathing hard. “I wasn’t going to do anything with anyone. I just really wanted to give you a chance to break things off nicely with that Styles guy.”

“Oh, Niall,” I sighed. “I really like you.” I recaptured his lips.

He separated us again. “I like you too, Teddy. I like you a lot.” He kissed me again. “Do you want to go out when this cruise is over?”

I smiled into our kiss. “Yes, Niall, I will go out with you.”

[imagine-loki]

Of Numbers and Strange Friendships

TITLE: Of Numbers and Strange Friendships CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 29/? AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki being friends with Peter Parker RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: None so far.  Also on AO3 here

Loki looked like a kid in a candy store as the trio made their way inside.  “See the kids in the matching purple t-shirts with the year on them?” Peter asked as they walked up the steps to the main doors.  Loki inclined his head.  “Those are the seniors.  They’re all wearing those matching shirts today.  They’re the ones in charge of all the pranks.  Try not to be too hard on them, they’re just Midgardian kids and have nowhere near your skill in mischief and pranks.  Nor do they have magic to help,” Peter warned.  He didn’t want Loki discouraging their attempts at pranks or looking down on the kids for having fun.

Loki just grinned.  “Then I shall just have to help them,” he replied.  Peter and Wanda could both see the gears in his head working on ideas of what to do to the school and the teachers.  But Loki, as ever, was a patient hunter.  He would wait and see what the children had come up with on their own before adding his own touches and flair.  

And crazy amounts of drama and magic.

The second they walked through the doors, they say three pigs run down the hallway with numbers painted on their sides: 1, 2, 4.  

Loki chuckled.  “A traditional prank.  I assume it is the same on Midgard where there is no number three?” he asked his companions.  They both nodded and looked relieved that Loki had chosen to be amused rather than upset at the ‘traditional’ prank.  

“C’mon,” Peter told him as the principal walked by, followed by a full mariachi band, and looking annoyed.  Loki couldn’t help laughing at the harried look on the principal’s face.  “The seniors asked me for a favor if I actually got you here,” he explained and led Loki and Wanda through the halls.  

“A favor?” Loki asked, concerned.  It was one thing for Peter to owe him a favor.  He didn’t like the thought of Peter owing favors to others.  

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing harmful.  They know we’re friends and asked me to make sure you saw something they did if I managed to actually get you here.  They didn’t think I’d get you to show up,” he explained.  Loki nodded.  That was a reasonable request.  He was the god of mischief and chaos after all, of course the seniors would want to see him on their day of pranks.  He had a feeling he had a lot of new worshipers for the day. 

Loki always appreciated new worshipers.

Peter led the them to the library and opened the big double doors into the huge room of books.  Loki wondered what they were doing there, until he saw the statue.  He had no idea how the art students had managed, but greeting them in front of the circulation desk was a marble-looking life sized statue of Loki in full regalia, including the helmet, arms spread wide in the classic ‘your savior is here’ pose.  It wasn’t real marble of course, but plaster or some such material, decorated to look like marble. 

Peter whistled appreciatively.  “The art students went above and beyond with that creation,” he said.  There were students in the purple shirts approaching the statue, and a couple who were standing guard protectively over their creation. 

Loki approached the statue, curious to see what the purple-shirts were up to.  They were leaving offerings.  He couldn’t help the emotions that he had that they were actually leaving offerings at the feet of the statue to him.  There was a collection of offerings there already.  Most of the students weren’t rich, so the offerings were simple things, but Loki appreciated every single one of them.  There were brownies someone made, snack cakes from the store, different types of candy, an entire chocolate cake, and quite a lot of letters.  Loki reached for a brownie and growled softly when one of the purple-shirt guards tried to smack his hand away from the treat.

“Those are offerings, you can’t just take them!” the boy scolded.  Peter started to step forward to diffuse the situation.  It was something the kid had great skill in.

Loki stood to face the purple-shirt who had tried  letting a version of his horned helmet appear on his head.  It was the one that didn’t entirely cover his head.  It had been called the ‘murder tiara’ outside of Loki’s hearing.  It was still recognizable as his helmet.  

“I believe that is an offering to me,” Loki replied with a hint of humor in his voice at the kid’s completely shocked expression as he lifted the brownie to bite into it.  He purred in appreciation at the treat.  Before he could take another bite of the brownie, though, every student in a purple shirt within earshot dropped to one knee, bowing their heads in supplication.  Loki was shocked.  Somehow, even after the battle of New York, these Midgardians were bowing down to him.  They were kneeling before him.  Even after demanding that the people in Stuttgart kneel before him.  These children were doing so of their own volition.

“We hope our offerings please you on this, our day of pranks,” one of the seniors, who Peter recognized as a drama student, told Loki.  

“Oh yes, this will be such fun~” Loki said approvingly, but softly. Louder, he addressed the kneeling students, putting on the air the statue portrayed, the benevolent god.  “Rise, my supplicants,” he told them with a grandiose air to his tone. The students rose from their knees.  “Your offerings and statue are pleasing to me,” he told them graciously “And I have witnessed a sampling of your pranks,”

“Any assistance your godliness might be willing to lend to our poor attempts at pranks and mischief would be highly appreciated,” the drama student added.  Peter had a feeling she was part of Loki’s army with how over the top she was addressing him, but Loki seemed to be eating it up. 

He inclined his head regally.  “It would be my absolute honor to assist you in your day of mischief,” he told them with a Cheshire Cat grin.

The chaos began after that.

Some of the pranks were done by the students, some by Loki.  There were times it was difficult to tell who had done which.  Other times, it was all too easy.

The pigs and the mariachi band were the work of the students.  So was the cow on the third floor of the school.  Apparently cows will walk up stairs, but they won’t walk down them.  They also claimed credit for putting the principal’s car in the empty swimming pool, which impressed Loki as he couldn’t figure out how they’d gotten it there.  The choir kids barricading their corridor while singing “Do you Hear the People Sing?” was definitely all on them.  

The hallway that was filled with bubbles from floor to ceiling was definitely Loki, especially since the bubbles stayed in that hallway.  So was the hallway that forgot what gravity was.  So was the other swimming pool being filled with cherry cola.  The statues in the hallways being repositioned in lewd poses was also Loki’s doing.  As was the gym being turned into an exact replica of the training grounds of Asgard.  And the bilgesnipe in the soccer field.  He blamed Thor for the rain in the science labs.  Though he took credit for the snow and skating rink. 

For the hell of it, every student who entered the library that day ended up in Hogwarts robes of their House color (which Loki somehow got the spell to sort them correctly) and had their patronus floating around them.  

He wanted to turn all the teachers into animals, but Peter told him no.  Firmly.  And repeatedly.  And then threatened to call Thor.  So he had to give up on that idea.  

The slip n slide down the hall could’ve been either Loki or the seniors.  So could the auditorium being filled with cats of all things.  No one figured out who hid the watches all over the school. Or who set them to sound alarms every minute until the staff found them and turned them off.  

They had a feeling the ugly stupid goats on the football field were Loki’s doing, but no one could prove it.  They ranged from ugly and stupid, to really ugly and really stupid, to extremely ugly and extremely stupid. Everyone felt sorry for that poor goat.  On a completely unrelated note, the entire football team had mysteriously vanished.  Loki claimed no knowledge on that subject. 

In short, the school was complete and total chaos by the end of first period. 

Loki shadowed Peter all day to his classes. He had spelled his murder tiara to only be seen by the students and Loki spun a lie, in a very convincing accent, about being family visiting Peter from England and was shadowing him for the day to learn about American high-schools.  He had a very convincing permission note saying so.  He may have used magic to convince them, but he wasn’t owning up to it if he did. The seniors all bowed to him in the halls as he and Peter passed them.  Loki adored every moment of it.  

When Loki and Peter arrived at lunch, they saw a giant Christmas tree erected in the cafeteria, completely lit and decorated.  That wasn’t so strange on this day of chaos.  The strange part was the entire senior class standing around the tree in a circle, swaying as they sang the Who song from “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” 

Loki chuckled when he saw them.  “How do they all know this song?” he asked Peter quietly when he saw them.  

“It’s in a Christmas movie.  The holiday in the winter, near when your people celebrate Yule.  I’ll show it to you at Christmas,” Peter explained, and made the offer.  Loki could wait to understand entirely until then.  He didn’t always know what Midgardian things Loki already knew about and tended to over-explain himself, but Loki appreciated the effort his friend made. 

There was a whispered word from one of the seniors and all of them turned to the doorway where Loki was and dropped to their knees, then bowed down before him, bowing so low their foreheads practically touched the floor. The teachers all took too close of a look at Loki then, and he realized his disguise was over.  It wasn’t holding up anyway, not with all the magic he’d been using around the school. They had to have figured out that Loki was behind the chaos.  And they knew Loki and Peter were friends and what Loki was capable of.

At least Loki didn’t have to hide anymore.

With a shimmer of green magic a stage appeared under him, rising a couple feet as his form shimmered back to usual, though in his full regalia and proper helmet.  “Rise, my supplicants,” the seniors stood again when he bid them. “You have pleased me this day with your offerings of mischief and chaos.  Your god has accepted your offerings. I offer you my gratitude on this day for the experience and I hope that next year’s class will live up to the legacy you have left them,” he told them in his overly dramatic grandiose way.  He paused for a moment.  Peter caught his attention and held up his yearbook, the one Tony had bought him so his friends could sign it.  Loki inclined his head, thanking his friend for the wonderful idea.  “I would like to present you with a small token of my gratitude,” it was only fair for the fun they’d give him.  They day wasn’t over, of course, but this was the best opportunity to address them all at once.  A shimmer of magic went through the room and surrounded each Senior’s yearbook.  “A small gift, from me,” Loki told them.  He had used magic to change one of the blank pages to images from the day and had his signature in green magical ink in the center.

There were cheers and applause from the entire cafeteria.

One girl stood up on one of the tables.  “The Junior class accepts your challenge.  Expect bigger pranks from us next year!” she called in a stage voice.  There were more cheers from her words from every Junior in the cafeteria.  

Loki vanished in a shimmer of green magic and reappeared in the library to devour his offerings happily.  Peter was laughing when he found Loki there a few minutes later.  “Knew I’d find you up here,” he teased Loki warmly and sat next to him by the feet of the statue.  He accepted the brownie that Loki offered him. “That was a nice thing you did for the Seniors,” 

Loki inclined his head.  “It was kind of them to invite me to their prank day,” he replied. “It seemed appropriate to give them something in return.  Even though the trinket is small,” he sounded concerned.

Peter gave him his trademark lopsided grin.  “It was perfect.  It will mean a lot to them and they’ll keep those books and those memories forever” he reassured his friend.  Loki grinned and split the chocolate cake with Peter.

*

During the last class of the day an announcement came over the PA.  “If Mr. Loki Odinson would like to ever be invited to future school events, he will kindly return the school to the way he found it this morning.  If he would like to be invited to next year’s senior prank day, he will also return my car to its parking spot from its current location in the pool,” 

Loki huffed and rolled his eyes.  “Spoilsport,” he glared at the PA as if it were Jarvis and not the principal speaking through a microphone.  Peter would have to correct his misconception later.

“Loki~” Peter reminded him.  They didn’t want Loki banned from chaperoning future trips and Loki wanted to come back for next senior prank day.  He had to see if the Juniors lived up to their promise.  

He closed his eyes and gathered power to wash over the school and return it to rights.  The principal’s car returned to its spot glistening and clean.  In fact, the entire school was cleaner than it had ever been and all of the lockers were mysteriously repaired because one little arachnid had complained that his kept getting stuck.  Loki was making damn sure he wouldn’t be banished from future events. 

No one asked the football team why they were found on the football field during the last period of the day.  

It was better that way.

[seth-figment]

Colours

Pairing: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson

Status: In-Progress

Rating: T

Words: -

Chapters: 14/?

Tags: StarWars AU, angst, humor, enemies to friends to lovers

Summary: Deadpool gets caught sneaking around by an apprentice Jedi that posses common sense and can think for himself. Deadpool is intrigued and maybe more than a bit smitten.

OR

Peter catches a strange Sith sneaking around. And Sith are evil and that's why the man... compliments him? If he's honest the man seems more crazy than anything close to evil. Wonder what happened to him?

//This requires no deep knowledge about Star Wars to read and understand. If you know what a lightsaber, the force, Sith and Jedi are, you will be fine.

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

Chapter 1

   Keeping close to the wall Deadpool sneakily tiptoes in pace with his humming. “Dah dah dah dum da da dum da da...”

-Pssshhew-

Hearing the familiar noise of lightsaber igniting behind him, Deadpool stops dead in his tracks.

A second later a voice joins the electrical hum behind him. “Tip: If you're trying to sneak don't hum the Imperial march.”

“What?” Frowning it takes a moment before he fully register the significant of what he's just been told. Back stiffening, his eyes widens. “Wait!” Whirling around he meets the startled eyes of an apprentice. “That's an actually thing? It's not only the movie's soundtrack playing in my head?”

“What? I, no?.. I, I mean yes?” Taken aback the young apprentice don't really know how to react and defaults with nonsensical rambling. “You guys like play it constantly. Way to catchy by the way. I keep humming it to myself. The other apprentices think I'm a Sith. Jameson won't shut up about it.”

Yellow eyes shining with excitement the Sith ignores the lightsaber pointed at him and steps closer. “It's played constantly? Like when? Parades? Are there balloons? Is Snoopy one of them?”

Readjusting the grip on his lightsaber Peter resists the urge to back away from the odd Sith. “Ehhh. Sorry, no balloons.“

Shoulders drooping the Sith looks up at him with large questioning eyes. “No, Big Bird?”

“Uh-uh.” Shaking his head Peter wonders if the Sith is all as he should in the head.

Looking away in disappointment the Sith pouts and whines. “Aww, shoot. ”

Sighing he glances at the kid. “Well, then.” Suddenly the solemn look is replaced by a bordering manic smile and he quickly grabs his katana style lightsabers and hits the kid's hand with the butt of the handle. First we make him drop his lightsaber and then to... Wait a second? "Huh?" Mouth gaping he watches the kid flip the lightsaber back into his hand and point it back at him.

Eyes sparkling with amusement, the apprentice smirks and winks at him. “I have a lanyard."

“Clever boy.” Eyes narrowed he inspect the kid's face. More of a young adult really. With really nice eyes and smile. Eyes wandering down he glimpses the lean outline of the apprentice body under the oversized robes. Not to mention... Shaking his head to stop that trail of thought, he instead lets his eyes drop down to the handles of the lightkatanas in his hands.

Smiling ruefully Deadpool meets Peter's eyes. “I'd hope I wouldn't need to do this to you, baby-Jedi. You seem fun.” Dropping down on a knee he quickly crosses his katana style lightsabers and swiftly swipes them outwards to cut the ki-, Young adult's, hand off, only for the plasma to snuff out.

Huh? Stunned Deadpool stares down in disbelief at his weapons.

Confused he looks between the apprentice and his lightkatanas. “How did you do that?”

Keeping his lightsaber pointed at the Sith, Peter looks down at him, a self-satisfied smile playing on his lips. “Cortosis covered wrist cuffs. Never leave home without them.”

Eyes flickering to the apprentice wrists then back up to his face, Deadpool tilts his head, managing to look even more confused.

Smiling widely Peter is more than happy to talk about one of his designs with someone. “When the lightsaber's plasma comes in contact with the cortosis a feedback is caused which runs through the system and shuts the whole thing down.”

Staring up at Peter, Deadpool smiles dopeyidly. “He's got beauty and brains.”

Brow furrowing Peter looks at the Sith in confusion. “What?”

Shaking his head Deadpool gives him a wide innocent smile. “Nothing.”

Trying to look nonchalant, Deadpool casually looks between the apprentice and their lightsaber. “So what you gonna do with me?”

Unsure Peter in his turn looks between his lightsaber and the Sith. “Ehh?”

Grinning widely Deadpool waggles his eyebrows. “Want some suggestions?”

Frowning, heat rises to Peter cheeks and he looks away in annoyance. “Just be quiet.”

Out of the corner of his eye Peter sees the Sith open his mouth and he quickly adds a pleading, “Please?” to his request.

Snapping his mouth shut Deadpool presses his lips tightly shut. He has manners after all.

But when his eyes once more drop down to the young man's wrist he just can't resist asking, “Where did you get the idea of the lanyard?”

“Huh?” Snapping out of his reverie Peter looks down at his wrist too. “Oh, everyone keeps getting their lightsabers struck out of their hands in training. So I put a lanyard on mine.”

Opening his mouth Deadpool is just about to ask an other question but Peter interrupts him. “Also before you ask. I came up with the wrist cuffs because you Sith seem overly found of cutting peoples hands off.”

Pouting Deadpool seems somewhat disappointed at the answer. “So you just have common sense?”

Shrugging Peter nods. “Basically.”

“So...” Looking down at the floor a slow smile spreads across Deadpool's face before he looks back up with a grin. “Do I make your common sense tingle?”

“Not really.”

With a grin showing too much teeth the Sith's eyes turn dark.“It should.”

Frowning Peter opens his mouth to ask,“Why-” but gets the air knocked out of him as the Sith tackles him.

Springing up from his kneeling position Deadpool knocks the lightsaber out of Peter's hand as he tackles him. Quickly spinning them around the Sith grabs Peter's wrists pining them against the wall.

Pressed up closed to each other Deadpool grins and leans in even closer. “Is your common sense tingling now?”

Staring into the Sith's eyes they seem to glow yellow trough the mask. Mouth dry Peter, swallows heavily, failing to come up with something to say, but is saved when the sound of footsteps reaches them.

Pouting in mock disappointment Deadpool pushes his body even closer. “Seems like we need to cut this short.”

Adjusts his grip on the apprentice wrists he transfers both of them into one of his hands, letting the other one trail down Peter's side, stopping at his hip.

Breath hitching Peter can't take his eyes of the Sith's.

Leaning in Deadpool stops a hair's breath from Peter's mouth before smirking. “Bye, bye, baby-Jedi.” Hand quickly sliding from Peter's hip to his own belt Deadpool disappears.

Blinking in confusion Peter stares at the empty space in front of him.

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

The rest of the chapters can be found by the same name on AO3 (by Seth_Figment) and fanfiction.net (by Seth Figment). 

Link to AO3 post Colours

[crashdevlin]

Zed Word-10: Love. Actually.

Zed Word Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3. This was inspired by a series of tweets between Jeffery Dean Morgan and Jensen Ackles…. Sam and Dean never found John, but everything went the same way anyway until Season 5. Adam never said ‘yes’ to Michael. The fight at Stull Cemetery never happened but Lucifer (jumping from vessel to vessel ‘cause Sam wouldn’t say ‘yes’) and Pestilence managed to infect everyone with Croatoan, turning everyone into zombies when they die. The boys have traveled the apocalyptic landscape killing zombies and saving people ever since. JOHN IS NEGAN!!!

Summary: Reader has been living in Alexandria since Daryl saved her life. When she ventures out of town for the first time in months, Sam and Dean save her life and she takes them back to Alexandria, a town on edge since Negan showed up. Dean takes an instant interest in the woman, and when Negan shows up again, he does, too.

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Negan (John Winchester) x Reader

Story Warnings: Kidnapping, torture, Non-con/dub-con, unprotected sex of a forced nature, pregnancy, mentions of abortion, PTSD, *THIS IS A DARK FIC*

Chapter Warnings: manipulation, pregnancy stuff, tainted food, oral (fem and male rec), unprotected sex, noncon/dubcon,  18+ HERE BE SEX, DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!

You stood awkwardly behind the men as Sam opened the box, sliding the pieces of wood to reveal a large, old key. Exactly how you'd dreamed it. Every matching image from your dream made your stomach feel a little sicker. The house, the key, the door on the river... there would be a spiral staircase on the other side, leading into a room with a light-up table with a map on it. Computer banks would line the walls of the first room, but they'd give way to an open library full of lore and magic books. Dean would find the power switch and everyone would go exploring.

Sam swung the door open and took a cautious step over the threshold, pistol in one hand, machete in the other. John followed, then Dean. Chuck shot an apologetic look at you before stepping over the threshold and you felt like you were glued to the ground. Panic rising in your chest, you considered running again. If you ran, the dream couldn't be real. If you ran, though, Lucifer might get his hands on both babies and you couldn't risk that. It needed to be done. God chose you to... God chose your children to get this over with.

You took a deep breath and forced your legs to move, carrying you into the bunker as Dean found the power switch and the lights came on. John quickly came up and closed the door behind you as your eyes fell on the exact images from your dream. "Oh, God." fell from your lips.

"All right. Sam, Dean, spread out, check for zombies. Prophet, keep an eye on our girl." John ordered. He said it like it was your safety on his mind, but you read it for what it meant. 'Don't let her run.'

The Winchesters descended the staircase and disappeared. They wouldn't find anything. You sat on the top stair and hung your head. Chuck sat next to you and folded his hands in his lap. "I'm sorry."

"The dream... it's all real. It's all real, isn't it?" You didn't look at him as tears started to gather at the corners of your eyes.

"Probably. Yeah." He answered, softly.

"Why would I do that? Why would I let him... why would I put that ring on? I have to be missing something."

"The visions are like that, sometimes. Sometimes there's big chunks of important information missing. Like, one time, I saw Sam in bed with this demon, Lilith, but I didn't see that he had the demon-killer knife under the pillow. And I didn't see that Sam killing Lilith would let Lucifer out of his Cage. I didn't see the twins." He finished, softly.

You looked over at him, finding comfort in his blue eyes. "Why me?" You whispered. You weren't sure why, but you honestly felt he had that answer.

He put his hand on your back, running his thumb across your coat. "Because John picked you." He sighed. "He's got Sherry and he's got that group back at the Sanctuary, but... once he... after he had you... y/n, you know how obsessed with Mary he is. He's replaced her in his heart, after 30 years, with you."

"But I don't want that."

"Mary didn't, either. Not at first. The angels interfered." Chuck's face showed volumes of pity. "The Cupids are gone, so you couldn't be forced to fall in love with him, so you just..."

"Had to be forced. Right." You leaned your head against his shoulder. "So, God must hate me, right?"

"Nah. I don't think so. I think... he probably admires your strength and intelligence. I think he's probably happy John picked a woman who sees the big picture, who's strong enough to put her stuff away and do what needs to be done. What Sam and Dean couldn't do."

"Place is clean." John's voice made you tense, but Chuck slipped his arm around you, comfortingly, before helping you stand. John's eyes narrowed at the contact between you and the prophet, but he turned and headed for the hallway you knew led to the bedrooms. "This one's yours." He opened the door with a '12' on it. "You get one of the ones in the cross hall." He spat at Chuck.

Chuck patted your arm and you slipped into room 12, slamming the door behind you. You looked in the mirror over the sink next to the door and sighed. You looked like shit. Your eyes were sunken and you were obviously dehydrated. Your face was sunburned, your skin was dry and your hair was stringy and oily. You needed a shower and a meal and... the apocalypse to be over. You needed the Winchesters to go the fuck away. All of them. Sam seemed okay, but you were certain that was only because he wasn't trying to or failing to fuck you.

You collected all of your clothes from your bag and headed down the hall to the shower room. You locked the door behind you and took a nice hot shower with the best water pressure you'd ever experienced. You wrapped yourself in an thick, old robe and tied the sash in a double knot, before picking up all of your clothes and heading to the laundry room. You put your clothes into the old Bendix washing machine and poured some detergent powder in on top of them. You started the machine and ran for your bedroom, locking the door behind you. The woman in the mirror looked like you again, but you were definitely in need of some water, so you filled a cup that was sitting on the sink and sat on the bed to drink your water in your comfy robe.

Your stomach was starting to growl when a knock came to your door. "Go away."

"Thought you might be hungry. It's been a while since you ate. You want some chicken noodle?" John's voice was barely muffled by the hard wood door.

Your stomach spoke for you, rumbling at the thought of food. You stood, double-checking yourself in the mirror to make sure the robe was completely covering you before opening the door. His eyes roamed over your body, like he was imagining what's under that robe. He smiled and offered you the bowl. You took it in both hands and sat on the bed, pushing the robe down your legs and putting the bowl in your lap. You took a bite of the soup and smiled. It was warm. Actual real warm soup was something you hadn't experienced in a long while. "Thanks, John."

John shut the door behind him and looked down at you, a soft smile on his face. "No problem. Thanks for accepting it. After how I acted the other night, I was afraid you'd throw it in my face."

"Too hungry to waste good food like that." You responded, pulling another spoonful of soup to your lips.

"I wanted to apologize for that. You know, I knew I went too far as soon as I walked away. I don't want you scared of me, Y/n." He said, sitting down on the edge of your bed. You chose to ignore his proximity by shoveling more soup into your mouth. "I want you to love me. I want you to be mine and no one else's, y/n, and I know that's a stupid thought now and I wish I hadn't treated the way I did. I was so afraid I'd ruined any chance I had of making you my wife, all because I called you 'Muffy' and made you get a little too intimate with Lucille." You shivered at the memory and swallowed another mouthful of soup. "But then, Chuck gave me an idea. See, my beautiful Mary, she had to be persuaded to love me. A Cupid got her, shot her with some Enochian spell to make her fall head over heels for me."

You looked up, your eyebrows coming together in confusion. His smirk was enough to make you nauseated. "You really shouldn't accept food from a crazy, controlling sociopath. He might have dosed it with love potion." You threw the bowl off of your lap and it crashed to the floor, splashing the bed frame with pieces of chicken and veggies. "These Men of Letters, they had so many books, so many spells. It took me half an hour to find the components for that spell. Can you imagine? It took me years just to find the proper sigils to protect the Sanctuary. I not only found the spell, but the pieces I needed to put it together in this bunker, in less than an hour. This really is a dream come true."

"You poisoned me?!"

"Shh." He ran his hand down your arm and it sent a confused fog to your brain. "In a couple minutes, it won't matter. You'll be in love."

You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. "No." You said, weakly, trying to get off of your bed. He grabbed your arms and pulled you back onto the bed. You grabbed onto his white tee and tried to not look at him, but after a moment you blinked up at him. Your fingers relaxed and your hands came to rub across his chest. "John." You breathed out.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" He asked, his smirk making his eyes sparkle.

"I'm so sorry I ever doubted your love. I can feel it, now." You stared into his eyes, completely sure of the mutual love in your hearts. "I love you, too, John."

"Of course, you do. How about you show me just how much you love me, baby girl?" He suggested, pushing your hands down to the button of his jeans.

"Anything for you, John." You responded, wistfully, leaning forward to catch his lips while you popped the button and pulled his zipper down. "I wanna make up for all the horrible things I said about you, the terrible way I treated you." You mumbled against his lips as he leaned back to lie on the bed, taking you with him to lie on top of him. "I want to make you feel so good to make up for how bad you must've felt hearing me say all those-"

"Sweetheart, shut up and suck my cock." He whispered, amused. He shimmied his jeans down his legs.

"Of course." You grabbed his dick, almost immediately hard in your hand and ran your hand up and down it in exactly the way he'd taught you. You leaned forward and swiped your tongue across the head. He grunted and his hand buried in your hair, but you didn't let him push your head down. You brought your lips to his cockhead, placing kisses down his length until you got to the nest of hair at the base before twisting to place those kisses on his balls. You licked from the base to his head and dipped your tongue into the divot where precum was already starting to gather. "Have I ever told you how much I love your cock, John? It's so perfect, so nice, so big." You praised, before taking him in your mouth until he hit the back of your throat. You pumped the base of his dick as you bobbed your head up and down, nipping slightly at his frenulum every time you came up to the head.

"Oh, sweetheart, you are gorgeous. Swallowing my cock so pretty. I'm gonna fuck you 'til you can't move." He grunted. You moaned as he pushed you backward onto the mattress and easily pulled the knot out of the sash on your robe. He pulled your robe open and stared down at your body. "Oh, y/n. I fuckin' love your body." He ran his hand across your belly, the bump already becoming prominent with the twin boys inside your womb. "I want you to scream for me. Can you do that, sweetheart? I want you to scream my name. I want them to know who you love."

"Okay." You breathed out as his head dropped between your legs. He didn't go slow, no licking and nibbling his way to the place you needed him most. He rammed his tongue into your entrance, his nose rubbing against your clit as his hand came up under your ass to push your groin into his face. "Oh, fuck! Oh, John. More." John smirked as he pulled back enough to look up into your face, before sucking your clit between his lips and sucking on it, hard. "Ah!"

He crawled up your body and looked down into your eyes, his cock pulsing against your lips. "I love you, y/n." He whispered, cupping your face in his right hand before kissing you deeply. You grabbed at his shoulders and wrapped your legs around him. He reached between you and lined his cock up, sinking into you with ease. His head dropped to the crook of your neck and he groaned, licking at your skin. "God, I missed you. Those beautiful tits, your amazing strong tight pussy... do that thing I like." He ordered, nibbling at your shoulder.

You clenched your vaginal muscles, making him groan. He held tight to you as he pulled almost all of the way out and then began to push back into you, pushing an inch or two in, then pulling out and pushing in even further. You threw your head back as he bottomed out. It'd been months since he was inside you and you felt a little breathless at finally having the man you loved where he belonged again. "Remember, sweetheart. Loud as you can, let my sons and the prophet know exactly who you love."

You nodded and he grabbed your shoulder as he began to thrust into you. "Oh, my god! John! God, yes! Oh, god!" You screamed. Normally, you weren't so vocal, but that's what your love wanted from you, so you screamed and moaned like a porn star as he picked up his speed and fucked you hard. He moved his left hand between you and used his thumb to rub your clit to orgasm as he came deep inside of you. You fell over the ledge right after him, screaming as loud as you could.

He pulled out and kissed you, softly, before jumping up off of the bed. "Let me go check on your clothes, okay, babe? Why don't you clean yourself up? And, uh, that soup you dropped."

"Yeah." You said, sitting up and pulling the robe back around yourself.

"Hey, y/n?" He stopped at the door. You looked over at him. "I love you."

"I love you, too, John." You smiled, happily as he slipped out the door, quickly closing it behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John shut the door and turned around to see Dean leaning against the wall across from the door. His arms were crossed over his chest and there was a deep scowl on his face. He straightened when he saw his father. "What the fuck?!"

"What?" John started, innocently, before throwing a look at the bedroom. "Oh. We made up."

Dean pushed away from the wall. "You made up? From you kidnapping and raping her? You made up from treating her like a fucking dog?"

Dean moved to open the door, but John put his hand up to stop him. "I told you, Dean. It's all about how you treat her and... you didn't treat her right. Didn't treat her like the strong, beautiful woman she is."

"Move out of the way. Let me talk to her."

"Of course, Dean. I was just trying to save you from some disappointment." John feigned an earnest expression as he moved out of the way and Dean moved to knock on door number 12. He walked down the hall toward the laundry room with a smirk on his face.

Dean glared at his father's back as he walked down the hallway. He didn't knock on the door, just opened it and walked in. "Y/n?"

She was on the floor, cleaning up a spilled bowl of soup with the sash of her robe. She looked up. "Oh, Dean. I thought... thought you were John."

Dean's eyebrows came together as she smiled up at him, holding her robe closed with her left hand. "Are-are you okay? I mean, you-"

"I know what you're gonna say." She stood, looking a bit embarrassed. "I'm usually not that loud, you know, but John wanted me to vocalize. I think it's a dominance thing."

"A..." Dean shook his head. "What... what's goin' on?"

"I think he just wanted to make sure everyone knew that we were... together, you know?"

"But why are you together? I'm sorry. I'm just so... confused, here."

She sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at him, pity in her eyes as she gave a tight smile. "Dean... your father loves me."

"He tortured you."

"He had to. His men are terrible, okay? They would have seen how he feels about me and they would have done so much worse to me. He saved me. Because he loves me. We're in love, Dean."

"But you weren't this morning." Dean growled.

She nodded in understanding. "I get what this is about. You're jealous."

"What?! No, I'm not jea-"

"You had your chance, Dean. You're the one who said 'pineapple'."

"This isn't about that! He's horrible! What the hell has he done to you?"

She shook her head. "He hasn't done anything to me. I just... realized, you know?"

"You just realized?" Dean scoffed, shaking his head. "Right. Yesterday you hated him, but today you realized you love him? That doesn't seem wonky to you?"

She shrugged. "No. Not really." She dropped back down to clean up the soup. "Oh! So, I was thinking that maybe you and Sam could go to Alexandria and pick up everybody, bring them back here where it's safe."

Dean leaned against the sink. "That's not gonna happen."

"Well, I know it's not ideal. I mean, maybe you don't bring the whole town, but definitely Daryl and Michonne and Maggie. I mean, she's gonna want somewhere safe for baby Rhee and I guess Rick would have to come if Judith and Carl were gonna come. Rosita would be nice for Sam to have some fun with, but..."

"That's not the problem. Negan killed their people. They're not just gonna get over that and live with him in harmony." Dean looked down at her as she scooped soup in her hands and dropped it into the bowl.

"Well, they'll have to get over that. He's the father of my children and I love him. If they care about me, they'll get over it." She looked up at him from the floor and gave a pointed look. "Everyone who cares about me should get over this."

"If they care about you, they won't want you being controlled by a psycho like him." Dean shook his head, stepping away from the sink. "I'm gonna find out what he did to you."

Y/n sighed, wiping up the rest of the soup with the edge of her robe, before standing and dropping the bowl in the sink. "He didn't do anything, Dean."

"Yes, he did. Whatever it is, you can't see it, but I know-"

"She said I didn't do anything, son. You callin' her a liar, or just stupid?" John opened the door and walked in. "Your clothes are in the dryer, baby. You're gonna be stuck in that robe for another hour, or so." He moved to stand in front of her, grasping the edges of her robe. "Wonder how we could kill an hour."

"John!" She squealed and giggled as he pushed her into the wall and attacked her neck with his mouth. "John, Dean's right there!"

"He can watch, if he wants." John whispered as he reached down to grab her legs and hitch them around his waist. "Long as he keeps his distance."

The bedroom door slammed as Dean fled the room in a rage. He stomped down the hallway to Chuck's room, which was open. "Explain that!" He demanded, pointing in the direction of y/n's room.

Chuck shook his head. "I don't have all the answers, man! I don't know how to explain that."

"Okay." Dean closed the door behind him. "Then, tell me what she was so upset about yesterday. What about the dream was she freakin' out about?"

Chuck sighed and looked down. "This... and the ring."

"The what?"

"He's gonna ask her to marry him. She's gonna say 'yes' and she's gonna... John's been carrying around Mary's wedding ring for thirty years."

"No." Dean's face fell. "He's not gonna give her my mother's ring. She wouldn't accept that." He began to pace the small room. "Especially if she was so worried about it yesterday. He had to have done something to her. Blackmail? Cursed item? Love spell?"

"I don't know, but I mean, John's not a witch."

"But you agree that isn't natural?" Dean turned to him.

"I... agree it's weird. But, you know, maybe she just had a change of heart. Women are prone to change their minds, right?"

"Chuck... don't be an idjit. Women don't change their minds like that." He pointed toward her room again. "They don't fall in love with a guy who raped them and treated them like a dog for almost a month."

"Stockholm Syndrome?"

"No." Dean shot down that idea immediately. "She's been out of his influence for-"

"Yeah, but... John can protect her."

"I can protect her." Dean argued.

"But you can't make her feel whole." Chuck answered, bending down to pull a notebook out of his bag. "Okay, I have an answer on this one." He flipped the book open and flipped to the back.

"Chuck, I don't wanna read your stupid-"

"Pick up the book and read, Dean."

Dean sighed, loudly, and picked up the notebook.

She remembered watching the zombie as it tried to crawl away. It was a perfect metaphor for her. No longer human. No longer whole. Just there, plugging forward, responding to outside stimulus but nothing else. Dean said he loved her and he dearly wanted to, she could tell, but he couldn't love her. The only one who wanted her, as is (pregnant, broken, conditioned to be the way John wanted her) was John. He swore he was in love with her, too, and somehow it was more believable from him. Of course, he only loved her the way he made her, but he was probably the only one who would ever love her. Dean couldn't love her. Dean had said 'pineapple', he'd never be able to look past her conditioning, her training. So, her options were wait and then run where she would be alone, (which she hated), stay with Dean and be content never knowing his touch, or let John have her again. Bow to what he made of her and how he made her body feel.

"What the hell is this, Chuck? Are you tryin' to tell me it's my fault she's in bed with him?"

"I'm tryin' to tell you that she's... I don't know, Dean, that she... has needs? I mean, you know... You fucked up. You knew you fucked up as soon as it happened. Maybe she just... chose the option that was easiest. All of her needs can be met this way, and the babies' needs."

Dean shook his head. He refused to believe that. "No. No, he did something. This isn't..." He threw the notebook on Chuck's bed. "I'm gonna figure it out." He pulled the door open and stomped down the hall toward his own room.

Hunters- @letsby, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @adoptdontshoppets, @spnskinnyballs

Zed Word Tags- @mannls

Everything Tags- @heyitscam99

[realitv]

EPISODE SIX REWRITES: DONAR THE GREAT.

NOTE: The N*zis will hereby be a local mob. It’s the fucking 20s. I don’t know why they did that. I don’t want to know why they did that. I’m not keeping that in and I’m not acknowledging that as anything more than a shitty, awful fucking choice that really had no business being in there. There’s a lot to unpack in that, and none of it is good. The odd subplot of Technical B.oy recruiting Columbia, Actual Propaganda Creature, was pretty clearly written with Media in mind. Columbia, personification of the USA, was historically a pretty strong propaganda tool and now currently survives via Columbia pictures. Media really did get Columbia, huh. Technical B.oy should have been recruiting Vulcan, Hadúr, Luchtaine et cetera for technology and weaponry purposes during the war. It literally felt like the writers wrote this with Media in mind, and then realised they’d overwritten them. 🤷 Obviously y'all don’t have to go along with this specifically but I say DEATH OF THE SHOW, DEATH OF THE AUTHOR BAY-BEE! 

  IT’S A SEEDY, SMOKEY THEATRE: a hallowed hall where patrons dress up, dress down in ERMINE AND PEARLS to forget their troubles for the night, to believe in something bigger and better than they are. Art deco gilt reads AMERICA: 1929; a world on edge, a tipping point. A bullshit, razzle dazzle show that’s rehearsed and played to death to an audience that adores CHEAP THRILLS. No soul; just some sort of temple to the GLORY DAYS that were long since dead and gone. Applause, please! They’ve been watching. Of course they’ve been watching. Centre stage in a plush booth that reeks of cigarette smoke; the static always comes with them. Radio white noise and the snippets of talk shows filtering through the big jazz band and it crackles within the ears of patrons. Reminds them, tells them: GO HOME. SIT DOWN. LISTEN. LISTEN TO ME. That little brown box with the glowing little dials; the voice America woke up to. They’ve been watching for a while now; a regular devotee from the big leagues come to bless them with their appearance, their presence; people are drawn to them like flies to honey and when they applaud, when they smile, the theatre does too; rows and rows of teeth on display and Wednesday has the nerve to appear with a drink in his hand. IT’S ON THE HOUSE.   “And if I said I don’t want it, honey?” ALL THE DRAMA OF A TALK SHOW HOST! Accented syllables and vowels drawling into the beginnings of a Transatlantic accent. The Mass Media is RADIANT; glowing; spotlights upon that bleached head of perfect curls and it lights up their face; the beginnings of wires and mainframes only just starting to grow through flesh and ink. I GIVE IT AS A GIFT TO YOU. “And I said I don’t want it. See now, I don’t much approve of you and your ilk taking up space in my domain like this.” Another drag from their cigarette. Smoke spiralling into Wednesday’s face and when they laugh, the room fills with the grainy sounds of a radio jingle. “Using my voice like that! Naughty, naughty. IT IS NOT MEANT FOR YOU.” The smile fades, melts from their expression and it leaves them frigid, leaves them cold and sure. Wednesday’s one good eye burns. “I AM THE MESSAGE. The message is the future. I am not for you.” NOW, NOW, MY DEAR. YOU FORGET, WE DID NOT NEED YOU BEFORE. WE DO NOT NEED YOU NOW. THE PEOPLE WILL FORGET. THE PEOPLE WILL MOVE ON, AND YOU WILL BE OBSOLETE. Forgotten. THERE’S NO NEED TO GET ANGRY. “I was there when they wrote your stories into the Edda, when they carved your image into stone. I was there for a great many things, Al. And now, you are on my stage, using my voice. Maybe I’ll stretch my legs, and go see The Law. Tip him off, since this place just ain’t up to snuff. Or, I let you talk: I’ll take my payment later. Do we have a contract?” The white noise presses in; their eyes meet, a steady beat of silence before he nods. WE HAVE A COMPACT.

  CUT BACK TO PRESENT DAY BLACK BRIAR: The World and GENERAL ORGANA at the War Table, the right hand pushing pieces across the map. THE WAR HAS STARTED. World’s voice echoes; General Organa pausing in their ministrations to cast plasma gaze to them. “And no one has realised it. A train crash in Chicago.” A piece moves across the board. “An armed robbery in Rhode Island.” Another. “Poisoned lobster in Nashville.” Eyes meet. They mirror each other; glance for glance, smile for smile; Leia leans in close. “They have been quiet, despite all of this. Are they building THE DEATH STAR?” NO. THEY HAVE SCATTERED, AS I SAID THEY WOULD. ONE BY ONE, THEY WILL FALL. “Of course, Commander. I only wish to do my part to SERVE THE ALLIANCE.” Silence. AND YOU WILL. OF COURSE YOU WILL. YOU BOTH WILL.” Cut to General Organa, brows furrowed: The World beckons; like a shadow, they follow; a quick, purposeful stride, hands pressed to the small of their back to the sidelines. Social Media sifting through images: SWIPE RIGHT? SUPER LIKE? HEART REACT? COMMENT, TWEET, HASHTAG OVER IT! A soft ‘ahem’ from World and the noise dies; turning around to face Commander and General with wide eyes. YEAH? Nervousness, how unlike her. Leia’s gaze burns. BOTH OF YOU MUST MAKE READY FOR THE BROADCAST. “Affirmative. All preparations have been made: I am ready when you are.” I NEED MORE POWER. Two sets of eyes facing the other piece in the puzzle to find it lacking. OUR NEW FRIEND IS COMING. THEY HAVE ASSURED ME: YOU WILL BE READY. Their shadow covers her; drags away as World exits stage right. Two voices left alone; Leia stares, stares, stares. It’s empty, it’s cold; flat. Social Media holds it, twitches: it’s the same numinous dread The Boy had etched into their features whenever the General came calling. “IT’S A WONDER YOU’RE STILL ALIVE. More power. This is child’s play, but then again, YOU’RE A LITTLE SHORT FOR A STORMTROOPER.”

  AMERICA: 1933. THE THEATRE IS CRACKING, YELLOWED: prohibition may have ended but Great Depression left everyone hungry. THEY ENTER IN SILK AND RUBIES: rosy cheeks and the smile of a Hollywood Starlet. Flushed, ALIVE! Hollow eyes stare at them with RAVENOUS hunger and when they laugh, the world tints with static; PRE-CODE MASTERPIECES and biting social commentary. Standing against the backdrop of an abandoned stage and despite themselves, their feet move; tap, slide, swivel; IS IT THE CHARLESTON? Some new crazy song and dance number? TUNE IN! WATCH THE LATE NIGHT PICTURE SHOW! Snapped out of it; a slow, slow clap echoing; spotlight dies and they stand stock still. I DID NOT THINK I’D SEE YOU BACK HERE, MY DEAR. “Mister Wednesday.” A curl of their lip, hopping down from the stage and it’s a quick one-two step. “I’ve come for my payment. We have a need. We’ve had our eye on Miss Columbia. You remember our terms: I LET YOU SPEAK. Now, I want my slice of the pie.   “Hasn’t it been ages since I saw you last, honey?” YOU. YOU AGAIN. Eyes flitting between Wednesday and The Mass Media; tightening the sash on their robe and drawing it to a close under prying eyes. “I thought you’d have been happier to see lil’ ol’ me again after all this time. I’m real sorry about how the Great War ended up, but you know how it is. Mister Money decided LIBERTY SELLS, and THAT’S A WRAP! Centuries of mythos overwritten by another Goddess. She’s doing fine, by the way. All of us are.” Silence. It falls thick and heavy and the world around them buzzes with white noise. “Cat got your tongue?” WE’RE DOING FINE. A pout. “Oh, now, see here, I just hate liars. Can’t stand ‘em! It’s why I got all these new ethics and standards in place. And you, honey, are violating those. Look at you, you look like someone who just crawled out of the DUST BOWL.” And she looks down. Looks at her faded, out of date clothes. The mouldering room around her. Media takes another drag from their cigarette; lounges in the settee that’s falling apart and grins. “You’re just surviving, sweetheart. The people will forget. Then you will die, and I’ll look back on the beautiful legacy we had together, all that teamwork through the centuries and say to myself: ‘If only Miss Columbia had listened to me!’ There’s something coming. We can all feel it. I want to give you your place back, I want to move forward with you. I’ll even put you in the pictures, then you’ll never die.” It’s served on a silver platter, tied with velvet ribbon: how can any God resist? WELL -- I -- Wednesday holds up a hand. SHE’LL THINK ABOUT IT, GIVE YOU AN ANSWER SOON. “Well, don’t keep me waiting, honey.” A languid sigh; standing in a smooth motion as they moved towards the door. “--I’ll be seeing you on the studio lot.” 

  EVEN DYING MALLS HAVE EYES: grainy CCTV footage near a repair chaos picks up a tremor, something not quite right: Wednesday’s spear, carved with runes; near repaired. A black and white eye presses forward, stares. The screen goes blank with a bzzt.  RED ALERT. The noise echoes; lights flashing; World and their right hand ROD SERLING come back by popular remand; finger hovering over red button and the World pushes down to bring an awful silence. WHAT WAS THAT? Social Media scampering in; out of breath. IT’S SO ANALOGUE. As was everything within the space. WE ARE AHEAD OF SCHEDULE. “--I was not aware that we were on one.” A sideways glance; World and Serling’s eyes meet; electricity flavours the air. THEY HAVE CARVED THE RUNES INTO THE SPEAR? “Yes. IT IS MAN’S PREROGATIVE TO CREATE THEIR OWN HELL: and we, I believe, HAVE JUST CROSSED INTO THE TWILIGHT ZONE.” 

[radioleary-blog]

Hef Tragedy Jam

Hugh Hefner died yesterday. When the news was announced, over fifty women said they were dismayed. No, wait...over fifty women said they were “Miss May”. Fifty more were Miss June, and, well, you get the picture. If you were lucky you got their pictures.

Few of you reading this are old enough to remember that Playboy magazine was about the only place you could see a naked woman, and I say that because there are probably few of you reading this, period. But hey, my column gets more readers than the average suicide note, statistically speaking. Although I’m trying to increase my readership, and the average suicide note is more of a stand-alone project. I bet if George Lucas ever wrote a suicide note, he’d follow it up with three prequel notes. Each successively worse than the last. People would be like, “Why did he have to ruin that original suicide note, which I loved, with those awful prequel-suicide notes? I don’t care why he got depressed, but clearly only a manic depressive could make such a desperate cry for help as introducing Jar-Jar Binks. If I ruined a billion dollar franchise by coming up with an offensive racist caricature like Jar-Jar Binks, I’d probably consider putting a lightsaber in my mouth too.”

I grew up with Playboy magazine, and my early knowledge of female physiology was less from a volume of Grey’s anatomy or sketches by DaVinci, and more from volumes of Playboy magazine. It was like a reference guide, one that you would hold up with one hand. In fact, the first time I had a girlfriend who got naked, I wondered where her staples were. Of course, today, I’m the one who should have his stomach stapled, but that’s another story. Ah, sweet irony!

I’m sure Hugh Hefner went to Heaven, but whatever gleaming Mansion in the sky awaits us, no matter how glorious, for Hugh Hefner it’s going to be a pretty big step down from the Playboy Mansion. It may actually be Seventh Heaven, but Hef has been living on Cloud Nine since 1956. But, hey, he’s already wearing a robe. You know when you see depictions of Heaven, everybody is always wearing white robes? That’s because they were wearing those white robes in the hospital when they died. And they make you wear those awful robes that don’t close in the back because that’s where your wings will come out when you get to Heaven. It’s all part of God’s plan. I bet you’ll still have that plastic wristband on too, St. Peter just scans it at the gate to let you in. <beep> “Cardiac arrest. You’re good. Check in at the registration desk. Have a valid photo ID ready.”

Hugh Hefner was such a consummate pussyhound, I wouldn’t be surprised if he made a deathbed conversion to radical Islam, just to get the 72 virgins in Heaven. God would be like - I mean “Allah” would be like, “Pretty tricky Hef, pretty tricky. But...technically it counts. You old horndog!” Of course, you know what Hugh Hefner calls 72 virgins? A slow Tuesday.

The Playboy Mansion was famous for its out-of-control parties, and the mansion had a natural cave-like grotto on the grounds where everyone would go to snort coke and have sex. I guess Hef was a lot like Bruce Wayne, a millionaire with a mansion and a cave. And didn’t they call Bruce Wayne a millionaire playboy? Hef was a Playboy millionaire. But the difference is, Hef would rather do coke and fuck super-models whereas Batman would rather do-good and fight super-villains. Plus, Batman slides down the Bat-pole, and crazy hot chicks slide down the Hef-pole. In other words, Hef was sane, and Batman was, well, not so much. Batman is basically a billionaire who just wants to hurt people and not get sued for it and pretend he’s a hero. Kind of like Trump.

The grotto cave on the grounds of the Playboy Mansion had a huge, heated Jacuzzi pool, where movie stars, rock and roll gods, and celebrity athletes were eagerly humped by groupies, star-fuckers, and aspiring playmates. Unprotected 1970’s sex was messier than Michael J. Fox eating an ice cream cone, so the pool was probably 60% water, 2% spilled cocaine, and 38% James Caan’s jizz. The lifeguard got syphilis just from giving mouth to mouth resuscitation. At least that was her story. But that was about the same time Grand Funk Railroad was in town, so who can say? I do think ‘grotto’ must be the Italian word for ‘gross’.

I hear some of the more politically correct crowd, or as they’re more commonly known, nitwits, complaining that Playboy exploited women. And I guess it was exploitation, in the same sense that Vogue magazine is exploiting the mostly-naked teenage anorexic girls slash super-models in their magazine. And I say slash because that’s what these girls often try to do to their wrists. Unlike Vogue magazine models, at least the Playboy women didn’t have eating disorders. They’re a lot less likely to stick their fingers down their throats. I’m not saying they’re any less likely to have something down their throats, but not their fingers.

Exploiting women. As if Hugh Hefner was hanging around the Newark bus station looking for a girl down on her luck and fresh off the turnip truck from Topeka. That sounds more like the plot of a 1930’s movie than the way his business empire was run. I think what Hef did was have his photography editors, both men and women, spend endless hours going through duffel bags of mail sent in by thousands of women from all around the country who wanted to pose for Playboy. The staff would narrow it down to probably a few dozen, and then get Hef’s opinion on who was not only the most beautiful, but who had the look that would be right to feature in the magazine. That’s exactly what the editors and publishers do at Elle, and Vogue, and every other magazine that holds up a particular brand of beauty as an ideal.

And I don’t know any women who haven’t worn out the related links on their favorite porn sites jilling off to whatever their particular porn flavor might be, so who exactly are these people that still have a problem with Playboy? Because without Hefner’s decades of battles against governmental and religious censorship, there would be no porn sites. Hef made it possible to look at porn sites without pretending you go there for the articles. Without Playboy, people would still be saying, “Did you read that insightful article on the humanitarian crisis in Darfur? And that recently-found short story by J.D, Salinger?” “Why, yes. I particularly liked the profile of Jazz trumpeters from the post-bop era. And I did notice some delightful porn as well, between the articles, of course.”

The reason Hef could get away with putting in naked chicks is his magazine is because Playboy was a serious, respected literary magazine. The greatest writers of the day were in Playboy:

Ray Bradbury wrote original content for Playboy, and serialized Fahrenheit 451, which was coincidentally the exact temperature of how hot the playmates were.

The Beat writer Jack Kerouac wrote for Playboy, and that cat was cool as hell. Beat, Jack, that is exactly what Playboy readers do.

Ian Fleming published short stories in Playboy, and the James Bond novel “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service” was published first in Playboy. We all know James Bond got enormous amounts of pussy. But compared to what Hef was getting, James Bond looks like a bible salesman with erectile disfunction. Or a guy who works in a comic book store. Think about that for a minute; the world’s sexiest pussyhound spy still gets less women than the guy who published the magazine his story is in. And Bond is fictional!

Roald Dahl wrote for them, too. The author of “Willie Wonka” writing for people who wonka their willies, sounds apropo.

Kurt Vonnegut wrote for them all the time, and that dude was cooler than Ice Nine. There’s a reference for ya!

Joseph Heller published a lost chapter of “Catch-22” in Playboy. I think the title Catch-22 might be the number of social diseases you’d get if you had sex in the grotto.

Margaret Atwood, author of “The Handmaid’s Tale” started writing for Playboy in 1991. I would imagine one of her stories was called “The Handmaid’s Tail”.

Hunter S. Thompson. Gabriel García Márquez, John Updike, Joyce Carol Oates, Truman Capote, they all wrote for Playboy. This magazine was the real deal, kids, it was smarter and cooler than absolutely anything you know today. You see, all of these stories were longer than 140 characters. Or even 280.

I actually learned quite a bit about culture from Playboy, between rounds, if you know what I mean. By middle school I could discuss the literary feud between Gore Vidal and Norman Mailer in English class and sound like a friggin’ genius, I just couldn’t tell the teacher where I learned it. “Where did I learn that? Oh, you know. Around. Literary journals, and the like. At that building that has all the books. Yes, exactly, the library! That’s the one! I frequent that establishment, I‘ll have you know.” What was I gonna say? My father’s sock drawer?

The Playboy Interview was legendary, they were deep, involved discussions, frank and uncensored. Here are some of the people they interviewed: Salvador Dali, Patty Hearst, Groucho Marx, Ansel Adams, Stanley Kubrick, The Beatles, Albert Schweitzer, Buckminster Fuller, Orson Welles, Peter Sellers, Abbie Hoffman, Tennessee Williams, Erica Jong, Allen Ginsberg, and Bertrand Russell. Then there are the so famous they’re known by just one name:  Fellini, Castro, Brando, Nehru, Sartre, Bowie, Nabokov, Hoffa, Carson, Antonioni, Mastroianni, Gleason, and Sinatra. And Playboy was woke, they interviewed Malcolm X, Martin Luther King, Jr., Alex Haley, Miles Davis, Muhammad Ali,  Eldridge Cleaver, Dick Gregory, and Huey Newton. Holy shit, right?  Who do you see interviewed today? Kardashians? Ryan Gosling? Taylor Swift, but interrupted by Kanye West? This time we live in today has less culture than a petri dish.

Hef lived so long that most people today have no real idea how influential he was, what an important cultural icon he was, and that he somehow talked Marilyn Monroe into posing naked on the cover of the very first issue of his magazine way the hell back in 1956. That’s a dude with the Kavorka, big-time. And nobody was naked back in 1956. Not in this country. In 1956, people showered wearing a suit and tie, and apart from time shampooing, a smart fedora. They say people were more cultured back then because they went to art museums, bullshit, I think they only went to art museums to see the nudes in the oil paintings. You would too, and you know it, don’t even try to deny it. You’d say you were admiring the Titian, but you were really just admiring the Tit.

Nearly every issue, Playboy featured a very prominent celebrity with a well-established career and respected in her field who actually wanted people to see how beautiful she was without any clothes. Starting with Marilyn Monroe. And she was smoking hot, too, an icon in her absolute prime. Future historians will be more grateful for that photo shoot than they are for the discovery of the Nag Hammadi texts. Where do you go from there, Playboy? Well, how about Farrah Fawcett, the biggest sex-symbol of the entire 1970’s! The list of gorgeous, talented, famous, successful women that wanted to pose for Playboy might be hard for you to imagine, as you live in an age where women pose in magazines like Maxim with their clothes on! And men today pay to see that? Wtf? Man, I can see women with their clothes on just about anywhere I go. I can see that in line at the deli counter, I don’t need to pay for it.

Here are just a few, a very few, of the already-famous women who chose to pose with no clothes:

Daryl Hannah. Olivia Munn. Kim Basinger. Charlize Theron. Drew Barrymore. Denise Richards (she had kids with Charlie Sheen, so posing for Playboy was comparatively a relatively sound decision). Shannen Doherty. Belinda Carlisle. Jayne Mansfield. Mariel Hemingway. Margaux Hemingway. Nastassja Kinski. Sharon Stone. Rosanna Arquette. Vanna White. Elle MacPherson. Brigitte Bardot. Uma Thurman. Kate Moss. The list is almost endless. I almost said bottomless, but being Playboy, “bottomless”  goes without saying.

Sure, the last decade and a half weren’t great for Hef, but who stays cool past the age of 75? Only Bob Dylan and Picasso. Hef couldn’t let it all go, and at the end it was pretty sad. It was like Sunset Boulevard with viagra. But I’ll miss the Hef of fifty years ago, that man was at the forefront of political movements, cultural progress, gay rights, equal rights, reproductive rights, and the right to take your goddamn clothes off if you feel like it.

This may be the first funeral where you should bring condoms. In lieu of flowers, please give blowjobs. So long, Hef. Thanks for the mammaries.

[runaway-fiction]

Willing to Try (Liam x MC x Drake)

Author’s Note: This fic is a continuation of “I Love You Too” and “The Woman They Both Loved”. If you’d like to catch up, please click those titles, or see my Masterlist. Thank you for following along so far, this story has been quite a journey to write! I feel as though Drake, Liam, and MC (Amelia Alvarez) are figuring it out as they go along just as I am! A few of you requested to be tagged: @boneandfur @pbchoicesobsessed @topsyturvy-dream @decisso @viktoriapetit @tmarie82 @theroyalweisme @hopefulmoonobject

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, please let me know!

The following is rated T for language and thematic elements, with subsequent parts to be NSFW. If this pairing (grouping?) isn’t your thing, please skip it! Enjoy and thank you! 

Amelia looked at her reflection in the mirror, pondering about what this evening and Drake’s cryptic text meant.

Dinner?, it said. Of course I’d love to but Liam also asked me to dinner, she responded. You’re having dinner with both of us, if that’s all right.

Her thumbs lingered over her phone’s screen. An inexplicable spike of apprehension went through her body. Dinner with both Liam and Drake? She tapped out a reply.

I’m intrigued. I’ll see you at 7. Perfect, he said.

Amelia slipped into her satin robe, fixed her make up until it was just so. She heard a persistent tapping sound that irritated her to no end until she realized it was her own manicured nail fidgeting on the wood of the vanity. She sent Hana a text.

Hana, it said. Yes? Meet me in my room? On my way.

In a few minutes, Hana appeared, and then threw herself unceremoniously onto Amelia’s bed.

“I heard something interesting today,” intimated Hana. “What is it?” asked Amelia, as she fastened earrings onto her earlobes. “That you’re having a private dinner with not one but two of Cordonia’s most handsome and eligible bachelors.” Amelia could barely manage a smile but in her effusive state, Hana didn’t seem to notice. “I’ve no idea what they want to talk about,” Amelia murmured. “Oh come on…Liam proposed to you in New York and everybody knows Drake is in love with you.” Amelia sighed, turning to Hana. Hana’s teasing smile faded when she saw Amelia’s conflicted expression.

“What’s wrong?” Hana asked.

“I’m worried about this dinner,” confided Amelia. A single tear ran down her cheek. She dabbed at her eye, “Shit, my mascara.”

“Here let me,” said Hana gently. She took at q-tip and dabbed it on Amelia’s slightly smudged makeup. “There. Now tell me what’s going on.”

“Drake…and Liam.”

“What about them?”

“I’m in love with both of them.” Fresh tears emerged from Amelia’s eyes. She groaned. “There goes my makeup. But anyways, I can’t…” she began to sob and Hana hurried to pull her shaking body close.

“And then…there’s us,” continued Amelia. She looked at Hana guiltily. “I’ve kissed you and I don’t want to lead you on but…”

“Amelia, Amelia, shh…it’s okay,” Hana said, “I know.”

“You do?”

“Amelia, I love you, but I think…” Hana took Amelia’s hands in hers. “I think I just want to be your friend.”

“Oh,” Amelia gave a watery smile. “You sure? I feel badly…”

“Don’t. It’s okay. We’re young, we’re just figuring out love. I mean, you were the first person that kissed me with any kind of passion. Naturally, I went head over heels for you.”

“Oh, Hana…”

“But I thought about it, and I think I’d like us just be to be friends…that maybe kiss occasionally.” Hana’s eyes twinkled with mischief. Amelia yelped with laughter. “Oh my God Hana, you’re ridiculous!” she said, throwing a pillow at Hana’s perfect face. They giggled and then Hana leaned in. Amelia gave her a light kiss on the lips.

“So friends who…occasionally do that?” Amelia said with a smile.

“Mhm.” Hana straightened up, suddenly all business. “So what’s going on with Liam and Drake? I know they’re in love with you, I think damn near the whole court does, but what about you? You…?”

Amelia nodded, her eyes still watery.

“Yes, I…I love both of them. And I can’t imagine living without either of them…”

“Oh Amelia…” Hana gave her a warm hug, “Who says you have to?”

“Well, I can’t be with both of them…”

Hana sighed.

“I forget how new you are to court life, Amelia. If you have two lovers, it’s not really a big deal.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do Americans only commit to one person?”

“I mean yes. It’s kind of the meaning of commitment.”

“Well, what if you committed to two people, exclusively?”

“Is that possible?”

“Honestly, Americans can be so touchy about sexuality. Who cares what goes on in other people’s bedrooms?”

“I was raised Catholic.”

“Ah,” said Hana. A gleam of understanding came into Hana’s eye. “So monogamy only? Even if you love both of them?”

“Maybe I don’t love either one if I’m not willing to choose.”

Now it was Hana’s turn to sigh.

“I’m not Catholic, so I don’t know what you’re going through right now. But I do know love when I see it. They love you, Amelia. And they love each other; Drake and Liam are closer than blood could ever bring them. Perhaps tonight will be a chance to…talk things out. See what is going on.”

Amelia considered Hana’s words. “Lay all our cards on the table.”

Hana nodded, “Yes, exactly.”

“Okay,” said Amelia with the beginnings of a smile, “What does one wear to a fancy dinner with two men she loves?”

Hana strides to Amelia’s walk-in closet. “I think…” Hana said as she rifled through the racks, “…you wear red,” and pulled out a sultry, figure-hugging satin dress.

--------

Drake attempted a Windsor knot, then a Pratt, and then decided to dispense with a tie entirely. It’s not that he didn’t know how to tie a tie, he just lacked the patience for such a useless accessory.

Besides, he thought, Alvarez won’t mind and neither will Liam.

The sky was beginning to darken outside, signaling the approach of dinner with his best friend and the woman he loved.

He shook his head. This is fucking crazy.

But he squared his shoulders, shrugged on his jacket, and took one last shot of whiskey. Onward.

--------

Liam tapped the ash of a cigarette against the glass ashtray as the sun disappeared under the horizon. Putting the cigarette out, he donned his dinner jacket and the jade cufflinks Amelia had given him in China.

He heard a knock at the door and then Drake walked in.

“You ready?” he asked. Liam nodded.

“Nervous?” Drake asked him. Liam laughed.

“God yes. I wouldn’t be surprised if after everything Amelia has been through she tosses the engagement ring in my face and says to hell with both of us.”

“Well if that happens, we can always marry each other buddy.”

“Hah! That would solve nearly all of my problems but create about a hundred more, so no thank you my friend.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He opened the door for Liam. “Let’s go get our girl.”

-------

Dinner went about as well as anyone could have hoped. It was the first time Amelia had been alone with Drake and Liam together, with no Maxwell, Hana, or Olivia to act as a buffer for their tangle of confused passions.

It was over drinks, (scotch for Liam, whiskeys for Drake and Amelia) when Liam spoke first.

“So, Amelia…”

She turned her dark eyes on him, the ghost of her laughter giving way to a pensive attention that Liam found enthralling. Even though he knew she loved his best friend too, when Amelia looked at him like that, it felt like there was no one else in the world but the two of them.

“I’m not sure if you know why it’s the three of us here tonight…”

“I don’t really,” she looked between the two of them, “You’re both being very mysterious.”

“We assure you it’s nothing awful. It’s…err…” He looked to Drake for help. He had mapped out just what he wanted to say but the moment Amelia appeared before them, looking as gorgeous as ever, he lost all idea of how to exactly open the conversation.

Amelia also turned to Drake, an inquisitive look in her eye. Drake cleared his throat.

“Okay Alvarez, I’m just going to come out and say it: We’re both in love with you.”

Amelia blushed a deep crimson.

“Oh,” was all she could say. Guilt colored her features. “I’m so sorry…the last thing I want is to drive a wedge between you two, I didn’t mean for things to end up like this…”

“Oh, no Amelia, it’s all right,” Liam said. Amelia looked round at him.

“What do you mean Liam?”

“Drake and I…we talked about it, and we wanted to see if you’d be open to something.”

This time Amelia arched an eyebrow.

“Mmm? And what might that be?”

“The truth is Alvarez,” said Drake, “We don’t want to make you choose between us so…”

“We’re wondering if you’d be open to being in a relationship…with the both of us,” finished Liam.

Amelia stared at both Liam and Drake, her eyes widening slightly, but after a moment, she regained her thoughtful countenance.

“Huh. That was not what I was expecting at all.” And then she laughed.

Drake joined in, their tensions eased slightly.

“Oh? And what were you expecting?”

“Exile from Cordonia or the like.”

“We’re all probably going to be exiled,” joked Drake as Liam covered his eyes with a groan of laughter.

She looked between the two of them, smiling in disbelief.

“You two are actually serious about this? Liam?”

Liam nodded solemnly.

“Drake? You too?”

“Yep. As crazy as it sounds.”

Liam leaned forward, taking her left hand.

“Amelia, we each understand the limitations of who we can be for you. I am a sovereign, I cannot give you all of me, a part of me must always be reserved for Cordonia. And Drake…”

“…I want you to be happy. I love Liam, and I trust him.” Drake took her other hand that lay resting on the table. “If it means you need to be there for him as a friend, and as a lover, I’m okay with that. I trust you both.”

Amelia blinked back tears as she held hands with both men, Liam looking at her with his bright blue eyes and Drake with his deep chestnut ones. They were as a different as night and day. And perfect in every way.

“What do you say Amelia?” asked Liam softly. A tear escaped her eyes, sliding past her smile. She laughed.

“Drake…Liam…we complete each other. It’ll be difficult sometimes, but I’m willing to try if you both are.”

And there they sat for some time as the candles burned low into the holders, the three of them holding hands.

Please see my Masterlist for more Choices fanfiction :)

[megwritesfanfiction]

The Lies We Told (Beast Boy/Raven , Chapter 10/??)

Author's Note: One more chapter after this… Huzzah!

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans. This is a work of fiction that I am not making a profit off of.

Need to catch up? Can't say I don't love you guys! ;)

Past Chapters:

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Chapter Ten: Marry Me

(I APOLOGIZE FOR THE LARGE BLOCK OF TEXT, THE KEEP READING BAR MAKES THE APOSTROPHES AND QUOTES TURN TO CRAZY CHARACTERS.) 

At first, he thought it was a joke or at the very least some sort of real life example of an oxymoron. Gar stood for a few moments watching her in disbelief.

Rachel, the woman he'd known first as Raven, was kneeling in a pew praying.

Actual praying.

A red rosary clutched between her fingers as she moved along the beads reciting the prayer over and over again.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Rachel finished the last line in the Hail Mary before bothering to answer him. "Praying." She didn’t bother to look up at him as she moved to the next Hail Mary.

Gar rolled his eyes, biting back a comment about how he was surprised she hadn’t burst into flames yet. "You're not Catholic."

“Neither are you.” Rachel quipped. “Doesn’t mean I can’t atone for my sins.” She snapped as she looked down at her beads. “Fuck!”

“Yea pretty sure you’re gonna have to atone for that.” He commented, taking a seat in the pew.

“You made me lose count.”  Rachel groaned, sliding back into the pew to sit. She tossed the rosary into the Bible nook in front of them.

“Did Toni put you up to this?”

“What?! No.” Rachel sighed, leaning back into her seat. She stared blankly at the altar in front of them. “We’re so going to hell.”

“Yep.” Gar nodded, wrapping an arm on the pew behind her.

“You’re okay with this?” Rachel questioned. She glanced around the church making sure no one would see his affection. There was an old woman in praying in the front row, but no one from the wedding party was expected to arrive until three. They had a couple hours.

He shrugged. “It’s really out of my control. If the big guy decides I’m not good enough to enter the pearly gates, then it’s the lake of fire for me.”

“Hell isn’t a vacation home.” Rachel warned him. “I should know. My afterlife destination is determined by birth not actions.”

“You’re not going to hell.” Gar told her softly.

“I am.” She confirmed. “Not just because I’m helping to commit adultery, but because I’m half demon. The adultery just adds a little something extra to my resume.” She opened her purse, pulling out a flask. “Drink?” She offered, exhaling loudly as she held the little container out to him.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a problem.” Gar chuckled, taking the flask from her and taking a swig. “Should you even be drinking? You know, with your, you know, delicate possible nature and…”

“I’m not pregnant.” Rachel sighed, taking the flask from him. “I gain five pounds and everyone panics.”

“You look great.”

“You thought I was pregnant, so you, too, are in the doghouse.”

His eyes narrowed. “That was a really bad joke.”

“I’m serious.” She took a swig. “You, sir, are in the doghouse on the last day of our relationship. What a shame.”

“Indeed.” He agreed with a casual nod. “And I was thinking we could take advantage of that empty confessional.” His eyes casually moved toward the confessional near the altar.

Rachel’s eyebrows raised with interest as she brought the flask to her lips. She was going to let him know that she was beginning to entertain the idea. “I am not about to have someone seeking redemption catch us in the act of adultery.”

“It’s not adultery until after the ceremony.”

“You all filed for the marriage license.”

“Yes,” Gar confirmed. “But, it’s not official until after the ceremony. Not to mention the fact that the priest is going to be in his office until it’s time for the ceremony.” He stood, straightening out his shirt. “So, that little booth will be at our disposal.”

“We’re going to hell.” Rachel murmured standing up.

Gar laced their fingers together as they walked toward the confessional. “We already established that.”

“I don’t want to know.” Toni decided walking up to her friend barefoot. Dressed in a silk gray dress, she held a bag in her hands and shook her head. “Hold unto this bag.” She insisted, pushing the bag in her arms.

“I’m not holding your shoes.” Rachel frowned as she looked at the bag in her arms. She just wanted to get to the back of the church, get her bridesmaid dress on, sip champagne, and survive this ceremony.

“Just hold the bloody bag.” Toni hissed angrily.

Rachel blinked staring at her friend. “What are we-“

“Just wait for it.” Toni told her holding up a finger as she closed her eyes. Her finger began to twitch to the sound of clicking heels echoing off the walls of the church.

The violet haired woman stood frozen with confusion as she looked to Toni and at the direction of the sound.

“Oh thank goodness.” Kori rounded the corner, picking up the bottom of her her dress as she jogged over to them. “Do you have the shoes?”

Rachel looked down at the bag in her hands. She cast a quick glance to Toni before looking at Kori. “Here you go.” Rachel spoke, smiling as she handed them over.

“You are the lifesaver.” Kori exhaled relieved.

“Indeed.” Toni agreed, bouncing lightly on her heels.

“I cannot believe Terra left them.” Kori shook her head.

“It’s a big day.” Toni defended. “I’m surprised she was so calm about it.”

“Yea!” Kori nodded. “I gotta get these to her. I’ll see you in a few for make-up, Rachel.” Kori turned, jogging away from them.

Rachel looked to Kori, waiting for the sound of her heels to get away from them. “Oh my goodness, you stole the bride’s shoes.”

“No.” Toni corrected. “No, no, no. I noticed they were sitting on the side, and I really wasn’t sure what they were so I figured I could find the owner.”

“Which you thought was me?”

“You never know.” Toni replied innocently.

“Sweet Jesus, you’re a fucking genius.”

“I know.” The dark haired woman placed a flattered hand against her chest as she looped their arms together. “So,” She started, leading her down the hall. “Where were you?”

“Confession.”

Toni eyed her suspiciously as they walked. “Do I even want to know what confession is code for?”

Rachel chuckled lightly. “Not at all.”

“You’re terrible.”

“I am indeed.” Rachel informed her unrepented.

“What am I going to do with you?” Toni questioned, softly.

Rachel shrugged, her lips twisting. “I don’t even know what do with myself at this point. I am just trying to get through today.”

“It will be okay.” Toni assured as they stepped into the room.

Liar.

The small room was a blur of activity.

Rachel swallowed the lump of emotion in throat and stepped into the room.

Pushing a smile to her face, she stepped into the roll of dutiful bridesmaid.

She sipped champagne.

She pretended to like the horrendous hairstyle Terra picked for her. An, in Rachel’s firm opinion, obnoxious bun with fresh pink flowers tucked into side.

She sat patiently as the make-up artist covered her face. And even smiled for the photographer taking candid shots of them getting ready. Rachel had even participated in wearing the matching floral robes Terra had gotten them.

She joined the other bridesmaids in helping Terra step into her wedding dress.

She “awwed” and “oooed” and expressed the proper sentiments of support.

She at least owed Terra that much.

“You okay?”

Rachel nodded, holding her bouquet tightly.

They were waiting outside of the doors to the church for the queue to walk.

“Yea.” She assured Garth, eyes rolling up to signal at the bun on her head. “Not used to my hair being pulled back so tight.” Rachel joked, half heartedly.

Garth laughed, placing his hands on either side of her. “You look beautiful.”

“I look like a piece of cotton candy.”

“Well,” He chuckled. “You are delicious.”

Why did he have to be so sincere and sweet? “Thank you.” She smiled, wrapping her hand around one of his hands on her shoulder.

“Hey lover boy!” Victor interrupted. “I’m her escort down the aisle.” He chuckled, gently pulling Rachel to him.

“Yes,” Garth laughed taking his place in line. He gave Rachel wink. “And next time you’ll be bringing her to me.”

“You all are the next for the marriage.” Kori squealed, linking arms with her husband. “You must be sure to catch the bouquet.”

Rachel fought the urge to cringe. She didn’t need this day to be any more awkward than it already was. “I would hate to interfere with Jinx-“

“Don’t even say my name, witch.”

Rachel chuckled as the conversation around her faded. The melody of the procession music burned her ears as she felt the sharp pang of nerves in her chest.

“You okay, dark girl?” Victor whispered as they took a step forward.

No. She wasn’t okay.

She was, not only, about to watch the love of her life marry one of her friends, but she was going to stand on the altar as a supportive witness to their union.

“Yea.” Rachel nodded, forcing an assuring smile as they stopped at the top of the altar. They were up next. “A lot of people here.” Seemed like a reasonable excuse for nerves.

“Think of it as practice for your big day.” He chuckled as they walked down the aisle.

Violet eyes drifted to the sea of people crowding the pews. She couldn’t imagine wanting this many people to witness her impending nuptials. It was bad enough Rachel had to be here as the maid of honor, she didn’t want to make a production out of a day she didn’t want.

Rachel unhooked her arm from Victor as the two of them stood, her eyes focused to the back of the church as the bride’s march started. At the very least, she could keep her eyes off the groom. She heard this shuffle of guests stand and the gasps of awe as Terra appeared. Rachel closed her eyes for a moment, as a hand went to her stomach.

She knew this was coming. So, what did it hurt so much?

Relaxing, Rachel gripped her bouquet.

She could do this.

She could marry Garth.

Be happy for Gar and Terra.

Move on.

Rachel inhaled sharply, watching Gar lift Terra’s veil. She could hear the antique baritone of the priest echo off the church walls, but she wasn’t listening. She fixed her eyes to the wall past the wedding ceremony.

She figured she had to pretend to look interested.

Rachel wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there. The priest’s voice suddenly paused, and Gar began to recite his vows. For a small moment, his automatic and empty tone comforted her.

“I promise to love, honor, and cherish…”

He should have been saying those words to her.

Violet eyes squeezed shut as she felt her eyes water.

She wasn’t the type to cry at weddings or at anything really. Rachel couldn’t let her emotions get the best of her in front of their friends.

She could cry later.

Preferably with a pizza and a bottle of liquor.

It was Terra’s turn to recite her vows. She spoke with tender emotion and optimism, and her eyes sparkled at her groom.

Gar deserved to be loved like that. Rachel could at least take comfort in the fact that Gar would be loved by someone who was determined to make him happy.

“Do you Terra Maria Markov take this man to have and to hold, through sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

Terra looked at Gar. Her red lipsticked smile beamed bright. “I do.”

The priest looked to Gar. “Garfield Mark Logan, do you take this woman to have and to hold, through sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

Rachel closed her eyes waiting for the two words that would seal the end of the their relationship. She could feel his eyes on her.

Terra cleared her throat. “Gar…”

Rachel’s head snapped up. He hadn’t said it.  

“Answer him.” Terra whispered.

SIlently, Gar looked to the ground.

The guest began to murmur.

“Son,” The priest whispered as he shook the groom’s sleeve. “Are you feeling okay? Do you need some water?”

Terra moved closer to him. “What’s going on?” She whispered, feeling panicked.

Gar kept his eyes to the marble altar floor below them.

“All you have to do is say “I do”.” She told him, feeling her eyes water. Her hands went to his chin, forcing him to look into her eyes.

Gar looked at her shaking his head.

“Say it.”

Rachel left lightheaded as she watched the scene in front of her.

“Garfield!” Terra shouted.

Gar sighed. “I can’t.” He whispered, pleading.