#i am never gonna resist the urge for a deep dive on that front

[landwriter]

i am sorry i was so close-

[nightowlfandom]

Prompto Argentum- Under The Waterfalls

These times may seem dark, but this too shall pass. I hope that I can work extra hard to brighten someone’s day throughout these next few weeks.

Masterlist here

Let’s Begin.

...

"You know what I just noticed?" you asked aimlessly to no one. It was probably one of the hottest days of the year and you and your friends had decided to just load up the car and take a drive somewhere. You didn't know if camping, hunting, chilling at the beach or whatever would come from this trip, but whatever happened was gonna be an adventure.

"What would that be?" Ignis chuckled from from front seat, already knowing what you were gonna say. It was a routine thing that you always did. You always found something about one of the guys you liked on a particular day. "What ever could it be this time?"

"Hold on, I'm thinking." you tapped your chin. "Gladio finally finished that 30 book series he was working on!" you suddenly said, looking over at the taller muscular guy who was nose deep in yet another book you probably didn't know the name of. "Ignis learned five new recipes this week! Noctis caught three rare fish in a row in the same place!" you continued.

"What about me?"

Prompto turned his head to look at you as he had been sitting in the front seat. He narrowed his eyes at you as if assuming you wouldn't have mentioned him in the first place. Call it paranoia, but you weren't too sure Prompto necessarily liked you. Sure he was nice and everything, but there was something about when you would try to talk to him. You didn't know if he just hadn't warmed up to you or secretly wanted you to get run over by a train.

"….Your hair is super floofy today!" you said. You resisted to urge to reach out your hand to touch it. "…and you have a Chocobo feather stuck too." you put a hand over your mouth to resist laughing too loudly.

"Huh?!?" he instantly turned away from you, looking in the side view mirror to see a large neon yellow feather stuck to the top of his hairstyle. "Awh man!" he groaned. "I'll ruin my hair if I try to take it out!"

"Then keep it in! I think it makes you look cool!" you commented!

"Really?" His tone had changed from partially annoyed to curious. "Like it works for me?"

"One hundred percent!" you replied.

"And that concludes thing 576 Y/N noticed today." Noctis joked, nudging your shoulder. "What will it be next week?"

"Now why would I reveal my secrets! That's something between me and well-….me!" you warned.

"Ah I see! A magician never reveals her secrets." Ignis laughed as he pulled the car to a stop.

"Camping…why am I not surprised." you grumbled lowly. There was a waterfall nearby the campsite. The water rushing through the river was crystal-like, clear as the cloudless sky. "At least it's not that disgusting swamp from last time."

"Yeah, I wonder whose idea that was." Gladio glared over at Noctis.

"It was the perfect fishing spot!" he protested.

You could only shake your head as you walked around to the trunk. You were about to grab one of the bags when a pale hand grabbed the hand before you could.

"I got this."

"Oh, Prompto! It's okay, I can carry it-" you tried to say.

" When a man offers you help, take it." was his reply. Without another word, he grabbed the other bag you had reached for then turned away, walking off to set up the tents. "Remember what happened last time." you could hear him mumbling. Of course he was referring to the time you grabbed something really heavy and took an entire ten minutes just to drag it along to the car.

"Right." you tried to laugh it off. You were left to your own devices after a while, the boys never asked you to help with anything. Them and their traditional ways. You tried to carry a cooler by yourself once, the next thing you know Ignis is scolding Noctis for letting you carry it alone. "Thanks for the tip." you mumbled sadly.

Okay, you may or may not have had a thing for Prompto since…well since you met him. You were really good at hiding it … from him. Only him in particular, he just didn't seem to like you much. Not even as an acquaintance. It felt like he only tolerated you because you were part of the team, but other than that. Did he even see you as a friend? Not in your eyes.

 (Meanwhile)

"You did it again, idiot." Noctis flicked his best friend in the back of the head. Prompto threw down the bags, turning to face the raven-haired male.

"What are you talking about?"

He motioned towards you who was currently having a chat with Ignis who was setting up the cooking station. It took Prompto a second to register what he was referring too. When he realized it, he wound up kicking something.

"AAH FUCK!" he snapped, realizing he rammed his foot onto a boulder in the process. "Damn it!"

"For someone who threatens us on the daily to stay away from Y/N, you're doing a terrible job of marking your 'territory'." He used finger quotes. You didn't belong to Prompto, not even a little. However, the way he talked about you to the others had them thinking he was living in a fantasy land when he said you were off limits.

He didn't intend to come off and rude and mean but for some reason, he always did when it came to you. He didn't know how to explain it, other than the way he knew best. Stay away from you and there wouldn't be any problems. Ignis however must have decided to ignore such a demand.

He could only watch in fury as you laughed at something Ignis said. It must have been real funny because you were holding your sides.

"That little….four eyed miscreant!

"…Do you even know what miscreant means?"

"Shut up!"

...

By the time night fell, you were far from sleepy. You snuck off from the campsite with a towel and a change of clothes. Alone time! Sweet! That sweet waterfall was just begging to be dived into. You tip toed around the tents and as soon as you were far enough, began jogging towards the lake.

You tilted your head to look up at the waterfall. You could see the moon peeking out from the mist of water that followed the falls down to the clear pool. You set down your stuff at the edge of the lake.

Off came your shoes, then your pants, then the shirt. You turned your head towards the campsite. You could barely make out the tents from afar. "It'll be fine." you unclasped your bra. "Not like they're gonna wake up any time soon." you mumbled, letting it fall to the grass. "Off you go demons." you let your undergarments fall to the ground. Without a second thought, you jumped into the water, making a huge splash. You just prayed none of your stuff got wet.

As you surfaced, you allowed yourself to just float for a moment. You stared up at the night sky, it was clear and cloudless. The stars scattered across the sky and the moon was so close you felt like you could touch it with your fingers. The moonlight shone down on the waters, casting a glow over you and everything around you. You waded over to the waterfall, moving behind it to peek out of the distorted lens. You reached out your hand to touch the falling droplets. You sat yourself on a rock, kicking your legs in the slightly warm water. Nothing could possibly ruin this peaceful moment-

"You should be sleeping."

You turned your head to the left, only to see a half dressed Prompto. Apparently he had found the back entrance to the lake. Both of you were hidden from the open space behind the falls, so it didn't worry you too much, but that didn't explain why he was here.

"HOLY SH-!" you instantly crossed your arms over your chest, covering your breasts. " What are you doing!?"

"Hey! It's only me!" You watched his and he unbuckled his belt. "And keep your voice down! You'll wake everyone up."

"D-don't take off your clothes!" you began freaking out. "I was trying to relax here!." you whined.

"Am I not allowed to relax too?" he pulled down his pants and threw them over a rock.

"Not when I'm practically naked!" you snapped. "Did you follow me?"

"I saw you leaving, I just wanted to make sure you were alright!"

"Why would you do that? " you scoffed, turning your head away from him. "You barely even like me." That also didn't explained why he was currently stripping down to his birthday suit!

"You don't know what I like."

"Well I know how you act towards me. It's enough."

Prompto peeled off what was left of his clothes and got into the water. His ducked his head under the waterfall, drenching his hair. He ran his hands through those blonde locks, washing all his stress away. He seemed to not be phased by the situation at all.  "You gonna stare at me all day or what?"

"Please. I wasn't looking at you." you lied through your teeth. Yeah, that was believable. You both were literally two feet away from each other, which was really close now that you really thought about it. You turned your head the other way. Whatever, no way in hell were you leaving.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said after a while.

"Very."

There was an awkward silence between you two. You had never been left alone with Prompto before, and especially not in the nude.

"Been a while since I got to just enjoy a night like this."

"Tell me about it." you replied with a laugh. "Seems like we're always busy with something. Wouldn't be surprised if we had something to do in the morning." you turned your head towards him to find him running his hands through his dripping wet hair.

"Don't jinx it, because it actually might happen." He cracked a smile for the first time since he got there.

"Just stating facts." you slowly turned your head so you were looking straight at him. Your arms were still crossed, forbidding him from seeing anything. "You know how Ignis is with his missions."

"Where the lie in that?" He joked, making you laugh as well. Prompto tried to not let his eyes wander. "Why did you run off anyways?"

"Like I said, this is probably the only time I'll have to myself for a while. I'm taking advantage of it." you shrugged. "Speaking of Ignis, he was talking about you today."

"About what?" He narrowed his eyes into a glare. "What did specs say about me this time?"

"It wasn't anything bad. He was just talking about you liking me or something." you giggled at the thought. "I was laughing because of how unrealistic that thought was. You'd think for such a smart guy, Ignis would make his observations more clear. No way in hell would the be possible, right?"

Prompto stared blankly at you. He went from staring to slowly taking a step, then another then another. It was almost predatory with how he was moving in the water.

"Uh….right?" you nervously laughed again. "P-prompto?" you tightened your arms across your chest to the point where it was starting to ache. You were slowly but surely growing more and more nervous.

"Wrong." were his last words before he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close to his warm body. He abruptly pressed his lips against yours. It felt kind of weird since he was anchoring his body over your arm, so you lowered them. Your felt your breasts push up against his broad chest as he comfortably tightened his arms around your waist. He was surprised how easily you melted into his touch but happy nonetheless. It took all your strength to not collapse against the rocks. You ran your fingers against his wet hair, gently pulling at each strand. You heart at this point was racing a million miles a minute

When Prompto pulled away, his entire face has flushed a deep pink color. Whether from embarrassment or lust, you couldn't tell. He stared down at you with hooded eyes and an unreadable expression. "You look so-…so damn hot right now."

The way your chest rose and fell so heavily, your innocent expression, those water droplets traveling down your neck, drip down your chest. "W-wait. Don't you have a thing for Cindy?"

"Used to." he corrected. "That changed a long, long time ago. Now all I can think of is you. All I fucking want is you." He began trailing prolonged sloppy kisses on your shoulder.  You tilted your head to the side to give him more access to your shivering skin. You absentmindedly wrapped your legs around his waist, giving him permission to go further with his actions. "I can see you feel the same way." he laughed. Only this wasn't his usual happy-go-lucky laugh. His voice was deep, vibrating almost. He almost sounded like he was growling with every word. "My question is…how far are you going to let me take this."

(….Yeah I couldn't finish this or else this would have been longer than a Game Of Thrones book. So what happens next is left to your discretion. See you next post.)

[king-finnigan]

For the mash up prompts: 55, Established Relationship and 69, Flirting Under Fire. Geraskier is my OTP, but I also feel like it'd be fun with any Witcher/Witcher pairing 😍

Sorry for the late answer, dear! I’m a bit busy with school right now, so anyone who’s still waiting for a reply, please bear with me! I will get to it eventually.

Also I did make this Geraskier, because I haven’t read the books or played the games, so I’m not entirely comfortable writing the other Witchers as major characters 😅

***

Of three things Jaskier is absolutely certain.

1. He regrets each and every action that has lead up to now, to the situation he has suddenly found himself in.

2. There are two pairs of eyes trained on him and Geralt, as they sit at the bar, one friendly, one hostile. Or both friendly. Or both hostile. He’s not sure of things like that anymore.

3. He loves Geralt. He really does. But his boyfriend might be the worst undercover cop he’s ever seen in his entire goddamn life.

As the son of the patriarch of the Pankratz family, he’s seen a lot of undercover cops - some better than others, yet no matter how good, all of them were found out by his dad, and got executed and dumped into the ocean. But none of them have been as bad as Geralt.

He really does wonder how the hell his boyfriend managed to get hired by the FBI, as Geralt looks at him, unease evident on his face - even though he’s supposed to seduce Jaskier - and says: “I- I like your... eyes. They’re... very blue.” 

Jaskier swallows thickly, hand tightening around the pint in front of him, as he fights the overwhelming urge to slam his head into the bar. He can feel his dad’s eyes boring into his back, and remembers the conversation they had earlier that day, when he pulled Jaskier aside, telling him he’s a hundred percent sure that their latest acquisition is an undercover cop - because of course he immediately knew Geralt wasn’t a criminal, big shocker - and that Jaskier needs to get close to him, find out what the Feds know about their operations and criminal activity.

He sighs, softly, trying to save Geralt’s awkward flirting, by shooting him a quick wink, putting on his most charming smile. “Thanks. My eyes are pretty special, though, they’re only blue when I’m looking at hot people.”

Geralt stammers, frowning a bit, mouth opening and closing like a fish on dry land, and Jaskier has to fight not to smack his forehead.

“But...” Geralt eventually replies “they’re always blue, no matter who you’re looking at.”

Now Jaskier has to fight the urge not to smack Geralt. He shoots a quick look over his shoulder, seeing his dad still staring at him. He turns back to his boyfriend who is actually not supposed to be his boyfriend at all. “Geralt, work with me goddammit. We’re supposed to seduce each other and it’s not gonna be believable if you say stupid shit like that,” he hisses.

“Sorry, I’m not good at this,” Geralt whispers back.

“Fucking clearly!”

He shoots a look over his other shoulder, meeting the other pair of eyes that keeps staring at them. Geralt’s colleague, another undercover cop. She’s been in the family a while, and his dad only keeps her around to feed her false information about their activities, to put the Feds on wild goose chases for drug or weapon deals that are never gonna happen.

Though, he knows that she’s aware that the information they’ve been feeding her is false, by now. That’s why the Feds sent Geralt - to seduce Jaskier, the brazen, gay wildchild of the Pankratz patriarch, and maybe get correct information about the family’s business. And she’s keeping an eye on them, to make sure Geralt does his job and doesn’t betray her or himself.

Little does she know Jaskier’s dad already knows Geralt’s a cop.

Because Geralt fucking sucks at being undercover.

He tries again. “Your eyes are lovely, though.” They’re one of the first things he noticed about Geralt when they first met, about a year ago, a few hours before they slept together for the first time. Neither of them had known about each other’s occupations at the time, and by the time they figured out that they were supposed to be mortal enemies, it had been too late - they had already fallen for each other.

“Thanks...” Geralt mutters, toying with his own pint “I... need them to see.”

Jaskier wonders how the fuck he ever managed to fall in love with this idiot.

But, then again, there hadn’t been any need for flirting, when they first met. They had instantly been attracted to each other, and talking just got in the way of kissing, really. And after that, Jaskier had fallen for Geralt because he always expressed his love through his actions, not his words.

So, really, deep down, he had already known Geralt would suck at flirting and would fail at ‘seducing’ Jaskier, especially with Jaskier’s dad and the other cop staring at them the whole time.

The question, really, is: how the fuck didn’t the FBI see this coming? Did they really think they could just put a hot man next to Jaskier, and he would immediately dive into bed with him and tell him all his family’s secrets?

Granted, that’s exactly what happened - a year ago, though. Not that the FBI knows. Not that they’ll ever know, hopefully.

He tries to summarize the situation for himself, as all these schemes and intrications have got his head spinning.

So, long story short: He is part of the mob, Geralt is a cop. They’ve been in a secret relationship for about a year now, and Jaskier’s dad expects him to seduce Geralt so they can find out what the Feds know, and the Feds expect Geralt to seduce Jaskier so they can get correct intel on the Pankratz’s activities.

Fucking marvellous.

He tries to have one more go at this ‘seduction’ thing, just to at least keep up appearances a little bit. “So, Ger-” he blinks, trying to remember his boyfriend’s undercover name “James. Is your hair white everywhere, or just on your head?” He leans his elbow on the bar, putting his chin in his hand, his index finger pulling his lower lip down slightly, looking up at Geralt through his lashes.

Just because his boyfriend sucks at flirting, doesn’t mean Jaskier can’t do it.

And, fortunately, it works. Geralt’s eyes flick down to Jaskier’s lips for a brief moment, as he shifts in his seat a bit, a blush creeping up his neck. “I- uh...”

Jaskier looks at him innocently, batting his eyelashes, exaggerating it so he’s sure his dad and the other undercover cop can see it. “I would love to find out.”

Geralt blinks again, leaning towards Jaskier. “You already know that, though.”

Jaskier sighs, once again resisting the urge to smash his head into the bar. “Geralt, I love you but you’re so fucking stupid. How the hell did you ever get hired by the FBI?” he hisses.

“I’m sorry, I’m just a bit stressed.”

“Yes, I can see that! The whole fucking bar can see that! This is never going to be believable if you keep acting like I’m holding you at gunpoint!”

“Oh, my bad, sorry I’m a bit nervous about this. It’s not as if your dad’s gonna execute me if he finds out I’m an undercover cop!” He sounds properly angry now, brows knitted together over furious amber eyes.

Jaskier scoffs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He already fucking knows, Geralt. You’re literally the worst undercover cop I’ve ever seen and the FBI sends us, like, a dozen a year. He’s only keeping you alive if I can seduce you - or, at least” he waves his hand non-committally “if he thinks I’ve seduced you.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to worry you even more, you absolute idiot! You’re already acting like someone shoved a stick so far up your ass it’s triggering your gag reflex!”

“You of all people should know that I don’t have a gag reflex!”

Jaskier blinks, raising his finger at Geralt. “I know that, and I love you, but that wasn’t my point. My point was-” he lowers his hand, frowning. “What was my point?”

He looks up when he hears his dad’s voice next to him. “Everything alright here?”

Jaskier smiles, leaning away from Geralt until he’s sitting upright again. “Everything’s perfectly fine,” he shoots Geralt, who’s still glaring at him, a warning look. “Right, James?”

Geralt stares at him for another second, before leaning back as well, smiling at Jaskier’s dad so unconvincingly it makes Jaskier cringe. “Yeah, everything’s great.”

The patriarch looks between them for a split second. “Right.” He looks at Jaskier. “If anything’s the matter, tell me.” He looks at Geralt, though his words are still directed towards his son. “I’ll take care of it, then.”

“Nope! Everything’s perfectly fine. Nothing to worry about.”

Jaskier’s dad nods, and walks away. Geralt glares at him again. “And I thought you said I was a shitty actor!”

Jaskier grits his teeth together, standing up abruptly, taking Geralt’s arm, dragging his boyfriend/supposed-to-be-mortal-enemy to the back of the bar, into his dad’s office, slamming the door behind him. “Fucking stop looking at me like you’re going to kill me! You’re convincing no one that you’re seducing me!”

“Maybe that’s a good thing!” Geralt half-shouts. “Maybe if I can’t seduce you, they’ll pull me out of this operation and things can go back to normal!”

“No, they fucking can’t! Cause if I can’t seduce you, my dad’s gonna have your head because you’re the worst fucking undercover cop in the history of the FBI!”

“I could just leave! I could walk out of here and never show my face again! Problem solved!”

“No! He’ll just track you down and kill you anyways, you mud-for-brains idiot!”

“Then what do you suppose we do? You pretend you’ve seduced me and then what? We can’t fucking keep this up forever!”

Jaskier frowns, thinking for half a second. “Then you just out yourself as an undercover cop and say you’ve switched sides! There! End of discussion, problem solved!”

“But I won’t switch sides!”

“It doesn’t fucking matter whose side you’re on if you’re dead!”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck me yourself, you coward!”

“I already am!”

Jaskier blinks. “Fair enough.” He laughs when Geralt leans against the wall and almost knocks a painting off its hook.

He stalks forward. “Gods, Geralt, you’re so fucking stupid.” He grabs his boyfriend by the back of his neck, pulling him closer, smashing their lips together.

Geralt groans in surprise, but immediately kisses him back, pulling Jaskier flush against his chest.

The door to the office opens, and Jaskier pulls back, meeting eyes with his dad, who’s standing in the doorway. 

“My apologies,” the patriarch says, “I didn’t realize you two were... busy.” He closes the door behind him.

“Right,” Jaskier mutters, as Geralt laughs softly. “Problem solved, I guess.”

[bluesfortheredj]

Sunday morning was truly your ‘me time’ and as soon as Ben went to his training session at precisely 9am, you got your yoga mat out, rolled it along the floor in the living room and stuck on your DVD to work along to. This was your weekly routine and you loved it, it set you up for a relaxed day of doing mostly nothing, and even Ben usually came back from the gym with a spring in his step.

“Ah,” you sigh happily as the routine starts and you do your warm up stretches along with the instructor on the screen.

You ease into the routine and soon get to your favourite pose which really stretches your back out in the most satisfying way, and your bum is high in the air as you settle in to the downward facing dog with a relieved sigh. Unbeknownst to you Ben stands in the doorway admiring the view after having his training session cancelled at the last minute, and he smiles to himself as he eyes your frame. His lower lip soon becomes trapped between his teeth as the sight of your peachy backside begins to stir something deep inside him, and his fingers start to twitch as they ache to touch it.

“Look at the arse on that!” he grins as he walks into the room and gives your bum a swift but satisfying smack.

“Benjamin!” you gasp as you drop to your knees and lift your head to look at him.

“Sorry love, couldn’t resist the peach that was calling out to me,” he winks.

“If my arse could call out to anyone, it would certainly not be you,” you reply as you try and hide a smile.

“And why not? We get along so well, I’ve seen it many a time when you’ve gone into the bathroom with the wrong towel and had to choose either the front or back to cover when you come out. I think we’ve built a good rapport, me and your bum.”

“Since when?!” you laugh.

“Since the beginning,” he sighs dreamily, then holds his hand out for you to take.

You slip your fingers across his palm then he grips your hand to help you get up from the floor and as soon as you’re up he gives your hand a quick yank, causing your body to fall against his. Your free hand lands on his broad chest and you gasp at the feel of his hips pressing into yours. There was no denying it, there was a chemistry between you both that had gone unexplored ever since you moved in, and the tension did get unbearable sometimes.

“I think you should get on the mat,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you try to hide your sudden need for Ben’s hands on your body.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” he smirks.

“It’s only fair I get a view of your assets as well...”

Ben runs his tongue along his lower lip as he grins at the thought, then nods and steps away from you towards the mat, and quickly assumes the position you were in only moments ago.

“Like this?” he asks as he wiggles his bum in the air.

“Minus the dramatics with the wiggle, yes, just like that,” you laugh.

“What do you think about my form, then?”

“You’re a bit wobbly on the arms... strong thighs though,” you say as you run your hand up the back of one of his legs until it lands on his bum cheek, “great buns of course,” you continue, then give his backside a sharp slap that makes him groan with pleasure.

“Damn (Y/N)!” he chuckles as he gets out of the position and sits on the mat with his legs stretched out in front of him.

“Was that a groan?” you ask with a raised eyebrow as he leans back on his hands and looks up at you with a definite seductive glint in his eye.

“Might have been...”

His lap was calling out to you and the more you stared at his thighs the more you wanted to sit on them and have his hands cup your backside as you rode him. The thoughts running through your head were making you fidget as you stood there watching his body as it waited for you to make a move.

“You’re on my mat,” you say as you try and resist the urge to straddle him.

“I am? Oops,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “guess you’ll have to move me.”

“Ben...”

“What?”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?” he asks as he tilts his head to the side.

You think about how you should answer the question but he sinks his teeth into his lower lip teasingly and suddenly all thoughts that this is a bad idea go out of your head and you find yourself sinking to your knees and shuffling your way up either side of his legs until you’re hovering over his lap. He sits himself up as his hands land on your arse with a synchronised slap, and your hands seem to have a mind of their own as they run up from his waist to his neck.

“You want this?” he asks as his lips graze against yours.

“I want this,” you exhale, then nudge your mouth against his before your lips press together in a heated kiss.

Ben’s fingers dig into the softness of your cheeks as he caresses them during the kiss and your hands work their way around to the back of his neck so that your fingers can brush through his luscious hair. His hands move up from your bum so they can slide down underneath your leggings and underwear, then he starts to knead your smooth skin roughly as you start to rock back and forth against his crotch.

“Shit,” he hisses against your mouth as his erection begins to grow beneath his joggers, “babe, stop.”

You stop moving and lean away from his face with a worried expression, but he shakes his head with a smile to reassure you it wasn’t anything bad.

“Sorry, I really need you to take those clothes off though because I’m about to burst through the seams of my jogging bottoms,” he grins.

“Of course,” you chuckle as he pushes your clothes down over your thighs and you stand up to take them off. He looks up at your naked bottom half standing over him, then licks his lips as you lift your vest off which is then closely followed by your bra, and quickly gets to wriggling out of his own clothes.

“Stay there,” Ben whispers as he swings his legs around so he can get onto his knees.

You look down at him with a confused look at first, but then soon throw your head back with a moan as he delves his face between your legs and starts sucking at your clit mercilessly. As you whine and whimper above him, your hands manage to find his head and your fingers grip onto his hair lightly as he sends shock waves throughout your entire body.

“Mmm,” he hums as his hands sneak through your legs and come up onto your arse cheeks, “oh yeah.”

It had been a while since you’d felt any pleasure like this; your toys could only do so much, and there was nothing quite like a wet tongue pressed against your sweet spot to make you scream, so it was no wonder that you were already feeling that familiar knot forming in your lower stomach.

“Ben, Ben, wait,” you pant as you give his hair a soft tug to stop him.

“Is something wrong?”

You drops to your knees in front of him and run your tongue along his lips to taste yourself, then shake your head in response to his question.

“I need you to fuck me,” you breathe heavily, then turn around to put yourself on all fours in front of him.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans as he eyes the sight of your dripping folds that are more than ready to take his length.

“Ben, I need you,” you repeat as he sits there in some kind of trance.

“Yeah, yeah I know babe, I need you too,” he whispers before moving himself behind you and taking his erection in hand.

He runs his tip along your middle before pushing himself slowly inside you until he’s completely disappeared inside your warmth and you both let out a whimper at the feel of it before he starts to move. Each time he pulls out almost all the way he smacks one of your cheeks quickly before diving straight back in, and the sensation brings the feel of your earlier impending orgasm back with a force, so you know you’re not going to last long.

“So soon?” Ben pants as he feels you tightening after only a few minutes.

“It’s your fault,” you whine.

He chuckles as he picks up the pace, the smacks coming thick and fast on your skin now, and you can only imagine what the bruises will look like afterwards; a painful yet pleasurable reminder of this encounter. You push back into him to help go as deep as he can and you soon turn into a moaning mess beneath him as your walls grip around his girth tightly then let go as a wave of fresh wetness washes over him inside you. His enthusiasm only heightens at the feel of you pulsating around his cock and he soon comes to his own climax as you whimper uncontrollably at your over sensitive core.

“Jesus,” he sighs as he pulls out once he’s ridden his orgasm out.

You collapse to the floor and he lays behind you so he can scoop his arms around your body and hold you against his chest as your breathing starts to calm, and you place your hands over his as you settle into his warm frame.

“I’m never gonna be able to look at this mat in the same way again,” he whispers as he kisses your hair.

So I have this headcanon that Ben is a total ass man. And I was wondering if you could write something where reader is Ben's roommate and is doing yoga and is in downward facing dog when Ben comes home and at first he just admires but then he can't help himself, he smacks her bum, and just really cheeky flirting that leads to smut?

@peachllobotomy @lv7867 @aynsleywalker @wolfgirlxslytherin @pink-lemo @painthatiusedto @n3shama

[elsaclack]

Prompt Request: 'You know I can't do that' Jake to Amy in as soft a voice as he says to Pam in Casecation. Hope you can get to it! Thank you in advance! All the love! ❤️❤️❤️

HI SO

I KNOW YOU SAID YOU WANTED ANGST AND I TRIED TO MAKE IT ANGSTY BUT i couldn’t resist,,,,,,,,The Action™

I HOPE YOU LIKE IT FHASDLKFJ

The thing is, when she first decided to pursue a career in the NYPD, Amy had no idea just how damn dramatic her life would get.

Like, she’d expected car chases, maybe a few shootouts. A handful of kidnappings and murders, and maybe, if she played her cards right, a big-name serial killer that would propel her through the ranks like a rocket launcher. She’d expected the action-oriented drama. She’d relished in the idea of it.

She hadn’t expected Jake.

Maybe if she had, she wouldn’t be familiar with a hollowness so bone-deep it left her whole body aching, sickly and spent, helpless to do anything but cry as armed guards led him away in handcuffs. She wouldn’t know the exact degree the moonlight slants through the windows along the far wall at 4 o’clock in the morning - the only thing to focus on outside of her own spinning anxiety with Jake gone, not in their bed, sleeping in a narrow prison bunk thousands of miles away. She wouldn’t know the gnawing fear of loss and loneliness always lurking in the back of her mind, even with him settled right beside her; she wouldn’t know the exhilaration of love in its purest, most simple form.

Maybe if she had, she wouldn’t be chained to a steel railing on the upper floor of a bank with a live bomb strapped to her chest right now, an hour before their wedding is meant to start.

(But then again, Dario was her perp - so maybe she’d have ended up here all the same.)

Sweat is beginning to drip in earnest down the small of her back and she squirms, trying and failing to bend her neck in such a way that will allow her to catch a glimpse of the steadily-beeping timer protruding from the front of the bomb. The chain winding tightly around her torso loops around her neck, too; even just turning her head a degree presses the links against her throat, cutting off her airway. She feels herself choking and lifts her chin again, eyes falling shut of their own volition at the responding ache of her tender head. Her arms are pinned, the railing unyielding, and even with her legs sprawled out freely before her, she’s never felt quite so trapped before.

She has no idea how long she’s been here. She has no idea how long she’s been missing in general - it was still early in the morning when Dario attacked her, whacking her in the head with what she could only assume was a heavy metal pipe based on the metallic clang still ringing in her ears. Her memories are foggy, coming in pieces and waves - the stench of a musty apartment, a terrifying wall of photos of her with her eyes scratched out, the pale and frightened face of a child, Dario towering over her, blackness.

And now, the upper floor of a bank, chained to a steel post bolted to the marble floor.

Commanding voices are shouting instructions downstairs and she closes her eyes, imagining the scene in her mind. She only knows it’s a bank from the teller’s voices echoing up here and the panicked 911 call that followed her screaming for help, but she’s responded to this kind of scene before - a dozen civilians, a few employees, and the full force of the squad decked from head to toe in riot gear now storming the building.

(The last time she was in a bank like this, Jake ended up in prison. Bank jobs have never been kind to them. She tries not to think about it.)

There’s a method, a process, and she’s followed it enough times to know that by the time someone makes it to this wing of the second floor, it will be too late.

It’s the first time in her life she genuinely hopes someone will break protocol.

Heavy booted footsteps pounding up the marble staircase some fifteen feet in front of her snap her back to attention - sure enough, the moment her vision focuses, she spots the familiar shape of an officer in riot gear sprinting toward her. The officer casts his semi-automatic aside blindly, like it’s some cumbersome annoyance instead of a literal lifeline in the event of an armed attack, and dives toward her, skidding to a stop on his knees just inches away.

It’s here that she gets a look at his face.

It’s here that she regrets everything.

“Jake,” she croaks, voice strained around the chain links digging into her neck. His body is visibly taut with tension as he carefully removes the bomb’s cover, eyes moving with practiced precision as he quickly studies the inner workings. “Jake, Jake -”

“It’s okay,” he tells her in a calm, rehearsed voice - his calming-the-victim voice, a surefire sign that he’s lying. And of course he is, how can it be okay, there’s a bomb strapped to her chest and a timer steadily moving closer to zero. “I’m gonna defuse this thing and get you outta here -”

This is the first time she’s seen him since she left their apartment this morning - he’d been half-awake then, still in bed, smiling serenely when she’d bent to kiss his forehead. He tried to convince her to stay in bed with him a little longer but she’d resisted, somehow reasoning that all the last-minute day-of-wedding errands were more important than staying with him.

She can’t remember why, now. It seems so far away.

Jake’s face radiates concentration, shining with a thin sheen of sweat that glistens in the late afternoon sun emanating from the first floor over the balcony behind her. He carefully moves the wires, fingertips just barely brushing against them, and each high-pitched beep from the timer has her closer and closer to the edge of pure panic.

Judging by the frustrated growl he releases as he rips his earpiece out of his ear and his helmet off altogether, she’d venture to guess she has less than a minute left.

The panic is closing in quickly but she fights it, chin lifting slightly in an effort to gulp down more air. “It’s too late,” she rasps, and Jake blinks down at the exposed wires rapidly. “Jake, it’s too late, you need to get out of here before this thing goes off -”

“Not a chance, Santiago,” he snaps. “Not without you.”

“Please, Jake,” her voice is ragged. “Get downstairs, get to safety. Please.”

For the first time since reaching her side, his eyes flick up to her face. “You know I can’t do that, Ames,” he says softly.

The panic in her chest squeezes mercilessly around her heart.

He quickly reaches into one of the small pockets on his vest and produces a small pair of scissors, already entirely refocused on the control panel before him. “You trust me?” he asks breathlessly.

Despite the terror quaking in her veins, she nods wholeheartedly.

He clenches his jaw and reaches inside the panel with the scissors, and in the split-second of silence between heartbeats, she hears the tell-tale snip of the blades slicing through a wire.

She holds her breath, but the next beep of the timer never comes.

And all at once Jake is collapsing backwards, the tension leaving him in a rush, and Amy’s borderline sobbing with relief. The chain around her neck pulls tightly and it distorts her voice, but she’s never been so far from caring.

She feels him back at her side before she sees him, his hands firm and steady where they lift her, adjusting her position to alleviate the pressure on her windpipe. “Easy,” he says, voice thick and unfamiliar in her ears. “It’s okay, Ames, just relax. The bomb squad’s on their way up to get this thing off’a you, just try to relax…”

He rips his gloves off with his teeth and strokes her hair soothingly, resting his forehead against the side of her head until they hear footsteps pounding up the staircase before them. The bomb squad converges quickly, and Jake is forced to shuffle aside to make room for them. He doesn’t go far, though; she can still see the shape of him hovering behind the officer to her left, one hand over his mouth, foot tapping against the floor.

The straps of the bomb fall away, taking the weight of the world with them, and then her vision is full of Rosa shoving her way through bomb squad officers with bolt cutters in hand. It takes a few tries, a few grunts of effort from Rosa, but before long the chains are falling away, too.

And the moment they do - before they’ve even fully hit the floor beneath her - Amy is on her feet and flying into Jake’s arms.

He sweeps her up in a bone-crushing embrace, lips and nose pressed against the line of her shoulder, and for a brief moment she’s sure they’re both at risk of floating away from the utter relief of it all. Her head still aches and her throat isn’t much better, but none of that matters when Jake heaves a shuddering sigh and gently tangles his fingers in her hair. “I love you, Amy, I love you so much,” he mumbles hoarsely into her shoulder, and her toes barely brushing the floor. Her exhale escapes like a high-pitched keen and his fingers tighten in her hair. “I’m so glad you’re okay, oh my god I was so worried, you just - you weren’t at any of the places on your list and you weren’t answering your phone and -”

She lets out a quiet whine and the fingers fisted in her hair loosen and begin to gently stroke. “Thank you,” she whispers, and he nestles even closer.

The EMTs converge less than two minutes later, and she has to bite back the urge to fight them off for one more moment. He seems just as reluctant to let her go as she feels - he stays close, even after she’s been hefted onto a gurney, his hand squeezing hers firmly down the stairs and into the back of an ambulance.

Head wrapped in bandages and mind made fuzzy with painkillers wasn’t quite the way she imagined her wedding night ending - but that’s alright, she thinks. Because despite the bandages and the painkillers making her unsteady on her feet, she’s positive no one will ever feel as beautiful as she feels with Jake looking at her like that. Terry’s arm is steady and solid beneath her fingertips - an added precaution should she go down partway down the hallway-turned-makeshift aisle, definitely more out of necessity than tradition - and even though the sterile walls and linoleum tiles are a far cry from the Gina Linetti-approved decor currently adorning the rec center on the other side of town, Amy can’t find it anywhere in herself to care.

Judging by the overjoyed twinkle in Jake’s eyes as he takes her hands and pulls her close, she’d venture to guess he feels the same way.

When she decided to pursue a career in the NYPD all those years ago, she hadn’t expected to be married in a hospital hallway, concussed, relying on her goofy partner - no, her goofy husband to hold her upright as her head spins violently. She hadn’t expected the family her squad has become for her - she hadn’t expected the love that now permeates every aspect of her life.

She hadn’t expected Jake - and she’s never been more thrilled to be so thoroughly caught off-guard.

[riverdalepoet]

I’ve Got You (part 4)

Word Count: 1957

Warnings: language, depictions of violence, abuse, and injuries

Tag List: @romanticgumchewer  @serpentlullaby  @chipster-21  @lilhemmo  @reblogserpent

A/N: Leaving Callie alone when she needed him is eating at Pea, but it forces them to break down some walls that leads to a big conversation to be had...in the next chapter.

        The next chapter will be BIG and is coming soon, so keep your eyes peeled and make sure you’re added to the tag list- message me to be added.

         Reblog and leave comments. I own nothing aside from Callie.

Chapter 1        Chapter 2       Chapter 3

______________________________________________________________

               Calloway wasn’t wrong. However good his intentions might’ve been, he was sure as hell gone and that killed him.  Afraid of what might come out if he stayed any longer, he slammed the door in her face when she needed him most for the second time. “Why do I no longer have pancakes in my hand, Sweet Pea, and where are we going?” Fangs asked, struggling to keep up with Pea’s pace.

                 “Out,” Sweet Pea mumbled through gritted teeth.

                 “Oh good- out.  I love it there.”  Sweet Pea ignored his comment heading towards the only shady dive bar on the Northside. He knew they wouldn’t card him there. “Are you gonna tell me why we’re drinking at eleven a.m. or am I gonna have to keep playing this fun little mystery game you thrown me in?”

                 Sweet Pea downed his first glass and slammed it back down on the counter signaling for another.  “How about you don’t ask any more questions and I’ll pay for half of your tab?”

               Fangs scoffed in reply, “If you’re trying to shut me up….it’s working.  Hey, can I get a scotch please?”  They stayed at the bar until Toni text them that it was time to go. Once Toni caught his eye when they arrived, he knew that she knew.  “Fix it,” she mouthed at him before turning her attention back to her girlfriend and her big moment.

                 Sweet Pea barely noticed when FP announced Jughead as their new leader or when Cheryl got her cherry-red jacket.  He tried his best to stay in the moment, but his mind was about ten miles away.  “Wanna grab another drink before we go? We’ve got our bikes back.” Fangs elbowed him in the ribs bringing him back to reality.

                 With a slight jerk of his head towards the lot where he hadn’t realized his bike was, he nodded.  “You go ahead man, I think I’m done for the day.”  Fangs ran off to where Cheryl was tapping the keg as Sweet Pea mounted his bike.  As it roared to life beneath him, he made a mental note to thank whoever was responsible for retrieving their motorcycles.

                 He thought seriously about taking the long way back to the Andrews’ home but quickly decided against.  Whatever damage he had done wasn’t going to fix itself. With his morning buzz wearing off, he was feeling the regret that had been creeping up on him all day.  Mr. Andrews met him on the porch with crossed arms and a stern look that didn’t quite match the kindness still shining in his eyes. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but she has convinced herself that it’s entirely her fault. Now I’m not an expert, but considering that guilty look on your face I’d bet that you could share a good chunk of the blame right along with her.”

                 Sweet Pea’s stomach churned at the idea of her, still in pain, shouldering a burden that he left her with.  “Mr. Andrews, I didn’t-”

                 A firm hand clapped his shoulder and stopped him mid-sentence.  “It’s not my business, but I hate to see anyone beat themselves up like that. Does she always do that?”

                 The teen smiled wistfully, “Yes sir, she’s got a knack for it.”

                 “I figured as much…Just go make it right with her. The two of you are good together.” Sweet Pea nodded and Fred ushered him through the door.  “I’m gonna go upstairs for a while.  Holler if you need anything.”

                 He hesitated in front of the door, afraid to face what he hurt on the other side.  Calloway had been asleep since Toni came in to make her take her medicine. She felt horrible for what she said to Pea and was convinced him leaving was a sure sign that history would repeat itself, so when Mr. Andrews suggested she needed to manage her pain, she went ballistic.  Toni was patient but firm and finally persuaded her into believing that sleep would be better than sitting there waiting for the ball to drop.  When the drowsiness became too much, she shrugged off her jacket and slid under the covers.

                 Sweet pea’s eyes landed on her sleeping form right as she flipped to her other side.  Her sudden movement caused the bottom edge of her shirt to ride up revealing the shocking blues and purples that painted her abdomen.  He knew the general severity of her injuries, but he hadn’t seen the bruises hidden under her shirt and couldn’t imagine they would have ever been this bad.  The Ghoulies couldn’t have been just out to hurt someone that night, they clearly wanted to send a message and he wasn’t there to stop them.  Before the shame burst from beneath the surface, he turned on his heel out the front door and to the side of the house.

                 Shaky hands dug quickly in his pockets to pull out a crushed pack of Marlboro Red’s and a beat-up lighter as he leaned against the firm frame of the home. When the first drag filled his lungs, he let out a ragged breath.  His mind wandered instantly to why he fought her so hard on that damn guitar, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

                “Callie, I can’t do it,” Sweet Pea giggled at her flustered face.  She was trying so hard to get him ready for the middle school’s talent show, but it was no use.

                 “Of course you can, Pea, you just have to really focus on where you put your fingers.  You’re just playing around.”

                 Sweet Pea shot her a pointed look, shoving the guitar in her hands.  “I can focus all day, Callie, my fingers are too clumsy.” She sighed in response making him laugh again.  “You know I’m right. Play something for me.”

                 A faint blush crept onto her face.  She still wasn’t used to playing for anyone other than the trailer park cat that roamed the lots at night. “Like what?”

                 Sweet Pea didn’t care what she sang for him. As soon as the melody started, he knew he would be hooked.  She would have his complete attention and adoration with every note until the very end. That’s one thing that never changed.

                 He hadn’t realized he was crying until Betty and Jughead walked up looking concerned.  He swiped furiously at his eyes and stubbed his cigarette out on the hell of his boot.  “What the hell? Are you sick or something?” Jughead scoffed.

 Betty sent a sharp elbow into his side making him backtrack.  She reached out for Pea’s arm to keep him from bolting away.  “Is something wrong with Calloway?”

 He shook his head trying to keep his composure but just the mention of her name had tears spilling onto his cheeks against his will. “I can’t seem to figure out how to fix this. I just want to take it away for her. This never should’ve happened.”

 “Pea…”  Betty murmured, motioning for Jug to back her up. “She just needs time.  You are exactly what she needs right now.  Jug says he’s known about Callie as long as he can remember and he has never seen her open up to anyone like she does you. All you have to do is be there.”

 Jughead stepped forward looking Sweet Pea square in his eyes.  “I remember before you joined up when Callie’s mom and my dad used to drink together nearly every night.  Around the same time, they’d head out, I always saw you walk three trailers down to her. You never let her sit there alone.” Jughead looked at Betty out of the corner of his eye and she nodded in approval.  They had discussed the idea of bringing this up to Sweet Pea but wanted to wait for the right time.  “I want you to know that Callie has our full protection.  I’ve already given the orders.  I don’t want you thinking you have to keep her safe all on your own.  Focus on her, man, we won’t let anyone touch her ever again, I promise you that.”

                 “I- I really appreciate that, Jones,” Sweet Pea reached for his hand to shake it.  Jughead and Sweet Pea didn’t always see eye to eye.  They had a rough start and Sweet Pea constantly challenged his decisions, but in this moment they both felt like brothers fighting the same battle for the same side.

                 Betty stepped back towards her boyfriend once Sweet Pea regained his composure and smiled at him before saying, “You know, Jug and I could sit with her for a while if you need a breather.  We don’t mind.”

                 Sweet Pea shook his head and looked back towards the front door.  “Thank you, but I really don’t want to be away from her any longer than I have to.”

  The couple nodded as Jughead waved.  “If you need anything, Pea, just call.  We’ll do whatever we can to help.”

 With that Sweet Pea said his goodbyes and rounded the corner of the Andrews’ home hauling himself up the front steps. This time when he opened the door to the guest room, he found Calloway awake.  When her eyes landed on his face, they welled up with tears. He hesitated at the door resisting the urge to go to her still struggling with the fact that he was the one to make her feel this way.

                 Bare legs dangled from the edge of the bed moving to stand, but Pea was quick to stop her.  “Hey, you,” he murmured reaching for her hand.  A timid gasp escaped her mouth as the bed sank under his weight.  “I’m sorry, angel.”

                 Callie took watery breaths trying to keep herself from falling apart.  “I didn’t mean it… Sweet Pea, I swear I’ve missed you so much.  I was just upset and scared and I…” Her rambling turned quickly into sobs and had Sweet Pea pulling her to him.  He tucked her head securely under his chin taking a deep breath of his own.

                “Callie, it’s okay.  You were right.” He stroked her hair thinking back to the bruises littered across her abdomen.  “Baby, you know you can talk to me about anything, right? I know what happened to you was awful and I don’t want you struggling with that on your own.”

                 Callie wrapped her arms around Pea pulling herself as close to him as she could.  Taken aback by the sobs that wracked through her body, he let a few tears of his own spill over and pulled back slightly to look into her eyes as she spoke, “I don’t want you to think less of me, Pea, it’s…it’s just too much.”

                 She shrunk at the sight of his red face and puffy eyes and the brokenness in his voice that peaked through for the first time since his mother left.  “I could never think less of you. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. I just want to know how I can fix this for you, Callie! I wasn’t there to stop it. I should’ve been there, I’m so sorry.  I’m sorry, Callie this is my fault,” he cried, shaking with every breath. Callie lifted her hands to either side of his face wiping away the tears and holding him steady like he had done so many times for her.  Her eyes swept over the pain evident in his tear-stained face.

               After a few minutes of contemplating she straightened her shoulders pulling him into her. They sat that way for a while, holding each other together.    Her small voice rose over the sniffles and hiccups that echoed in the stillness of the room.  “I think I might be ready to tell you what happened.”

[naturepointstheway]

“Hospital Detour” (Life is Strange)

The only reason Max is visiting the hospital where a now quadriplegic Chloe is residing is thanks to her mother's work's conference, located in a time and place that was convenient for them to swing by the hospital. Max would rather have partied and handed out pot brownies than come all the way down here just for her parents' conference, but her parents insisted on the visit, and so Max has no choice but to be forced to confront her childhood friend's new disability, and the fear that things will be too awkward and different. To her relief, their old friendship is quickly rekindled despite an awkward relighting.

A slight AU of the alternate timeline in Life is Strange.

*****

Max leaned her head against the car window in the backseat, staring out at the passing scenery, ignoring her parents’ bantering as they sped along the road to the hospital where Chloe was still residing, even several weeks past her horrific car accident. 

I’m so uncomfortable right now. She’s disabled, and how the hell am I supposed to act around disabled people? And of course my parents decided I should come along with them this weekend, just because we’ll happen to pass the hospital where Chloe is. 

She’d had a party this weekend, and had promised to bring along some pot brownies for the shing-ding, but of course that wasn’t happening now. She’d had to quickly dash her brownies in a rubbish bin outside some old lady’s house. At least that way she wouldn’t get busted by her parents if they nosied through her stuff. The old lady was on her own, though.

It’s not that I don’t want to see Chloe, it’s just, how the fuck am I supposed to talk to her? 

What do you say to someone who’s been recently completely paralysed from the neck down? What was she going to say to her? What could she say? 

“Oh hi, Chloe, I hope you’re feeling better and able to get back to normal life soon.. We should totally go sneak into a concert reserved for people eighteen years and over. To the moshpit, amirite?” 

Yeah, right. Like that was going to happen. And what should she say about her own life? 

“Oh yeah, by the way, I was able to take a fun skinny dip the other day. Was drunk as hell though. Stepped on a dead jellyfish. Pretty sure my whole body was on fire, it was that fucking painful.”

Or: 

“Oh man, I am so exhausted from all the dancing last night. My legs are sore, but man, my whole body is still electrified from the concert. You should try it sometime. Raves are amazing, they get my whole body movin’!” 

Yeah sure, remind Chloe that she can’t move at all, let alone feel anything in her body. 

Even I’m not that kind of bitch. 

“Mom.” 

Vanessa Caulfield shot her a glance through the rear view mirror. “Yes?” 

“What the hell am I supposed to say to Chloe?” 

“Just be yourself, Maxine.” 

Max rolled her eyes with a groan. “Ugh. So helpful.” 

“We are doing you a favour taking you with us to see Chloe. My conference had the perfect timing.” 

“Yeah. You told me that before.” 

“Just say you’re glad she’s with us, and I really do hope you did send her a letter?” 

A shrug. “Just a little one.” 

“We sent her a postcard the other day. Her parents called us and were very appreciative of the gesture. Chloe is a sweet girl. Just because she’s disabled now doesn’t mean she’s not Chloe anymore, do you understand?” 

“She can’t be very Chloe if she’s completely paralysed.” 

“Of course she is. She’s an angel.” 

“Sure, mom.” 

“You will be nice, Maxine. She’s still your friend, isn’t she?’ 

I guess so, if sending her a quick email or letter on the rare occasion I remember counts as being friends with someone. 

“Yeah. Totally.” 

“I know you’re uncomfortable about seeing her after her accident,” Max’s father, Ryan, added, “But she will appreciate your visit. Unfortunately, it’s not uncommon for people to lose all their friends after trauma that leaves them severely disabled.” 

No shit, dad. People are assholes. 

“Sure, dad.” 

“I’m serious, Maxine. She’s going to need all the friends she has left.” 

Vanessa added, “Her parents mentioned over the phone that Chloe’s friend, Megan, visited her a few days after the accident and never came back, except for a postcard.”

“Well, a postcard is something , at least.” 

“A visit is far more treasured, I would imagine, sweetheart.” 

Sure, but if that visit is full of awkward silence, you may as well just never have visited at all. 

Awkward silence. That’s what she was afraid of. If she had it her way, she’d be more than happy to have continued staying in Seattle, never visiting Chloe, taking the easy way out of having to see her at all. At least, with letters and photos of road-trip selfies she didn’t have to see her for reals in front of her. She wouldn’t have to fully confront the reality of Chloe’s disability, knowing she would never be able to do anything, no matter how very basic, for herself ever again. It was the easy way out, the chickenshit way out, to just stick to communicating via the written word with Chloe. If it made her a sucky, rubbish, crap friend, then so be it. She was a sucky, rubbish, crap friend. It seemed her parents thought so, or at least were trying to make her feel so. Whatever worked for them. 

No way will they guilt trip me about Chloe. 

“Slow down, dear,” Vanessa urged her husband, “The hospital’s on the left, straight down that street.” 

“On it. We’re going to see Chloe very soon, Max.” 

Welp. Guess this is it. Time to be awkward as fuck. 

 *******************

Max hated hospitals; they struck her as sensory overload at the best of times, with harsh white lighting, harsh white walls, harsh beeping noises from behind closed ward doors, and shrill ringing of the reception’s phone. She hated seeing sick people waiting for their already half-hour late appointment, the dark worry of mothers holding on to coughing, feverish, terrified kids, and the antiseptic smell that permeated absolutely everything . It made her want to gag, just imagining all the blood, antiseptic, needles, and tubes sticking out of patients bedridden and at the mercy of the nurses and doctors. Already bad enough for those patients with full use of their limbs. 

And their food is gross. So...ugh. 

Max had to hand it to the airplane industry: even their food was miles better than the most elegant fare hospitals had to offer. She couldn’t imagine Chloe having had to endure several weeks’ worth of gross hospital food in a row. 

Damn. Should’ve brought something along. Maybe one of my pot brownies? Okay, maybe not. I’d be banned from hospitals everywhere, probably. 

“Okay, there’s the receptionist,” Vanessa pointed at the reception right before them, “Let’s ask them where Chloe’s ward is, shall we, Maxine?” 

There’s no backing out of this now, is there? 

“Sure, mom.” 

It’s not that she didn’t want to see Chloe, like ever, but it... was like she didn’t want to see her at all. Not completely paralysed, that is. For as long as Max could remember, Chloe was all activity, all energy, all movement all the time. There was no slowing down with her, and the more the day wore on, the more energy she seemed to have, as though she were photosynthesising it straight from the sun like a plant. Max felt exhausted just thinking about how hyperactive Chloe could be. And now--

Completely still. Not able to move. Not able to dance in her boots on her own bed, swing high on the swings, climb as far up as she could into a tree, run along the beach with the wind in her long blonde hair, help her parents whip up some delicious pancakes at the kitchen bench, tear open her birthday presents with abandon, nor dive into the sea on a hot summer’s day just to swim up behind Max and take her down with her under the waves. 

It made Max’s breath hitch hard in her chest to even dwell on the idea of all that energy in Chloe, always so boundless and infectious, now locked away forever in her paralysed body. 

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” her father queried, a hand on her shoulder. 

Keep it together. Let’s not embarrass ourselves, especially not here. Not in front of the receptionist, and especially not in front of mom and dad. 

“Just a little hiccup, I think,” Max lied, well aware how lame it sounded. “I’m fine.” 

Dad didn’t look like he believed her in the least, and nor did her mom, but--much to Max’s relief--they let it go, at least for now. 

Once the receptionist gave them the directions to Chloe’s ward, they headed on their way, Max trailing slightly behind her parents, pretending to the world that she was so not with them. 

Wonder how Chloe is taking all of this? God. I’m gonna embarrass myself. I feel so fucking weird around disabled folks. How the fuck am I going to greet her? Maybe I’ll just let mom and dad do the talking. That’s the safest thing. I won’t have to open my mouth at all. Here goes nothing…

 ***************

Part of her hoped they would never find Chloe’s ward, that they’d keep going down endless hallways and through doors leading into another corridor, leading them to give up and get back on the road. That way she didn’t have to face Chloe in such a state, and didn’t have to worry about having something to say. 

Weird. I’m never shy about anything. And now I am. What the fuck is up with my brain pulling a number on me like that? 

“Ah, there it is!” Ryan clapped a hand on Max’s shoulder, steering her ahead of him until they stopped in front of the closed ward doors. Max stared at it, throat suddenly dry. Hours ago, miles and miles of road separated her from Chloe, and now only a door stood in her way. 

Deep breath, Max. It’s only Chloe, right? Quadriplegic, but still Chloe. 

“Ready?” Vanessa murmured near her. “Maxine? Maxine, are you going to knock or what?” 

Great. They want me to knock, when they have perfectly functioning hands themselves. 

Resisting an eye roll, Max raised a fist and knocked, firmer and louder than she’d meant to, on the door, stepping back to wait for any response. 

Don’t respond. Don’t open the door. Don’t say anything. Be asleep, have no visitors, have no-one--

The door opened, revealing Joyce Price, looking wearier than usual, with bags under her eyes, but her face broke out into a glad smile all the same.. 

Dammit. 

“Maxine!” Joyce drew Maxine in to a tight hug, Max catching a glimpse of Chloe hooked up to several machines, staring up at the ceiling, unnaturally still, a breathing tube inserted into her nose. Max’s heart dropped at the sight of her old friend so still and hooked up to all the things, eyes fixed on the ceiling.. 

Shit. 

Joyce finally let go of her, hands dropping away from Max’s shoulders, turning to nod in greeting to Max’s parents. 

“Chloe was very grateful for your postcard, as were we.” 

“Oh yes, we do hope she is feeling better,” Vanessa said, wringing her hands, “How is your daughter?” 

“She’s...she’s alive,” Joyce said after a long hesitation, “She’s still with us.” 

“Is she in a stable condition?” Ryan asked in a low voice, eyes flicking over Joyce’s shoulder to look at Chloe. 

“Thankfully, she is. My husband is at work at the moment, but will be back to see Chloe later.” 

It was at this point Chloe spoke up from the bed behind them. “You know I can hear all of you?” 

Joyce touched a hand to Max’s shoulder, gently nudging her forward in Chloe’s direction. “Go on, Chloe has been hoping so hard to see you here. She hasn’t had many visitors other than William and me.” She turned to address Max’s parents. “I haven’t had lunch yet, will you join me, so we can let the girls reunite?” 

Great, I’m going to be left on my own in this. Thanks. 

“Why of course,” Vanessa said, ‘Max, we’ll be back soon, okay?” 

Max took a deep breath, eyes looking anywhere but at Chloe. “Sure, go ahead and have lunch. Bring me back a burrito or something.” 

“We’ll do our best, sweetie,” her dad nodded at Chloe, “Glad to see you’re doing okay, Chloe.” 

Max turned and watched her parents and Joyce leave the ward, closing the door quietly behind them. She was still staring at the door when Chloe spoke from the bed, voice hoarse and thick with fatigue. 

“Max?” 

Oh damn. I...I have to talk to her don’t I? What the fuck should I say? 

She didn’t want to turn around, didn’t want to see her childhood friend looking like...that. This was not the Chloe she remembered, running around in her favourite boots, skating outside and inside the house (despite her parents’ scolding), making up new moves to her favourite songs, and racing Max up and down the lighthouse stairs. 

“You look amazing from the back, but would be nice to see your face instead.” 

Here goes nothing, Max. 

Taking a deep breath, Max turned around to face the bed, taking in how Chloe lay so limp and still under the starchy white blanket, hooked up to the IV drip, the heart monitor, and god only knew what else. Her blue eyes looked huge in her white face, her lips parched and dry, dark smudges under her eyes. Max searched her face for any sign of the cheerful Chloe she used to know, but there was nothing but fatigue and sadness. She couldn’t even crack a smile at the sight of Max. 

“Take a seat,” Chloe invited, her voice dull. 

I can’t do this. I’ve never talked to someone this disabled before. What the hell do I say?

“Uh...sure.” 

Max pulled over a wooden chair, sitting down a couple feet away from Chloe’s bed. She looked down, scuffing her feet on the floor, fingers drumming a beat on her knees. Who’d have thought one of the most popular kids in her school could be silenced so soundly like this? 

Aaand, there’s the awkward silence. Called it. 

“Sooo, Max “awkward silence” Caulfield, nice to see you around.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” Max bit her lip, lifted her head up to meet Chloe’s eyes, seeing how glazed over they were from all the medication and malaise. “How’re you really doing?” 

“Shitty. Still completely paralysed from the neck down. You?” 

“Me? I’m...uncomfortable right now.” 

Wow, Max. Wow. You don’t just say that out loud. Come on, even you know this! 

“I mean, not because--” 

“Don’t bother. It’s because I’m disabled. Don’t blame you at all. I’d be the same myself.” 

“I have no clue what to say, okay? I haven’t had a friend disabled like this before.” 

“Anything but platitudes. Platitudes won’t unbreak my neck.” 

Got it. Anything. Just--omigod, Max, just say something! 

Maybe she should’ve had one of her secret magic brownies beforehand. Sure would’ve helped her. 

Max studied the side-tables on either side of Chloe’s bed, noting the get well cards, a couple of fluffy bears, a plush otter, and a snow globe with a doe inside--she immediately recognised it from Chloe’s room. Her parents must have brought it here for her to look at. 

“You’ve got a lot of cards.” 

“Yeah. Everyone says pretty much the same thing though. You know, get well soon, I’m sorry about what happened, and thoughts and prayers.” 

“People obviously care about you.” 

“All my friends visited me once and never come back. My parents have been here every day, as much as their work allows them to anyway.” 

“Maybe everyone else has been busy?” 

“If by busy, you mean never talking to me again, then sure, Max. They’ve been busy.” 

A beat of silence, Max desperately searching for anything else to say. 

So weird for Chloe to be so quiet. 

What she’d give right now for Chloe to be chatting so much at her just for a chance to tell her to zip it already before she uses up all the words in the English language. Or maybe she’d let her talk both her ears off, just for the memory and reminder of the old Chloe, who once skated downstairs on her skateboard and broke a wrist, and still refused to admit Max had been right to caution her against such recklessness. What she would’ve given to hear the old Chloe again, the Chloe who had gone through a massive space phase, followed by a dinosaur phase, neither of which Max had, unlike practically every other kid in America. 

Well, Maxine? You’re gonna have to be the chatty one now. Just pretend it’s school. 

Hah. Right. School. Where “disability accessibility” wasn’t anywhere in their vocabulary. 

“Those are...very fluffy bears and I like the otter,” Max offered a smile, “Otters are adorable.” 

“Like you. You’ve always been my otter in my water.” 

“Uh...thanks, I think? I see your parents brought the snow doe in here for you.” 

“My favourite.” 

“It’s pretty.” 

Another bout of silence, but Max was sure she could feel a little shift away from the dumb awkward silence to something perhaps a little more like...normal, she guessed. Something like the old days, though now it would never ever be quite like the “old days” ever again. Not with Chloe paralysed and bedridden. 

“Who brought in the bears? Do you like them?” 

“They’re...nice, I guess. Would’ve been nice to have a glowy punk bear.” 

I guess I know what to get Chloe for Christmas or a birthday then. 

“What about your shark?” 

“The one you tried to throw away?” 

“Oh god, you’re never going to let that go are you?” 

“Never.” 

Max allowed a quiet, cautious laugh. “I deserve it.” 

“You do. Sharks bite, and so do I.” 

“Can confirm. Still have the scar.”

“Shark wasn’t feeling swimmingly. Stayed home unfortunately.” 

“Bet the otter’s relieved about that.” A beat of silence. “So...any other gifts from people?” 

Chloe pulled a face. “Someone brought in a teletubby plush once. I demanded dad to give it to a kid who really needs it.” 

“What? Someone really gave you a teletubby?” 

Chloe rolled her eyes, staring back up at the ceiling.

Max gave a low whistle of disbelief. “I’m sure the kid was delighted to have a free teletubby. But... wow. ”

Jesus. Is that how people really act around disabled people? 

“You won’t be getting any teletubbies or purple dinos from me, just in case you were worried.” 

“Do that and I’ll punt you back to dinosaur doomsday. Somehow. I’ll find a way.” 

There’s the old Chloe. 

“Has there...been much improvement? Did they catch the person who ran into your car?” 

A deep sigh from Chloe. 

“Nothing.” 

Silence. Awkward fucking silence again. 

“Nothing, as in…?” 

“Hit and run.” 

“ Shit. ” 

“Psycho with enough cash to bail him out.” 

“That’s…” Max blew out a breath, “What the hell?” 

“No kidding. He blamed me. I wasn’t the one drinking and driving.” 

“The fuck? He blamed you ?” 

“Because I’m a teenager, and teens are always drinking and driving, amirite.” 

“I can’t see you drinking at all, Chloe.” 

“Because I’m still underage, Max, that’s why.” 

“Never stopped me.” 

Was that a twitch at the corner of Chloe’s lips? “Rebel.” 

“I’ve yet to go full punk. As if I would ever.” 

“Punk Maxine Caulfield. That would be the day.” 

Max grinned, already feeling a lot more relaxed than before. “With a purple and red Mohawk and tongue, nose, and eyebrow piercings. All the way.” 

Chloe stared at Max for what felt like forever, eyes flickering over her face and hair before turning her head away with the softest of laughs. 

I made her laugh. I actually cheered her up? Guess mom was right as usual. Not gonna thank her though, no way.  I have my dignity. 

“Sorry Max… but the image…” 

“Red and purple Mohawk. Tongue piercing. Arm length tattoos. Leather jacket. Faux leather, of course. I’m not about animal cruelty.” 

The soft huffing laughter died away, Chloe’s head stilling on the pillow, so motionless Max thought she might have fallen asleep, before there was a little sigh, quickly stifled, and she turned her head back to face the ceiling. 

“Guess that surprise visit to Seattle’s not going to happen, Max.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Chloe turned her head to gaze at Max again, eyes full of regret. “For your eighteenth. I--I was planning--” she cut off her sentence, eyes flicking away from Max, to stare down at the bedsheet tucked around her. “I had planned to surprise you with a visit in my car on your eighteenth. But...that’s never going to happen. It’s not fair, Max.” 

Shit. She’s sad again. 

Max stood up, moving to stand next to the bed, placing a hand on Chloe’s shoulder, knowing full well the girl wouldn’t feel a thing. Still, surely the gesture counted enough, even if she couldn’t physically feel it. 

“It’s okay, Chloe, really. This just means I have to surprise you with a visit on your eighteenth, right? Or twenty-first?” 

“Not the same, Max. It’s not like you’ve never been to Arcadia Bay.” 

“Still…” 

“I had planned it all out, Max. It would’ve been a weekend road trip and everything. Visit a few tacky tourist traps. Check out the art and culture scene. Visit Portland and buy a tonne of books at Powell’s. That sort of thing. But not anymore.” 

“We could still make it happen, right? Somehow? My eighteenth’s still like two years away.” 

“Not like I’ll be walking again, even though the doctors have promised me there’s a chance I could get some feeling back.” 

“Chloe! That would be amazing.” 

“I don’t believe a word of it, Max.” 

“Why?” 

“What makes you think they’re telling the truth?” 

“Uh…because they’re doctors?” 

“Doctors have been wrong before.” 

“Even so, getting back some feeling is better than nothing, right? And you’re healthy, you look after yourself and eat all the right things, right? You totally got this, Chloe, you’ll heal.” 

“I don’t think so. How can I live like this?” 

Has she even heard of Stephen Hawking? 

“Hey, if Stephen Hawking can do all that science while unable to move, there’s no reason you can’t. You’ve...you’ve heard of him, right?” 

Chloe gave her a narrow look. “Duh. Everyone has.” 

“Then you know how fucking awesome he is, even if I don’t understand any of his stuff.” 

“What he had isn’t the same.” 

“Still. I’m just saying, okay? And it’s not like you to just give up, Chloe. Shit, you’re literally the girl who told me not to let bullies see me cry, or they’ll win.” 

“Different time.” 

Never thought I’d see the day I’d be giving Chloe a pep talk. Guess there’s a first time for everything. 

Max let her hand slide down Chloe’s arm as she crouched, now eye to eye with her. 

“I want to ask you something, okay?” 

“Starting to feel tired, Max, but sure. Shoot.” 

“If it were me in your place, and I told you I want to give up, what do you think you’d say?” 

“Max, no, I can’t do that. I don’t want--”

“Just for a sec or two, alright?” 

“Why?”��

“What would you say to me, if I wanted to give up because some asshole injured me in an accident?” 

“I’d tell you don’t, because…” Chloe’s eyes were definitely duller, glazing over with drowsiness, “Because that means he wins.” 

Max moved her hand to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind Chloe’s ear. “Now that’s more like my Chloe. Take your own advice, nerd. Don’t give up, not yet, because if you do, that jerk has won by default.” 

“It’s going to be hard, Max.” 

“I’m not denying that. But you’ve always been a bold and determined person, and yeah, I always thought you talked way too much at three in the morning, but, Chloe, it’s your boldness that’s inspired and stayed with me. And I know you still have that drive to make the most of what you can in you. We’ve--we’ve always been Max and Chloe, right?” 

“...right.” 

“And the number one rule of Captain Bluebeard was that a pirate never gives up--you may as well just walk the plank.” 

Chloe’s eyes had closed fully, but there was a twitch at the corner of her mouth, the hint of what might have been a smile. 

“ And. ” Max let the word hang in the air until Chloe pried open one eyelid to look at her. 

“And what?” 

Max wagged a finger at her, face deadly serious. “If I hear you decided to give up anyway, you will not receive a VIP invitation to my first photography exhibition.” 

That did it. Chloe’s other eye popped open, and she eyed Max up and down. 

“You wouldn’t .” 

Max quirked an eyebrow. “Try me, Chloe Price. Just try.” 

They held the stare-down for several more seconds, before Chloe shook her head, eyes closing again. 

“Damn,” she breathed, voice no more than a sigh, “You’re hardcore, Max.” 

“ So hardcore. So punk. Just like you.” 

“You’ll...visit me again right? Soon?” 

“I’ll try, but I swear, I’ll keep in touch and I’ll send you photos of my funtimes.” 

“Oooh, funtimes, huh, Max? Will have to hide that from the ‘rents.”

“As in parties and road trips. You and your dirty mind.” 

“It’s the company I keep.” 

“I can’t promise I’ll visit you again in hospital, but I’ll do my best for you, okay? I’ll do anything for you.” 

A long pause, so deep in silence Max could hear the loud ticking of the clock in the ward interrupted by the steady beeps of the heart monitor and Chloe’s strained inhalations and exhalations through the breathing tube in her nose. Max was suddenly hyper-aware of footsteps hurrying up and down the corridor outside the door, the mumbles and raised voices of nurses and visitors and patients alike, and that goddamn shrill ringing of the phone at reception always going and going and going with no one ever answering.

Strange how a hospital could be so loud and silent in such chilling synchronicity. 

And then, there was Chloe’s voice a minute later, no louder than a whisper, heavy with a maturity far older than her seventeen years: 

“ Anything , anything?” 

What? What does she mean? 

There was something in Chloe’s tone that bothered Max, something serious, dark and heavy in its nature, too much for a sixteen-year-old girl to handle. 

No. I’m just analysing way too hard. There’s nothing deeper to see here. 

As long as Chloe kept fighting, as long as she was still a part of her world, Max could believe they would be okay. Even if Chloe ended up forever in a wheelchair, she’d still be with her, and damn right Max would wheel her past every single photo in her first ever exhibition when she finished high school. 

“Max? Promise, right? Promise you’d do anything , anything for me.”

“Yes, Chloe, anything, anything. I promise.”

[sheneversaid]

Father Taylor

Summary: You and Roger get very friendly in a church confessional

Warnings: Pure unadulterated smut that I’m not ashamed of, idk if there’s a priest kink but there now is, oral sex, unprotected sex, public sex, dirty talk,  domination if you blink.

Author’s note: Again so this was low-key inspired by this drabble done by @rogerscupboard it had been running through my head for a while and holy lord did I need to get it out of my head before I exploded. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this fic ;)

You entered into the church, pushing back the heavy, wooden door. It’s Sunday, long after Mass has ended and quite a while since anyone has come to seek forgiveness for their sins. You felt an eerie silence had washed over you the second you stepped inside the church, like it would usual when it was empty, You raised an eyebrow quizzically as you spot the young man you came here to meet, Roger Taylor - leaning casually against one of the pews, his back to you as he stares intently at the stain glass windows in front of him.

You cleared your throat to get his attention and he smirked knowingly as he turns to face you. “Can I help you with something, my child?” he asks - his tone and facial expression so serious it made you laugh. 

“Roger, what am I doing here?“ You asked him seriously, tilting your head to one side. "Why did you ask me to meet you in a church of all places?” 

Roger furrows his brow in mock confusion.“You mean why did you ask me to meet you here of all places, Father Taylor.” You rolled your eyes at him – breaking into a grin as you noticed the long, thick crucifix hanging from his neck. 

“I’m not calling you that,” you tell him. Roger pouts sullenly, giving you those gorgeous blue puppy eyes that you couldn’t resist. You sighed at him in response, giving in. “Fine, what am I doing here, Father Taylor?”

“That’s better,” he tells you with a wry smile.“Now tell me, have you been saying your prayers, young lady?“

"Roger,” you laugh, “I-.”

“I know you’ve been down on your knees a lot lately,” he interrupts, his face deadly serious, “but it hasn’t been to pray, now has it?”

"Roger!” You laughed, your face going slightly red as you hit him playfully in the stomach. “You’re terrible!" He raises a finger, silencing you with a scowl. 

“Father Taylor!” he corrects you. “And I’m as pious and upstanding as they come. You on the other hand, young lady, haven’t been so good. I think you need to step into the confessional with me and tell me all about what a naughty little sinner you’ve been…”

“Yeah, that’ll happen,” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you cover your mouth to fights off a chuckle. “How long have you been waiting here?” You asked, curiously. 

"About an hour, maybe two,“ he admits, "I had some nuns here with me earlier to keep me amused but since they left it’s been awfully lonely waiting on you all by my lonesome self.”

“Nuns?” You questioned, not believing him for a second but wondering where he was going with this. “You had nuns here with you, huh?”

“I did indeed,” he informs her, “Sister May and Sister Mercury were here with me before they ran off to go see the girls at Biba. At least that’s what they told me - the two of them probably ran off to Freddie’s house to snog or something. The two of them looked well gear in their nun outfits though, it’s a shame you missed it really. It certainly was a sight to see. They had on the whole get up, habits, crosses hanging round there necks, the whole nine yards.”

“Oh, really?”

“Ay,” he smiles, beginning to play with the cross hanging from his own neck absentmindedly, “s'true." You stifled a giggle as he smirks and pushed himself off the pew, stepping forward and closing in the last few inches between them - knotting his hands together behind your back after wrapping them around your waist. "But it’s just you and Father Taylor here now, love, and it’s time to confess your sins… and maybe commit a few new ones while you’re at it!” He brings a hand up to his forehead and quickly blesses himself before holding his hands together in a mockery of prayer. “Oh, bless me heavenly father,” he says, “for I am about to sin!”

“You’re a kinky bastard, Roger Taylor,” you tell him, “you do know that, right?” 

Roger laughs as he pulled you in closer. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, love.”

"Isn’t being a pervert a bad thing?” You asked, grabbing his collar, pulling him close - feeling his breath on your face, that alone drove you crazy.

“It’s a bad thing for you,” he saucily replies, smiling devilishly and licking his lips as he does so. 

“Oh, is it now, Father Taylot?” You asked, finally beginning to play along with the game - much to Roger’s delight. 

"Yes, it is,“ he says, his voice low and thick. "Very bad. Father Taylor is going to make you see stars, my love.”

It’s hot in the confessional booth. It always is - air restricted and unable to flow properly. Usually, it’s not so bad if there’s only one body, but the panting of two distinct forms, their heat twining and mingling, raises the temperature until sweat beads their skin, slicking their hair to their foreheads. Bruised mouths meet again and again, wet and desperate and searching, tongues tangling, and one of them moans. It was you, your hands fisting into light strands of sort, blonde hair and pulling, your legs falling open in shameless, silent invitation.

Roger tears his lips from yours. "How much do you want me to kiss you again?“ he breaths seductively as he places a hand on the back of your thigh. "Tell me." 

You take his face roughly in your hands, tugging lightly on the boy’s hair blonde once more. "So much.”

“And how much do you want me to touch you?” He purrs, moving his hand further up your shaking leg. 

"Oh, God, Roger so much,“ you manage to choke out. You drop your hands from his face and gradually lets them wander south. Roger moans at the delicate touch and kisses you forcefully. You two topple backwards, closing in the last few inches of room and hitting the back of the confessional with a bang. You groan as your back hits the wall and your hair falls forward onto your face. Roger grins and brushes it away from your eyes. 

"Alright, beautiful?” He asks. You break into a smile as he grinds up against you and presses a trail of urgent kisses from your earlobe down the base of your neck. You groan and bends your knees, allowing Roger to settle between your legs. He pecks you on the lips, before diving back in for a passionate, sloppier kiss. He pulls away quickly, a thread of saliva connecting their mouths. “And how much do you want me to shag you?” he asks, his voice so low and thick with arousal that you thinks it could drive you insane. 

“Too much,” you whisper. “Too bloody much, Roger.”

“Call me Father Taylor!” he urges, kissing you again. 

“No!” You chuckle, between kisses. 

“Yes!” he demands before sticking his tongue down your throat - effectively winning the argument in his mind. He’d been planning this for a while now if he was being honest with himself. Lying awake in bed at night - achingly hard at just the idea of getting a girl to do this with him - shagging somewhere so naughty. He’d never been fond of church and always loathed when his parents would drag him along to Sunday mass as a boy, but if the church could be this fun all the time, he thought, he’d be here every fucking Sunday - the most devout son of a bitch you’d ever bloody met. His breath hitches as you lean in towards him, rubbing your knee against his cock which is already starting to fill out and harden.

“Been fucking dreaming of this,” he whispers, but even that seems unnaturally loud in the stillness of the church.“Wanna lick your cunt so badly. You gonna let me? Gonna let me lick you dry, then fuck you in the middle of the church?” Your response is little more than a whimper as you place a hand on him, feeling the short, rapid rise-and-fall of his chest as he pants for breath he cannot fully get. Thoughts of how wrong this must be swirling around your head but then your eyes stare into his, seeing how they have darkened, pupils blowing wide from arousal and, fuck, you don’t think you had ever seen such perfection. Your lust quickly wins over, ending the moral battle raging in your head as you pull the boy’s shirt off and drops to your knees.

Roger’s arousal is evident as you mouth at his erection through his tight jeans. The fingers in your hair grip tighter, tugging, and a soft curse is uttered into the burning air. You listen to it, wondering how he can create such beautiful blasphemy, your fingers are eager as they undo the button and zipper of the man’s pants, dragging them down along with his underwear until you can lick at the hot, hard length of the cock that bobs at your face.

He groans your name, his hips rising, and you shush him gently. You lick at Roger’s cock again, tasting the burst of pre-cum, and then sucks the tip past your lips, enveloping it in the burning heat of your mouth. You slide forward easily, your throat relaxing, and swallows Roger down completely, moaning and digging your fingertips into the hips that buck desperately, trying to get closer. You suck in deep breaths, inhaling greedily. Roger is young, over-eager, his body raging with hormones that make him thrash and buck, uttering short, sharp phrases as his control almost completely shatters. He grabs a fistful of your hair – lightly tugging your back. 

“A priest can only take so much before he blows his load and unless you want Father Taylor to christen the back of your throat with his cum I suggest you let me have a turn getting you off, eh?” You snort at him, a mix of amusement and arousal in your voice as you tell him to shut up. He pushes you down onto the bench, his pants still around his ankles as he kneels down between your legs.

“What are your sins, my child?” he asks his voice deep and wrecked, rougher than usual. You scoff at his remark but he knows how it affects you, he can tell by your hitched breathing and the way you leans into him. You are getting nearly as into it as he is at this point. “Come on, tell me,” he insists between rabid breaths as he reaches under your skirt, pushing your underwear out of his way as he coils his fingers beneath the waistband. 

“I have lusted, Father,” you moan, finally playing along as a finger slips into you, spreading your legs for him in the dark, hot, cramped confessional. 

“What else?” he asks, desperate and yearning to know because even though he knows your ‘sins’, he still desires to hear them voiced. 

“I lust after a man,” you whimpers loudly, as Roger brings your legs up, grabbing behind your knees and placing them atop his shoulders, either side of his face. He brings a hand up, rubbing your breast through your blouse as he uses his other hand to finger you. Leaning back, you spread yourself open further for him when he sinks in with two fingers, leaning forward, lifting the skirt and flicking his tongue between your legs. Your whines are high in your throat as he tongues your clit, your head thumping against the wall of the booth. “He is older than me, and a priest; a man of the cloth and God. I lust after him still. I desire to feel his lips on my cunt, his dick inside my body. I dream of him and wake up sweaty and wet. I touch myself and imagine it’s him doing it to me,“ You surprised yourself by getting into Roger’s little role-playing game, stunned at how much it has begun to turn you on - knowing it’s doing the exact same to him.

Roger growls low in his throat, twisting his fingers inside you. He brings his other hand between your thighs too, rubbing your clit teasingly just so he can watch how his girl falls apart, crying out for him and shouting blasphemous curses until he is forced to stick his fingers in your mouth, letting you bite down on them to muffle the sound. You can taste yourself on his hand as he uses the other to fuck you – allowing you to rock back and forth on his fingers. Your eyes fall half closed, your body trembling and delirious from pleasure as you beg without words, still holding up one leg while the other falls down over Roger’s back.

“These are grave sins, child,” Roger rasps, pressing in with three fingers as you attempt to arch your hips to force him in deeper. You are so needy, so desperate for it, and Roger cannot bear to deny you or himself any longer, his dick almost painfully hard at this point. He pulls back, ignoring your cries of protest as he drags you to your feet and then lifts you effortlessly and holds you up against the wall. You brace yourself up, one foot on the bench and the other leg draped over Roger’s shoulder in a show of flexibility that makes him groan against soft, supple lips, claiming him with fierce passion as he sinks into the more than welcoming body.

“Fuck, God, Oh God,” you moans, your entire body shuddering and your hands clawing down the young drummer’s back, lines of pain that make the boy throw his head back and bare his teeth in a snarl before he dips forward for another claiming kiss, rocking up into you and swallowing down his sounds in an attempt to keep him quiet. It is late, and no one should be coming into the church at this hour, but you can never be too careful. Roger is brutal with his thrusts, fucking you into a stupor up against the wall of the confessional. The two of you have to fight hard to be quiet, each of you forcing your lips against the others when one of you gets too loud. 

In the back of his brain, Roger wonders if he should stop. Maybe he shouldn’t have even let it get this far? But he can’t stop it now, not really, it feels too fucking good. The thrill of a good, hard fuck is enough but doing it somewhere he could get caught and in a church no less? In his depraved mind, this is just too hot and he quickly dismisses any thoughts of guilt due to the overwhelming urge to get off. Who the fuck needs heaven? He thinks when this is so much better. He loves every minute of it, thrusting up into you in a euphoric daze, giving you all he has.

Roger makes a small choking sound that catches in the back of his throat, almost forgetting how to breathe as he thrusts deeper and harder inside of you, forcing you roughly against the wall of the booth with his hips. This is wrong, so wrong, you think, you need to end this now, but when you open your mouth to tell Roger to stop, something entirely different comes out. 

“Please! F-fuck, Roger, please! Don’t stop, God, please don’t stop!” Roger’s mouth falls open but no sound comes out, too strung-out and dazed as he feels you furiously sliding up and down his length, hot tightness completely enveloping him. Roger throws his head back and hisses. 

“Fuck, so fucking-” he begins, but the rest of the sentence is lost in a groan as he continues to rock his lips against yours. The moans that escape from your lips echo loudly in the empty church as Roger picks up his pace- neither really bothering to be quiet anymore as the booth begins to creak and you knots your fingers around the crucifix hanging around Roger’s neck for leverage. 

"Roger, Roger please, God, please, Roger,” you chants, the name calling like a prayer from your lips as you thrust your hips desperately against the man in question.

The church was empty when the two of you got in, Roger was sure of it, but you two are both overcome with a mild panic when you think you hear soft footsteps outside the confessional door. There wasn’t exactly a lock that the two of you could have turned to keep people out and you both knew anyone could walk in on the two of you in the lewd act – the idea made things even hotter but the reality would be mortifying. You both quickly dismiss the footsteps as your imaginations being both too scared and horny to believe otherwise as you continued – albeit much more quietly than before. You continue like that until you cums beneath him, gasping his name as your nails run down his back and the pleasure sears through you like fire. This is enough to send Roger over the edge, pounding you into the confessional wall until he can’t take it and his body spasms against hers - as he cums deep inside you in quick, short bursts.

You two take a few moments to just stand there in the hot booth, clinging to one another’s sweaty, half-dressed bodies - both finally satisfied as the two of you begin reflecting on what you’d just done - panting and attempting to catch your breaths before you kiss once more, smooth down their clothes and exit the booth. Once you get out into the cooler air of the church, Roger lets out a soft huff and grins at you, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement and satisfaction. You arch an eyebrow and smiles back at him, your own eyes gentle and warm. Roger buttons up his shirt as he walks over to the pool of holy water by the entrance of the church and splashes it onto his face, washing away the sweat he’d just worked up as you laugh at him and shakes your head semi-disapproving and yet still half amused at your boyfriend’s antics.

He retakes your hand and leads you outside into the cool night, he noticed it had gotten much darker outside since he’d entered the church earlier. He wraps an arm around your waist and lights himself a post-shag cigarette. You make it all the way to gates of the church’s graveyard, hand in hand before you hear the screaming from behind you. 

“You devils!" The two of you turn around with matching shocked expressions on your faces to see the priest who had run after you, only to stop halfway and notice his pants had fallen down due to improper re-buttoning. 

Roger bursts out laughing at the sight, almost choking on a deep drag from his cigarette as you cover your face to hide your cheeks turning a violent shade of red. “Guess we didn’t imagine those footsteps after all, eh?” he laughs, “Dirty old git is just as bad as we are!” 

He pulled you into a tight hug, kissing you gently on the forehead and murmuring softly to you. “So are you free around the same time next Sunday, love?”

[werewolfdays]

oc drabble: full moon

this is a little fluffy but don’t worry I’m sure I’ll get back to angst (Jayde pov)

The mountain air was crisp with a light drizzle of rain. Full moon light shining through the breaks in the clouds, casting silver shadows through damp trees. My senses were alive, I was truly seeing and feeling everything. Closing my eyes I heard the buzz of the forest, took in the scents surrounding me, even taste it all on my tongue. It was almost too much to take in, but it was a full moon so I drank in every drop I could and held it in my chest. The energy that had built up inside me was just waiting to be set free and I couldn’t deny it release any longer even if I wanted to. It was perfect.

And in all of it, seated at the heart, or rather my heart, was her. Right now I could hear her heart beating, the air filling and leaving her lungs, smell her comforting scent. Nadya. I reopened my eyes to stare at her, wishing she could feel all of this too. The smile on her face as she watched me convinced me that maybe she felt at least some of it.

“Are you ready?” Nadya asked.

I walked up to her, taking her face in my hands, my thumbs caressing the smooth skin of her cheeks and meeting her lips in an indulgent kiss. I tasted her, felt her, on a whole other level during the full moon. My body craved hers, just this close proximity with my senses on fire was enough to feel intoxicating, but there was time for that later. So I pulled back from the kiss only enough to lightly bump my forehead against hers, “Now I am.”

“Wait,” Nadya grabbed my wrist when I let her go to take a step back, “I want to see your eyes.” she said, cupping my face like I had hers.

With a knowing smile I gazed into her brown eyes, their color just barely distinguishable in the dark, and let the wolf inside me begin to surface. Nadya’s expression turned into awe as I felt my blue irises shift into a deep golden yellow tinted in a soft glow. Everything in sight around me shone with a perfect clarity while my eyes fully adjusted to the night.

A quiet gasp escaped her lips when my skin began to tingle. “Whoa,” Nadya mused while one of her hands started to trail down my neck, “Your skin just got really hot. Like you got a high fever in a matter of seconds…”

“Mhm,” I hummed, pulling her hands away, planting a quick kiss to one of her palms before letting go again and stepping back. My body was preparing for the change. All I had to do now was set it free.

A momentary relinquishment of control is all it takes. Frightening every time, but a thrill that turned peaceful as quickly as it came. I took slow deep breaths, taking in as much oxygen as I could. My flesh burned, my bones started to ache and I felt my canines grow in my mouth. Quickly, I removed my clothing, the layers starting to feel restricting, like I was trapped in this form. The cold air didn’t bother me, but my flesh was so hot that I could see steam rise off of my skin.

The moment of transition was always blurry for me. It felt like diving into a deep pool, those seconds where your brain doesn’t know which way was up or down. Maybe shifting into a completely different form was too much for the mind to comprehend.

The discomfort didn’t bother me. After all I was born this way. It was natural. It was me. And I loved it even with all the upheaval it brought. Even though my parents died for it because this was something they gave me and something that could never be taken away.

Nadya was staring at a wolf now, fur white enough to disappear in snow if there was any. She looked at me with such an awestruck expression, “That never gets old.” She mumbled, moving to kneel in front of me as I shook away any lingering disorientation. 

Nadya ran her hands through my fur, her touch grounding me to this form and I nuzzled into her. She was definitely the only person I would allow to pet me. And I enjoyed it more than I would ever admit. “I’ll be here at camp if you need me. You enjoy your night of frolicking through the forest.”

A light growl rumbled in my chest.

“Oh, don’t you start.” Nadya scolded, “You do frolic when you’re happy.” in response I playfully nipped at her hand, which only made her laugh. Nadya rested her forehead against mine for a few seconds. “Be safe out there, Jay.” She said, leaning back and planting a kiss where her forehead had touched.

To let her know that I would, I gently licked her cheek. Nadya smiled, giving me one last pat before standing and taking a few steps backwards so she could watch me run off into the thick woods.

I immersed myself fully in the nature around me, traveling deep into the trees while also not straying too far from our camp. To feel the soil under my paws, the moisture in the air dampening my fur, being guided by the light of the full moon, the only thing that rivaled this feeling was being with Nadya. It was so freeing. I spent hours out in it, giving the camp a wide perimeter and watching the stars appear while the sky cleared. This far out in the wilderness there were millions of stars to behold with the moon as their centerpiece, illuminating the world for us in a soft silver glow.

The joy and peace I felt filled my chest and lungs, overflowing and turning into a howl. A howl for the moon and stars. A howl for the forest. A howl for her. Knowing that Nadya could hear me kept the song going a bit longer just for her.

Eventually the first signs of dawn began to peek through the trees so I made my way back to camp. Our tent was left open and I found Nadya fast asleep inside. Even with the blankets I could tell she was cold so I shook off any dirt that had clung to my fur, which was thankfully dry by now, and curled up beside her to offer more warmth. She stirred slightly, but only enough to nestle herself closer to me.

After a while I fell asleep too, maybe only a couple hours, but when I woke again the sunlight was brighter now. While I was deciding whether to go back to sleep or stay awake and enjoy the morning, Nadya began to awaken beside me. Must’ve been the sun shining through the open tent that woke her. Nadya sleepily rubbed her eyes, her mouth turned down in a pout at being woken. It took a good while and a few long blinks for her to finally come to which made me huff in amusement.

The noise made her focus on me, a sweet smile creeping on her lips, “Are you gonna shift back so I can kiss you good morning or what?”

At her request I willed my human form to return. It didn’t take long, perhaps it was smoother to turn back from a wolf, I could never really tell because I felt that same moment of vertigo. Then I was laying beside Nadya as a human again.

Nadya’s grin widened, “Morning.” she greeted, brushing my hair behind my ear.

“Good morning.” I smiled back at her.

She wrapped an arm around my bare waist and pulled me closer to her. Nadya started to lean in, but hesitated. “You didn’t eat a squirrel or anything did you?”

“Shut up.” I laughed, pressing my lips to hers so I could wipe that smug smile off her face.

We leaned into each other so easily, both of us a habit that neither of us wanted to break. She was probably the only good habit that I had. Nadya was so familiar to me, so solidly planted in my heart and that was comforting, knowing that returning to her was returning home. Her arms wrapped around me were like the walls of that home, making me feel safe. The kisses she gave me like the hearth, keeping me warm and content.

Even though I ran my fingers through her hair, and her fingertips danced up and down my bare back, we weren’t getting too carried away or taking things further. We were just enjoying this. And I could enjoy it all day if she let me.

Our pace slowed for the sake of breath. “Do you wanna get up?” Nadya asked against my lips, “Or should we stay here for a little while longer?”

While I pondered her question, I leaned back to look at her and admire her beauty. She looked a little tired, probably from staying up late. Now that I thought about it, I was still pretty tired too. Full moons and turning usually took a lot out of me. Looking over at the entrance to the tent briefly, then back to Nadya, the corner of my mouth curled up. I got up on my knees to close the tent and returned to my spot beside Nadya, burying myself under the blankets with her, “I think sleep. Just for a bit longer.”

Nadya brightened up with tired relief and joyfully pulled me against her, “Finally, you realize the importance of sleeping in!”

“I wouldn’t get used to it.” I replied smugly, nuzzling into her neck.

“Then I’ll just have to make the most of this while I can.”

“Yeah, you do that.” I said with a chuckle, “Just remember that since I didn’t fill up on squirrels, I’ll probably wake up in an hour or so with a ravenous hunger.”

“Well, until then…” Nadya was cut off for a moment by a yawn, “It’s time to sleep. So, hush.”

I resisted the urge to tease her more. Instead, we made ourselves comfortable. With no annoying sun to bother Nadya, she fell back asleep in no time. Once she was out, my body allowed me to drift off with her.

[victorianoir]

The Detective Opens the Door

DEAR GOD, CHUCK AND SARAH WERE STANDING IN THAT HALLWAY FOR MONTHS, I SWEAR!!!!!!!!! Well, we’re getting them out of that hallway and into...well, you’ll see. Hehehe.

This the first time you’ve heard of The Detective and the Tech Guy? Fear not! I have the entire Master Post HERE. Wanna read it on the fanfiction.net site instead? Cool cool cool, that’s HERE. 

Let’s just dive right in, shall we?

XOXOXOXOXOXO

“I-I was knocking. But you aren’t in there.” She heard him swallow from where she stood a few feet away. “You’re out here. Obviously.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m here. I, er…I was at work.”

“Right. Of course. Me…Me, too.”

God, she didn’t even know what to say now that he was standing right in front of her. She hadn’t had her shower yet. The shower in which all of the answers were supposed to come to her, the solution to all of her problems magically appear in her head. That was what showers were for, right?

But he was here. She wouldn’t get her magic shower. And she was at a loss for words.

Chuck huffed then and shook his head. “Sarah, I’ve seen a lot of romcoms in my time.” What?? “It’s always the same thing. The main couple gets into a big fight and they don’t talk to each other for days and days and it’s so dramatic, and then something, I dunno, romantic and magical happens to bring them together, put them in the same place at the perfect time and they make up and some campy-ass song plays while they kiss. I don’t—I don’t want that. I don’t want to just sit at home staring out the window wistfully waiting for something romantic and magical to happen. I don’t want to wait for you to come to me. I don’t want to be apart for days and days. I can’t do that. I can’t wait. I can’t sit around not fixing this when it needs to be fixed. Those movies are shit because when you really love someone, it’s like torture sitting around knowing they’re mad at you, that you screwed up and you can just be a God damn grown up instead and talk to them. I need you,” he said, taking a step closer, and she felt just as breathless as he sounded. “I need to be with you. I don’t wanna play games like that with you. We need to talk. I want to talk to you, hash this out. Because I love you. I love you more than anything in the entire universe and I’m so sorry. But I have so much more to say than just that. And I’m-I’m open to listening, too. I can do that this time. I promise. And can I please come in? Please?”

She nodded a bit dumbly, blinked once, and stepped past him to unlock her apartment door. She stepped inside, pushing it open for him to follow her, and she flicked on the light and set her briefcase down as he shut the door behind them.

When she turned to face him again, he was just standing there watching her, shifting his weight nervously. “I’m sorry, Sarah,” he said, then, his shoulders slumping, head falling forward so that his chin was pressed to his chest.

She took him in now that they were out of the hallway and alone. He was in a pinstripe suit and brand new brown leather dress shoes, wearing a dark green tie that was a little crooked. He looked good. He’d met with a potential sponsor today though, Stephen had told her. Hence the dress shoes instead of his usual Converse.

“I-I am, too,” she breathed.

His brown eyes snapped up to meet her blue ones. Perhaps he didn’t think she owed him an apology. She did, and she knew she did. But considering the weirdly charming nonsense about romcoms he’d just blurted in the hallway, it was probably better for her to allow him to get it all off his chest before she really apologized.

“First thing’s first, Sarah. What I said to you…” He swallowed, then seemed to force himself to meet her eye as he continued. “I have no right making assumptions about your life before this in the first place, but to have been so downright vicious towards you, insinuating that—that because you don’t want my help, that’s why you’ve…had no friends.” He winced and looked up at the ceiling.

Chuck looked completely mortified and miserable as he repeated the sentiments he’d expressed to her that night before she left.

“That…didn’t feel great,” she admitted, quietly.

“No, of course not.” He closed the distance tentatively, then reached out to take her hand in his. His gentle touch filled her with the overwhelming need to throw her arms around him and bury her face in his neck, stay there forever. Or at least until this ache subsided.

But she stayed where she was, resisting the urge.

“Sarah, I’m so sorry,” he said, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. “It was a cruel thing to say, and I’m so disgusted with myself for saying something with the intention of hurting you. I was hurt, so I said something to hurt you. It was childish, stupid, and-and it wasn’t true.”

She wasn’t entirely sure if it was as untrue as he insisted, but she didn’t really feel like tackling that complicated issue at the moment.

“I completely understand if you don’t want to forgive me for saying it, but I at least want you to know that I hate myself for being so mean. I love you. The last thing on Earth I want to do is hurt you like that. I’m a total jackass.” He huffed and hung his head.

“Well, thank you,” she said finally. “For apologizing.” She paused. “I can forgive you, Chuck, but there’s a lot we need to talk about besides just that.”

“There is. There’s a lot. But y-you forgive me?”

Sarah felt the corner of her mouth twitch in a bit of a smile. “Yeah, I do. But you say something like that to me again, I’ll punch you in the dick.”

He let out a huff, relief and amusement in it, and he held his hands up by his head in surrender. “I still think I deserved that this time.”

He probably did, but she didn’t much like the idea of doing that to him.

But he was sobering up now, rubbing the back of his neck, apparently having more to say. “I really overstepped the other day, Sarah. Giving Jorge the money for the rent after you told me no, going behind your back to do it…I overstepped big time. I crossed the line. I apologize for that, too. I was wrong.”

She nodded slowly and started taking her coat off. She felt the heater in the apartment starting to kick in.

“This isn’t an excuse, just an explanation. B-But after the really terrible day I had, I was already kind of a powder keg with a very short fuse. I felt like you were pounding on me and pounding on me and it felt really unfair, and I just refused to actually listen to what you were saying.”

Sarah felt her claws come out a bit, and he must have seen it, because he held his hands up again, stepping even closer, and continuing before she could defend herself.

“That’s how I felt then, the other night. That’s not how I feel now. I’ve had some separation from our fight, I’ve been thinking about it and thinking about it over and over and over, and every way I look at it, you were right. I was being a defensive idiot, Sarah. I was offended and hurt and like a child, I closed myself off. I walked into my condo that night already in the wrong frame of mind and it just got worse from there.”

She huffed and tossed her coat onto the coat rack, pushing a hand through her hair and nodding again. “I think maybe both of us were in the wrong frame of mind.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Maybe. But you were just trying to explain and I refused to listen. I’ve been pushing and shoving my way into this agency because I-I guess I felt like you needed me there. I really was just trying to help.”

“I know,” she interjected, nodding.

“But that doesn’t make my inability to listen and understand what you wanted from me less wrong.” Chuck sighed, shoving both hands through his hair in frustration…at himself, she thought. “I do have faith in you, though. Even if I apparently did my damnedest to make you think I don’t, I really do. I have so much respect for you. I know you can do anything. I-I mean, I have so much faith in you, I think I’d even climb into a submarine if I found out you were gonna drive it. I’d willingly climb into that thing, and you know I hate confined spaces, especially underwater like that.”

She found herself letting out a short giggle, in spite of everything.

“I’ve been making the mistake of thinking that my constant need to help you wasn’t affecting anything, and this whole time it’s been making you feel like I don’t think you can start this agency on your own. I know you can, though. I got nervous and stupidly lost my footing when you told me about being late on your office rent. I jumped the gun. I went behind your back and I did it knowingly, and I’m a total fuck-up for doing that. I’m sorry.”

Sarah nodded again, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I get why you were so angry. And I promise to never do something like that again, especially not behind your back. That’s not what you do when you respect someone as much as I respect you.” He took a deep breath. “I made a lot of mistakes. A-And I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said, about me…” He paused, and she saw a tinge of pink on his cheeks. “About me being privileged, I mean.”

“No, Chuck, I—”

“Hear me out, though. Please.” She closed her mouth and nodded for him to continue. And he smiled a bit, looking up at her through his eyelashes. “Because you’re right. There’s been enough separation between then and now and I guess I’ve allowed myself to lose sight of what it felt like not to have this much money. I’m embarrassed, mortified even, that that’s the case. It’s not easy to admit, but I think I’ve been taking my family’s success for granted. I forgot what life was like before this. When things were up in the air, every day wondering if my parents might have to sell one of our cars, if I’d have to skip college and go straight into the job market, something I really didn’t want to do. I did a lot of soul searching yesterday. Between the drinking.”

She lowered her chin and made a face. “Oh, Chuck, really?”

He winced and shrugged. “I know. But it’s hard not to let self-pity get the best of you when you’re feeling as bad as I was feeling. And the whiskey was…right there in front of me.” He winced again. “I’m not proud of it.”

The P.I. wanted so badly to reach up and fix the errant curl that had fallen onto his forehead, touch his face, squeeze his hand, something. But she didn’t move, just smiling a little at him.

“Th-The important thing is that I am privileged. And I’m very grateful that you’ve helped me see that. I maybe knew on the surface level. I know I’m rich. I know I have more than most people, too much some would say. Hell, I would say. To have all this money and be dating the best woman in the universe? Damn.”

Sarah twisted her mouth to the side in an attempt not to show him how much she liked what he’d just said.

“But you were right, Sarah. Because my idea of solving a problem has been throwing money at it for a while now. Because before this, before you, I didn’t really have to work at anything besides my job. My family is my family, there’s no work or compromise there. And Morgan’s…” He shrugged, a goofy smile on his face. “Morgan’s Morgan. We don’t fight. Ever. About anything.”

She couldn’t help letting out a soft hum of amusement. Chuck and Morgan were so damn cute together.

“And I’m not saying you’re difficult or that this relationship is difficult, I’m just saying a romantic relationship is different and I haven’t known you my whole life. You’re newish. And different from anyone I’ve ever met. Does that make sense?” She nodded. “And I can’t just throw money at you to fix things. I can’t throw money at your problems, either. Something you were trying to tell me but I just wasn’t listening,” he droned, rolling his eyes at himself. “I’m listening now, though. And I won’t do any of this again, okay? I promise you, baby.”

Maybe it was the way he called her baby, how deep his voice was when he said it, the fact that his apologies all rang so beautifully sincere, how much she felt the love still between them…She didn’t know what it was, but the moment that last word slipped out from between his lips, she had to cover said lips with her own.

In the back of her mind, she knew there was a lot more to say. She had apologies of her own to make. And she had to explain things better to him. He deserved more.

But right now, the only thing she wanted to give him was the feeling of being trapped between her bed and her body.

He kissed her back immediately, and as his hands closed around her arms, she heard him emit a desperate whimper.

Fire spread from her center to engulf every last bit of her body, and she held onto him that much tighter, dragging a hand up into his hair and twisting those soft curls between her fingers.

When they pulled back for air, both of them gasping, Sarah nuzzled his cheek with her nose. “Chuck…?” she breathed, tangling her other hand in the lapel of his coat.

“Yes,” he whispered back. And that was all they needed to say before they sprang together again.

They kissed passionately, hands grasping at clothes, at hair. In the midst of the kissing and grabbing and sighing, Sarah somehow managed to get enough of her wits about her to guide them slowly towards the bedroom.  

Sarah felt a powerful desperation rise in her chest, then. A need to drown out the last two days of tension and ache. Only two days and she’d missed him so hard that it hurt. She needed him to know. She wanted to give him every single part of her so that he knew.

And wasn’t it a little scary just how powerful this was?

They broke apart for air again, and she took a long breath in through clenched jaw, gritting her teeth. And as she reached back, figuring she was somewhere near the bedroom door, needing to be inside, needing to be on that bed with him, her hand found nothing but air.

God, where were they then? She didn’t even know. She couldn’t find her door. She didn’t care.

Standing here in the middle of the hallway wasn’t conducive to what she needed either way, so she pushed his button-up down his arms, not caring that the sleeve caught on his watch. And with one quick move, she had him pinned against the nearest wall, his back making contact with a loud thump.

Chuck didn’t miss a beat, pulling her with him, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her against his bare chest. She cupped his face and whimpered into the kiss, almost angry when she found that the pencil skirt she wore wasn’t conducive to climbing his tall, lithe body the way she wanted to.

Instead, she continued kissing him, tucking her hands between their fronts and making quick work of his belt and pants.

Then she felt his fingers at her back, tugging her blouse out of her skirt, yanking it up but pausing for a moment. She broke the kiss and grabbed her blouse, taking it off in one swift movement tossing it away when he seemed a little unsure. He knew better than to think she gave a rat’s ass about her damn clothes ending up on the floor in moments like these. But she knew the last two days must have jarred his confidence a bit.

It was all right. By the end of this, she’d make sure they were both back at the top of their game again.

As their lips smashed together again, she just clung to him, feeling his warm hands so large and strong against her back. It made her feel so heady, even though it was a sensation she knew so well after a year of being intimate with him.

And then his fingers were at the back of her skirt, feeling for a zipper there. When he found none after a short moment of searching, he switched to the side of the skirt. And then she heard the sound of him unzipping the skirt and it pooled at her feet. As she stepped out of it, giggling at the playful way his fingertips teased the insides of her thighs, she had a moment. Just a short memory of the first time he’d divested her of a skirt just like this. The first time he’d visited her in Chicago, after she’d gotten back from a meeting and she’d been tired, frustrated. First, that martini had gone down so well, and then…Well, so had he. In every sense of the word. After he’d struggled a bit to find the zipper on her skirt.

Chuck had learned since then.

Obviously, she thought to herself as he grabbed her by her hips and hoisted her up. She giggled with a squeal and gasped as he turned them around and pressed her against the wall this time, pinning her there as he kissed down her jaw, her neck, and over her shoulders and collarbone.

She spared a moment to take in her surroundings as she tilted her head to give him more access to her neck where she liked his attention most. The door was only a few feet away. They just had to go through it and somehow find the bed. That was it…

But he was making it hard as he unhooked her bra and settled his mouth even lower.

“Chuck…” she whimpered again.

He took the hint, it seemed, grinning against the sensitive skin of her breast and lifting his face, meeting her eyes as he eased her down so that she could set her feet on the floor. She stepped out of her pumps, losing a few inches of height, and she slowly eased herself down to untie his shoes, not breaking eye contact with him even for a moment.

She stood to her full height as he hurriedly toed his shoes off, nearly falling at least twice in his rush. And finally they wrapped themselves around each other, kissing again, haphazardly hobbling the few feet to the door.

The private detective winced as her shoulder crashed into the door, but she didn’t care as it swung open, because she knew her room well enough to know the bed was only about ten feet away. She just had to keep moving as they kissed.

And as the backs of her knees met the edge of the mattress, she sighed in relief against Chuck’s lips, opening her mouth and stroking his tongue with hers. The deep grumble he emitted made her feel half-mad, and as she pulled back from the kiss, her teeth bit down gently on his lower lip, taking it with her. She let it slip out again and he groaned, kissing her at the juncture of her neck, holding her close. Just like that, he lifted her from her feet and put her on the bed. He did it in such an emphatic way, like he was putting something where it belonged, and it was such a turn on for some reason.

They didn’t bother with the duvet or the sheets, kicking off the rest of their underthings, joining on the wrong half of the bed, clinging, surging. She didn’t know how long, she lost count of how often…

Once it was all over and a joint shower was had, Chuck lay facedown in the bed, his body splayed diagonal across it, and she’d somehow ended up with her upper half draped over his back, her breasts rather uncomfortably smushed. She didn’t care. She wanted this contact, and he wasn’t exactly complaining, was he?

“I feel like the best possible thing we can do to finish what just happened off with a bang is for me to get up and make us both a very strong martini that we can drink right here in bed.”

She giggled and turned her lips to kiss him behind his ear, dropping a hand to his hip and stroking him tenderly. It was funny. He’d been hot to the touch earlier, and now she could feel his skin had cooled significantly. He was a little damp from the shower still, too. She shivered herself, glancing down as best she could without exerting too much effort to see that they’d kicked the sheets off of the bed…And after going through so much trouble to climb under them halfway through once they realized how cold her room was.

“But…?” she prompted.

“But you’re so warm and comfy and I don’t want to move again.”

Giggling again, she nuzzled her face back into his neck. “I can forego the martinis for a while if you want.”

“Mmm’good,” he grumbled, and his whole body lifted and eased back down again as he yawned, letting out a wookie sound in the process.

She smirked lovingly, pressing her lips to the nearest part of him and humming comfortably herself.

Then he groaned and gently started to roll out from under her. Sarah laughed as she scooted off of him, letting him sit up and climb off of the bed.

“Couldn’t resist the call, could you?” she teased, easing onto her back to lie on the bed properly and tucking her pillow under her head.

“Nope. I really, really want a martini in bed.”

“I’d take a martini anywhere, but there’s something delicious—salacious even—about enjoying one in bed after what we just did,” she admitted, sending him a look as he glanced over his shoulder from where he was stepping back into his boxer briefs.

He smirked with a “be right back” and disappeared into the hallway outside of her bedroom. As she listened to his footsteps fade, she sat up and grabbed her sheet and duvet, straightening it, pulling it up over her and plopping back down. After the sex and the long shower, she was so satisfied and comfortable that she could easily take a nap while waiting for him to come back.

But of course that was the moment her conscience decided to remind her that while they’d stopped talking for a while, their conversation hadn’t ended, exactly. It had just been interrupted. There was a lot to talk about, something she needed to make sure he really understood this time.

He’d promised to listen this time, right before they’d both decided to set their conversation to the side for more physically pressing matters.

She couldn’t put it off any longer.

And by the time Chuck came back into the room shortly thereafter, she was ready.

Her tech guy’s grin was massive and cheesy as he teasingly tiptoed across the room, handed her one of the martinis, and crawled back into bed next to her holding his own. She glanced at the martini he made her and then set it to the side on her nightstand. He boggled at her. “Can we share yours?” she asked with a wince. “I haven’t had dinner and if I’m gonna get wasted tonight I at least want it to be after I eat a full meal.”

He chuckled and nodded, handing her his. “First sip’s yours, then.”

“Aw, thank you, baby.” She took a long first sip, felt it slip deliciously down her throat and warm her from the inside out, then handed it back to him.

She watched him then, lazily lounging against his side, reveling in how comfortable she was with him, how good it all felt, how important this part of her life was. And then she finally spoke up.

“I’m sorry I closed myself off to you, Chuck.” He was silent for a bit. And then he reached over with the hand that wasn’t holding the martini glass and squeezed her wrist. “I’m sorry I closed off that part of my life to you. And I’m sorry I cut you out of—out of my dream.”

The quietude was comfortable, she found, and when he turned his face to press his lips into her hair, she smiled softly.

“It’s okay, Sarah.” He paused. “I understand now. I understand why you don’t want my help.”

Sarah stopped for a moment, frowned a little, and then straightened, turning to look into his face. He looked back, his gaze steady, confident.

He said he understood, but she knew he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He’d called himself out now for the things he’d done, and for what he’d said, for not listening to her, for snapping at her. And she appreciated how candid and genuine his apologies were.

But he was doing that thing again, saying he understood with the goal of mending things between them, moving on from this fight they’d had, when he really didn’t understand. How could he understand something she still hadn’t told him?

“Do you?” she asked quietly.

He blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Yeah. I do. You don’t want me to help you anymore, and I get it. I won’t.”

“But you said that you understand why. Why I feel this way, why I want this. Do you really?”

She wasn’t trying to call him out, but he needed to really understand why, not just say he did to make her feel better, to set her at ease. Not when she knew he wanted to know more about her, especially where this was concerned. She knew she confused him by not telling him.

Chuck didn’t seem to know how to respond, so she plucked the martini from his fingers and stretched across him to set it down on nightstand on his side of the bed. Then she sat back and cupped his cheek in one hand, hoping he didn’t take this as her chastising him.

“Chuck, please don’t take this the wrong way, because I love you so much.” He got a look like uh oh on his face, and she was quick to ease his worry. “No, no, this isn’t—I’m not saying things right. I’m not good at talking like you are.”

“Uh, did you hear that mess about romantic comedies that came out of my mouth earlier?”

She giggled. “Fair point.”

Running the backs of her fingers down his cheek, she waited for him to meet her gaze before she continued. “Chuck, you always say what I want to hear, what I need to hear. Even before we were together, you had a way of just…knowing what to say. To make me feel better, to make things better in general. And most of the time, it’s exactly the right thing, helpful and supportive…perfect.” She took a deep breath. “But sometimes it just tables things for later that…” She huffed, searching for the right words. “That need to be addressed right then.” Chuck’s gaze flicked away from her for a moment and she put her hand on his chest to get his attention again. “That isn’t your fault, Chuck. It’s mine. I’m such a freaking dysfunctional human in a lot of ways and I’ve been so closed off and private for my entire life. I think I inadvertently trained you to encourage that behavior. Or-or maybe not encourage my behavior so much, but I think you learned pretty quickly that I pulled away when you asked questions or…pushed.”

It was incredibly sweet that he didn’t seem to want to confirm or deny, still looking out for her feelings.

“You don’t have to say anything, Chuck. I know how I am and I know what I do. My hang-ups aside, your thoughtfulness and the respect you gave me by even caring enough to notice and to learn and—Well, that’s one of the things that made me fall in love with you so hard and so fast.” She leaned in to kiss him, tasting a hint of vermouth, strong and rather bitter, but so delicious.

She looked into his soft gaze as she pulled back, running the pads of her fingers over the stubble on his chin distractedly. “Whenever this subject in particular has come up, me not wanting help with my detective agency I mean, you say you understand. You get it…”

Chuck nodded, pressing his lips together and dropping his gaze. “But I don’t really understand…”

“No. Of course not. I haven’t told you. And again, that’s my fault. Not yours.” She licked her lips, collecting her thoughts for a moment. “And every time it comes back again. You say you get it when you don’t get it, I accept it because it’s what I want to hear, we move on, and it comes back because you…I don’t know, you do something like what you did the other day. But less…er, severe.”

She watched as he winced, letting out a long breath. “You’re right. I do that. I just know you don’t like talking about that stuff.”

“I really don’t. Not at all. But I need to stop hiding from you. I need to open up, and I’m sorry it’s taken me a whole year to start, to give you even the slightest hint about where I’m coming from, why I am…this way.”

As he rubbed his hands over his knees under the sheets, she realized he was a little breathless in anticipation. And what kind of a crap girlfriend had she been all this time that even the smallest bit of her backstory had him this excited? She pushed the guilt away for the time being, the voice inside her telling her she was a damn wreck, and she dove right in.

“You know about law school.”

He nodded. “Harvard,” he said, obvious admiration in his face, an impressed tilt to his smile.

“Don’t be so impressed. I didn’t finish, remember?” “You got there, though.” And those words gave her the confidence she needed to just…tell him.

“Well, I had my heart set on law school, Harvard in particular, because it was closeish to New York City, but still away from home, away from my comfort zone. And I took this trip down there on my own to scope it out and I guess…There’s so much history and prestige and I bought it hook line and sinker.” She rolled her eyes at herself good-naturedly.

“Hey. Stanford. I get it,” he chuckled, pointing to himself.

She smiled. “Yeah, well…There was no damn way I was getting in, and I was kind of glum about it, even while I worked my ass off on the essays, went to every single class, studied like mad to get the best grades possible. I made sure to kick the LSAT’s ass as best I could. And the truth is, I…” She let herself breathe for a moment, and was grateful to Chuck for squeezing her hand. “I’m pretty sure my application would’ve gone straight into the trash if they didn’t get a recommendation letter and personal phone call from the NYPD Department Chief to the Dean.” Chuck’s eyebrows shot up. “I know,” she drawled. “Pretty big deal. He was…sort of like a mentor. Kind of. It doesn’t really matter. He just really came through for me and next thing I know, I was at Harvard Law. Seems he and the Dean were close friends, families spent time together. It got me in, so I kind of…ignored the implications. Sort of. As best as I could. But then the Dean was kind of looking out for me and as big as my law classes were, I could tell there were some classmates who knew about it. I don’t know how, I just…could tell. The way they treated me. Like I was getting preferential treatment or something. And, I don’t know, maybe I was. Maybe I shouldn’t have even been there in the first place and they knew.”

She pushed a hand through her hair and turned to face forward. “It isn’t an easy thing for me to admit, but I got a hand up. I got a hand up getting into law school and then I got a hand up once I was there. The Dean, a few professors, really taking an interest in my well-being, making sure I had what I needed to succeed.” She sighed. “It was subtle, but I felt it. I could see it.”

Chuck was mercifully silent, just there, listening, holding her hand. And she took some strength from it, even though she was swimming in shame, aware of the blush that rose to her cheeks.

“Ms. Danilian, the Dean…Well, I don’t know. I really don’t know her thought process. But she got in contact with Langston Graham.”

“Pinkerton,” he said.

“Yep. Maybe she could tell I was losing my footing, losing confidence, not really as interested in what I was doing in law school, just kind of…going through the motions. I don’t know what made her call him. But she did, told him about me. I didn’t have any kind of…er, home really…besides…” She paused, nervously playing with the sheet in her hand. “Before you, I never really had much of a home. It was basically wherever I ended up, with whatever I could carry. You saw my place in Chicago, yeah? I mean…I never had much.” He nodded. “Maybe that was a reason why they thought I’d be a good candidate. But I guess since I was close to the top of my class, on top of being alone in the world, Graham felt like he’d give me a trial. He sprang some tests on me when he visited to meet me. I don’t think he knew that I knew what he was doing, but I must have passed with flying colors because he didn’t waste any time personally asking me to join the Pinkerton Detective Agency.”

Her boyfriend was gaping at her by this point, shaking his head. “Sarah, that’s amazing. The director of Pinkerton came to you personally to beg you to join.”

“He didn’t beg,” she giggled. “He invited me.”

“Same thing.”

She gave him a flat look. “Nevertheless, I didn’t have to think much. I leapt at the chance to get out of there, do something different. Can you pass me that martini?”

He did, taking a sip himself when she was finished and setting it back on the nightstand.

“So I trained at Pinkerton. I thought things would be a bit different, without the influence of the chief or my…prior connections. It was, kind of. But not, at the same time. I was seen as getting a bit of a leg up because of my being a woman…a woman who looks like…” She gestured to herself.

“A warrior goddess?” he filled in. She blinked at him and he shook his head. “Sorry. Morgan and I decided you’re like a valkyrie but without the whole choosing who gets to live and who has to die bit.”

“…Thank you?” Sarah shook her head and snorted quietly. “The point…” She looked at him meaningfully.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, properly scolded.

“…is that there were a lot of uses for someone like me in a detective agency. And it didn’t take long before it was pretty clear to me that this was why a few of the guys in the agency took a long time to trust my work. And I got a lot of side-eye.” Chuck frowned deeply. “Once I started taking lead on cases, it was okay. I mean, it was one of those Good Ol’ Boys places still, but I wasn’t harassed or disrespected. Not to my face, at least. I just…I got that same sort of feeling sometimes. Like I shouldn’t have been hired. Like I didn’t belong there.”

“Sarah, I saw you working your ass off when you were assigned our case. You saved my life, my dad’s life too, but mine in a more…uh…blatant, literal way.” She tilted her head and smiled a little at him. “You solved a murder. You’re so freaking smart. Seriously. Watching you work was like…” He huffed, seemingly unable to even finish his sentence.

She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “You’re sweet, Chuck. And I appreciate that.”

“It’s true.”

“Thanks.” Sarah paused, turning her hand over under his and threading their fingers together. “What I mean by all of this is that I-I guess my whole life I’ve been sort of given this extra advantage. I’ve had doors opened to me that were shut for others because they didn’t have important people going to bat for them. I’ve been given leadership roles and had people kind of look out for me for, like, almost a decade now. And when I left Pinkerton, it was like…” She sighed. “I don’t know, like a clean slate. There are no police chiefs, no kindly deans, no mentors, no one like that to give me everything, lay it all out on a platter for me. I had this detective agency idea, and for the first time I could create something from nothing all on my own. No help from anyone.”

She could see that Chuck was putting the pieces together now. He had that thoughtful look on his face that she thought was so cute. He wore it sometimes when he was coding and he ran into a problem. Watching him work through it without him knowing she was watching was one of those simple pleasures, those quiet moments in their relationship that she secretly treasured more than anything else in her life.

“Chuck, I’ve been so willfully vehement about not accepting help from anyone, especially you, because I need to know I can do this. I need to know, for my own personal peace of mind, that I can actually do these things on my own. That the help I’ve gotten isn’t the only reason why I’m here. That I have skills. That I can make it, just me, no mentors or guardian angels. No recommendation letters or personal phone calls. Just me, working hard, finding success all on my own.”

“A fresh start, forged from your own hard work, and your own money.” He pulled his hand away and slung his arm over her shoulders, pulling her into his side and holding her there. “You want to prove them wrong, all the people who looked at you sideways in law school, those Pinkerton agents who thought you were given advantages they weren’t.”

She shrugged. “Yeah. If I can’t do this without my rich boyfriend shelling out the money and handing me my clients, it’ll prove that I really just got here through the work and favors of other people. I can’t handle that, Chuck.”

He held her tighter as she swallowed the lump in her throat. She felt his lips against her forehead. “Quite a knock to your self-esteem, I imagine.”

“Yeah. Which is hard to admit. I’m sorry, Chuck. I know it sounds stupid. I got all of these advantages and privileges and I’m whining about it. It-It’s more complicated than that, though.” There was so much underneath all of it. The pity and sympathy underlying the chief’s actions, the shame of seeing that look in the dean’s face. The one that told her Dean Danilian knew, that Chief Sayer told her about the whole thing. Pity and sympathy followed her everywhere. Nobody had meant harm by it, but it stung so badly. And every merit that followed thereafter felt like another barb sinking into her skin, another thing she hadn’t earned, a gift given to her because of someone else’s sins.

It wasn’t something she wanted to think about now, and she was glad when Chuck spoke up.

“It’s okay, Sarah. I understand.” He held up the arm that wasn’t wrapped around her defensively. “I mean it this time. I’m not just saying it. I really understand.” He gently tucked some of her hair behind her ear and stroked his fingertips over her temple. “I have to say something, though. I think it’s easy to dismiss everything you accomplished because other people helped you along the way. But, well, you took that LSAT on your own. That score you got was yours. What about the grades you got in college? The work you did to be at the top of your class at Harvard Law? The cases you solved as a Pinkerton agent, including my dad’s? Nobody was holding your hand when you were lead on our case.” A dreamy look came over his face. “I mean, I wanted to but with an entirely different meaning to it.”

Sarah melted, pulling back to look into his face, her own features crumbling. That was the cutest thing she’d ever heard in her entire life and she thought maybe she was dying a little. Especially with the teasing nose wrinkle. God, she was truly a goner.

“You get what I’m saying, though, right?” he asked quietly. “Yeah, important people liked you and therefore helped you take some big steps up in your career, in your life, but you still did the hard work, Sarah. You just talked me off a similar ledge last week. Remember? I was singing that nepotism tune, slamming my work, and you reminded me that while my dad gave me the job I’m in, I work hard. And you’re right. I do.”

“The amount of times I’ve gotten texts from you at two in the morning while I was sleeping because you were at work still…” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

He chuckled. “I know, I know. You get what I mean, though?” he asked again.

“Yes. Thank you, Chuck. Really.”

His smile made everything feel a bit brighter and she scooted in to put her head on his shoulder, cuddling into his warmth. “You’re welcome, baby. Whatever I can do to help. When you want it,” he emphasized then.

“I do want it. I still…” She sat up and looked in his eyes. “I still need to do most of it alone. No more paying my bills, okay? And especially not behind my back.”

“No more. I promise.”

“And I promise to be less of a hard-ass about accepting help, and I’ll try to be more open to asking when I do need it.” He nodded. “I still need to know I can do this without relying on your checkbook.”

“Got it.” Then a look came over his face and he looked down at his lap, his brow furrowed.

“What?”

“There, um…I-I think I should tell you something that might maybe explain…uh, my behavior. Or-Or at least give you some insight into what was, uh, going through my head.” She waited, watching him. “See, I—Crap, I didn’t wanna say this that night because I felt like such a sap for letting it get to me…”

“What is it, Chuck? You can talk to me.” She leaned over to bump him with her shoulder and he smiled a little. It went away just as quickly.

“I talked to my mom the day before.” Sarah’s stomach clenched. “She came by my office and we went for a walk and talked for a while. And I swear I haven’t told her a thing about your agency, but she seems to still know you need clients and she needled—”

“She’s good at that.”

“Yeah.” He sighed in frustration. “She got me into a position where I was insisting you were refusing to let me help you, especially with money.” Sarah could feel her levels rising, the annoyance and, damn it, the hurt, pricking at her heart. “I don’t want to tell you this, baby. I just thought, in the spirit of getting things off our chest…”

“No. Chuck, it’s okay. Keep going.”

He continued with a wince. “She planted this seed of paranoia, Sarah, and then my own self-esteem hang-ups and self-doubt watered the seed, and legitimately made me into a panic plant.”

“What about?”

“You. Leaving.”

She did a double-take. “What? Jesus, what did she say to you?”

“She talked about how you’d have better luck opening an agency in some other city somewhere, like New York, and that you had to know that, had to always be thinking about it. But that you’re staying here because you love me. She, uh, ahem…She told me I provide a big safety net for you. That if this doesn’t work out—your agency, I mean—you’ll just let it go and live off of my earnings.” Sarah clenched her jaw, trying not to let it get under her skin. That woman was pernicious. He rushed on as if he could read her thoughts. “I told her flat-out, without hesitation, that you’d never just let this go. It’s your dream. And even if it got to a point where you had to throw in the towel, you’d never be satisfied living off of my earnings and that was when I realized that…” He let out a frustrated groan, rubbing a hand down his face. “Before you ever lived off of me, you’d-you’d leave first. Find some other place to build your agency where it was viable. Somewhere that isn’t here.” She didn’t know what to say so she just swallowed and lowered her gaze. “It scared the shit out of me. And knowing that you were late on your rent, I thought that if you lost that office, it’d be such a big setback. I guess I got it into my head that you might decide the problem was LA and you’d move away. I’m ashamed of myself, but I spiraled. I spiraled really bad. Then I went behind your back and didn’t pay just your last month’s rent, but the next month’s too, and the late fee. Because you bet your fucking life I’m gonna make sure I keep my detective here, in LA, with me. So selfish and immature and paranoid, I know, but—”

She covered his mouth with hers. It was gentle, slow, and more intimate than anything else they’d shared over the last hour or two. And she slid her arms around his neck, falling onto her back and taking him with her.

When he eventually pulled back, she reached up to stroke her fingers through his messy curls and met his brown eyes steadily. “Chuck Bartowski, don’t you ever spiral like that again, no matter what your mom says to you. Because I’m not going anywhere.” He softened significantly. “I picked up my whole life for you, if you remember??? Moved to Los Angeles, got an apartment I love,” she glanced around her room, “I found an office space. I’ve set my entire damn heart on this place. I’ve dug roots in for the first time…” She felt breathless suddenly. “God, for the first time in my life. LA’s my home.” She had to bite her cheek then as tears stung her eyes. She just barely kept them back. “Your mom can do or say whatever she wants. But we can’t let her keep getting to us like this, okay?”

Chuck nodded vigorously. “You’re right.”

“Maybe Ellie has some tips.”

He chuckled. “She probably has a whole binder on it.”

“She would,” she said with a snort, playing with his stubble. “Hey, I love you.”

“I love you, too.” The gravity with which he responded made her feel weightless, but she also felt…almost overwhelmed. There were moments when they were together and she felt just how incredibly serious this was between them. This was one of those moments. “I’m so sorry I lost faith for a second. I’m sorry I panicked and did something stupid because of it. I feel terrible.”

“Don’t feel terrible. Your mom’s really good at…” Being evil? Could she say that to him about his mom?

“Being evil?” he finished for her, as if he’d read her mind.

She laughed a little. “You said it, not me.” “Noted.”

His grin lit up her whole bedroom.

XOXOXOXOXO

Chuck couldn’t help being distracted as he mixed the batter, the bowl rounded by one arm, and the spoon clutched in his other fist.

He’d wanted to wake up before Sarah so that he could make her breakfast, and he’d found the waffle iron Ellie had given his girlfriend last week. He’d wanted this bit of time alone, rummaging in her kitchen while she slept. He’d found himself needing some time to think.

Sarah had told him a lot the night before, and it opened his eyes to so much about her.

She was so confident as a detective. He watched her when she was on the job, not just when she’d worked his case, but when they’d started dating and he visited her while she was on other cases. She knew exactly what she was doing, every step she took was calculated. She was brilliant.

But she had baggage. He understood the hit she took to her self-esteem after years of receiving what she thought was preferential treatment, and he was sure the people around her—her peers—hadn’t helped much in that respect. She wasn’t able to see the things she’d done for herself, the hard work she put in all those years, because the kindness shown her overshadowed that. He could just see it—how that might eat away at a person’s image of themselves and what they’re capable of.

Chuck hurt for her. Because he could empathize, in a much smaller scale. His dad had pulled him into the business halfway through his time at Stanford. Bartowski Electronics Corporation was already lucrative, making headway, filling the family coffers, as it were. He was set for life because of who his father was. And it did have a way of making you feel privileged, like you were just lucky, given an advantage in life no one else had.

He worked hard, though. He had to. He had to make sure B.E.C. stayed relevant in an industry that changed practically on the daily. He ran the company’s transitions, set up sponsorships, met with partners, anything his dad couldn’t fit into his own busy schedule…

It was something he had to pound into his own head. He was earning his role in the company by working as hard as he was, by coming up with fresh ideas, by reaching out in the community.

Sarah needed to find that place where she could recognize her skills, and he understood now that the only way she thought she could do that was starting this agency without anyone giving her a hand up.

That was why Chuck was a bit nervous when he glanced over his shoulder to look at her laptop he’d set up on her table. She said she’d be more open to his help, and maybe it was too early for him to make this move…

Chuck turned back to the waffle iron then, set down the bowl and spoon, and opened the iron.

“Hmm…” He stared at the contraption, the blinking red light, and then he grabbed the oil spray and popped the cap off, spraying the iron and then watching the steam rise.

The tech guy heard his girlfriend’s feet against the floorboards as she stopped at the doorway into the kitchen. “Okay, so do you turn it over when it goes DING or when it goes DINGDING?” he asked without looking at her. “Because it’s already gone DING and it’s gone DINGDING and I haven’t even put anything in it yet.”

He turned to watch as she giggled and walked over to join him. She was fully dressed for the day, he noticed with a bit of an inward pout, in spite of the fact that they’d woken up to rain. He’d been hoping for a lazy Saturday staying in.

“So ignore the beeps if you haven’t even put anything in, first of all,” she said, pulling her hair up into a ponytail as she sidled up next to him. “That seems obvious.”

“A little less snark, maybe, Sarah Walker, P.I.”

She giggled again and held up her hands defensively. “I’m just saying. Here, put the batter in the iron. I’ll show you how it works.”

He poured it in and she reached around him to shut it.

“Leave it like this until it does the DING.”

“Or is it DINGDING?”

“Any kind of DING, Chuck. It DINGS until you turn it over. It can sense it.”

“Like Morgan’s car. If I take off my seatbelt before we pull into his driveway, it beeps at me like an angry mom. Put on your seatbelt, Charles!” he mimicked, making her laugh.

At the DINGDINGDING, Chuck turned the iron over, thrusting his hands out in a ta da motion. She rolled her eyes, still smiling.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked, then.

“Really, really well. I feel fully rested and ready to take on the worl—Oh shit, it’s raining.” Her face fell as she finally looked out the window.

He laughed. “You didn’t know it was raining?’

“Still have the curtains shut in my room so no, thank you, I didn’t know. This is dumb. I’m not going out in this.”

“That was sort of my plan, too. If you’ll have me. ‘Cause your building doesn’t have an elevator and I don’t want to go back down those three flights just yet, know what I mean?”

“God, you’re so lazy,” she teased, going into her fridge to grab the eggs. “Want a fried egg?”

“Hell to the yeah.”

“And of course you can stay. I’m just going to be doing a bit of work and then watching TV. Maybe I’ll read a book ‘cause that’s a bit more productive.”

He wrinkled his nose in faux disappointment. “Aw man. I left my laptop at home. And my tablet. Guess I can’t do any work today. Just going to have to watch TV and take multiple naps.”

She laughed and then caught sight of the laptop on the table. “Hey, did I leave my laptop open last night? That’s weird. I thought I put it away.”

“Uhhh…No, I…I had to check something. I hope that’s okay. Um, checked my email.” “Oh.” She shrugged. “That’s fine. The DING happened already. You might want to take the waffle out before it gets a little too crispy.”

“Oh. Shit.” He spun back and opened the iron, grabbing the tongs and peeling it out, slapping it onto the plate.

“I was really just making sure I wasn’t going insane or something, thinking I put my laptop away when I didn’t.”

He inadvertently gave off a nervous laugh then, and damn him for it, because she immediately noticed and was right at his side, leaving the two eggs frying on the stove. “What?” he asked when she looked at him pointedly.

“Your nervous laugh. You do that when you have something to tell me and you aren’t sure how I’m going to take it.”

Chuck sighed and turned off the iron, taking her hand and leading her out of the kitchen and around to her table. He woke her laptop, punched in her password, and gestured to the screen. She leaned in and immediately frowned. “What’s this?” she asked.

“That’s an email I composed this morning. I rewrote it maybe seventeen times to make sure it was…Well, anyway…”

“Who is Reggie Lincoln?” she asked. “What are you doing sending him an email about me?”

The good thing was she just seemed curious more than anything, and he didn’t sense any anger.

“Lincoln & Associates Contracting. He’s the CEO. He and my dad have been friends since college. I’ve known him for decades, my whole life pretty much. He’s almost like an uncle. Sort of. I don’t see him as often as I used to. But that’s—that’s beside the point.” He cleared his throat. “Lincoln’s a contracting business, has work everywhere, contacts up the ass. A shit ton of contacts. And a lot of them are pretty high profile, guys who have a lot to lose if they get in the papers over theft, whatever else they might be dealing with. I’m pretty sure some of them could use a private investigator with your skill sets. If only they knew you existed.”

Sarah took a deep breath and turned to look at him. “So you’re telling him to tell his friends about me.” She shook her head. “This is something I should be doing for myself, isn’t it? Like, marketing and advertising…that should be me.”

“Sure, yeah. But this is different. Read the email. It’s just a recommendation with your website and contact info. You did work for me and my dad, we’re really pleased with the work, I think he and his associates might benefit from a P.I. with your supreme discretion. That sort of stuff.”

“I’m your girlfriend, Chuck. He isn’t going to know that? Come on.”

“I don’t know what he knows. Maybe Dad told him his son is dating a private investigator, I don’t know. But who cares? I’m not asking him for a favor. I’m just passing along your information. He can do whatever he wants with it from there. Pass it on or not.”

She sent him a bit of a flat look. “You’re using loopholes in our agreement.” “Maybe. A little.” He winced. “Look, if he does decide to recommend you to other people, they’re going to look at your website that you built, your résumé, your record with Pinkerton…They’re going to make their decision about whether or not to call you based off of things you’ve done, not who you are or aren’t connected to. I don’t know Reggie’s high roller buddies. They don’t know me. I doubt they’d give a crap about whether you’re my girlfriend or not. They’d want someone who can give them results, baby, and they’re gonna decide based on you. Not me. Not Reggie. You.”

He could see her thinking on it, and he wondered if he wasn’t getting through to her. He took it an extra step further.

“Say they like what they see, they’re worried some employee is stealing from them or something and they need a detective but they don’t want this leaking to the press. They call you up and they talk to you. They won’t be talking to me or anyone else. You’ll be selling your skill sets. And when they hire you, because they will hire you, you’re going to be working the case. It’s all you. I’m just one of your past clients who was really pleased with the work you did to literally save my life a handful of times.”

“You’re really talking me into this,” she said, pausing.

“And there’s the email. I’m letting you decide if I should send it or not. If you don’t want me to, I won’t. It’s okay.” He reached down and moved the mouse to hover over SEND. “We’ll have breakfast and pretend this didn’t even happen.”

There was a long pause, and then Sarah reached over to click. There was a whoosh sound and it was gone. When she turned to face him, she took a deep breath. “Thanks, Chuck. For helping me.”

“It’s all you, baby.”

They hugged tightly and he buried his face in her hair. It occurred to him, then, that the rain had gotten worse outside, the pattering against the window more like a…sizzle?

“The eggs!”

Sarah dashed out of his arms as he laughed, turning to watch as she tried to rescue their breakfast, reveling in the tumult of the scene as he realized things were contradictorily calm and settled between them.

Just the way he liked it.

[texanredrose]

"No I'm not wearing that. I will kill you if you put that anywhere near me." Freezerburn my bud! (Cuz I'm a predictable hoe ahah)

*ding* Order up. (Late… but still fresh.)

Weiss scrunched up her nose, reaching into the box to touch a knit wool sweater, the garish yellow fabric visible amid the light blue tissue paper. While she expected her girlfriend of several years to go a bit overboard with the gifts this Christmas- she’d been far too much of a bouncing ball of energy in the preceding weeks for subtlety- she hadn’t expected it to this degree. A few material things- a new office chair for the home study, a heating blanket for when the woman was gone on missions, the latest scroll update chip- and the customary handmade gifts, like a new coffee cup with ‘World’s Coolest Ray of Sunshine’ printed in Yang’s distinct handwriting and a set of bracelet gauntlets in the same vein as Ember Celica, except cast in white and fitted to her slender wrists.

But here, she had to draw the line.

“Yang. What in Remnant is this disaster?” She didn’t even pull it fully out of the box; she absolutely detested wool sweaters, the sort of picture perfection they seemed to reflect. Matching family sweaters for a matching family- she’d grown up in that sort of dishonest illusion and the agony it brought. She’d never told Yang the full story, of course, never wanted to dive too deep in the eternal disappointment that was her upbringing, but she’d thought her tastes tending towards silk and satin would discourage anything in the realm of wool.

“It’s a sweater!” The blonde cheerily replied, a huge present sitting in her lap and her crossed arms resting atop it, light blue sleeves of her own sweater visible with the same garish yellow breaking up the solid color with little designs. “I made us matching ones. Try it on, Snowfall.”

“Absolutely not,” she replied, removing the box from her lap and setting it aside. “I’m not wearing that and I will kill you if you put it anywhere near me.”

Yang frowned, shoulders slumping. “But-”

“Look, I appreciate the sentiment, truly I do, but I can’t stand wool sweaters.” She got to her feet, wading through the sea of ripped wrapping paper so she could lean over and press a kiss to her girlfriend’s forehead. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart, but there’s no way you’re getting me into that thing, but yours fits you rather well. The colors are… certainly eye catching.”

“Well, yeah, I…” she paused, then shook her head. “So, there’s nothing I can do to get you to wear it to the party tonight?”

“You’d need a deal with the Devil, Maidens, and every deity from here to Mistral before I’d even consider it.” Weiss slipped a hand beneath the blonde’s chin and directed her into a kiss. “I’m sure you worked hard on it and I am impressed. I absolutely adore the time and care you put into these sorts of things.” She sighed. “But I can’t and won’t be wearing it.”

Yang looked absolutely crestfallen, with her shoulders slumped, and it pained her to be the cause, but certain lines wouldn’t be crossed. “Oh, okay. Well. I mean. I’m-”

“Don’t apologize,” she said, rubbing her thumbs along her girlfriend’s cheeks. “It’s a heartfelt gift, time consuming and thoughtful, but I absolutely refuse to touch wool again. It’s something to be mindful in the future, my little Sunspot, and I truly love that you did this for me.”

Her lips quirked up into a small grin, seemingly soothed for the moment. “Yeah, well… I’m gonna go check on the bird. It, uh, should be ready for basting, and I don’t wanna dry it out.”

“You’ve still a present to open though.” She gestured to the one in Yang’s lap.

“Oh, uh, I’ll get it when I get back.” The blonde stood, still holding the present in her arms and turning around to put it in her seat before heading towards the kitchen. “It’ll just take a few minutes.”

“Very well.” Weiss put her hands on her hips. “And while you’re gone, take your sweater off. I’d like to give you a hug when you get back.”

For a moment, Yang went stock still, turning back towards her with a question on her lips, but it went unvoiced. Instead, she merely nodded with a weak smile and slipped out.

But Weiss had caught a glimpse of something on the front of the sweater- letters in that garish yellow spelling out words- and her brows furrowed. She could’ve sworn she’d seen “I finally asked” written on the front of the sweater, which she hadn’t had a proper look at now that she thought of it; her girlfriend had slipped it on after they’d sat down to open presents and Yang had kept the big present- the latest gaming system bundle, something she’d expressed a significant amount of interest in- in her lap the whole while.

With a furrow to her brows, her gaze fell on the yellow sweater still inside the box and, though loathe as she was to touch the blasted fabric, found her curiosity winning out. Using the tissue paper as a buffer, she pulled the sweater out to find blue letters along the front of it.

“I said yes?”

And then she saw the little pouch just beneath the words, bulging a bit with something contained within it.

Weiss blinked, shoulders falling a little as the pieces fell together. Forgetting the paper for the moment, she dug into the pouch and pulled out a little velvet box, prying it open to find a gorgeous engagement ring inside.

The air fled from her lungs as tears came to her eyes, other hand dropping the sweater and going to cover her mouth.

“There, it should be finished cooking… by the… time… oh.” She looked up, gaze landing on Yang as she entered the room, bereft of the sweater and with a blush rising in her cheeks. “I… uh. Wow, this didn’t go like I planned. At all.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to make a liar of you,” she said, voice watery as she offered a smile. “You can’t say you ‘finally’ asked if you haven’t yet.”

“… alright.” Smiling, the blonde came around to kneel down in front of her, using both of her hands to cup Weiss’ holding the ring box. “Weiss Schnee, these last few years have been the best of my life. For all the hardships we’ve faced, you’ve been by my side for every step of the way, and I absolutely love you with every little part of me. Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she replied, launching herself forward and bowling Yang over in the process, pressing their lips together in a kiss that quickly became heated. “Yes, yes, yes.”

“Okay, I get it.” The blonde chuckled, looking up at her with all the adoration in the world. “And here I thought I was gonna have to come up with something else.”

“Oh, perish the thought.” Weiss smiled, glancing down at the ring box. “It’s a beautiful ring. Did you pick it out yourself?”

“I had a little help.” Yang took it from her hand. “Lemme just slip it- wait, what happened to your hand?”

She glanced down, noting the red rash appearing on her pale skin, a prelude to the horrible itching that would surely follow. “I’m allergic to wool. Have I really never mentioned that before?”

Horror passed over the blonde’s face. “No! No you didn’t! Weiss, I wouldn’t have made you a wool sweater if I knew you were allergic!”

“People forget things sometimes, Love; I just assumed I’d mentioned it at some point and you’d forgotten.”

“Well, you didn’t!” Yang slapped a hand to her face and groaned. “Damnit. No wonder you don’t want to wear the damn thing. I thought you somehow knew I was proposing!”

“How was I supposed to know?” Reaching over for the sweater, she quickly slipped her arms through it. “Really, Yang, as sweet as this is, a little warning might’ve been nice. I wouldn’t have dismissed anything outright if I’d suspected you’d be proposing on Christmas morning.”

“C’mon, it was supposed to be a surprise- wait, what are you doing, Weiss stop that.”

Too late; she’d already slipped it over her head, the sweat fitting rather snugly around her torso. “You wanted me to wear it to the party. I’m still a little critical of the color choices, I’ll admit, but it certainly will ensure everyone is aware that we’re now happily engaged.”

“You’re allergic to wool, you can’t wear that!”

“I can and I will.” Despite her rising discomfort, she leaned down for another kiss. “I’m truly sorry I never told you before. I… suppose it just never came up? My father used to force us to wear matching wool sweaters for Christmas parties at the company; it was absolute hell for me every year and it took weeks for the rashes to go away.”

Sighing, Yang laid her head back with a thud against the floorboards before looking at her. “Okay, here’s the new plan. Take off the sweater, I’m going to slather you in calimine lotion, and we’ll find a turtleneck for you to wear under the sweater for the party.”

“I’m only taking the sweater off if I can wear the ring.”

“Both of your hands are swelling.” The blonde reached up, taking off a plain gold chain she’d taken to wearing- a birthday present from Blake a few months back. Slipping the ring onto the chain, she reached up and put it around Weiss’ neck. “There. Does that meet the standards of our agreement?”

“Yes, I will accept this.” Weiss quickly pulled the sweater off, resisting the urge to begin scratching at the rising redness on her pale skin. “I’m lucky, you know.”

“How do you figure?”

She smiled, leaning down for another kiss. “I have a very thoughtful and sweet fiance. Tell me; what better Christmas present could I ever possibly receive?”

The twinkle she saw in lilac eyes at that… she didn’t know when or even how, but she realized all too late that she’d just set a goal for her beloved, and Yang Xiao Long, her future wife, would do everything in her power to attain it.

She rather looked forward to what the woman would come up with… as long as it didn’t involve fucking wool.

[mooberg]

Finally got it posted my dudes. Enjoy chapter 2…

Fair warning, don’t read if you’ve had even a remotely bad day…

Enjoy!

“This is creepy.”

“I know, Gigi.”

“Like, really creepy.”

“I know, Gigi.”

“It’s like we’re in a statue garden.” Glitch went up to a frozen virus, waving her hand in front of his eyes.

“Gigi, don’t touch him-”

“I’m not.” Glitch soothed her. She sighed, tilting her head back to look at the sun shining down lowly on the courtyard they were in. “How much more of the campus do we have left?”

“Just this last wing.” Jolly replied, pointing to a part of the school they knew well. Glitch hummed lowly. “Alright. Onward.”

Entering the building, they both instinctively turned left and headed up the stairs, making their way to a familiar class.

“Weird to be in here when it’s so quiet.” Jolly commented, walking a path around a virus on the stairs.

“Yeah…” Glitch agreed. The lights were still on and everything. It was almost like a normal school day. Almost.

“Think we’ll be able to figure this one out?” Jolly asked.

At the underlying tones of fear in her voice, Glitch paused. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Jolly headed to a door on the right, just the right distance down the hall. Inside was a group of young students, just like themselves. Beautiful, even, cursive letters were scrawled across the blackboard, a stern, put together teacher standing in front.

“All those people in there, Jiji.” Glitch said. “Even Delta. All of the academy, the city, and however far this stretches. We’re gonna save them.”

“How can we even do that?” Jolly asked. “It’s just… there’s so many.”

Glitch gripped her hand. “Because we’re the only ones who can.”

“But… we’re just…”

“The only ones.”

Jolly simply nodded and continued down the hall, fears somewhat abated for now. The rest of the building was an easy sweep, nothing out of the ordinary. They closed all open doors just in case, and pretended not to notice when they saw faces they recognized frozen in time. Glitch fired off a quick text to Gamma and Psi to let them know all was well as the two made their way back to their dorm.

“Seems weird, doesn’t it?” Jolly commented on the way.

“What, the statues?” Glitch replied. “Yeah, we’ve been over this.”

“Not just the statues. The fact that they’re still intact.” Jolly said. “Why would someone go to all this trouble to bring the city to its knees, and then not do anything? Like Psi said, people are more breakable in this state. So why’s no one broken?”

“I dunno…” Glitch responded quietly, curious. “But I’m sure we’re going to find out.“

“Yeah…”

-*-

"Are you ready?” Gamma asked softly.

Psi lowered his head, eyes closed, and shook it slowly. “I do not think I can do this.”

“I know.” Gamma’s hand slipped off the door handle. She came to stand in front of him, letting out a tearful sigh. “I don’t think I can either.”

When Psi said nothing, she wrapped him up in a tight hug, for both their sakes. Together, they let the tears fall. They’d been holding it together in front of the team, but alone, in front of their home, reality came crashing down around them. Everyone they’d ever cared for, and everyone who had ever cared for them, were in there, literal shells of their former selves.

Despite the fear clutching at their hearts, eventually Psi pulled away. They had to do this. They had to make sure. Without a word, he opened the door.

“Do not go far from me.” He said as they began moving down the hall.

“I won’t.” Gamma replied, intertwining their hands.

They had expected silence to reign supreme over the house. They had prepared for that. And yet, the low hum of a television drifted down the hall as they walked.

“Is that-”

“Don’t. Don’t get your hopes up.” Gamma said.

Both their veins began to pulse with excitement despite themselves. If there was still sound, there was a chance…!

Sing sat on the couch, leaning back as Xanthippe ran a hand through her hair. Their eyes were trained on the TV. Ray sat in the armchair next to them, a joke resting on the tip of his tongue. It would never get delivered, though.

Psi turned away from the scene, letting out a string of curse words.

“No.” Gamma whispered. “I can’t believe it…”

“There is no way it could have passed over them.” Psi mumbled half-heartedly. Gamma held back a sob. “I know. But I hoped… I mean… we… we’re alone. It’s just us now.”

Psi closed his eyes against her words. They were all too true, and the pain of them stung deep. They’d known, of course they’d known. From the minute they’d each been woken up they had known, but they didn’t want to accept it. It was all too real now.

For a while, they wandered down the halls, calling out names despite the futility of doing so. But with the silence that echoed after each cry, they became fewer and fewer.

Eventually, Psi led them to a very familiar door.

“Psi…”

“Can you…?” He shook his head. “I… I cannot do it.”

Gamma nodded, squeezing his hand tightly. “Of course.”

“Do not… you do not have to do anything. Just…”

“I’ll make sure he’s alright.”

Gamma waited until Psi turned away before opening the door to his and Sammy’s room. From under soft blankets, a mop of bright red hair poked out. Gamma gave a watery smile at the sight, expecting a surge of happiness that usually accompanied Sampi’s presence. It never came.

“I’m sorry Sampi.” Gamma whispered, going to pat his head but resisting at the last second. “We’ll figure this out.”

Psi turned eagerly towards her as the door opened.

“He’s fine. He’s safe.”

He let out a long sigh. “Thank you.”

“I need to go get supplies.” Gamma said, dodging his thanks.

“As do I.” Psi agreed.

“Meet you at the front entrance?” She suggested.

“I do not want you going far from me-”

“I can’t do this, Psi.” She cut him off desperately. “I can’t.”

“Fine. I will meet you at the front.” Before turning away, he wrapped her in a tight hug.

When they parted, Gamma practically ran down the hallway. This was too much. Seeing them all like this was too much. And when they’d checked in on Tare only to find he wasn’t there… Who knew where he was? Who knew how many of them were missing? Cracked, or shattered, they had no clue.

She rounded a corner and came upon a lone figure, eyes on the darkened screen of his phone. At the sight of his bright hair, Gamma faltered. Epsilon.

She walked towards him. “Epsi, tell me what to do. You always know what to do.”

No response. Had she even expected one?

-*-

“I can do this. I can do this.” Psi muttered to himself as he made his way to the medical bay. He ran through the list in his head again, hoping he could just grab his supplies and go. He wanted out, too.

He took a different route upon exiting the bay. The coast had been clear on the way in, but as he left, he came face to face with Tripoli.

“I am sorry.” He whispered, wanting to hug her but fighting the urge inside him. The image of her shattering in his arms made him sick to his stomach. “I am so sorry.”

He backed away, feeling the anxiety rise within him. He tried to breathe, fight it off, but it clutched at him, pulling him in.

“We have to solve this. We have to.” He looked up at Tripoli again. “I promise, we will.”

-*-

Psi and Gamma stared hand in hand at the front of the mansion looming before them, a symbol of home. A symbol of belonging. Through hell and high water they had endured, and stuck together as one. The feeling of emptiness when the two of them called out over the psychic link and recieved no response left a hole where 97 pieces had once filled their hearts. It was cemented by the lack of life inside their home. They shouldn’t be scared of home. But right now, this wasn’t home. This was some sick, twisted other.

“I want to seal it up.” Psi said as they stood outside the front door.

“It’s a lot to cover…” Gamma replied, not outright saying no.

“I know.”

“… do it.”

-*-

Neutral faces passed through the door to the dorm. Letting the cracks show was the last thing the team needed. Psi and Gamma were the crutch they all still relied on, and a fractured one would get them nowhere.

“Gamma!” A crushing hug knocked the bag from her hand and the wind from her system.

“Callow?” Gamma pulled away, staring into those comforting green and black eyes. “Callow!”

He laughed when she latched on to him tightly. “Hey beautiful.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” She whispered.

“Welcome back.” Peony greeted them, standing from the couch.

“I could say the same to you.” Psi said, gaze shifting to Horns and cooling. 

“When did this occur?”

“Um… like, twenty minutes ago?” He squirmed in his seat under his mentor’s icy stare. “I… I woke up earlier than I expected and felt okay so I figured, y'know, I could wake up the team.”

“And it did not occur to you to check with us first?” Psi asked.

“No- no I just thought-”

“About your team.” Psi guessed. “Instead of countless others who could have helped.”

“I… w-well…”

“You should have checked with us first.” His tone, though not aggressive yet, was taken as such to Horns, feeling like he was under fire.

“I’m sorry! I-I just thought that, y'know, with the whole team awake and working together- I mean, we work so well, and- i-it would boost morale and-…” He slumped forward in defeat. “I’m sorry. I do have one last dive left in me, and I’m sure there’s someone on campus. Delta? Or Mu or Victor? Or Golf-”

“No. What is done is done.” If he asked Horns to do that, it would put him out of commission once again. It would feel too much like they were just using him for his powers. Of all people, the 99 understood that best.

“Look, we’re awake now, so let’s deal with it and move on.” Peony said. She placed a hand on Horns’ shoulder and looked towards the scouting team. “We haven’t had a chance to talk yet so let’s at least brief together. What did you find out?”

“The entire city is frozen.” Gamma replied, pulling herself marginally away from Callow. “We couldn’t go too far out of town but the surrounding areas are in the same predicament.”

“None of our contacts in and out of the city are responding.” Psi added. “It would appear the eight of us are the only ones free of this curse.”

“The campus is okay though!” Jolly reported cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood.

“So… uh, what do we do next?” Callow looked around at the others, utterly unsure. Most of them were in the same boat.

Psi finally broke the silence. “I retrieved some of Sant- the tech available from the mansion. Callow, I would appreciate your assistance in setting it up.”

“Your office?” Callow offered.

“Might as well.” Psi agreed.

“Uh… anyone hungry?” Peony asked as the two headed off, Gamma close behind.

There were a few scattered and distracted mumbles.

“Cool. Good talk.” Pe joked. “I’ll make sammy- sandwiches anyway. Eq? Help me?”

“Uh, sure.” Equo nodded.

As the team split off to their individual duties, Horns made a beeline for his bedroom, head hung low. Glitch followed quickly on his heels.

“Hey, hold up there pretty boy.” She called when they were both close to the door. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Oh.” Horns sighed when he turned to face her. “I dunno, somewhere with my tail between my legs I guess.”

“Hey, I represent that remark.” She fired back, hoping to make him laugh. Mission failed.

“Just give me a sec alone, okay?” He asked.

She pushed him into his room and shut the door behind her. “There. You got it.”

“That’s not- I said alone, Glitch.” Horns pointed out.

“Well, I’m your other half, so technically you can’t be alone without me.” Glitch shot back.

“That you are.” He agreed softly. “But-”

“No buts. Unless you’re offering yours up for grabs…” She winked.

“I’m not.” He said simply, turning to his crystal collection.

Glitch frowned. “Hey… talk to me, Milosc.”

Horns took a few moments, selecting the right stone. Gripping it tightly in his hand, he turned to face her. “He’s right. I should’ve checked in. Maybe we could have-”

“Bullshit.” Glitch spat, making him jump slightly. “Do you know how much of a relief it is to have the whole team awake?”

“Yeah but theirs isn’t.” Horns shot back. “I wake up my team, and it leaves all the 99ers out in the cold.”

Glitch’s stance dropped, understanding washing over her.

“Yeah.” Horns pulled back as well. “That’s their family, Glitch. I’m the only one who can help them and I’ve effectively cast them aside.”

“So what? There’s at least one team-”

“An F-rank team.” He scoffed. “Compared to them? There’s no contest there.”

“Look. What’s done is done.” Glitch said. “As much as I know you’d love to go back and rewrite history, you can’t. All you can do is live with the consequences and get shit done. You wanna wallow in your misery? Fine. Do it after we save the world.”

“What makes you think we will?”

“Because we’re the only ones that can." 

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Fan Novel (Book 1, Chapter 15)

We make for the door, not worrying about the fact that we're both still naked. But the Watcher leaps into our path. Jake puts himself between me and the enemy.

“Stay behind me!”

He charges the intruder, but the Watcher leaps, round-house kicking him. Jake staggers back with a pained grunt. I rush forward to steady him and see blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“Do not resist!” Just as on the beach, the Watcher speaks in an unknown tongue, but I hear his words in English in my head. “Accept your fate.”

Jake wipes at his mouth. “Unless that means 'You order room service?', it's time for you to go, Blue's Clues.”

“Jake!” I cry out as he charges again. This time, he takes the Watcher by surprise and wrestles him to the floor. I watch helplessly as they grapple, rolling over each other through the field of shattered window glass. I search for a weapon, search for an opening, but Jake and the Watcher are wrapped up in each other, moving too quickly for me to get in.

I never see how it happens. I never see any weapon in the Watcher's hand, never see the danger. But Jake suddenly goes stiff, choking, his eyes wide. The Watcher leaps back, stunned. He looks down at his hands. They're smeared with blood that gleams black in the moonlight.

“Jake!”

My voice sounds shrill to my own ears, high and frantic. Heedless of the glass, I rush over, falling to my knees beside him as he twitches on the floor. Blood soaks the carpet beneath him, spreading in a dark stain. Protruding from deep within his stomach, glinting wickedly in the moonlight, is a massive shard of broken glass.

“No...” I whisper. “Oh, God, please no...”

Jake's trembling lips attempt to curve into a smile, but there is a film of tears in his eyes. “Heh...that bad, huh?”

“It was...he resisted...” Even in my head, the Watcher's voice trembles. “It was not meant to end like this for him.”

I ignore him. I clutch Jake's hand, but his grip is already going slack. Tears well in my eyes as I bend over him, stroking his hair with a trembling hand. “Stay with me, Jake. Please just stay with me. I'll get some of the plants on the roof. You'll be fine...”

“...Don't...feel like there's time...for that...” he rasps.

I choke on a sob. “Don't leave me, Jake. You can't leave me...”

“Hey...none of that now...Don't cry over a...nobody like me...” He gasps in agony, a tear trickling from the corner of his eye. “You've got...your whole life...ahead of you, Princess...ain't nobody...gonna...take...that...”

He exhales...and he does not breathe in again. I feel my head shake. A ridiculous gesture. As if I can bring him back by forbidding him to die. That is the thought that brings it all crashing down on me.

...He's dead. Jake is dead. I...I barely knew him...he barely knew me...but I liked him. And he liked me. And we tossed around in bed together and he shared his secret with me. ...He must have trusted me...And now he's dead. ...We could have been good for each other...we might have fit well together...but now we'll never know. All that potential between us... We could have lasted forever. He might have been my soulmate. Or we might have broken each other's hearts, ended up hating each other. ...But now we'll never know. Anything sweet or sour that we might have known together is gone. Destroyed.

I double over, sick with anguish, sobs wracking my body. My head fills with fluid that spills onto my face from my eyes, nose, and mouth. It's disgusting, but I don't care.

“Jake...” I whimper. “...No...Jake...”

“This...changes nothing,” the Watcher says. “You must come.”

He puts a hand on my shoulder. I react instantly, tearing at him, striking his face.

“You killed him, you bastard!” I scream, clawing at him “You killed him!”

He shifts his weight, flipping and pinning me down. I scream like a wild animal. Rage floods my every sense, powered by indescribable grief. Pain fills my every cell, driving me to madness. I reach up and grab his necklace by the glowing blue stone nestled at the hollow of his throat. I rip it free of his neck, raising a fist to strike him with it, but the rage consuming me suddenly fades. Suddenly, I feel small and helpless as a child abandoned and all I can think of is Jake smiling only minutes ago, entwined with me in bed...

My world flashes white, and then pale blue. ...And then, he's there. Jake smiles up at me as I cup his cheek in my hand.

“What can I say, Princess? You've got that effect on me.” I blink at him, too disoriented even to be shocked. He chuckles. “Come on, I know it's a cheesy line, but it ain't that bad. What's with the face?”

I sit up straight, my body tingling like I've just put my finger in an electrical socket. I can still feel the blood on my hands...

He sits up, frowning. “...Everything okay?”

“Jake...? Is it really you?”

Without waiting for an answer, I pull him into my arms, tears rising in my eyes again.

“Woah, woah, woah!” He holds me back, rocking me. “Alodia, you're shaking like a leaf! What's wrong?”

I open my eyes, and realize there's something in my hand. ...It's the Watcher's necklace. Except that the stone, once a nebulous blue, is now a cold, leaden grey. I pull my arms back from around Jake to examine the stone more closely.

“...Where'd you get that?” he asks.

“...It was real...” I whisper.

“Okay, you're, uh...starting to freak me out a little.”

I look up sharply as my mind starts to catch up to the events around me. I meet Jake's eyes.

“...Do you trust me?”

He smirks. “I guess you could say that.”

“Then I need you to come with me right now.” I grab his hand and pull him off the bed, diving into the closet and pulling the door shut. The light through the narrow slats leaves thin golden lines on the darkened closet floor. I peer through the slats, eyes on the window.

“So, is this a sex thing I haven't heard of, or...”

“Shhh!” I hiss.

From where I am huddled, I can see a shadow pass over the moon. Then the window explodes in a hail of glass. The Watcher leader lands gracefully on his feet, glass gleaming around him in the moonlight.

“What the hell?!” Jake gasps. “How did yo--”

I clap my hand over his mouth. He pulls me close to him in the darkness. We watch as the Watcher looks around the room with his eyes narrowed, perplexed. He roams slowly around the room, over to the bed, examining our discarded clothes, the smashed vase, the toppled chair. He stops in front of the closet. Jake and I hold our breath, clinging to each other. Finally, the Watcher turns and heads into the hallway.

We exhale slowly. After taking a moment to make sure the coast is clear,  we creep carefully out of the closet. I look at the sparkling glass shards spread over the carpet and shiver, remembering how Jake bled out in my arms.

“...You wanna tell me what happened back there?”

I look at him with tears in my eyes. Haltingly, I explain. How the Watcher took us by surprise. How the two of them struggled...the massive glass shard, either buried in the carpet or in the Watcher's hand—I never saw which...how he died in my arms...the rage that consumed me and how I went for the Watcher, grabbing the stone from around his neck.

“All I wanted was to be back in bed with you, before it all went wrong. ...And when I touched this...well...there I was. Back in bed with you. The moment before it all went wrong.”

Jake looks properly shaken, which shouldn't be a surprise, since I just told him that I watched him die. He sinks down onto the bed, his face pale.

“...Things are getting weirder by the minute around here.” He sets his jaw and looks up at me. “...But right now, that guy's roaming the halls looking for us. We've gotta warn the others.”

We gather our discarded clothes and throw them on in a rush. I'm pretty sure my underwear is backwards, but there's no time to worry about that. I strap on my knife belt as we slip into the hallway. Jake pulls me against the wall and peeks around the corner. He holds up two fingers. ...Two Watchers.

“How did they get in?” I whisper.

“No way they got through the shutters. A few of 'em must've gotten on the roof and rappeled down.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He looks down at me achingly. “I really hate to do this...but we've gotta split up if we're gonna warn everybody in time.”

I nod. “I don't want to leave you, either, but you're right.”

“I'll start on this floor. You get to an elevator and get the floors underneath us.”

“Got it.”

He cups my cheek. “Just don't get yourself killed, okay?”

“I won't.” I start to go, but Jake reaches out and grabs my wrist.

“Just one more thing, Princess.” He pulls me into a long, desperate kiss. When he finally breaks it, he presses his forehead to mine. “...Be safe.”

“You too, Top Gun.”

He plants a last kiss on my forehead, and then jogs down the hall before either of us can lose our will. Even as he goes, I have to fight the urge to call him back, to beg him to stay with me. Only the thought of the others being taken by surprise gives me the courage to go on alone. I turn the other way, staying flush against the wall.

The hall way I'm standing in intersects with another. I peer around. Two watchers, a male and female, are searching rooms.

“Lash kanaa,” the woman mutters.

“Duu germund nii,” the man replies.

I have to get to the other side of the intersection, but that means crossing the vulnerable open space where the two halls meet. I swallow, pressing up against the corner, watching for my opportunity.  Every muscle in my body quivers. I'm reminded of the feeling I'd get at competitions, just before the buzzer sounded and I mounted the beam. The more nervous I was, the harder it would be to keep my balance, so my coach taught me to train my parasympathetic nervous system to respond to a cue. A word or phrase, whispered or mentally repeated while I inhaled and exhaled, would slow my heartrate and unlock my muscles. The technique has helped me before competitions, performances, and exams. I pray it helps me now. I draw in my breath.

“...Apples...” I whisper. “...Apples....apples...”

I feel my heartbeat settle. The male Watcher turns his back.

Apples...apples...

My limbs slowly stop trembling. The female watcher joins her companion, turning her back on me. I dart across the gap, ducking behind the far corner, my steps light as a cat's. Thank you, Coach Oliver!

I peer back around the corner, just to be sure. Neither of the Watchers seem to have noticed me. They're further down the hall now and moving away from me. Piece of cake. I'm like a ghost. I turn to continue my journey, and find myself face to face with a blue figure. I gasp and stumble backwards, just barely managing to smother a scream with my hands.

“I apologize for frightening you, Alodia,” Iris says.

“Ha, yo, you should see your face right now,” Raj chuckles. He's holding a box of Cap'n Crunch, digging the stuff out in handfuls and cramming it into his mouth.

“What are you guys doing?!” I hiss.

“Talkin' 'bout life and stuff, you know.” He pauses, tipping his head. “Wait, are we whispering? Should I be whispering?”

I fill them in on what's happening, giving them the short version. I leave out the part about Jake dying and the necklace.

“They're here?!” To his credit, Raj manages to whisper. “In the resort?! Oh crap, oh crap!”

“This is an unfortunate development,” Iris agrees. Although she doesn't exactly whisper, she does seem to have lowered the volume of her voice, like the volume on a radio or television. “This is an unfortunate development. A pity. I had quite enjoyed my brief time knowing Raj.”

“What matters now is warning the others before they get grabbed. The Watchers have to search every room, so we have the advantage. If we hurry, we'll beat them. Come on.”

The three of us advance quietly down the halls toward the elevator. Something on the wall glints in the light, catching my eye. I turn sharply back to it, needing to assure myself that it's nothing dangerous.

It's a pirate cutlass, mounted in a sturdy frame next to a matching scabbard. Not immediately dangerous, though it certainly could be in the Watchers' hands. I stare at it for a moment. It almost seems to be...sparkling. With some otherworldly sort of energy...

“Noice!” Raj says behind me. “That's a dope-ass Pirates of the Caribbean sword they got. Kudos to the decorator.”

“A weapon like that would come in handy in a seige situation,” Iris points out.

I reach up and pull the sword down from the wall. The blade seems to hum in my hands.

“Sooooooo cool,” Raj declares. “That's such a good replica!”

“That is not a replica. Analysis indicates authentic specimen, circa 1693 A.D.”

“What?!” I gasp. “But it looks brand new!”

“Is it sharp?”

I experimentally swing the blade at a small tapesty that hangs on the wall behind me. With scarcely a sound, it's cleaved in two.

“Yeah. It's sharp.”

Raj blinks. “Uh, one: super sweet. Two: maybe be careful with that thing?”

“Sure thing.”

My palm starts to tingle. I look down at the sword. My world flashes white in a way that almost feels familiar. When it clears, I'm standing in a gold mine, like the one Quinn and I went through at the shelter. I gasp and fall back, tightening my grip on the sword. I look down at the weapon in my hand. Except that it is no longer my own hand that holds it. It is the hairy, gnarled hand of an old man, flecked with liver spots. I search for myself, and find myself a passenger in someone else's mind, just as I was when I dreamt of being in Raj's body.

The vessel and I both hear screaming. There is a violent brawl underway all around him. On one side are a collection of ragged pirates, their bearded faces bloody, weilding swords and pistols. On the other are the Watchers.

“Kashta mishram nara!”

“Zhell! Per lok!”

Blades sing in the firelight, clashing and swinging. Men scream and howl in agony. One pirate lies on the ground at my vessel's feet, his chest a bloody ruin. He looks up at me, eyes pleading.

“Captain...help us...”

My vessel rushes to the man's side. Then pain slices through my chest. I look down. There is an arrow sprouting from his chest. And I feel his pain like my own. Another arrow pierces the flesh beside the first. And then another. We crumple against the mine wall, gasping. Every breath hurts. A Watcher looms over us, a woman in the mask of a ram. She raises a club and brings it down hard on our face. I feel the sword tumbling out of our hand...

I jerk out of his body with a gasp, staggering back in my own. Raj steadies me with an arm around my shoulders.

“You okay, Alodia? You just spaced out big time.”

“I...think I just found out what happened to the pirates who landed here. ...It wasn't good.”

“I detected a surge of an unidentified energy just now. It appeared to be emanating from Alodia.”

“I wanna know all about that later, Iris. Right now, we need to deal with the Watchers, unless we want to end up as dead as the guy who used to wield this sword.”

I grab the scabbard from the wall and slip the sword inside. We continue down the hall until we reach the next intersection. We freeze upon hearing a familiar sound...a low, guttural purr...

We press ourselves against the wall. I peer around the corner. There is a pair of Watchers searching rooms. And prowling beside them is the sabertooth tiger.

“It appears the intruders have brought a hunting beast.”

“You're telling me that the sabertooth is the plant people's pet?!”

The sabertooth suddenly perks up, sniffing the air. The Watcher handlers notice.

“Yrit tranaa!”

“Lok, lok!”

“He smells something!” I whisper.

“It's my Citrus Krush!” Raj whispers back.

“Citrus Krush? I thought you were eating Cap'n Crunch?”

“Not my cereal, man! That's the strain of medicinal substance I was smoking tonight!”

“...Wait, you're high right now? That's...actually impressive. I couldn't even tell.” Raj's eyes flick from me to Iris to the tiger to his cereal...and then around the circle again. “...Okay, now I can kinda tell.”

“I'll lead the cat the other way,” he says suddenly. “Oughta give you guys some time.”

“What?! No way!”

“Raj, are you certain?” Iris asks.

He grins. “Never been more sure of anything in my life. Maybe that's not saying much, though. Go now!”

He turns and runs back the other way before I can protest further. Iris and I press forward. The sabertooth prowls out, sniffing around where we were just standing. Then, it turns and pads off in Raj's direction, never even turning to see us.

“My goodness. My projections of his bravery were far outside the margin of error.”

“People will surprise you,” I say softly. “Come on, Iris. Let's do what he said.”

We make it to the elevator and slip inside. I punch the button and the elevator whisks us down four floors.

“Grace's room is on this floor,” I say. “I'll get her. Meanwhile, you scout the Watchers' positions.”

“Excellent idea. Right away.”

Iris' hologram winks out, and her drone flutters off. I make it to Grace's room unmolested and rap softly on the door.

“Grace? It's Alodia. I need to--” The door opens and cuts me off. Aleister stands in front of me with his shirt untucked. I blink. “Aleister?”

“I...we...nothing! We were just talking!” He blushes furiously and I can't help but wonder if he even notices my tousled hair or the faint smell of sex clinging to me.

“Alodia?” Grace comes up behind him. “What's happening?”

I slip into the room and shut the door. I explain the situation as quickly as possible. Their expressions crumble. Trembling, Grace presses close to Aleister.

“All that work barricading...” Aleister moans. “Setting traps in the shops and the kitchen...all for naught. They still caught us unprepared.”

“I know we're on the ropes here, but we gotta focus. We have to get everyone together, somewhere safe.”

“What about that security center hidden behind the game room? That'd be safe.”

“Great idea, Grace. Only problem is, some of our friends' rooms are in the other wing of the tower. Gotta go across the lobby to get over there.” I look at them. “You two go straight to the security center and tell everyone you find. We left the door to the hidden room propped, and it opens from the inside, so just shut yourselves in and let the rest of us in when we get there. I'll go get everyone from the other wing.”

“Don't be foolish, Alodia,” Aleister says flatly. “You, Grace, and I are by far the lives most worth saving here. It's positively asinine to risk yourself for them, and I am sure they would agree.”

“Aleister!” Grace cries. “We're not leaving anyone behind!”

“Absolutely not!” I agree. “...Though I am weirdly flattered that you think I'd be worth saving.”

“Well, you've proven yourself worth the air you breathe, unlike most. Don't let it go to your head.”

“I won't. ...Be careful, you two.”

I open the door slowly, checking to see that the coast is clear.

“Hey, um...Alodia?” I turn to see Grace beside me. “Could I ask you a really big favor?”

“What is it?”

She hands me a folded piece of paper. “If something happens to me tonight...could you give that note to my mom? There's...a lot I wanted to tell her.”

“Grace...you can tell her yourself when we get out of here. I promise.”

“Please. I'm asking you, Alodia.”

I take the note and slip it into my pocket. “Okay. I'll make sure she reads it.”

As Grace and Aleister head for the security center, I take the elevator down to the lobby. The doors open.

“Fi lonshan'craa!”

“Crap!” I yelp before I can stop myself.

A small band of Watchers spots me from across the lobby and races towards me with impossible speed.

“Allie!” Diego suddenly appears in front of me, grabbing my hand and yanking me out of the elevator. “This way!”

“We're not gonna be able to shake these guys, Diego!” My mind races and hits on something. “The traps! Aleister said there were traps set in the shops and the kitchen! We have to lead them there!”

Diego pulls me into the stairwell. We scramble up the stairs to the shopping level on the second floor, darting by kiosks, convenience stores, and gift shops.

“There!” Diego points to a high-fashion boutique, where I can clearly see Aleister's pyramid of paint-filled balloons. We dart behind it, each picking up a squishy balloon. Diego smiles weakly at me. “Hope your aim's good.”

“Sure wish Sean were here right now,” I reply grimly.

As the Watchers rumble into the boutique, we release our balloons, not even stopping to see where they land before grabbing more and hurling them at the intruders. The balloons burst as they land, splattering paint everywhere. At least a few land squarely in the Watchers' faces. They howl with rage, frantically scrubbing the paint from their eyes.

“Okay, time to keep moving!” Diego grabs my hand again and we take off for another stairwell. The Watchers who avoided our assault are in hot pursuit. “We've got stragglers! Where next?!”

“The kitchen!”

We stumble up to the fourth floor, weaving through the restaurant to the kitchen, searching for the trap our friends planted.

“That's it!” I cry, pointing to the chrome oxygen tank resting horizontally on a serving cart.

“What the hell are we supposed to do with that?!”

“Stay behind me!”

The Watchers are hot on our trail and they storm into the kitchen.

“Gana shanlenzi!”

“Dima nij shala!”

“Allie! We've got incoming!”

“No. They've got incoming!”

I grab the meat tenderizing hammer resting beside the tank and slam it down on the valve at the back. It snaps off, releasing the built up pressure in a smoky plume. The tank rockets off the cart like a missile, crashing into the Watchers with spectacular force.

“Ha! Bullseye! That oughta buy us some time!”

“Come on! Back to the lobby! We have to get everyone out of the other tower!”

We barrel down the stairs and into the lobby, taking off towards the other side. Up ahead, there are strange, rippling reflections on the floor. As I get closer, I realize it's been covered in water.

“It's Lila's trap!” I grab Diego's arm, stopping him short of the puddle where a pair of thick electrical cables is resting. “Come on! This way!”

I follow the path of the cables over to a hiding spot where Lila has her hand on an electrical switch.

“Alodia!” Lila calls. “Diego! Cross it quickly!”

We nod and sprint across the flooded section of the lobby. We can hear the splashing of our pursuers' feet behind us. We hit the dry floor.

“We're clear, Lila!'

“Hope this doesn't come as a shock!” she laughs as she throws the switch. Diego and I clutch each other, turning away as the water behind us crackles with electricity. We hear the Watchers scream. I dare to look back. The last of our pursuers have fallen back, blocked from following us by the electrified moat. They don't appear to have taken any permanent damage, but they pace angrily beside it, clearly not keen to attempt a crossing again. They flee, no doubt searching for another way around.

“...Thanks for waiting,” I manage to gasp.

“Seriously, remind me never to get on your bad side,” Diego deadpans.

“No sweat!” Lila says cheerfully. “Did you like my one-liner? I spent all day on it!”

Diego and I exchange glances.

“...Yeah,” he says. “It was...great.”

I become aware of an acrid smell.

“...Is something burning?”

“Uh oh...” Lila points. “Over there. Behind the conceirge desk.”

I follow her finger, to where a perfect square in the wall has caught fire, the wallpaper curling in the heat.

“What the hell?” Diego mutters.

“There must have been something in the wall that the wires were powering. Shorting it out started the fire.”

“But what is it?” Lila wonders.

I grab the fire extinguisher from the wall behind the desk and quickly put out the flames. When the fog clears, I can't make out any electrical device. But in a hidden compartment in the wall, there rests a charred wooden box with an engraving on the top.

“...What's this?”

Diego pulls it out carefully, reading the engraving on the top. “ 'Rourke Diaries, La Huerta, 1980'.”

“Oh, I'm sure it's nothing,” Lila says quickly. We probably want to leave that right there, huh? You know, privacy and all.”

“Rourke has hidden cameras all over this hotel,” Diego says flatly. “Not really feeling all that concerned about his privacy. What about you, Allie? Wanna find out what Rourke was up to when he first came here?”

“I'm with you, Diego. Besides, any information we can get may help us survive long enough to get home.”

“Aah, wait!” Lila protests.

Diego lifts the lid on the box and pulls out  four pages of yellowed paper, encrusted with sea salt around their edges. Each page is blanketed in elegant, flowing script. I read over his shoulder.

1980 June 3

Alas, I am shipwrecked. My dear vessel dashed upon the rocks. A sudden squall of ferocious lightning the color of flames forced me aground this damned rock.

Unbridled, uninhabited, unworthy of my presence, let alone my grave. I will not perish here alone, forgotten in the wild, far from my beloved. Furthermore, the boys at the regatta would have quite a chuckle if I succumbed in such untoward fashion. I simply cannot abide that.

1980 June 11

A childhood hunting big game with my father at last pays its dues. Repair to my sailboat is impossible, but I've reconquered fire, shelter, and weaponry in the name of mankind. It grows ever more important to chronicle my experiences here, for they seem stranger by the day. My eyes betray me, offering impossible visions or great beasts of antiquity. Even the constellations play tricks. I see Aquila, Serpens, Hydra, yet Orion and Taurus hide from me. I must write to maintain my wits. For a man's wits are all he has to confront the great evils of nature.

1980 June 15

A curse remade into blessing by sheer force of will. That is what this island will be for me. A vision came, bearing witness to this refuge's true potential deep within its volcanic core, as if a voice from God.

But God spoke in my voice, because here I shall be God.

1980 June 30

Harnessing the island, I have achieved the impossible. My ship is repaired, and I venture home to my beloved. But I will return. And when I do, I will tame this power to make and unmake mountains and men, who both rise and fall under the same awesome celestial forces. This island will be my legacy. It will be my destiny.

Everret Aleister Rourke

Caribbean Sea

“Looks like Rourke shipwrecked here almost fourty years ago.”

“Of course,” Lila says. “That's no secret.”

“...But I don't think he was telling people what he found.”

“What power is he talking about?” Diego wonders.

“He noticed the weird constellations, too. I wonder what he stars have to do with all this...”

Noises from the hall make us jump. The Watchers have nearly found their way around Lila's trap.

“We have to hurry!” Lila says. “Come on, follow me!”

She leads us into the other wing of the tower. We duck up the stairs and onto the third floor, where we run into Craig and Michelle.

“What's going on, Alodia?” Craig asks

“We keep hearing all this noise!” Michelle adds.

“Come with us,” I gasp. My legs are burning with exertion, but the adreneline has not worn off yet. “I'll explain on the way.”

The five of us make it back to the game room and pound on the secret door. “Guys, it's us! Alodia, Diego, Lila, Craig, and Michelle!”

The door opens and we all tumble in, sealing ourselves in. Everybody else is waiting inside. We all made it. A flurry of hugging follows. I throw myself into Jake's arms, and he kisses my hair.

“You okay?” he asks, stroking the back of my head.

“I'm fine. I'm okay. You?”

“Yeah...doin' a bit better now than two minutes ago.”

He sets me down. Zahra looks over at me.

“You're alive,” she observes flatly. “Nice.”

I grin. “You're not gonna get sappy on me, are you?”

“No way! I'm just...” She scowls. “I'll have you know I was this close to bailing on the lot of you! Don't make me regret not going 'Every Woman For Herself.'”

Murphy hops up onto my shoulder, lapping at my face with a chilly tongue. I scratch his neck.

“Missed you, too, fella.”

“Yo, Alodia!” Craig exclaims, noting the cutlass tucked into my belt. “Is that a straight-up pirate sword? Bad. Ass.”

“That will come in handy,” Estela remarks.

“Indeed,” Lila agrees. “I'm guessing you could decapitate an opponent in two, maybe three chops!”

“Alodia,” Iris chimes. “I completed your assignment. Downloading scouting report.”

Numbers and blueprints start to appear on the room's monitors.

“Nice work,” Jake says. “This oughta help us figure out a way outta here.”

Pounding on the sealed doorway silences everyone. There are voices outside, shouting in the Watchers' language.

“...Will it help us figure a way past that?” Michelle murmurs.

“What are we supposed to do?” Quinn asks. “We're completely cornered in here.”

“There's only one thing we can do,” I say grimly. “Now that we're all together, we regroup...and fight our way out.”

“Fight?!” Craig cries. “With what?!”

“And to where?” Grace adds.

Jake is studying the blueprints on the computer screen.

“Not too many of the Watchers got in,” he remarks thoughtfully, “thanks to locking down the resort and sealing off that secret entrance. So we won't have to face too many. And that gives us time.”

“Time for what, pray tell?” Aleister sneers.

Jake points to a spot on the blueprint. “I was rummaging around here earlier this week. They've got a ton of parasailing gear in storage.”

“Um...is he saying what I think he's saying?” Grace asks nervously.

“I think he's saying we get the parasailing chutes...and jump off the roof.”

“That's the long and short of it, Princess,” Jake confirms.

“Where 'long' is our fall and 'short' is our remaining lifespan,” Aleister mutters.

“Hell no!” Craig cries. “Have you lost your damn mind?!”

“Chill, Craig!” Raj says firmly. “I don't see you coming up with any better ideas!”

I can feel the panic growing in the small room, taking hold. Everyone begins shouting at once.

“No way I'm going out there! I'll just stay here!”

“This only works if we stick together! We're putting our lives in each other's hands!”

“Yeah, that's gonna be a hard pass!”

I wave my arms, trying to get their attention. “Guys, please! Guys! Hey!”

A piercing whistle startles everyone into silence. We all look at Michelle as she takes her fingers out of her mouth. She puts her hands on her hips, glaring at the group.

“Everyone shut up! Alodia is trying to speak, and I for one would like to listen, since she seems to be the only person here with her head screwed on straight!” When no one speaks, she nods at me. “Go ahead, Alodia.”

“Uh...thank you, Michelle.” I shake my head, wondering briefly when the hell that woman stopped hating me. I turn to the others. “Okay, the worst thing we could do would be to go out there when we're scared and bickering. It's simple. Right now, we have a choice.”

“How exactly do we have any choice at all?!” Aleister snaps.

I look him hard in the eye. “You can choose to hold back. You can choose to hesitate. To be afraid. Or you can choose to face these odds head-on and give it your all, whatever comes be damned!”

They all look at me for a moment. Then Craig nods.

“All right. I'm in. To the very end.”

“Let's do this,” Grace agrees.

“All right, everyone get ready,” Jake says. “I'm gonna open the door on three. When I do, full speed ahead, got it?”

He makes his way to the door. I follow him to the front of the group, ready to charge out first. As I get myself on the balls of my feet, I feel a hand on my arm.

“...Hey, Allie,” Diego says softly, “I just wanna say before it all goes down...Thank you. For everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“It probably sounds dumb, but I feel like you made my life special. Extraordinary. Maybe I was always cut out to be the sidekick, but if so, then I'm glad I was your sidekick. Because honestly, you've been my hero. So even if I lose you right now, I just wanna say thanks.”

I grab my best friend and pull him into a tight hug. “You're not gonna lose me, Diego,” I whisper. “That's a promise.”

I smirk a little. “...Will you be behind me?”

“I'd follow you into battle any day, Princess.” He takes a deep breath. “Okay! Here we go! One...two...THREE!”

Jake unseals the hatch. Tightening my grip on my cutlass, I unleash a wild battle cry and storm out with my friends behind me, ready to face the enemy.

...Except that the room beyond the door is empty.

[eurusholmmes]

Fantasy (II) | Leo Fitz

You can read Part One here

Previously- Jemma Simmons comes spiraling into your life with a story you’d never expected to hear. According to her, you’re from another world, a real one, and you happen to be in love with the man who is the essence of your hate. 

Part 2 - After the death of your brother The Patriot, you’re on the war path to destroy the man who killed him. Your journey leads you right here, to this moment, a hundred feet away from your ticket back to the real world. The only problem? The man you love has a gun pointed at your head.

Anything in italics is song lyrics and flashbacks! Song comes from Young and Menace - Fall Out Boy. 

  “There’s.. a machine. AIDA originally destroyed our back door out of here but Radcliffe inserted a new one. You have to come with us so we can all get back to our world.” Daisy Johnson persisted. You were standing in the middle of the circle wearing your Patriot uniform, a mixture of different emotions fluttering across your face as you contemplated your choices. Stay in hell.. or return home to a world without your brother. “Y/n.. it’s what your brother would want.” 

  “How do you know what Jeffery would want?!” You snapped unintentionally. “How do any of you know?! How am I supposed to be sure that this isn’t all a lie, and you’re not walking me straight to my death? I have people here, a resistance to lead.” Your voice cut off as tears pricked your eyes, closing up your throat and inhibiting your ability to speak. “A freaking war to win!” 

The older gentleman with the soft eyes and glasses stepped forward and rested his hand on your shoulder. Much to your disbelief, you found comfort in his touch. “Because we all know you, y/n. This place has been tampering with all of our memories as if we have been living two different lives. In the real world... In the real world you and your brother lead SHIELD together. He wouldn’t have become Director if it weren’t for you.” 

Turning on your heel, you came face to face with Simmons. Your mouth was poised to snap back some response about Fitz when you heard the unmistakable sound of multiple enemies entering the building. “Get out of the way!” You screamed, diving to your left as gunfire rang out and the team split into different directions. 

Simmons words from the bunker still echoed in your mind as you stormed past multiple hostiles, fueled by the want for revenge, until you finally set eyes on the same man you’d vowed to destroy. He was.. he was still as stunning as you remembered in the real world. 

You stood on your tiptoes and slowly extended your hand to rest against Fitz face, your fingers cupping his jaw as he leaned into your touch. ‘’Please.. Leo. Kiss me.” You whispered. You swore you felt his knees weaken as he gripped your hips tightly, leaning in closer to your face as his nose gently brushed against yours. 

  “I think I’m falling in love with you.” Fitz whispered in response. “And I’m bloody terrified.” 

Your y/e/c eyes narrowed as Leopold Fitz emerged from the dark, the shadows conforming to him almost as if he owned the darkness itself. “I’ve been wondering when you were going to show your face again.” He said, pulling the handgun from his suit and flicking the safety off. “Nice to see you, y/n.”

We've gone way too fast for way too long And we were never supposed to make it half this far

  “You know, I’m resisting the urge to kill you. To strangle you until the life fades from your eyes and you become nothing more then a string of numbers. Pixels that just.. waste away.” You snapped. “But then I met these people, these extraordinary people who wanted nothing more then to convince me of one thing and one thing only. That the only way you wake up is if I’m the one to wake you.” 

And I lived so much life, lived so much life I think that God is gonna have to kill me twice

  “You almost died today!!” Fitz snapped angrily, pacing the length of the training area as you pounded your fists against the punching bag in front of you. Hook, jab, kick. Hook, jab, kick. “You took a bullet for Jemma and Daisy, who was more then capable of incapacitating that HYDRA agent. But you.. you and your self sacrificial tendencies had to do it for her-” 

You whipped around and lunged towards the scientist, pinning him against the wall with your arm. Fitz chest rumbled as he struggled to regain his breath as his eyes desperately searched yours. “That HYDRA agent threatened to cut you to pieces in front of me twice.” You muttered. “And I was not about to let the one good thing in my life be taken from me. Not when we’ve barely gotten started with our forever.” 

  “Fitz-”

The barrel of the gun was inching closer to you. Closer and closer.. until he finally put the bullet in your head. “You don’t get to say my name.” He growled. “Not after everything you’ve done.” 

   Kill me twice like my name was Nikki Sixx I woke up in my shoes again, but somewhere you exist singing..

  “You-” You exclaimed, exasperated. “You’re the one who sent the airstrike to kill my brother! If anyone should be infuriated-” Your fist pounded against your sternum so hard you were sure you’d cracked one of your ribs. “It should be me! You took my life away! And to think I’d come here to rescue you!” 

Oops, I did it again, I forgot what I was losing my mind about

His eyes were different then you remembered. Dark irises filled with hate and malice. For who.. you didn’t know. Maybe a death by bullet was better then having to slowly die at the thought you’d never gain the man you loved back. 

I only wrote this down to make you press rewind And send a message I was young and a menace 

  “You say you came here to rescue me,” He stated. “But you kill my father? Right after he tells me that he loves me, you murder him in cold blood.” His laughter is so vacant, so without remorse, that it sends chills down the length of your spine. “And to think that the imitator of Skye told me that you were the woman I’m in love with.” 

Woke up on the wrong side of reality And there's a madness that's just coursing right through me

   “I did what had to be done.” You snapped back, releasing your hair from its tight ponytail as Fitz took another step forward. You balled your hands into fists at your sides, the weight of the Patriot uniform sinking into your shoulders. What a cruel way to have the weight of the world all on me. “And I’m sorry that it hurt you, but look at yourself. You’re already destroyed.” 

  “You act as if you’re innocent, but look at you! You want to destroy this world, you want to destroy me, and you want to destroy the woman that I love!” Your heart sank at his statement but you made no effort to let it show on your face. Fingernails dug deep into the skin of your palms as you struggled to keep your stoic composure in front of the HYDRA leader. Blood dripped from your palms and onto the floor.

And as far as the time, far as the time Not sure I'm there yet but I'm certain I've arrived

  “None of this is real. AIDA.. AIDA isn’t real either. She’s not a woman, she’s just a robot!” You snarled. 

  “Her name is Ophelia-”

  “No. Its name is AIDA. Artificial Intelligent Digital Assistant. And stop- Stop making excuses for it! Radcliffe and Daisy told you the truth!” Tears were slowly trailing down your sunken cheeks as the barrel of the gun was now inches away from your head. 

  “I’m going to tell you this once. Get on your knees.”

Your eyes narrowed in on the weapon as you shook your head. “Get that thing away from me, or you’re going to regret it.” Your anger subsided until nothing but grief and regret passed across your face, lips slightly quivering as your facade fell. “I thought that having to kill you would be a satisfactory win to this endless war. But now I’ve realized what’s worse. The man I love is already-He’s already dead.” Your hand flashed upward until you were gripping the barrel of the handgun, your eyes flashing dangerously as you and Fitz now stood eye to eye. “So a bullet to the head would just be granting me mercy. Maybe I can see them again. See my boys.. See a world with hope. Because there’s none left in this one.”

Oops, I did it again, I forgot what I was losing my mind about

Your ears rang as a single shot fired from the weapon, skimming the side of your neck and sending you to your knees. Fitz stepped backward as you clasped the broken skin to stop the bleeding, your eyes bloodshot and red rimmed as you lifted them to meet his own. “You mean nothing to me. I’m not yours.” 

I only wrote this down to make you press rewind And send a message I was young and a menace 

A sharp gasp broke past your lips as he pressed the gun into the top of your head. “I want to hear you say it.” He stated simply. “I am nothing to you.” You pressed your lips into a thin line as your gaze settled on Radcliffe. A man who had created this world, the other side of reality, as a chance for people to fix their mistakes. And AIDA Ophelia had turned it into the full scale version of what you imagined hell was like; a world where Leopold Fitz no longer loved you. 

  “Say it.” He demanded, the barrel pressed deeper into your head. “Say it!” 

You eyed him defiantly before you uttered three simple words in the form of a whisper. “I love you.”

He was stunned at your resilience and determination. It had caught him off guard just enough for  Radcliffe to jump into action at that moment, firing into the man beside him before knocking Fitz over the head with the butt of his own weapon. “This was never my intention.” He pronounced, leading Fitz out into the loading dock where Daisy had been using her quaking powers to open the back door of the Framework. “The Darkhold corrupted my mind. Please don’t blame yourself. It’s all my fault.”

And with that, he shoved Fitz through the door, leaving you alone with him and Jemma. The scientist turned towards you and slowly lifted your hand to gaze at your wound. “I’ll live. Not anything I haven’t seen before.” You muttered. “Thank you.” 

  “He’s going to need you now more then ever.” Radcliffe proclaimed. “You need to be there for him.” 

You glanced back at your brother, who was all smiles and wide shimmering eyes as the two of you stood parallel to one another. “I’ll see you on the other side, y/n!” 

Opening your arms, a peaceful smile spread across your face as you glanced up at the array of stars through the glass ceiling. “I’ll see you on the other side, Mace.” 

If I am off the deep end I'm just here to become the best yet

Your eyes snapped open as you inhaled your first breath of oxygen for what felt like in forever, shaking hands extending outward only to grasp the shoulders of Phil Coulson. “Hi.” He said breathlessly, laughing as you glared at him from your pedestal. “You’e right on time. We both just woke up.” 

Fitz. “Is-” Your gaze shifted back down to your clothes, which were now the SHIELD uniform as opposed to your Patriot armor. Realization hit you as you slowly leaned forward to gaze down the line of pedestals half expecting to see your brothers corpse on the end. “He’s really dead.” 

  “I’m so sorry y/n.” Coulson murmured quietly. Staring in disbelief, you felt your heart rate speed up when a familiar voice appeared behind you. You slowly turned on your aching feet to find a wide eyed, terrified Fitz staring at you with such remorse and regret in his expression that it almost tore your heart to shreds. “It’s okay. We’re all awake now.” 

  “What-What have I done?” He murmured. 

  “Don’t blame yourself. The Framework messes with all of us.” He recoiled almost as if Coulsons touch had burned him, oblivious to the fact that you were taking slow deliberate steps in his direction. 

  “No-No!” He exclaimed. “But I killed people!” 

  “No, you didn’t. That wasn’t the real you-”

He was so close to you now. You could nearly hear the frantic pounding of his heart, feel his warm erratic breath ghost over your skin. You gulped down the knot in your throat as you slowly extended your hand and wrapped your fingers around his wrist. 

I'm just here for the psych assessment I'm just here for the, for the... Fall 

  “But I- I ordered the air strike that killed Mace.” He said in disbelief, his eyes finally flickering over to you as you now stood inches away from him. “I’m the one who killed your brother.” 

You slowly tilted his chin upward with your thumb and index finger, guiding his opposing arm to wrap around your waist. His fingers hooked around your opposite hip as your lips ghosted over his own. “It was all a cruel fantasy.” You whispered as his kisses became desperate, needy; full of want and need. “Now we have to power through it. For a better tomorrow, for our chance at forever.” 

His lips collided with yours, pulling you as physically close to him as possible. Your fingers snaked up his neck to thread through his curls as the lack of oxygen became great enough for the two of you to pull apart; leaving him breathless and smiling. “I’d always wanted a superhero wife.” He murmured, burying his face in your neck as Fitz let out a shuddering breath. “And one who knows her science.” 

  “A superhero science wife. That could be printed on a teeshirt.” 

  “I’ll be sure to get right on that after we finish saving the world.” 

  “For the umpteenth time?”

Laughter echoed in the room as you nodded eagerly, lips spread out in a wide smile as you pulled back to gaze deeply into Fitz cerulean irises. These were the eyes that you remembered; the eyes that held you with such high esteem and such awe that you might as well have been the most priceless jewel in the Cosmos. 

These were the eyes to the soul of the man you loved. 

  “For the umpteenth time.”

We were gone way too fast for way too long 

[yoi-secret-valentines2017]

kenjiro's dilemma

for @punnystars

Kenjiro Minami had never felt more honored and confused in his life when, one cold February night, Yuuri Katsuki was ringing his doorbell like there was no tomorrow. And maybe for him, there wasn’t.

“Coming!”

Kenjiro had been living alone for quite a while now—two years and counting!—but he never had the heart to move out of Kyushu and leave his family alone. He was still skating—had gotten into the Four Continents last season and was very close to reaching Grand Prix status—and he liked to tell himself that he’d become far more mature and ten tons wiser than he used to be. But when he opened the door and saw Yuuri slumped against the frame, still ringing the doorbell, he felt a surge of that starry-eyed-fanboy feeling he always got whenever he saw his longtime hero.

“U-Uh, Yuuri!” he stammered, gesturing wildly with his hands and not knowing what to do with them. “What’s going on? You okay?”

“Hah? ‘Course I’m okay!” Japan’s top figure skater and GPF gold medalist was tripping over his own feet trying to get into Kenjiro’s flat. He had a sake bottle in one hand and it looked like he’d made quick work of it on his way here. “Where… Where’s Minami…” His Kansai dialect had never been stronger.

“I’m… literally right here…” Kenjiro sighed and closed the door behind him, walking over to help Yuuri struggle out of his shoes. He gingerly took the sake bottle away from the notorious drunkard and ushered him into the living room, where he collapsed onto the sofa. Kenjiro pulled a chair from the dining area and sat opposite him, empty sake bottle now in the trash can. He watched Yuuri groan quietly to himself for a full minute, amazed by the sight.

He’d only seen Yuuri get shitfaced once and when Phichit told him it was completely normal, he figured it should be enough to last him a lifetime. But here he was, in Kenjiro’s living room, looking like he was an inch away from throwing up all over the floor. The thought made Kenjiro jump to his feet and dive into the kitchen drawers for any kind of plastic bag.

When he found one, he hurried to Yuuri’s side and pressed the used grocery bag into his hands.

“Here, Yuuri, if you need to throw—”

Yuuri grabbed the plastic and wretched into it.

“—up.”

Kenjiro ran a hand through his bleached hair and sighed. This was going to be a long night.

“Minami…?”

He straightened to attention. “Yeah?”

“I feel like I’m gonna die…”

“Please don’t. Not in my house.”

Yuuri narrowed his eyes at Kenjiro and then ducked his head into the plastic to wretch some more.

“I’m soooo drunk…” he moaned into his plastic of vomit. “Why do I do this… Why does alcohol exist…”

“Uh, Yuuri? You wanted to talk to me? I think?”

Yuuri narrowed his eyes at Kenjiro again. “Minami?”

Kenjiro resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes. It’s me, Kenjiro Minami. Your number one fan. Your GP successor. Four Continents bronze medalist. Me.”

Yuuri’s expression slowly brightened. “Minami! You’ve grown a meter since I last saw you…”

“You saw me last week.”

“I did?”

“You did.”

Yuuri’s resulting “oh” trailed away and dissolved into dry sobs. “Minami… Minami, what am I gonna do…”

Kenjiro took the plastic away from Yuuri and brought it to the toilet, flushing away the contents before returning with it. He sat next to Yuuri (who was now on the floor, crying into the sofa cushion). “Is it Victor-related?” Kenjiro asked as gently as he could. To say that he touched a nerve was an understatement.

“Victooooor,” Yuuri sobbed loud enough to shake the whole house despite Kenjiro’s flustered attempts to shush him. “Please forgive me… I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to…”

“What happened?”

“Stupid happened… Stupid stupid stupid…” 

“What happened?” Kenjiro asked again, shifting closer to Yuuri. “What did you do?”

“Don’t tell Victor,” Yuuri slurred, eyeing Kenjiro from the cushion. “Don’t tell ‘im.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

Yuuri sighed, burying his face into the sofa. “I kissed someone.”

“You what?”

“Shut up!” Yuuri shook a non-threatening fist at Kenjiro before grimacing and laying himself to rest against the cushion. “It was… a foreigner man-person-friend…”

“A foreigner man-person-friend,” Kenjiro repeated.

“Yeah… Just… someone staying at the inn… Manager… that Victor met once…”

“And you kissed him?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t know it was him,” Yuuri groaned into the cushion, tear stains spreading across the threadbare cover Kenjiro had taken from home years ago. “I thought… He looked like him so much… same hair… same nose… god, I miss him so much…”

“Oh,” Kenjiro said, nodding. Now he saw the problem. “Did he kiss you back?”

“No… He was knocked out… Too much sake… Oh god… Mom is gon’ kill me! Abandoning a customer like that… What kinda… shitty hospitality…”

“Yuuri… Calm down. It’s all going to be okay.” Kenjiro rubbed circles into his back with one hand and surreptitiously fished Yuuri’s phone out of his pocket with the other. “Deep breaths, ‘kay? You want some water?”

“Water…” Yuuri’s head lolled heavily around his shoulders. “Yesh please…”

Kenjiro stood up and headed into the kitchen, fiddling with Yuuri’s phone. He opened it and cursed, fingers shaking. Password… Password… “Think, Kenjiro!” he told himself fiercely. “You’re his number one fan, of course you would know what his phone’s password is.” Even if it’s weird and probably really creepy.

“Vicchan… Hasetsu… Makka… oh of course!” He let his fingers fly across the keyboard and felt a rush of triumph engulf him as the phone unlocked. He flushed, realizing that he was doing the creepiest thing any fan had ever done in his entire life. He promised himself he would never do something like this again. He squinted, trying to blur everything that he didn’t need to see and looked for the contact he needed.

“Miiiinaaaamiiii?” 

Kenjiro almost dropped the phone into the sink. He cursed, a bit louder than he’d intended, and clamped his mouth shut. “Yeah?”

“Your sofa smells weird… I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay!” He scrambled to fill a glass with water, fumbling with the phone to one side. “I can take it to the cleaners tomorrow.” Victor… Victor… Oh god… There were contacts in Russian. Kenjiro could feel his heart trying to break out of his body. Which one was Victor’s name?

“Miiiinaaamiiii…”

“Just a second!” He clutched the phone tightly. Come on… Come on… Which one… Why does Russian have to look like an alien language!? Then he saw it: four characters, one word. This better be the one. He tapped away a quick message, not bothering to scroll up the other message bubbles in grey, green, and blue, not wanting to see what he wasn’t supposed to see.

“Miiii—”

“I’m here!” Kenjiro leaped over the sofa with the same grace he’d used to stun the judges at the Four Continents. “Water.” He held the glass to Yuuri, who took it and gulped down three sips’ worth.

“Minami… What do I do…” Yuuri’s eyes were brimming with tears again as he set down the glass. “I… I’m the worst husband… I can’t believe… I would do that…”

“You didn’t mean to do it, Yuuri,” Kenjiro assured him as earnestly as he could. “You were drunk. He looked like Victor and you just missed him a lot. You couldn’t help it.”

“But it’s Valentine’s tomorrow!” Yuuri moaned into the cushion. It was almost totally soaked. “We were supposed to go… on a date… in Tokyo…” He sniffed. “But when he finds out, he’s gon’ hate me forever… We’re gon’… We’re gon’ divorce!”

“Oh, no, Yuuri, don’t say that…”

Yuuri shook his head vigorously. “Iz true. He doesn’t need me… He’s too good fer me… I’m jus’… jus’ a stupid idiot husband…”

“Yuuri, no, that’s not true.” Kenjiro caught him by his shoulders. There was no way Yuuri would remember this, but Kenjiro hated seeing his hero look and feel this way. They’d become more than just idol and fan in recent years and Kenjiro was proud to call himself Yuuri’s friend and fellow competitor, even if this was Yuuri’s last season. “Victor chose you because he loves you. Me, I look up to you so much. I’m your fan club president, remember? You’re not just Japan’s hero. You’re Victor’s hero, too. No doubt about it.”

Yuuri’s face crumpled and more tears fell from his eyes. “Miiiinaaamiiiii…” He sobbed, pulling Kenjiro into a tight hug. 

Kenjiro patted him gently on the back. “It’s all going to be okay, Yuuri. Victor will understand.”

Yuuri pulled away, cheeks flushed and eyes red and puffy. “You think so?”

“I know so.” Kenjiro grinned. The doorbell started ringing. “And there he is now.”

“What?” Yuuri practically shrieked. “You called him here?” “Yup. Didn’t think he’d actually get here so fast, though.”

“Minami, don’t let him in—”

It was too late. The moment Kenjiro opened the door, Victor flew in—a flurry of silver hair, teary eyes, and several layers of mismatched clothes. “Yuuri!”

The moment Yuuri was swept up in his husband’s arms, he broke down completely, murmuring different choked-up versions of the same words: “I’m so sorry.”

“Shh… Shh… It’s okay, it’s okay,” Victor said over and over, holding Yuuri tight. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

Kenjiro sighed in relief as Victor flashed him a grateful look. Yuuri was out like a light, snoring away quietly in Victor’s arms. 

“You were in Hasetsu?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise…” Victor said with the smallest of smiles, running his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. “He thought we were going to meet in Tokyo tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry I ruined it,” Kenjiro said, his gaze on his feet.

“No, I’m glad you called. Thank you.” Victor’s eyes land on the dirty sofa cushion Yuuri had been crying against for a full thirty minutes. “We’ll pay you back.”

“Oh, it’s really not nece—”

“It is.” Victor lifted Yuuri up, cradling him as if he were made of china. Kenjiro led the way to the front door. He saw them out with a smile. “I’m a bit curious, though,” Victor said as Kenjiro began to close the door. “How did you unlock his phone?”

Kenjiro raised his eyebrows and laughed. “That? Oh, well it was kind of obvious.”

“What do you mean?”

“He always calls you Vitya when he talks about you.” He fought the urge to laugh again when Victor flushed visibly in the dim moonlight.

“Thank you again, Minami,” he stammered, before bowing awkwardly and walking off with his snoring husband. 

Kenjiro shook his head, closing his door.

Later that week, he opened his door to a box full of chocolates from Tokyo, with a postcard written in two languages—one his, and the other not. But he knew full well what it said:

Happy Valentine’s Day!

[somestorythoughts]

#i've missed searching up all these little bits!! ahh!!!#oaths#honestly there's no excuse here#like#NONE#fic writing is just a vehicle for me to justify following up on every single 'i wonder...' that flickers thru my simple brain#am but a cat chasing a laser of curiosity on a wall and if the scratches i leave are legible it's icing on the cake#also frankly local heirloom & landrace fruit varieties are rad as fuck#i am never gonna resist the urge for a deep dive on that front#some of THE biggest nerds i've ever encountered are farmers market gardeners and growers#so in my meagre defense it is a very well-established Nerd Attractant

fanfic is a reason

i am sorry i was so close-