#i need a big framed print of couple going down stairs for my living room

[mybrainproblems]

I hate the light fixture/gaudy mini chandelier in my dining room and I was going to get something really basic to replace but WHAT IF I made my own chandelier out plastr craft molds of my own hands holding bulbs and dripping with eyes instead of fake crystal?

[in-superbloom]

did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? (a.i.)

right where you left me: prologue

pairing: ashton irwin x olivia jones (oc)

warnings: uhh a kinda grieving theme i guess? but no deaths. it has a sad tone overall, but nothing major (in this chapter hehe). foul language because i can't help myself. the tiniest mention of alcohol, but as a memory. think i should probably warn you that this contains a very sad ash. also not much dialogues. this is mainly for explanation and introduction, but very important for the story. if you find anything else that might be triggering, please let me know so i can add it here !!

author's note: oof okay. so. this is the prologue of a series very very dear to my heart that i've been working on for what it feels like my whole life but really it's been just a few months. but i'm in love with the story (which rarely happens with my own writing) so i hope you can enjoy it too !! this is also my very first time posting a fic since 2013 so pls keep that in mind <3 no i am not shaking as type this ofc not also: although i have the full story ready in my head, this is the only chapter that's written. i wanted to wait until i had at least a few ready before posting this but i'm too anxious for that lmao just saying this bc it will take a good while until i have any more chapters, so <3 (p.s.: i went over this thing a million times since may so if you find any errors pls look away, i'm not fixing this thing anymore. thanks <3)

another note: anna from the future here to say that i completely forgot about the playlist i made for the story lmao here it is in case you're interested k thanks bye <3

credits: title is from taylor swift's song right where you left me. model in the picture: paola locatelli. banner by me.

i also wanted to take a minute to thank some really nice friends that i've made here over these past few months & that i'm extremely grateful for @wastelandcth @suchalonelysunflower @littledrummerangie i cannot thank you babes enough for inspiring me the way that you do & for letting me yell about this to you && for encouraging me so much 🥺 i'll never be able to explain just how much this means to me, so i'll have to settle for saying thank you at any change that i can get <3 i love you all 💜 also gem my baby, thank you for the inspo with the banner 💚

@bluesdelis look babe i did it 😌 you know how grateful i am for you & for you letting me have a breakdown every week about my writing for the past 8 years so let's not dive into that or else i will write something bigger than this prologue jsjsjdjd love you 🖤

i hope you all have a good reading and a nice day ♡

let me know what are your thoughts about the fic ! ♡

word count: 4.1k

☆☆☆

Cold. That was the first thing that Olivia’s brain processed.

Still with her eyes closed, she buried herself more into the duvet, while her arm blindly reached for the furnace in human form that she calls boyfriend. However, as soon as her arm was only met with cold sheets, her eyes shot open.

Blinking the sleep away, she sat up on the bed, searching for the infamous red clock resting on Ashton’s bedside table that was supposed to look like a vintage alarm clock. Olivia had ordered it online at an auction website a couple of years back, as a gift for his 23rd birthday, since it was something he had mentioned multiple times prior that he was looking for, but still hadn't found. But when it finally came in (two weeks after the due date), it looked nothing like the picture she saw on the website. Feeling beyond frustrated, she wanted to send it back immediately and ask for a refund and maybe leave a not so polite review on the seller's page. But Ashton stopped her right away, laughing like the situation was absolutely hilarious to him, while saying, 'I like it, it’s quirky'. So, the clock stayed and found a home right next to him in their room.

Some days, however, she would wake up at some ungodly hour because of the blaring noise of the only ringtone the clock had. But whatever annoyance she could feel towards the object, it always vanished as soon as she felt Ashton's lips gently touching her face in a good morning kiss before he would get up to start his day, leaving her to catch some more hours of well deserved sleep.

As the furthest from a morning person as a touring musician could possibly be, Olivia had always feared that living under the same roof as Ashton would turn her into an early bird like him, but she's thankful that it never happened (not that he needs to know about that).

When she sees the red clock, she smiles at the sudden but welcome memories of them flooding her foggy brain, but frowns slightly when she realizes it reads 12:13 pm. Ashton rarely lets her sleep past 10 am.

Gathering all her strength and will, she rises up from the bed, smoothly picking up a grey wool sweatshirt from the chair (way too baggy on her slim body, but it smells like him), pulling it over her head and relishing on the soft material warming up her body. Making her way to the door and calmly going down the stairs, she can’t help but stop for a minute to admire the picture frames on their walls, one in particular catches her attention – probably one of the most prized pictures and memories they had. It felt older than it actually is, but it was around 4 years ago, she's sure – a little while after the two of them met. The picture was of their group of friends that still remains the same: Ashton and his best friend, Luke; Olivia, her best friend, Calum and their old hometown friend, turned into Calum’s new friend at college, turned into everyone’s friend, Michael; and her then newly band members, Suki, Eli and Ravi. Together, their group was the life of the party through all their college years, and it showed by the big smiles and drinks in hands they all had in the picture. It was a very special night, the first time Olivia’s little band played for the public – for a small audience sure, but it was a wonderful night nonetheless. What a long road it had been since that night.

Her nostalgic thoughts were interrupted by a shiver that went through her whole body, and it made her realize how oddly cold the whole house was, not only their bedroom. Which, granted, it was November in New York and the weather was just getting colder, but that’s exactly why Ashton always made sure to keep the house warm enough. As much as she loved the chilly season, the warm weather always reminded him of his hometown, and who was she to deny him that?

The smell of fresh made coffee could be sensed even before she reached the kitchen. Arriving there, the curly haired woman still found no signs of her boyfriend, so she went straight after the coffee maker pot sitting on the far left corner of the cream marble counter. Smiling softly at the tons of memories of Ashton's sleepy figure making their favorite beverage, she reached for a coffee mug on the cupboard on top of the counter and poured the remainder of the hot liquid on it (it's her favorite mug, if she must choose – it was a gift from a fan, and it had printed on it a collage of the pictures of her and Ashton that were posted on social media through their first year of relationship).

Moving to the glass doors that lead to the mini garden they cultivate, she didn't have to open them to spot the 6-feet-tall man sitting on a bench outside, looking oddly small in his oversized clothes, coffee mug tightly held between strong hands. Something about his figure made Olivia frown, however: he was staring with an unwavering look at her small but eye-catching pot of yellow daffodils that were almost as much of a pet to them as Stitch at this point. Sensing that there’s something definitely off about his semblance, she made a mental note to talk to him and find out what’s wrong later. So she goes back to the kitchen, knowing that he might need this quiet and private moment for himself.

She lost count of the minutes that went by (couldn't have been more than five) before she hears the garden's door opening and closing, and then his bare feet are dragging his brawny body to her. Except, he goes over to the sink, walking right through her, not showing any sign that he even saw her hunched figure over the counter table in the middle of the room.

Alright, someone's in a mood.

Olivia tries to swallow the annoyance already bubbling inside her – he knows how much she hates to be ignored, no matter how mad he might be – by trying to think of what she can say that won't piss him off. This is always a hard feat to accomplish when Ashton gets in these moods, but there’s a reason for them to work so well together.

“I missed my favorite body heater when I woke up,” she says in her best sweet voice, knowing how quickly his resolve crumbles when he hears that voice.

Still, no reaction.

That settles a worry at the pit of her stomach, because Ashton is never like this. Even when he's not in the mood to talk, he always gives some kind of reaction to her words; it doesn't matter how small, just enough to make her feel acknowledged.

When he's finished washing his mug and the few scattered dishes across the sink – she noticed that he already had lunch, if the lone plate in the drying rack is anything to go by –, he dries his hand in a towel, turns around and throws it on top of the same counter Olivia was leaning up against. Once again, he walks away not even sparing her a look.

Indignant, she leaves the now empty coffee mug on top of the table and follows him as he walks up the stairs, any determination to not aggravate his mood now well gone.

“Hey! In case you didn't notice, I'm right here. Whatever got you in this sour mood, I'm certainly not to blame, so can you stop being a child now and talk to me?!”

Ashton just keeps walking – more like sluggishly dragging his body – until he reaches their bedroom and suddenly stops just merely two feet inside the room, looking around with vacant eyes; like he was expecting to see something that wasn't there.

“Okay, that's really mature of you. Are you planning on ignoring me all day then?” Olivia questions exasperated, staring angrily at the back of his neck, where the condor tattoo lives – her favorite of his, but that sight doesn't bring her any peace today like it usually does.

Her glare only breaks when she hears the familiar sound of dog tags swaying on her right side. Shifting her gaze to the direction of the sound, Olivia notices Stitch, their small, black & white French bulldog – who she thought was outside in the garden – slowly trudging his way from around the bed until he stops at Ashton's feet, looking up at one of his humans with sad eyes. That realization only makes the worry in her stomach grow uncomfortably.

“Hi buddy,” Ashton's voice cracks a bit from the lack of use, but he smiles softly at the sweet dog, and crouches down to pet him.

Olivia can't help but gasp as she notices three things all at once that leave her overwhelmed: first, how she didn't even notice Stitch was in the room when she woke up – which never ever happens, in fact, most days he wakes her up whenever he deems her bedtime as finished and can't ever contain his excitement when she finally gets up; second, how the windows blinds are closed, which, again, rarely occurs under their roof, not if Ashton can help it. And third, how sad and melancholic the whole scene in front of her is – how sad and melancholic Ashton is. Pointless to say by now – that's also a very rare occasion.

A chill creeps up Olivia's spine, putting her body into high alert and also serving as a reminder of how everything looks out of place today. Trying to keep her head from spiraling down way too soon, she wraps her arms around herself and crouches down beside her two favorite boys, trying once more.

“Ash? Can you hear me?” even with her throat closing, she softly asks, purposefully putting her face in Ashton's point of view. Her only answer is the low whispers he's letting out to Stitch, while cradling the tiny dog in his arms, spreading gentle kisses on his head.

“I know, bud, I know. I miss her too,” is the only whisper she could understand and immediately wishes she hadn't. The weak wail that comes from Stitch's throat seems to fit perfectly with how the three of them feel.

Ashton then looks up and for a couple of seconds, and Olivia can swear he’s staring right into her eyes. But when he shows no reaction, she knows he’s just staring ahead and not at her, with that look that says there’s too much going on inside his head. She feels the urge to embrace him and get him to talk about whatever is on his mind, so they can share that weight like they always do, but when Ashton gets up from the ground and settles on the bed with Stitch, Olivia can physically feel the crack in her heart caused by the feeling she’s left with.

While Ashton is pulling the duvet over him and the dog, with clearly no intentions of getting up anytime soon, Olivia stands up on her feet with a new-found determination – she needs to figure out what the hell is going on.

This nightmare had to be just that, right? Nothing but a very vivid dream – she's had those before. Scary sure, but they always go away, and soon enough she's back into Ashton's arms, with Stitch jumping on the bed ready to lick their faces off. She just needs to wake herself up from whatever fucked up dream this is – right?

She's running down the stairs this time, frantically in search of something, of what exactly, she doesn’t know – but she knows she needs an answer. The more she looks for something, the more desperate she gets, not knowing what to look for. Then suddenly, something catches her eyes.

The white and blue calendar that's held up by magnets on the side of the fridge. She knows their calendar is red and yellow. They got it from their favorite flower market. Slowly, as if scared of what it might be there – “It's just a calendar, for fucks sake” – she approaches the damn thing. Upon inspection, she deems it as a normal calendar – she really doesn't know what she was expecting – until.

She knows what's wrong with it now.

It's November. She knows it, because the Asian and last leg of her first world tour is about to begin November 21st, eleven days from today. Right after Mike's birthday, she knows this.

Then why does the calendar say today is January 14th?

☆ ☆ ☆

Ashton woke up with a jolt. He quickly sat up, frightening the little Frenchie that was asleep right next to him on the bed. Trying to make sense of his surroundings, he roughly rubbed his face to get some sleep off of it and soon reached for the dog that was staring at him with sleepy but sad eyes. Ashton is sure Stitch understands far more than a dog is supposed to understand about their current situation.

The room is covered in shadows, almost pitch black, but he can see the sunlight even through the thick dark grey blinds covering up the windows. Ashton knows he won't be able to sleep again at that moment, so he gets up from the bed – much slower than he used to. His heartbeat is still out of control because of the nightmare that woke him up, but he can't bother to pay attention to it when Stitch is softly wailing beside him. Ashton lets out a ghost of a smile when the dog rests his head on his right upper thigh, looking up at him with an expression Ashton knows all too well.

“C'mon you little ravenous creature, let's feed you,” the bulldog excitedly jumps to the ground, already running his way down the stairs, not even waiting for Ashton to get up.

That gets a real smile out of him, but it vanishes as soon as he glances at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It reads 5:13 am, nothing out of the ordinary for him. But that small and inoffensive clock, with its red paint peeling off, holds a lot of memories for him. Memories that two months ago would bring joy to his heart, but now he almost wants to throw the object across the room.

It was a stupid thing, really. He had been wanting a vintage alarm clock and Olivia got one for his birthday. But the product they received was definitely not the one she bought, and if he's being honest, he didn't like it as much as he made out to. But seeing her so excited in the weeks before it arrived, and how disappointed she was when it did, he couldn't help but try his best to make her smile that luminous smile again. It's part of his nature by now.

That's also the reason why he lets her think that he doesn't notice when she wakes up at some ungodly hour (her words, not his) along with him, because of the annoying and only sound the alarm clock is able to produce. He always leaves soft kisses in every inch of bare skin he can find on her sleeping figure, so she goes back to the dream land and doesn't wake up before 10 am. No one wants to deal with that kind of bad humor, not even him.

As much as he likes being a morning person and absolutely enjoys her company in the mornings, he knows she'll take any and every extra hour of sleep she can get before starting the day. And that's why he loves that she's so stubborn that his early bird tendencies never got to her – he knows she feared that this would happen when they moved in together, but he met her like this, fell for her like this. He wouldn't change a single thing about her.

Ashton drags himself out of the bed, wincing slightly at how cold the wooden floors are under his bare feet. He doesn't bother putting some socks on, or a sweater – the cold weather in the house is uncharacteristically comforting to him. Nothing feels warm without her anyway.

While descending the stairs, he mentally curses himself for not being strong enough to look past the picture frames on the wall. One in particular catches his eyes – a picture from the night of Olivia's first concert with her band. The memories of that night are still painfully vivid in his mind: the laughter among their group that eventually infected everyone at the pub, Suki and Luke's first kiss and the silly smile that didn't leave his best friend's face all night, the standing ovation Olivia got after her three-songs set, and her captivating and breathtaking smile that made him realize right then and there, while watching her sway to the music, that he was definitely falling in love with her and there was nothing he could do to stop it – not that he wanted to.

So many memories held up on that wall, in the relatively short time since they met, that he can't help but wonder if that's all they'll get in this lifetime.

Ashton is abruptly taken out of his thoughts by Stitch's barks coming from the bottom of the stairs. He quickly jogs down the few steps left and goes straight after the dog's food in the kitchen's cabinet. After Stitch starts to happily devour his breakfast, Ashton goes to make his coffee, doing enough for two people like he always does, since Calum drops by most days for a chat or to drop Duke before going to work. Although all three of them know he just can't bother to make food for himself in the morning, while Ashton is the group's elected chef. Ashton always says he just needs a boyfriend – Olivia says Calum already has one who makes him breakfast every day.

He grabs an apple from the fridge and makes his way outside to their garden. Even though a lot of their memories took place there, the garden is the only space in the house where he doesn't feel like suffocating all the time. At least here, he can breathe some fresh air and look at the sky when he's feeling overwhelmed – which is basically all he's been doing for about a month now.

Yet, a lot of the garden has Olivia's name written all over.

He remembers vividly the day she came home after spending two weeks in LA doing some pocket shows, with a pack of daffodil seeds and the largest smile. She excitedly told him that a friend gifted it to her when she mentioned the little garden they were planning to build together at their new house. The friend told Olivia that daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings, so as the good lover of symbolism that she is, Olivia loved the idea of having those flowers to symbolize their new beginning.

Ashton, on the other hand, wasn't a fan of the flowers at first – he just didn't see the appeal to them. But nonetheless, he indulged her, letting Olivia plant the seeds near the bench they used to sit during the quiet and unrushed afternoons, so they could admire the sunset, and she could happily look at the daffodils.

Pointless to say – the damn flowers grew on him.

Now, however, looking at them without Olivia and her contagious joy next to him, they were back to be as dull as they were before, if not more so.

Still lost inside his head without any sense of how much time went by since he sat down, Ashton doesn't hear the front door closing, and doesn't notice that he's no longer the only person inside the house until someone sits next to him on the bench. Yet, he doesn't show any sign of acknowledgement to them.

A few minutes go by before either of them speaks up.

“Luke said you didn't go to see her yesterday,” Calum starts softly, not wanting to disturb the calmness of the morning.

Ashton takes a few seconds to respond, “No point in doing that.” The black haired man licks his lips while thinking carefully about his next words.

“You know staying inside this house all day by yourself won't help either,” Calum turns his head to his left and takes a good look at Ashton's uncharacteristically hunched over figure, and immediately thinks that anyone can tell this man is not himself anymore. His second thought is that Olivia would hate seeing him like this.

“And what exactly do you expect me to do? Move on with my life like nothing happened? Like I'm not slowly and painfully losing the love of my life? Just because it’s easy for you doesn't mean it's easy for me.”

Calum closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He knows Ashton doesn't mean it, it's the anger and frustration talking. He knows it. Doesn't make it sting any less.

“I'm not telling you to move on with your life, because that's far from what I'm doing, and I certainly don't expect you to do it. I'm just saying you need to occupy your mind or else–”

“I'll go insane? Think it's a bit too late for that,” Ashton interrupts with a bitter tone that doesn't belong to his usual chirpy voice.

“You know it's not,” Calum sighs and drinks the rest of his coffee, moving his body slightly, so he's facing the blonde man, “I got a job interview for you at that school you talked about so much last summer, the principal said you can go any day this week. I went ahead and sent her your resume as well as explained everything that she needs to know about Olivia, so you don't have to. You just gotta put on some decent clothes and show up.” he sees Ashton's face softening a little and takes it as a victory. A few beats go by and then, “Maybe take a shower too. That's gonna make you feel better.” Calum leans in closer to his friend's personal space and takes a sniff, causing Ashton to deflect from him slightly, but not to push him away – another small win.

“Definitely take a shower, you stink. When was the last time your hair saw shampoo?”

“Fuck off,” is Ashton's only reply to the younger man's inquest. But Calum can see a smile creeping up on the blonde's face, which brings out a smile of his own.

“I'll send you all the details later today,” he checks the hour on the watch on his wrist and gets up, “Just please, Ash, go. I can't lose you too.”

Calum gently lays a hand on Ashton's shoulder and squeezes a little. The man doesn't look up, but gives a curt nod to his friend, who's satisfied enough. Calum stops on the threshold of the garden glass doors to give some kisses to Stitch – who came to make Ashton company as soon as he finished his food –, and then he puts the coffee mug on the dishwater. And soon enough, he's on his way out of the door. But not before snatching a tangerine from the fridge.

Ashton is left by himself once again. As he hears the sound of the front door closing, he thinks that this might be his life from now on. Just him and Stitch, trying their hardest to make it through another miserable day without the love of their lives. While everyone else comes by just to make sure he's still breathing. Breathing, maybe, but alive?

Swallowing the tears, he looks up at the sky. It's a deep, beautiful mix of orange, pink and blue, but he knows that it won't last long and soon the rain will be pouring down. He thinks about how much Olivia loves the rain.

God, he needs to pull himself together. She would hate to see him like this. Maybe he should take Calum's offer after all, he really needs to occupy his mind.

Making a mental note to thank Calum later, and also to apologize for how rude he was to him this morning, Ashton slowly gets up from the bench to put his mug on the sink and makes his way to the living room, with the small dog loyally following his every step. He puts on some cartoon that for once doesn't remind him of her (she always lovingly made fun of him for still watching those) and cuddles with Stitch on the couch. He can take a shower later.

Not half an hour goes by, he falls asleep and has a good dream for a change. He dreams of the days he spent with Olivia in the Philippines last February, right before her first world tour started. Some of the most magical days of their lives – surrounded by delicious food, a whole new culture to learn about and the warmth of the sun. Infinite counted days full of love and passion, where they were the only people in the world.

Even his subconscious knows to hold on to that brief moment of happiness, because he might never live that again.

[repnvrbeenworse]

The real reason why Edmund Corcoran was murdered.

"tell me who did this to you?"

Henry was not surprised when soft knocks on his apartment door interrupted his midnight reading, he set the book aside next to the ashtray, which had a burning cigarette, on the small yet elegant coffee table. He rose slowly and was halfway through the hallway when he heard her silvery voice.

“Henry? Are you home?”

It was very common for her to come uninvited to his house in the middle of the night, to be honest, there wasn’t a day she was not invited to Henry´s house. He could be in the middle of any important activity and he would just stop to pay attention to anything related to her. He felt his heart pump faster, as if were to beat out of his chest, Henry knew why she was in his door step.

Edmund Corcoran has never been a bad boyfriend but something inside him had changed in the past two to three weeks, he would heat up very easily with no apparent motive and who was there to take the blow? his poor girlfriend.

What Henry found funny was that Bunny knew about his feeling towards his very own girlfriend, “Don’t you think I see how you look at her uh? It’s so bloody obvious.” He´d say, but what would he truly think if he saw her in this particular moment, outside of his best mate’s door, probably drenched from the pouring rain asking if he was home.

Henry finally opened the door to find her slowly walking down the stairs, her wet silk dress tight around her body made him stare for a little longer.

“(Y/N)?” He asked softly.

She turned around and finally looked at him through her lashes, dark circles were prominent under her eyes, he didn’t really know if it was some makeup or from the lack of sleep. Henry chose to think it was the first option.

“Oh dear, you scared me” she said touching her chest slightly “I thought you weren’t home, I was about to leave, I’m sorry for waking you up Henry.”

“Don’t worry, I was doing my late-night reading, in fact I made some coffee. I could make more if you were to join me.” Henry was aware of her shyness, when it was just her, not with Francis, not Camilla and especially not with Bunny. So, he tried to make it a little bit easier for her to feel comfortable around him, something Henry was not used to doing with anyone.

Henry moved aside motioning calmly for her to come in his apartment, so she did. The atmosphere was very cozy and welcoming, a couple of candles were burning at the end of the corridor and the lamp was on in the small living room that had a big glass window next to the armchair where he had previously been reading.

“Excuse me if it sounds rude, but what are you doing here so late at night?” He paused, “are you alright?”.

“Yes, of course I’m alright Henry, just wanted to pay you a visit.” She said rather fast shaking her hand carelessly. That’s when he noticed. Her right wrist was a yellowish purple shade, it was a print, a hand print.

“What is that?” Henry hissed getting close to her for (Y/N) to take a step backwards. Henry stopped right in his tracks. Had it been somebody else he would have loved the effect of fear he had just inflicted on her, but it was (Y/N).

“I’m just going to ask once, tell me who did this to you?” she could bear to look him in the eye, she was focused on his ridiculous slippers, he was most definitely pulling off with the black bathrobe.

“It was an accident, its nothing… he was just angry, don’t wor-“ “He?,who?” He interrupted her. “I need a name right now” He took a deep breath.

“It was Bun, but really Henry you have nothing to worry about, it was not like last time he was just drunk and-“

“It was not like last time? Last time? Oh lord, since when has this been going on?”

“I can’t remember.” She spoke quietly, she was terrified. “Fuck” Henry rarely cursed, it was vulgar he used to say, so it came as a surprise when he did, under his breath.

“And he thinks he can get away with this uh?” He started to approach her slowly again.

“Come on Henry, there is nothing I can do against someone as big as Bunny, you know that.”

“Yes I know, but I could help you, I just cant let him treat you this way-“It was her turn to interrupt him.

“I’m terrified, okay?” He was looking at her intensely. “Not of Bunny, but, what if this is all I’m going to have for the rest of my life, this kind of sick joke love story that I deserve after what happened.” She was referring to the `deer´, the had `run over´.

She said starting to walk towards the living room and sat down in Henry´s only armchair. It was funny, Henry only had one armchair, one place to sit down in his living room as to say that he never liked company. She slowly motioned toward the cigarette in the ashtray asking for permission, he was leaning against the frame of the door, he nodded.

“So, I murder someone, we kept it a secret and Bunny has every right to hit you anytime he wishes, just because?” He was very mad, not at her obviously, at Bunny but most at himself. For not realizing the clear cries of help.

“Just because.” She puffed the smoke out, her lips trembling slightly.

“Well, this cannot continue any further, I’ll have a word with him first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Are you crazy? he already thinks we are hooking up; he will lose his mind.” He nodded. “Did you know? That Bun thinks we have this secret affair going on.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I was aware of it, he came to me a couple of ago. He said and I quote “Don’t look at her like that, she is mine, you try something and I will myself chop your balls off.”” He stated cringing at the last part.

“Why did you keep this from me?” She said standing up and facing Henry with her arms crossed, cigarette now forgotten in the ash tray.

“Why do you think? It’s embarrassing! To get caught looking at your mate’s girlfriend who happens to be a close friend.” He said sarcastically slowly straightening his back as he was leaning on the door frame.

“Well to be completely honest, I have also been looking in your direction, you are a very handsome sight.” She admitted slowly but certainly approaching him. “Very, very good-looking, hot...”

“Stop, we can’t do this, as much as I would love to, as much as I have dreamt about this moment, it’s just not right.” He said frustratedly while running his fingers through his hair.

“Since when do you, Henry Winter, care about what is right and what is not-” She whispered slowly opening his robe.

“-True.” Henry interrupted her.

---

Check out:

Just us...

[thethousandyearwitch]

The Show Must Go On! Chap. 8 [The End]

- A Youtuber AU you didn’t want and didn’t need -

Hisoka Morrow, italian Makeup Youtuber, enjoys his life in the comfort and occasional drama of his profession. But nothing brings more drama into his life than the eldest son of the Zoldyck fashion magazine empire.

Meanwhile, aspiring australian Twitch Streamer Gon Freecs forms a special bond to a Speedrunner commonly going by "Kil".

Chapter 8 "Born To Run” out now! The Last Chapter!

AO3 Link

Illumi Zoldyck has rarely made mistakes in his life, and any mistake was met with immediate punishment. It was supposed to lead to a perfect adult life, free of foolish mistakes and mishaps, for the prosperity and safety of the family.

But now there was an arm curled around his side, hot breath hitting his neck in a steady rhythm as the morning sun was rising, and there was no other way to say it:

He fucked up.

He let himself be lured into the lion’s den, and now the ‘lion’ was curled up asleep next to him, hair a mess, and a self-satisfied smile on his bruised lips.

Hooking up with Hisoka was objectively a mistake, but it wasn’t going to be the end of the world. He was an adult after all, capable of making his own decisions regarding relationships of any nature. Furthermore, whether this was going to be a temporary or a more permanent ordeal, the long distance would keep Hisoka far away enough from any family affairs, and with enough bribery it could kept out of the public eye.

Illumi grabbed his phone from the nightstand, disconnected the charger, and ignored the half-asleep murmurs from the other side of the bed. Whatever thiswas, could work out, no repercussions, no mistak-

’18 Missed Calls from Mother’.

Oh No.

.

.

’27 Missed Calls from Mother. 19 Missed Calls from Father’.

“Oh, my folks are soooo pissed right now.” Killua snorted and pocketed his phone again. Gon and him had decided to take a trip to a larger city that framed the Area that the young boy lived in, mainly to buy essentials that Killua didn’t remember to pack for himself, which resulted in him finally having phone reception again. Mito insisted on driving them there, mumbling something about keeping them under control, but generously stayed behind in a café to give the boys some space. It’s been almost 3 days since Killua had arrived, and so far, nothing had been set on fire and there were no trips to the ER, which she considered a personal win. The afternoon sun was beating harshly on them, at least to the standards of the young boy who had spent most of his life either in mildly weathered England or sheltered in the shade cool shade of the Japanese mountain-mansion.

“Aren’t you afraid that they are going to punish you?” Gon frowned.

“What are they goin’ to do? Double take my computer away? House arrest? I could probably set the world record at breaking out. They are just mad that I’m not dancing to their tune, like my stupid brother. My dad’s not even home most of the time, so I don’t know why he’d care.” He stopped in front of a clothing store that advertised bright flower-print shirts. “These look awful, we need them.”

His friend laughed but nodded his head enthusiastically.

There was something incredibly exciting about having a friend. Someone who agreed to go along with your whims and spontaneous ideas, not because they are paid to or want to gain something from it, but because they actively want to.

Inside the store, the boys decided to pick out shirts for each other, determined to dress the other one as ridiculous as possible, hiding whatever they picked out from the racks while giggling like madmen. After a couple of minutes, they shoved each other into separate dressing room cabins, and exchanged the meticulously picked out shirts via throwing them over the cabin separations.

Killua disregarded his black sleeveless hoodie vest and quickly clothed himself in the new shirt without having properly looked at it, to preserve the surprise. On a count of three, the boys simultaneously stepped out of the changing rooms, and stood next to each other, in front of a large mirror.

Gon wore a dark green shirt with the repeating pattern of a shirtless Santa Clause in a lawn chair, with sunglasses and a cocktail in hand. Killua had a galaxy print button-up with various pictures of cats with taco and burrito bodies.

The young teens stood there in silence for a second, before they broke out in loud laughter.

“You look like you’re a middle-aged dad on vacation with his wife Karen!” Killua snorted.

“Well, you look like your name is ‘Bradley’ and you sell knock-off sunglasses on the beach!” Gon replied, and as the boys continued to laugh, he slapped Killua lightly on the upper arm.

Barely a touch, really, and yet: “YEOWCH!”, Killua flinched back.

“Woah, you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, that just kind of stung weirdly. Maybe you’re loaded with electricity or something.” And Gon was ready to write it off, before he got a good look at Killua in the dimmed lights of the shop, away from the bright sun.

“Hey, get your arm out of that sleeve.”

“Huh? Why- “Before he could object, his arm was already being yanked out of the, frankly too big, sleeves of the tacky shirt. “What the hell, Gon?!”

“Killua, did you put on sunscreen this morning?”

“Uh, no? Sunscreen is for dorks.”

By now, Gon could barely supress his laughter, cheeks puffed out to hold it back. “I can tell.”

Killua looked back into the mirror and stared. There was a clear divide between the skin on his shoulder that had been covered by his vest until now, pale porcelain skin inherited from his mother, and the rest of his arm that had been exposed to the sun, now glowing bright red. Cautiously he pressed a finger against his skin, but retracted it immediately with a hiss as a burning sensation shot through his arm.

Gon laughed again, though this time with a bit more sympathy, and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we have something at home against that.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to rip off my skin, that’s not cool.”

“Nope! That comes later, all by itself.”

And Killua laughed, as they made their way towards the cashier, because of course they were going to buy those hideous shirts.

“…Wait, you weren’t serious, were you? Gon?!”

.

.

.

“This is the medicine?” Killua looked at the large plant with scepticism.

“Yup!” Mito took a kitchen knife and sliced off one of the larger leaves. She sliced the leaf vertically and squeezed out transparent goo from it into a bowl, which she handed to the boy with a smile. “There you go. Aloe is good for your skin and will help with the burning.”

A cautious look toward Gon, who didn’t seem suspicious at all, and Killua took the bowl. “Thanks.”

“And starting tomorrow you’ll put on sunscreen before you go anywhere near the sun, young man.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He rolled his eyes with a smile, and the boys went back upstairs to Gons room before Mito would call them back later for dinner. Killua immediately jumped on his sleeping cot, eyed and poked at the contents on the bowl. “So, I just slap this on?”

“Yep!” Gon threw his shopping bag into his closet and flopped on his own bed.

A couple of moments passed, Killua continued to poke at the plant-goo. He wasn’t going to admit out loud that it looked gross, the consistency weirded him out, and that he thought he was being pranked. Though in the end, he didn’t have to say anything, as Gon sat next to him and took the bowl from him. “Looking at it isn’t going to help. Here- “He took the others boy wrist and yanked his arm forward. With his other hand, Gon started to smear Aloe Vera on Killuas arm, who briefly hissed before he relaxed at the welcoming cold of the mixture. The heat and stinging of the sunburn slowly subsided.

While his friend was already getting to work on his other arm, without being asked to, all Killua could think about is that this was…nice. He experienced something new even if it hurt a bit. He didn’t get scolded for it, but instead was just told how to prevent it for his own health. And now his friend was helping him with this as well- because he cares. This shouldn’t be something new to kids his age, he knew this, but the past few days still felt like something secret he unlocked, invisible to everyone else. A welcoming, caring environment, a vast open space to freely explore, not alone but with someone who looks out for you and who you want to look out for, too.

Suddenly, two cold hands were at either side of Killuas face, thumbs stroking over his cheek bones. He flinched with a yelp of surprise, though the others grip on his face kept him in place. “Hold still, you burned your face as well.”

Killua gently but assertively took Gons hands in his and slowly removed them. “I’m good, really.” He hesitated and looked at both their hands. “…I’m really happy that you’re doing all of this for me.”

“Don’t worry, I used to get tons of sunburns when I was little!” Gon snorted, and Killua gave him a playful nudge against his arm.

“I don’t just mean this, I mean like…everything. I’m happy you’re my friend. I didn’t think that could be this nice.” He looked nervously at his hands, uncomfortable with the sudden vulnerability, though before he could react, Gon pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’m happy we’re friends too, Killua. And no matter what happens, I will always be your friend. That’s a promise!”

Killua let himself be hugged for just a few seconds longer, indulged in the kind of physical intimacy that he now felt had been seriously lacking in his life.

“Gon! Killua! Dinner’s ready!”

The boys immediately separated and jumped of the sleeping cot with overlapping “Good talk”s and snickering, before they chased each other down the stairs and into the dining hall. Downstairs they were greeted by a sweet, savoury smell as Mito heaved a large pot onto the wooden table, decked with 3 dinner plates and another larger bowl with mashed potatoes. Gon was the first to arrive at the pot and took a curious peek inside. “Short ribs! Nice!”

“I thought that if I give you boys something you can stuff yourselves with, maybe you’ll be too full to spend the entire night up again playing video games.” She gestured for them to sit down with a proud smile. The teens didn’t hesitate and helped themselves immediately to full plates, the aroma of the food spread even more throughout the room.

As Killua tried to slice into the ribs, the meat parted from the bone after barely just a touch. As he took a bite, the tender meat tasted sweet, spicy, and everything in between. “These are the best ribs I’ve ever had. No Doubt.”

Mito laughed. “They better be! The trick to getting the meat this tender is to really just let them sit in the slow cooker for a full 9 hours, better even 10, and only interrupt to season to taste now and then.”

“Mhm. You know, I don’t think my mom even knows how to cook.”

“…Do you know how to cook, Killua?”

“Pff, no. Why?”

Gon swallowed another large bite of food before speaking. “Not even breakfast eggs?”

“Nope!” Killua continued to eat, as Gon and Mito exchanged a somewhat concerned look.

“Killua, would you like to help me cook breakfast tomorrow? We could try making pancakes.” Mito tried not to sound condescending as she suggested this, and Gon supported her with enthusiastic nodding.

“I-…Sure. But don’t blame me if anything catches on fire, okay?” The group laughed, and the rest of the dinner passed by peacefully, until the landline phone rang.

Mito got up and cleared her throat before answering. “Hello? …” She glanced at Killua. “…Mhm, sorry, who is this?” She covered the receiver with a worried look. “Killua, do you have a brother named Illumi?”

In a matter of seconds Killua had gotten up and snatched the phone from Mitos hand. “What.”

“Killu, it’s Illumi, how are you enjoying your spontaneous vacation?”

“How did you get this number?”

“I’ve got my ways.”

“Are your ways called Milluki?”

“Doesn’t matter. I hope you had fun these couple of days, but its time to come home. Mother is worried sick. If you come back now, you may even get your computer back.”

“HA! Fat chance. I’m too busy getting sun burned, buying ugly clothes and- and I’m going to learn how to cook with my friend tomorrow. So, suck it and leave me alone.”

There was a deep sigh at the other line, and what sounded like a second person snickering. “Killu, you have 24 hours to pack your things, book a plane, and think about how to properly apologize to mother and father for the trouble you have caused. If you fail to do so, I am going to have to come over there and take you back myself.”

“Don’t forget to pack sunglasses and sunscreen, Illumi. Bye.”

“Kil-“

Killua slammed the phone back into the loading station and sat back down at the table as if nothing happened. Silence weighed heavy in the room, but Mito was the first to find her words again and walked over to Killua to put a supporting hand on his shoulders.

“Are you alright, Killua?”

“Yeah! He’s kind of a control freak, I’m used to it.”

“But what’s going to happen when he actually gets here?” Gon asked nervously, though Killua merely shrugged as a response.

“Don’t know. Probably house arrest, maybe they are going to take my phone away but I’m sure I can just take my little brothers if I ask nicely.”

“This is so unfair… You practically just got here! There’s so much more I wanted to do together with you! And if they take your phone, we can’t even talk once you leave…”

And Killua was about to try to give some reassuring statements, but then it struck him-

“Hey, Gon, remember when you thought that me coming over spontaneously was kind of wild, crazy, but fun?”

“Y-yes?”

“Wanna do something wild, crazy, but fun with me?”

The woman behind him picked up faster on what he meant than Gon did. “Wait a min-“

“Huh?”

“Want to go to Japan with me?”

“Yes! Of course!!” Gon started to slap the table in excitement.

“We can visit my sister, and there’s servants there who definitely won’t snitch on us, and we can go hiking in the mountains! It’s great!”

“There’s so much food I want to try! And we need to go to one of those cool Zoos!”

“Definitely!! And there’s this great-

“Boys…”

“Hell yeah! Maybe there will be- “

“BOYS!”

The teens stopped in the middle of their lively conversation and starred at Mito; eyes blown.

“Do you seriously think you can just take a plane together, while running away from your family, without any supervision?”

Killua hesitated before speaking up. “Well, I did make it over here…”

“And now you’re in trouble with your family!”

The young boy sighed and hung his head in defeat, to which his friend took his hand in an attempt at comfort. Gon had the most well-trained puppy eyes, which locked onto Mito as their target.

“Well, if you had adult supervision though…”

Immediately both of the teens jumped up and hugged her. “Of course you can come!” “It’s going to be so much fun!”.

And as Killua explained how he can book last minute tickets to the nearest airport where his sister resided, Mito thought to herself that she may have bitten off more than she could chew. But maybe that didn’t matter. Because rarely had she seen Gon that happy, and maybe taking a risk once in a while for the sake of someone else wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

.

.

.

“He hung up on me.” Illumi dropped his phone and starred at the wall.

“Well, did you really expect he was going to be obedient and say, ‘why yes dear brother I am on my way home right away’?” Hisoka was still in bed and rolled around leisurely, seemingly not a care in the world, though his grin was telling that he enjoyed the situation unfolding in front of him immensely. Illumi had been pacing the room ever since his mother called, hair a mess and Hisokas bathrobe half-heartedly thrown on, it was a welcomed view.

“He was supposed to. But this is fine. I can manage this.”

“Mmh, sell me on your plan~”

“I’m going to pack my things, then I will fly back home, make sure mother is well cared for, and then fly to Australia to drag my little brother home by his ears if I have to.”

“Then let me ask you this, caro mio:” The artist slowly separate himself from the comfort of his bed, and stood behind Illumi, slender fingers carefully combing through the black, sleek hair. “Have you ever been to Australia?”

“No, but I don’t see how that should be a problem.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if you had a guide? Someone who isn’t going to chase you down some backroad that’ll turn into a dead end 30 kilometres in?”

Illumi turned around to face his weird companion. “When have you been to Australia?”

“I’ve been around~” He lied smoothly, one hand running along Illumis chin. “Doesn’t a little road-trip together just sound lovely? I promise I’ll be on my best behaviour~”

“Somehow I have trouble believing that. And even if I would agree to have you accompany me to Australia, I have to drop by home first, and I don’t want you stepping foot anywhere near our property.” Illumi slapped his hand away. “I might come visit after Killua is back home, though.” He turned to go and pack his things, but Hisoka had an arm around his waist and kept him still.

“Tesoro, listen to yourself. Your mother has a billion butlers, your father, and your siblings by her side. Why don’t you fly to Australia immediately to get the job done quickly? Otherwise, you’re just inefficiently wasting time, aren’t you?”

“You do have a point, unfortunately…” He tilted his head to the side, and immediately felt warm lips on his neck. “Still doesn’t mean I’m going to take you with me.”

“What if I say please?”

“How old are you?”

“What if I contact Machi for you and negotiate a collab that will contractually play out majorly in your favour?” Illumi let the thought run through his mind and considered the pros and cons. “And I won’t show anyone the candid photo that is my screensaver now~” Before he could ask what he meant, Hisoka was dangling his phone in front of him, with a shirtless picture of Illumi as his screensaver, just as promised.

“Hey- Give me that!”

Hisoka jumped out of slapping-range and snickered. “Take me to Australia, and that will turn back into a picture of myself.”

“This is blackmail, and I can sue you for this.”

“See you in court, amore.”

“Fine! If you insist, you can come with me. But I will bury your body in the desert if you give me enough reason to.”

Immediately Hisoka threw himself at Illumi. “Yay~! Our first couples’ vacation!”

“We aren’t…forget it.” Illumi sighed, though Hisoka could have sworn he saw a slight smile as he pressed a kiss to the designer’s cheek.

What’s the worst that could happen?

[smol-and-grumpy]

Teacher Of The Year - P.04

Pairing: Professor Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Heartbroken and restless, she walked into a bar with the full intention of getting smashed but she got more than she bargained for. Much more.

Warnings: Fluff and feelings in this chapter

WC: 2133

SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s another night that Dean lies awake and can’t seem to be catching on sleep. Which is weird, since normally, when he has sex, he’s able to fall asleep really quickly, will usually fall into a dreamless sleep and only wake up when his alarm goes off. 

But tonight is different, he can’t stop thinking about her, about the things he said to her. 

After she left, he picked up the faculty handbook and read every single page of it and oh my god, there were so many pages. At the end, his head was spinning and he kind of had a hard time getting it all into his head so he quickly prepared his lessons for the next day, realizing that their schedule won’t clash and he won’t get to see her (unless he asks her to stay or meet her outside of school, but he doesn’t really want to come across as desperate, even that’s probably all he is), and went home.

Now he’s here in his bed, it’s almost midnight and he debates with himself if it would be weird for him to text her. Of course it would, that���s why he does it anyway. 

D: How are you? Dean x

There’s no answer, even after thirty minutes. Well, maybe that really was not his best move after all.

He turns around, switching off the bedside light and is about to make himself cozy when his phone lights up.

Y/N: How did you get my number?

Oh, he forgot that she didn’t actually give him her number but instead he looked at the student lists and got her number out of that. Well, no turning back now, right?

D: I have my ways.

Y/N: My ass is sore. 

Dean has to chuckle at that. 

D: I’m sorry, I got carried away.

He really did get carried away. Her ass was just too nice not to spank so hard and he loved it, loved every second of it. Loved how after he brought his hand down, there was immediately a red hand print of his. Loved to see that it’s his. 

Y/N: It’s okay, I’m just laying on my stomach. I hope I can sit down for class tomorrow.

Dean bites down on his bottom lip. There’s really a lot he would give right now to have class with her tomorrow. Wants to see her squirming in her seat when she sits down, knowing that he did that to her. His dick starts to twitch in his pants, and he thinks that it’s crazy how little stimulation it needs lately.

D: I’m a little disappointed that I won’t see you in class and see you try to sit tomorrow.

Y/N: Maybe I can see you later in the evening.

Dean frowns before a little smile creeps on his face. Maybe he’s not such an idiot after all. Maybe she’s in this as much as he is. 

D: I’d love that. 

D: Now go to sleep.

D: Good night, sweetheart

Y/N: Good night, professor xx

Oh, she knows exactly what she’s doing to him with that. Dean chuckles, places his phone back on it’s charger and turns around, hoping sleep comes soon.

  She hasn’t seen Dean yet today, since she didn’t have classes with him, but just thinking about him alone makes her heart jump and thumb ridiculously fast in her chest. What the hell’s wrong with her? She can’t be falling for him already, can she? It’s just a stupid crush is what it is. At least that’s what she tries to tell herself. 

There’s no way that she can let herself fall in love with a professor. He probably has other girls lined up too, doesn’t really think she’s the only one. He’s so good looking, he could literally have any girl he wants, since they are all lusting after him. She also doubts that he wants anything more to do with her than teaching her the kinks that she might or might not be into. There’s no way that this could lead to anything more, not that she wants to anyway. 

There are only ten minutes left of her class, and then she’ll be able to go to her room, sulk a little, maybe, because Dean didn’t seek her out today. Perhaps it’s a sign? Maybe it was best they end it now before it can start. These things should not last, should they?

Honestly, she doesn’t know. All she knows is that her body aches for him, aches for his touch, his kisses, hell, even his spanks. Her pussy feels incredibly empty and she was so horny this morning that she rubbed herself off in the showers and she did come but it took a ridiculously long time because she couldn’t quite reach the places he manages to reach and her fingers didn’t feel quite right like his fingers do. Hers are short and thin and while his are thick and long, oh god, so thick. After her orgasm, she felt emptier than before, if that was even possible.

About thirty seconds after her class ended, her phone vibrates and she turns it around on her table. Thumbing open the message, her heart rate shoots up significantly. 

D: Y/N, come to my apartment at 6? Please? 

Her cheeks begin to burn up and her lips widen to a grin. He even added a ‘please’ and she thinks it’s ridiculously cute how he’s trying to be all polite and not force her into anything. She thinks he must have a hard time dealing with it since he’s a person of authority to her but he wants to make sure that she knows that she can say no anytime she wants. Her face hurts from grinning and she probably looks like a complete idiot but honestly, she just didn’t care.

Y/N: I guess I can do that.

Every fiber in her body wants to write FUCK YES but she didn’t want to sound desperate, even though her body aches and there’s a tingly feeling down there. A tingly feelings that’s been there since she met him a couple of nights ago. It’s really something he hasn’t felt before.

D: Good. And oh, hey, bring the list! xx

She smirks at the ‘xx’ he sent her, stares at the phone for longer than she should have and only remembers that she’s still sitting in class as the classroom starts to fill up again. She tucks her phone away, puts everything into her backpack and leaves with a growing tingly feeling between her legs. She wonders how she should survive today without getting herself off again. She’s all hot and bothered and he didn’t even do anything yet. This is seriously fucked up.  

That damn list, though. She forgot about it and now she has about an hour to list her kinks, kinks she doesn’t even know she has. Kinks she doesn’t even know exist! She’s so close to just throwing the whole idea out of the window. Is actually close to just go there and tell him that they should abandon that damn list and just fuck however they like, but then again, what does she like? She doesn’t know, since sex with her ex has been mostly vanilla. 

Her ex wasn’t really into foreplay either, at least he never went down on her, said he doesn’t like how it tastes. She went down on him a couple of times, but didn’t feel like she should when he doesn’t do the same for her and he would then say that it’s not really fair since she doesn’t complain about how his dick tastes like he does with her pussy. He’d climb on top of her, missionary style and always comes on her stomach. It’s always the same too, the same things over and over. Kissing, stroking, taking off clothes, him on top, he comes, they sleep. She has to be quick with rubbing herself if she wanted to come at all, because it would always be over way too soon. 

Now, looking back, she guesses that the relationship was doomed to fail anyway and she has zero regrets of finding him in a compromising position with another girl.

 *

 She doesn’t have a car while she’s on campus because she doesn’t need one and public transport honestly creeps her out a little, so like the last time she was here, she walks the couple of blocks to Dean’s apartment. Thankfully he didn’t live that far out. 

After she arrives, she takes the stairs up to his apartment, still vaguely remembers that it was on the fourth floor. She’s all hot when she arrives, her cheeks are flush from climbing the stairs and she takes a couple of seconds to recollect herself. Knocking at the door to his apartment, she looks at it, sees one crescent moon etched into the wood of the frame, blushes when she remembers what happened here a couple of nights ago.

“Come in.” He calls out from inside and she opens up the door, letting herself into the little space.

Dean’s apartment is not big. It has a kitchen, a dining table that sits four. There’s also a sofa and a TV. There’s only one bedroom and one bathroom but it’s enough for one person and it’s certainly more spacious than her dorm room. 

“I hope you’re hungry.” Dean smiles brightly as he juggles with a pan and plates in his hands.

“Oh! Oh, sure.” She nods. But honestly, she doesn’t even know that she was hungry until now that she smells food and her stomach starts to growl. 

Y/N sits down at the table and it’s then that she realizes that she hasn't had anything in her belly since breakfast. She would’ve eaten something at lunch but she had to change buildings and frankly, there was just no time. When she got back to her apartment, she was thinking about that list and got distracted.

“Et voilà.” Dean chirps as he places a plate in front of her.

“Oh god, it smells so good.” Her mouth starts to water and she wonders what other talents this man has in stores for her other than looking and cooking ridiculously delicious. 

She hasn’t tried it yet, though, wouldn’t know if it’s really any good but from the way it smells it must be great.

“Pasta with homemade pesto.” He declares before he sits down and pours them both some wine. He’s looking a little proud too, and she thinks it’s cute. 

“Please, not too much for me.” She interrupts his wine-pouring. “I’d rather not be hungover again tomorrow in class.”

“Sure.” He smirks at that and she thinks that he probably remembers her hungover self sitting in third row.

They eat and talk throughout the meal and she gets to know Dean better. 

Apparently, he likes to cook, and he’s hella good at it, the pesto was indeed finger licking good. She found out that he has a brother, Sammy (well, Samuel, or Sam, but actually never Sammy because Sam apparently doesn’t like to be called that). Sam’s a hot shot lawyer and partner at a firm in Chicago and she makes a mental note to track him down should she get into any troubles because apparently, he’s the one to turn to. 

He talks a lot about Sam, told her how they grew up together, that he was the sole caregiver since their dad was busy with his own company and didn’t have time for the both of them. It seems like the mom is apparently out of the picture, she doesn’t know what happens or what is going on but she doesn’t feel like it’s her place to ask. 

Dean first started to study Mechanical Engineering at MIT but soon dropped out because he and Sam had to take over the family business after their father’s death. When Sam decided that he’d had enough of the family business, Dean sold it, which led him to move on to study as well and now he’s teaching his second passion, history. She can’t say she minds his change of direction because it led him here. If he wouldn’t have done it, she wouldn’t be sitting here at this very table, wouldn’t be staring into his eyes that are still green even with the dark rimmed glasses. She blushes and lowers her head, hopes that he didn’t notice her staring.

After the meal she wants to help him clean up but he wouldn’t have any of it. He tells her to go sit her sweet ass on the couch and wait for him, but not before he gently squeezed it and pulled her close for a kiss leaving her longing for more.

P.05

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Forty

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: TW - Mentions of past abuse! Angst. Fluff. Smut.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

“It’s good to see you, Y/N. How was your trip to England?”

“It was incredible! Would you like to see some pictures?” You say to Dr. Mara

“Sure.” You show her a few. “That is incredible.” She squints at you. “You look a little tired.”

“Long couple of days. Went out drinking a few times. Harry and I, uh, had sex when we were in London.”

“Wow, how do you feel?”

“Great! I’m really happy we waited as long as we did, but I’m also really happy to be so close with him now.”

“Any flashes?”

“Yeah, during the first time. But it didn’t happen until the end…it was scary in the moment, but I was fine after.”

“How often have you been active since then?”

“Just about every day, sometimes it’s multiple times a day. It’s been fun.” You smile. “We’re really exploring each other. I’ve been feeling like my old self lately.”

“So…what’s getting at you today? Is it him living with you?”

“No, I love that we’re living together. That transition has been relatively smooth.” You look away then back to her. “He keeps bringing up doing me from behind.”

“Oh.” Her face falls.

“Yeah.”

“He doesn’t know that’s how…”

“No. And I can’t bring myself to explain it. He just wanted to have a conversation yesterday and I blew up at him. The day just got worse and I had a panic attack.”

“I’m so sorry dear.”

“I felt better this morning, but I know I hurt him last night too. I didn’t let him hold me while we slept.”

“You two usually hold each other?”

“We usually fall asleep cuddling in some fashion, yeah. We usually wake up that way too. I just didn’t want to be touched last night though, everything was running through my head.”

“That’s understandable.”

“I just can’t bring myself to do that yet, it seems stupid because we’re having sex now.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid. That’s a very vulnerable position to be in, regardless of what happened to you.”

“I know he’d be careful with me.” You look down at your hands. “I can tell he tries his hardest to hold back. I can tell he just wants to pound into me…I feel like when we’re doing it we’re not fully able to let go and be ourselves because we’re both afraid of something bad happening.”

“Would you prefer to have aggressive sex?”

“It’s not that I want it to be aggressive, but I would like to get to a point where I can tell him to fuck me, and he just fucks me! It doesn’t always need to be sweet, does it? I just want to be a normal fucking person!” Tears start to well up. You grab a tissue not wanting to mess your makeup up. You still had to go back to work after this.

“Y/N, no need to get worked up, alright? There is nothing wrong with you.” She smiles warmly at you. You take a deep breath.

“I feel like every step forward I take, it’s two steps back.” You look at her. “I’m gonna have to tell him, aren’t I?”

“You should only do what feels comfortable, but good communication can go a long way. I hope you know you have made a tremendous amount of progress, and you should be proud of yourself.” She looks down then back at you. “I’m going to propose something, but it’s entirely up to you.

“Alright.”

“If you get to a point where you want to tell him, but you’d like some extra support, I want you to know you can bring him here with you. But only if you feel comfortable with that.”

“Okay, I’ll, um, think about it.” 

//

You think over everything on your way back to work. You scarf down your lunch quick at your desk. You see a note, it was from Harry. Came to surprise you, but you were out. Hope you have a good day. I love you. You sigh and smile. You tuck the note inside your desk. You decide to print the photo of him kissing you on your cheek. You dig out another frame you had and put it in. You stick the photo next to the other one you had of him.

Niall knocks on your door. There was a project he needed to go over with you.

“Got it, I’ll get right on it.”

“Thanks.”

“Listen, I’m sorry I snapped earlier.”

“I shouldn’t have pried.”

“Harry stopped by.”

“Yeah, I saw him.” He makes a strange face. “I made him tell me what happened.”

“Niall! Jesus fucking Christ!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.”

“And let me guess, you told him?” He blinks at you. “That wasn’t your information to give him!”

“I’m so sorry, I was upset with him for what he did, and-“

“You don’t need to be upset with him! You’re not the one fucking him, I am, okay? This doesn’t concern you!”

“Everything okay in here?” One of the older women pops her head in.

“Everything’s fine. Niall are we done here?”

“Yeah.” He gets ups and leaves. You wanted to slam your door shut, but you knew that would be unprofessional.

You didn’t say goodbye to him before you left for the day. You had never been so annoyed with Niall. He tried to catch you before you left, but he just missed you. You drove to the apartment fuming, but trying to calm yourself. Excited to see what the place actually looked like.

//

“M’girlfriend should be here any minute. She’s usually the early one.” Harry says to the realtor outside the apartment. “I know it’s cold, sorry.”

“Not a problem, sure there’s traffic.” Harry sees your car pull up, you find a parking spot, and get out.

“Hi, sorry.” You kiss Harry on the cheek. You look unpleasant. “I’m Y/N.” You shake the realtor’s hand.

“Shall we?”

You and Harry follow the man inside. It’s a really nice lobby. You can see all of the mailboxes on the wall.

“Wow, there’s a lobby attendant here?” You say.

“Yes. There are a lot of elderly folks here, it’s a peace of mind thing. There’s often a doorman as well. In fact there was an elderly couple in this place before, but they recently moved to Florida.”

You follow him into the elevator. The apartment is on the fifth floor. The realtor unlocks the door and guides you in. There’s a hallway, similar to the one you have now, only there was a beautiful hardwood floor, looked newly refinished. There was a coat closet. You both step further in and see a large living room.

“Harry look!” You point to a gas fireplace. “We could put the TV above the fireplace, and the sofa could go here.” You gesture. He smiles and nods.

“The kitchen is closed off, but over here would be a formal dining area.”

“Oh! I like the idea of that. Much easier for dinner parties.” You push through a door and go into the kitchen. Yours and Harry’s jaws drop.

There were granite countertops, new cabinets, and stainless steel appliances. There was a small island similar to yours.

“Plenty of room for both of us in here.” You look around a little. “Everything is so new.”

“Place was renovated after they moved out. They were here for over thirty years.”

“Wow!” You take Harry’s hand.

“Ready to see the rest?” You go back out to the living room. “Let’s start with the loft, just up the spiral staircase. This is where the bonus room is.”

The three of you carefully go up the staircase. You and Harry walk around the small area. It could easily fit both of your desks and all of his equipment.

“Harry you could almost make this your studio if you wanted.”

“You’d be okay with having clients come here?”

“Sure, why not?” You shrug.

The three of you go back down the stairs, and go down a hallway.

“So here’s the hall bath, it’s a full bath that has jack and jill doors for the guest room.”

“It’s a great size, glad it’s a tub shower.” You both check out the guest room. It could easily fit Harry’s bed and other bedroom furniture.

“And here’s the master.” The realtor opens the door for you.

“Holy shit!” You exclaim. “Pardon me.” You giggle. Your eyes grow wider with every step you take.

The room was absolutely huge. There were two closets so you and Harry wouldn’t have to share anymore. You could easily fit a king sized bed down the road if you both wanted. The ensuite bathroom had a beautiful tile on the floor.

“Harry look, two sinks!” You say excitedly. Your jaw drops again when you see the shower. “It’s just like the one in London!”

“Yeah, no kidding. And there’s still a tub in here too, that’s good.”

“Oh I love it.”

“Why don’t you take a few minutes to chat in here, I’ll be in the kitchen.” The realtor leaves.

“What do you think? You’ve been quiet.”

“Just takin’ it all in. It’s a great place.”

“It’s incredible! I could really see us living here babe.” You smile at him.

“Me too. Seems like a great fit for us. That loft alone would be a big help.”

“What do you think, should we put an application in?”

“I think we should.” You hug him excitedly.

You meet the realtor in the kitchen, and tell him you’d like to apply. He gives you a form and a pen.

“Has anyone else inquired?” Harry asks as you fill out your portion.

“Not yet. You two found this place at a good time, not many people willing to move in the middle of the winter.”

“Here Harry.” You hand him the paper and pen. “So how long will it be until we know?”

“Well, the landlord will want to do a credit check and all that. In the meantime, make sure you have first, last, and the security deposit ready to go.” You nod along. “Should be able to tell you in a couple of weeks most likely.”

“Here you are.” Harry hands him the finished paperwork.

“Wonderful, thank you both so much.”

“Thank you!” You say.

“I’ll walk you both out.”

The three of reach the street. You both shake his hand again, and go to your separate cars. You can’t wait to get out of your work clothes when you get home.

“Want some of the leftover curry f’dinner? I can heat it up.”

“Sure.” You say walking into the bedroom. You come back out wearing pajama pants and a sweatshirt. Harry hands you a bowl, and you sit down at the island. “Thanks babe.”

He sits down next to you. You both exchange small talk while you eat.

“Did you see I stopped by today?”

“Yeah.” You smile. “That was nice of you.”

“How was Dr. Mara?”

“Good, it was a good session. I really shouldn’t go during my lunch, I was sort of worked up today, but she helped me.” Your phone starts to buzz. It’s Niall calling. You roll your eyes.

“You’re not going to answer?”

“No, I’m mad at him.”

“Why?” You drop your fork and look at him.

“You know why.” Harry bites his bottom lip. “I know he told you, because he told me he told you. It wasn’t his information to give out.” Harry goes to open his mouth. “And I’m not ready to talk about it yet. I know we need to, but I just can’t right now.” There’s a knock at your door. “That son of a bitch. I don’t want to see him right now.”

Harry gets up and opens the door, it was Niall. He blocks him from going further into the front hall.

“Would ya let me in?”

“She said she didn’t want to see you. Surprisingly enough, she doesn’t seem mad at me anymore, so I’d like to not rock the boat.”

“You’re wrong, I am still mad at you, but I’m choosing to let it go because you didn’t understand fully what was happening.” You say with arms crossed leaning against the wall. “Why are you here?” You squint at Niall.

“I tried to talk to you before you left, but I missed you.”

“Had an apartment to look at.”

“How was it?” You scoff. “Y/N, I’m really sorry okay?”

“You do this all the time! You tell other people things about me because you’re trying to protect me or some shit. It’s enough! I get it you two are best friends, but he’s my boyfriend, and I get to choose what information about my life he gets to know.”

“I’m your best friend too.” His eyes start to tear up. So do yours. “I love you Y/N, I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“I love you too Niall, but you two can’t run to each other every time one of us is upset about something. You need to let him and I work through whatever it is. Or if we want to talk to you about it, let us come to you, don’t pry for the gossip.” Harry’s a little taken back at how loosely the two of you just threw around I love yous. He wonders when you two first said that to each other.

“I’m sorry, I just got upset when he told me what he said, and I thought back to that day I came to your place and you…” He was full on crying and so were you. You walk over to him and you throw your arms around each other. Harry stands there awkwardly. “I can’t bare the thought of you bein’ mad at me.” He whispers.

“When it comes to what happened to me, can you just…not?” You look at him and he nods. “Okay, thank you.” You let go of him.

“Are we okay?”

“Yeah.” You smile and wipe your face.

“Don’t be too hard on the lad, he means well.” You look over at Harry and roll your eyes. You decide you’re going to start doing it even more because you know it annoys him.

“Mhm.”

“Well…I’ll get goin’. I just came by to make things better. I’ll see ya tomorrow.” You hug again. “See ya mate.”

“Bye.” Harry waves him off. You look at your boyfriend and roll your eyes again. He follows you back to the kitchen. You both sit back down to finish eating. “You’ve certainly gotten into a habit of doin’ that.”

“Doing what?”

“Rollin’ your bloody eyes at me.”

“My bloody eyes.” You mimic his accent and laugh. “I really don’t notice when I’m doing it.”

“Highly doubt that, love.” He sighs. “Are ya still mad at me, really? I feel terrible about everything. I really am sorry for upsetting you.”

“I just want you to listen to me when I say I don’t want to talk about something, okay?”

“I will.”

“I don’t want you to be afraid to talk to me about things, but I thought after the first two times I said no you would’ve gotten the hint.”

“I’m sorry, I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not.” You put a hand over his. “I know it’s, um, a really nice way to have sex, I just am not in a place where I feel safe doing it that way. And it’s not that I don’t feel safe with you…I just need to be able to look at you while we’re doing it. I don’t know where my mind will wander if I can’t see you.”

“Alright, makes sense.” He rubs his thumb over the top of your hand.

“What do you say we crack open that oat milk ice cream we got?”

“I hope it tastes good.” He chuckles.

“It’s cookies and cream flavor, bet it’ll be great.” You grab the carton out of the freezer and grab two spoons while Harry cleans up the bowls from dinner. You gesture to have him follow you to the couch.

You grab the remote and turn Chopped on. You loved Tuesdays on the Food Network. You both dig in to the ice cream.

“Mm, this is good.”

“Yeah! I’m surprised, honestly.” Harry says. “You know what’s crazy, we just put an application in for our very own place.”

“I’m so excited, I loved that place so much. There was so much space.”

“Yeah, I like that there’s some room to grow if need be.” He says looking at the TV. You choke on your ice cream. “Jesus, you alright?” He rubs your back as you swallow.

“What do you mean room to grow?” He blinks at you. He realizes he said an inside thought out loud.

“Um…just like if we got a dog down the line.” You squint at him, you knew he wasn’t being entirely truthful. “Plenty of room for a small dog to scamp around.”

It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about having kids some day, but you were only twenty-four. You were in no rush to care for a baby when you could barely take care of yourself. You knew Harry loved babies, but it was way too soon to start talking about any of that. Was it something he was already thinking about?

“Right, that’s what I thought you meant.” You turn your attention back to the TV.

“I love you.” He says.

“I love you too.” You nudge him. He puts an arm around you.

“Fuckin’ Ted.” He points his spoon at the TV. “He’s always gettin’ in the way! They only have twenty minutes mate!” You laugh hysterically. “It’s true!”

“I know! That’s why it’s so funny.” You take another bite of ice cream. “And that idiot over there doesn’t know how to properly grill pork, it’s gonna be dry.”

“Should’ve ground it up and fried it into fritters or something.”

“I agree.” You snuggle into him.

“M’gonna put this away, alright?” You nod. He puts the carton back in the freezer and gets back on the couch. “Would you lay on me?”

“Mhm.” You smile.

He lays on his back, head resting against the arm rest, you lay your head on his stomach, and lay your body between his legs. One hand laces in your hair, and rubs your scalp gently, the other hand rests on your back. He felt so happy to have your weight on him. He missed you so much last night.

“I missed you last night.” He says quietly. You look up at him. “Never gonna make ya that mad at me again, I swear.” You prop yourself up and kiss him.

“Wanna go make up?” You give him your bedroom eyes, and he picks you up immediately.

He turns the TV off, and carries you into the bedroom. You giggle when you sets you down and yanks your sweatshirt up of your head. His head goes right between your breasts, planting kisses where he sees fit. His mouth wraps around one of your nipples and your head rolls back. He twists your piercing with his teeth and you groan. He lifts you slightly and puts you on the bed. He leans up and takes his shirt off. Your hands trace over the butterfly. His skin was hypnotic. He pulls your pants down, and parts your legs. He kisses you, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, then lets it go as he kisses down your neck, chest, and stomach. He sinks his teeth into your lower stomach and leaves a pretty decent bruise behind.

His mouth finds your clit next. Your hips buck up at the contact. His tongue flicks it a few times before he nibbles on you. Your hands go for his hair as you get lost in the feeling. His thumb replaces his mouth, and his tongue licks a stripe up your center. He hear him moan while he licks all around you. His tongue goes up inside you and you let out a moan of his name. You tasted amazing. Harry felt like he had been neglecting this side of things since you had started actually having sex. He could kick himself, why on earth would he deprive either of you of this?

“Harry.” You grind against his tongue. “Please fuck me.”

“Not yet.” He says bringing his mouth back to your clit, and inserting his middle finger in you. You pull hard on his hair. You want to clamp your legs together, but he uses his other hand to keep you spread apart.

His fingers curl up, and makes that come here motion deep inside you. Your head falls back into the pillow. You loved the way his tongue worked over your clit as his fingers hit that special spot inside.

“Shit, Harry.” Your back starts arching. “Harry.” You mean. “Harry!” You come all over his fingers, and your back arches completely off the bed. He slowly pumps in and out of you as you grind against him, riding out your high. “Fuck.” You say breathlessly.

He sits up and takes his own pants and boxers off. Dick throbbing and leaking for you. You grab at him, and rub your thumb over his leaking tip. You move him to lay down, and shuffle between his legs. You wrap your lips around his tip. You wanted to return the favor. His hips push up, and you take more of him into your warm mouth. You let go of him with a popping noise.

“Love the way you taste babe.” You say.

He grabs you and puts you back on your back. He grabs your legs and wraps them around his waist. He kisses you, sticking his tongue in your mouth as he pushes into you. He swallows your gasp.

“So fuckin tight, angel. Feels amazing.” He says into your neck before sucking the skin into his mouth.

“Love the way you fill me up, Harry.” He wasn’t going to last long with the way you were talking. “Don’t you think I should be on top?” You say into his ear. He leans up to look at you. “I mean, I think you should be teased a little for being so bad.”

“That so?” He smirks.

“Mhm.”

He rolls you both over so you’re on top of him.

“Don’t move until I say.” You grip the headboard, and slowly grind up and down on him. His hands slide up and down your thighs as he watches you ride him. His fingers dig into your hips, trying his best not to just thrust up into you. “Feels so good.” You say throwing your head back. You dip your hand down and rub your clit as you continue to grind against him slowly.

“Fuck, Y/N, please let me move.”

“Not yet.” You two had a habit of using your previous words against each other. Your breathing got faster as you could feel yourself getting close. You bite your bottom lip and close your eyes. “Shit.” You moan. You keep grinding against him, and look down with a smirk. “Alright, go ahead.”

Harry grips your ass and thrusts up into you causing you to gasp. You lean down on him and clutch at his shoulders as he fucks you. All of a sudden you’re on your back again, and the sound of skin slapping skin fills the air. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder. He grinds into you and you moan loudly.

“You like that?” He smirks.

“Mhm.”

He fucks you like this for a few minutes, then drops your leg and comes down closer to you, crashing his lips to yours. You rake your nails down his stomach. His hands knead your breasts, one sliding up to your throat. Only lightly adding pressure like the other night.

“Just wanna remind ya of somethin’.” He says into your ear, nipping at your lobe. “You can take control whenever ya want.” His other hand reaches down for your clit and pinches it. Your back arches up in response. “But I’m the one in charge.”

He rubs on you quickly as he thrusts so deep tears come to your eyes. Between that and his words in your ear, you knew you’d be close again soon. He feels you tighten around him and your legs shake. You were sensitive now, but he didn’t let up.

“Fuck, Harry!”

“That’s it baby girl, come for me.” Your toes curl and your nails dig into his back, sure to leave marks. He groans into your neck.

“Fuck.” You say as your body goes limp around him.

He keeps going in and out of you, and you fully wrap your legs around him. He’s propped up with one arm, and his other reaches for your hand, you intertwine you’re your fingers. He brings it to the side your head. It was such a small act, but it turned you on so much.

“Fuck, I love you so much.” He says into your ear.

“I love you too. I love the way you make me feel, inside and out.” He nips at your jaw.

His thrusts start to get sloppier and quicker. He’s coming to his own release. You hear him moan your name a few times as he shoots up inside you. He collapses on top of you. You plant kisses to his forehead and run your hands through his sweaty hair.

He pulls out of you slowly and you wince from your sensitivity. You get up slowly and use the bathroom.

“Oh wow.” You say to yourself.

You didn’t realize how hard he had fucked you. You brush your teeth and wash your face. You smile at him as you open the door. He goes in to do his thing. You put on the t-shirt he had been wearing earlier, wanting to be fully encompassed with his scent. You crawl into bed, and scroll on your phone. He comes out a few minutes later.

“Shit, it’s late.” He says looking at the clock.

“S’only 10:30.”

“We’re usually in bed by now.” He chuckles. “When did we get so old?”

“Nothing about what we just did makes me feel old, speak for yourself grandpa.” He pretends to be offended.

“If I’m grandpa what do you think that makes you?”

“The young girlfriend that your kids tell you to dump because I’m only after your money.”

“I knew it!” You both giggle. “C’mere, love.” He opens his arms for you, and you lay on his chest. He sighs happily, playing with your hair.

“Mm, I love when you do that, feels so nice.” You close your eyes and listen to his gentle heartbeat.

//

You absolutely do not want to get up when you hear your alarm go off. Nor could you because Harry somehow had rolled on top of your body. You were starting to think you needed to set up a camera in the room just to see what he does in his sleep. You were a sweaty mess and you needed to shower. You turn your alarm off, and rub your eyes. You try to move, careful not wake him, but Harry’s hands grip at your sides.

“Five more minutes.” He says into your chest. You giggle.

“I have to shower.”

“But you’re soooo cozy.” He whines. You run your hands through his hair.

“Babe, please let me get up.” You coo.

“Can I shower with you?”

“Yes, but I can’t be in there long.”

He lets you up, and you throw your hair up into a bun on the top of your head. You didn’t have the energy to wash it. It was still pretty fresh from the salon. Harry was a sleepy boy this morning. He mostly just kept his arms around you while you washed yourself. You washed his back and chest for him. He woke up a little while you scrubbed his head for him. He kisses you before you both get out.

You throw a simple dress and boots on. You decide to keep your hair up in a bun, but you adjust it so it looks a little nicer, pulling some pieces out to frame your face. You put on some makeup, and grab a scarf to cover your neck with. You pack your gym bag as well before going out to see Harry in the kitchen making smoothies.

“Thank you sweetie.”

“Sure thing.”

“M’going to the gym after work. I’ll probably be home around six.”

“Okay, I might be home later than that. Gotta lot to do today.”

“Alright, I can make something for dinner then.” You smile and kiss him on the cheek. He grabs your wrist as you turn around. “What?”

“S’all I get for a goodbye kiss?” You giggle and press yourself against him. You give him a good kiss. “Mm, thank you.” He hums. “Can I come see ya at lunch today?”

“Sure! I’d love that.”

“Have a good day, love.”

“You too.” You grab your lunch out of the fridge, throw your coat on, and head out the door.

//

A coffee is waiting for you on your desk when you get there. You grab it and go down the hall to thank Niall.

“Good morning.” You say to him.

“Hey there.” He smiles at you. “You’ve been wearin’ a lot scarves lately.” He smirks.

“Yeah…it’s the only thing that covers these up.” You move it to the side to show him.

“Jesus. Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Sometimes.” You shrug. “But, not in a bad way.” You blush slightly.

“You two work everythin’ out?”

“Mhm…I still haven’t explained everything, but I told him when I felt ready I’d tell him.”

“Good. Sorry again.”

“Don’t mention it. Let’s move on.” You smile.

“Tell me about the apartment.”

“It’s beautiful! Gigantic too. We put an application in.”

“That’s great!”

“Yup, you know you and I need to plan a night for the two of us to get together. I haven’t even been able to tell you everything about England yet.” He frowns.

“I…don’t know if I can do that.”

“Why not?” You sit down. He sighs and looks at you.

“Well, on top of everything else last night, Sarah got mad at me.”

“About what?”

“I was like thirty minutes late to our plans…which were at my place.”

“Why were you late?”

“Because I wanted to make things right with you. She was pissed because she sat out waiting in her car because I haven’t given her a key or anythin’. She wasn’t thrilled when I told her I was at your place.” You roll your eyes. You knew Sarah had a tendency to get jealous, and make mountains out of mole hills. “She doesn’t really want me hanging out alone anymore. Says we have plenty of alone time at work.”

“What?! That’s ridiculous Niall. This.” You gesture between the two of you. “Is completely different than getting to hang outside of work.” You take a sip of your coffee. “So she’s basically telling you that you can’t be friends with me anymore?”

“I don’t know…but I don’t wanna rock the boat. I really like her, it’s been a while since I felt this way about someone.”

“Do you two love each other?”

“I’ve fallen for her yeah.”

“Do you think she’s the one?”

“Why are you askin’ me somethin’ like that?”

“Because it seems pretty fucking stupid to stop being friends with someone for a person you’re not even in love with.”

“Not everyone moves as fast as you and Harry you know? She could be the one. And I’m not stoppin’ bein’ friends with ya, we just need to lay low for a bit, til she cools off.”

“Fuck that.”

“You can’t say anythin’ t’her or she’ll get mad at me.”

“Niall, I fucking introduced the two of you, she’s not going to get away with this.” You groan. “Why does this always happen to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Anytime I have a guy friend their girlfriends always end up telling them to stop talking to me. It happened to me all the time in high school.”

“She didn’t tell me I couldn’t talk to you, she just doesn’t want me hanging out with you one on one for a while. And I wasn’t really in a position to justify anythin’. I wanna keep seein’ where this goes with her.”

You roll your eyes and sigh.

“I’m going to start the day, thanks for the coffee.”

//

Harry showed up for lunch just like he said he would. You hear a knock on the outside of your door.

“Hey you!” You say excitedly. “C’mon in, close the door.” You get up and greet him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Need t’heat this up love.”

“Oh! You’re right. I’ll go bring these to the break room for us, hang tight.”

You leave to go to the break room. You see Niall sitting, waiting for you.

“Sorry, I forgot to mention Harry came for lunch. Probably shouldn’t eat together anyways.” You say putting your food in the microwave.

“Jesus, is this how it’s gonna be?”

“Not until you set her straight. If you don’t I will.”

“But what if she-“

“Niall, if this is something you two break up over, then it wasn’t meant to be. Harry doesn’t have a problem with us being friends, why should she?” He sighs. “You know I’m right.”

“Yeah, I know.” You put your hand on his shoulder, then leave with the food.

You go back into your office, and close the door behind you. You sit next to Harry and hand him his food.

“How’s your day so far baby?” You ask him.

“Good, busy already. Happy I could break away to see ya.”

“Me too.”

“This is such a good lunch, thanks again for makin’ it f’me.”

“You’re welcome my love.” His heart flutters.

“Come sit with me.” You giggle and sit on his lap.

“This is all the affection I can show you in here.” You coo.

“I know, just wanna feel ya on me.” He nuzzles into your chest. You stroke your hands through his hair.

You loved when he was like this. Just your cuddly boy.

[fluffy-marshmallow-heart]

A Twist of Fate ch.8

The Elementalist au

Beckett x MC (Oriana)

Words: 1961

Warnings: NSFW

Master List (Catch Up Here)

This AU is set after everyone graduates Penderghast, and Beckett and Oriana were never friends. Fate, however, may have a different plan for them.

   The next morning, Beckett woke up extra early. Oriana had her interview today, and he wanted to make sure she started her day right. He padded downstairs and into the kitchen, getting out everything he needed. He got to work, making over easy eggs, toast, hash browns and coffee. Debating internally, he decided to whip up some pancakes. He was setting it all out on the table when she came in, stopping short.

“What is this?”

He glanced up at her and grinned. “Your breakfast.”

She gaped at him, eyes wide. “You made me breakfast.”

Beckett nodded proudly.

“Beckett Harrington made me breakfast.”

  Now he frowned. “Why do you sound so surprised? I’ve been living on my own, I know how to make breakfast.”

She was still staring at him and he fidgeted uncomfortably, a blush creeping up his neck. “Do you not like breakfast food?”

“No, I…it’s my favorite actually. I just don’t have it much.”

“Why not? If you like it so much?”

“Well…” She looked like she was about to say more, but then she shook her head. “No reason.” She went to the table and sat down. “Thank you.”

He paused a moment before joining her. That was weird. “So. You ready to nail your interview?”

She chuckled. “I guess so.”

“No guessing. You’re going to blow them away and get this job.” He took a bite of the eggs, watching her do the same, wrapping her lips around her fork, and licking it clean with her tongue.

“Mmmmm, Beck, this so good. I’m impressed.”

He smiled softly. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Next time make bacon.”

He looked at her in surprise. “I didn’t have bacon. Didn’t think that would be an issue with everything else…”

She smirked at him. “It’s not. I’m just saying I like bacon. And since you’re trying to impress me, I’m just giving you a pointer for future reference.” She winked, and his face turned red.

“I’m not…why would I…I just thought you’d like something before your interview.” He mumbled, completely avoiding her gaze for fear he’ll die of embarrassment. He cleared his throat. “Well. Next time make your own breakfast then.” He stood up to clear his plate and get ready for work. Brushing past her she caught his arm and turned him back around.

“Hey. This was really nice of you, Beckett, thank you. Seriously, no one’s ever made me breakfast before.”

“But it’s your favorite.”

She shrugged. “Not like anyone cared.” She released his arm and started in on the pancakes.

He pointed to himself. “Best roommate ever, remember?” He couldn’t help but let out a laugh when she started sputtering out her food she’d just taken a bite of.

“Just saying.” He called over his shoulder as he went up to his room to change. Closing his door, he went to his dresser and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He was surprised to see himself…smiling. Come to think of it…I’ve been smiling a lot lately.

He pulled his shirt and pajama bottoms off. Just reaching for his slacks, there was a knock on his door. Shit.

“Uh…one se…”

But Oriana was already opening his door. “Hey so, out of curiosity, do you…” She trailed off as her gaze wandered from his eyes, to his lips, to his chest, to his abdomen, to…

“Yes?” He asked.

She swallowed, her eyes looking back into his. “Uhm…I…forgot.”

Feeling daring, he went up closer towards her, seeing her eyes roam back down his muscular chest. “Can I help you, Oriana?” He murmured.

She shook her head and started backing towards the door. “Nope. I’m good.” She turned and practically ran into her own room, shutting the door behind her. Now that’s interesting. And where the hell did that come from? Since when am I daring? First dancing, now this? Who am I right now?

He finished getting ready, taking his time, and headed out, pausing by her door. He couldn’t be positive, but he thought he heard a faint moan. “Good luck today, Ori. Let me know how it goes.”

“Okay!” She called out, sounding a bit breathless.

“You…okay?” He asked. She sounds weird.

“Uh-huh! Bye Beck!”

He narrowed his eyes, and went down the stairs, wondering what she was doing. Driving to work, it hit him. She couldn’t possibly have been…could she? No way. There’s no way she would do that so openly…with me right in the other room. But…she did sound…busy. And she’s right when she says I don’t know what she’s capable of. She’s pretty straightforward, all things considered. Was she…thinking of me?

He realized he was now hard as a rock, and technically his imagination could just be running wild with what he wants her to be doing. For all he knew, she could have been doing push-ups.

Shit. Now his thoughts turned into her working out in skimpy clothes, and he groaned as he pulled into his office parking lot, the situation in his pants getting out of control. Now what. I have a meeting, I can’t be late, everyone will be there.

He sighed, hurrying into the office and into the conference room. Dave eyed him suspiciously as Beckett hadn’t gone to his office and dropped off his coat or briefcase but said nothing. He breathed out in relief. His coat will cover up his problem. During the meeting, he started realizing exactly how tired he was. He hadn’t exactly gotten a lot of sleep last night.

Every time he closed his eyes, visions of Oriana in his shirt danced in his head. Not just one of my shirts…one of my shirts that smelled like me. Plus, there was the sexy dancing, the amazing food, finding out her powers are so much more than I ever would have imagined. God, she is so incredible. How did that asshole Chase lose sight of that?

When the meeting ended, he bolted for his office, while his phone vibrated. Pulling it out and seeing her name made him smile once again.

Oriana: What do you think of this?

Beckett groaned as he saw a picture she attached of herself in business attire. A formal blouse, blazer, and…he swallowed. A pencil skirt.

Beckett: It’s nice.

Oriana: That’s it?

Beckett: It’s distracting. Change it.

He turned his computer on, and, glancing around his desk he envisioned Oriana in front of him, leaning across it, that tight skirt riding up her thighs, so her ass was directly in his view. I could just…rip that skirt up around her waist and pound into her hard and fast against this desk, tugging her hair and… his phone vibrated again, jarring him out of the fantasy. Now it was just a picture. She was in a dress now, that came down to her knees. It looked respectable.

Beckett: Also nice. Also distracting.

Oriana: How are these distracting?

Beckett chewed his bottom lip, debating how to answer. Can’t exactly tell her because it will make men want to rip her clothes off, and if anyone should be thinking about it, it should be me and only me because damn it she’s mine. He froze at that thought, a bit shocked at his realization. I already think of her as mine.

Apparently, he took too long to respond, because his phone went off again.

Oriana: Ugh, you’re no good at this

Beckett: At what?

Oriana: Helping me decide what to wear. You’re terrible.

Beckett: I’m not a female, I don’t know what you’re looking to hear.

Oriana: As my roommate, it’s your job to tell me I’m dazzling. It really doesn’t matter that you’re male.

He shook his head, smiling.

Beckett: I thought that went without saying.

Oriana: Nope. Needs saying.

Beckett: Oriana Miller, you are dazzling.

Oriana: Thanks, Tiger

Tiger??? Beckett didn’t even know what to say, feeling his face turn bright red. As he thought about it, one more picture came through. Same blouse and blazer as before, but now in a pair of nice dress pants.

At least no one will be looking at her long legs if she wears this, and also won’t picture her wrapping them around his waist, holding her close, making her scream…

He shook his head. Okay. Apparently, it doesn’t matter what she wears, and I’m just a dick. Taking a deep breath, he responded.

Beckett: That one.

Oriana: Thanks Beck!

Beckett: Good luck…tigress

Oriana: Why Beckett Harrington, are you ready to pounce? Is that why they’re distracting?

His mouth fell open and he could feel the heat burning through his cheeks, his neck, his whole body.

Beckett: Good luck, Ori.

He shoved his phone in his desk, wanting desperately, yet not wanting at all to continue this conversation. He buried his blushing face in his hands, closing his eyes and trying to gain control over himself. What the hell am I doing? Is that my version of flirting? She must think I’m such a loser.

He got to work, chastising himself for letting his thoughts wander during work hours. It’s only been a few days, but he was beginning to have an erection any time he talked to her or got near her and he couldn’t afford to have that happen 24/7. Despite his best efforts, he pulled his phone back out. No new messages but…that pencil skirt. I wonder if I print this out, I could get a frame and put it on my desk…

He started planning a trip to the store on his lunch break, so he could get a picture frame. It needed to be a nice frame, but not ornate enough to take away from the subject. Perhaps a simple wrought iron design would do.

Before he knew it, a couple hours had passed, and his phone went off again.

Oriana: I think it went well

Beckett: Are you joking? It went great.

Oriana: You weren’t there…

Beckett: I didn’t have to be. Anyone who knows you knows you can do anything

He waited and waited, but no response came through. He turned back to his computer and stared blankly at it. She can really be so strange sometimes. Sometimes she’s full of confidence, she’s bold. And other times… Some of her reactions and comments, the way she shuts down if I say or do something nice for her…It’s like it completely disappears. Something definitely happened. She’s holding something back. Something big. Something…but what? I have a feeling it has something to do with Chase. Something she’s not proud of. Something…

“You look like hell.” Dave’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Didn’t sleep.” Beckett mumbled. Not to mention extremely sexually frustrated.

“So, things not going well with your girl, huh? Did you even ask her about Friday? Or just assume she wouldn’t go?”

“About that...She said she’d love to. So, we’re both in for Friday. She’s excited. It’ll be good for her.”

“It’ll be good for you, too.” Dave reminded him. “I don’t know what went down last night, because you didn’t say a word after that cryptic text message, but I’m assuming it got better?”

“It did.” Beckett confirmed.

Dave nodded once. “Good. Now, go get more coffee. You look like you need it.” He walked off, and at the mention of coffee, Beckett’s mind flashed to what Oriana had done the previous night.

She was so sure she’d scare me off, that I’d want nothing to do with her after that. Why would she assume that? That was such an incredible display of power. To have that kind of ability…and the light that basically radiated off her and into me. That light is how I know she’ll never be overtaken by that darkness she also possesses. And if it ever tries…I’ll be there to stop it.

 @annekebbphotography @carabeth @gardeningourmet @eileendannie @dancetothestoriesinyoursoul @alesana45 @thequeenofcronuts @zigortega4life @drakewalkerfantasy

@emerald-bijou @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @divergentofhogwarts @rissah @syltti78 @damienswhore @askdana @giulia2372 @symonde @coffeebeandragon @flyawayboo @pbmychoices @kendrasgue @timmagicktoad @endlessly-searching-for-you  @nerdynstoned @wickedgypsymoon

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S3 Ep 11 pt 2: Seto Discovers Vulture Capitalism

Where were we on this arc that ended up being hella longer than I thought it would be? Oh yeah, Last we left the crew, Tristan’s body, now possessed by Nezbitt, was just racing away with Mokuba. This kid gets abducted so often, it’s never occurred to me that anyone in this show would think this is weird. So, when Noah showed up to intervene with actual common sense it was a good bit of whiplash for me.

It’s like the same whiplash I got back when Noah attempted to forfeit a rigged game (for the first time in this entire series). Like I get that Noah is the villain, but how is the evil kid way better at this common sense thing than...a lot of people who’ve been on this show? Not that Noah’s always smart, of course, he still doesn’t seem totally with it on a lot of things (like interior design, which we will get to in a sec) but wow. Noah actually called out this entire show with “Really? Mokuba? Again?”

And so you know what that means? We get to see Noah’s sweet pad in this VR world where Noah could have created anything. Literally anything. To start, he made himself a fireplace with a tiny tiny stack of wood (pretty sure Noah might not know how fires work) and...some sort of...curse on the mantle.

Maybe the mantle couldn’t read the typeface that Noah wanted to use on the mantle?

The rest of the room is just this. Just this.

You know what this no-walls aesthetic SUPER reminds me of?

Pocket Camp. Like this just looks like a Pocket Camp set up to me. In fact...I’m pretty sure I can make almost this exact room in Pocket Camp.

Noah’s just inviting Mokuba over with the bare minimum of ugly ass furniture he needs to have a person over at his campsite he pretends is a house while he waits patiently for the real version of Animal Crossing to come to Switch.

Leichter has an accent that is very old-fashioned Americana and doesn’t wholly make sense in the context of him living in urban Japan, like there’s a whole story there I’d be curious about. But most likely, they were probably trying to cover up the fact that they were using the same 5 voice actors by having him pull out the Clark Gable impression.

And then Seto did not use a Blue Eyes as his deck Master. Instead he used....this guy.

This is a lot of guy to take in. I...I don’t like it.

During this duel we get a Seto Kaiba flashback--and it’s an honest flashback this time, no clones are going to show up and reenact this performance, this is just a straight up flashback.

We’re transported back to Gozoboro’s long buffet table. He really, really loves this thing. It’s like the only place he and his kids ever seem to hang out. Surprised Mokuba and Seto don’t need glasses after squinting so hard to see their own Father for so many years. Also surprised Mokuba and Seto even know what their Dad looks like up close.

Anyways, he sits down at the table and shouts really loudly so it can reach the other side of the room.

Also, just gonna bring this up, we’ve only seen one other guy obsessed with long tables--let me do some digging to a S1 cap, one sec:

Maybe this is just what evil Dads who wear Salmon do?  They get hella long tables to seat their 0 friends and just sit at one of the ends and monologue until something important happens. I mean y’all know how much I love this storyboarder but boy they have a thing for villains and long tables.

Anyways, back to Season 3.

(bro’s telling me he does not know about Thoroughly Modern Millie and like can you believe neither Hulu or Netflix has that musical? I mean that musical is problematic as hell, as is all Broadway but maybe I want to watch some 1920′s dancing.)

Anyways, cue Gozaboro shuffling in a comedically large pile of money on a very small pushcart. About 1,099,520,000.00 Yen’s worth. But the show will simplify it for the Americans.

This episode of Yugioh was made around 2002, and this just followed the .com bubble bursting in California. (and before that happened, it was preceded by a recession in Japan that affected the .com bubble quite a bit) For those here who were not born yet and do not remember this happening, this was like, pretty horrifying. I grew up in the Bay where 90% of everyone still works in tech, so I remember that after the bubble burst there were kids in our school who’s parents used to have great salaries and a steady income, who suddenly had to pick up shifts at Starbucks to get back on their feet.

So, it’s interesting that we have this kid’s show basically showing us point blank what Vulture Capitalism is and how it works. You’d think this business stuff would normally go over kid’s heads, but at the time, I think a lot of kids wanted to know what happened to their families but maybe didn’t understand it?

So Kaiba is gonna get into investing all of a sudden, which is kind of weird, mostly because it involved no playing cards. Also because this happened:

Yeah, what? He’s apparently not even adopted yet, which means Seto could still turn around and tell the News that he beat Gozaboro in a match but, I guess that old threat has aged out.

It’s inferred that Seto’s been living here like for several years now. You’d think this guy would list some dependents just for the tax cuts, but nah, Gozaboro just shoved these two into the gigantic 5000 sq ft closet under the stairs of his huge mansion and forgot about them for a couple years.

So, armed with money that is printed on single Yen bills and being pushed around Kaiba in a little tiny cart, Seto has to formulate a plan. Problem is, his business skills include a.) beating up other orphans b.) doing math pretty good and c.) playing cards.

When Seto is like “I don’t care what the company sells, just get me a company to buy” that’s like a straight reference to the .com bubble, but minus the complicated stock market stuff.

For the kid’s in the room that don’t know a thing about this era, tech companies were being created en masse, and because the internet was new and exciting, all of their worth was in their stock rather than in their products--if they even had a product. Mostly they just had big overreaching ideas they were pretty sure would make them all millionaires. But the product didn’t really matter since no one ever reads any numbers when all they plan to do is turn around and immediately sell anyway. They just assumed that if they put on the pressure, they would drive up the value, and would sell before anyone figured out it was all worthless.

This actually worked for so many years, up until people at the top all started demanding real money from the people at the bottom, much like how Seto needed 100 million dollars ASAP from an unsuspecting...whatever company this was. Vulture Capitalism at it’s finest, expecting exponential and unrealistic growth from any company, and if, the growth isn’t met, just selling the whole damn thing after driving every employee to the hospital for overwork.

Now, normally Vulture Capitalism is only if an investor buys a struggling company intending to sell directly afterwards, but since Seto made them struggle like immediately after purchasing, I think we can still call this that.

(And we still do this to this day, PS, we’ve learned nothing from the .com crash.)

This really bad child’s outfit is my favorite Mokuba outfit. I mean...it’s so bad. No wonder Mokuba was picked on so often as a child, wow. He’s like a late-80′s news anchor.

Also, I have NO idea how Seto got any money back so quickly. That doesn’t...totally make sense. But, this is a kid’s show and we have to simplify this whole thing into a sensible package. I mean there’s way more to the whole  .com problem but...this show wasn’t literally doing a .com...just a really heavy reference to it.

And much like how people valued stock more than what companies actually were, Seto’s value was a lot of the same. His worth to his Father wasn’t that of a son, it was entirely held up in potential dollar signs. To Gozaboro, Seto's nothing more than a small company he’ll extort straight into...a more emotional type of bankruptcy. Framed alongside the .com crash, this is sort of like, ah, I see what you’re doing, Yugioh. The way Seto was screwing this company was the same way he was already screwed. It’s basically all he knows, and it is a lot of heavy handed foreshadowing.

Anyway, Seto destroyed a company with 10 mill, which is nothing compared to the amount of money vulture capitalists toss around nowadays.

The Big 5 may have honestly done a better job raising Kaiba than Gozoburo since this guy acted as an advisor rather than a boss, but it’s a very, very low bar these boys have set and so far, very few adults have met it. All you have to do is just try and not kill them and you’re already better than all of Kaiba’s father figures.

With the exception of Roland, of course. Youknow, other than Grandpa, Roland is like the only good Dad on this show. Never thought Roland would look like such a shining star. Man, Roland better not screw everyone over or I will be so disappointed in him.

Anyways, the Yugi crew found a fully fueled truck from Soviet Era Russia buried in one of those warehouses.

They censor so much stuff that gives away that Yugioh is from another country, and they kept in the 3-wheeler pickup? As if any North American child would have any idea what they’re looking at right now? Maybe they just assumed we’d think it was sci-fi?

Also, then this happened?

...OK then.

Not sure how Satellite Laser works outside the context of VR. But, at least here in the VR Zone, we can send a Satellite Laser into space because...Space exists here? In VR?

This world is weirdly very small but also very big at the same time. It’s like Katamari.

Anyway, that’s all for this episode, next episode we find out if Kaiba will hack a laser for the second time in this series. Also we find out if Joey can jump a sonic-the-hedgehog broken highway with a 3-wheeled European-as-hell Pickup Truck.

Also...close enough?

Pocket camp really needs more yellow sleeveless puff jackets.

And here’s a link to read the recaps in Chrono order from Ep1 S1

[kymanss2018]

Secret Santa 2018

(@frufruglue requested Kyman fluff so I did my best! Thank you)

The low ticking echoed in Cartman’s living room. He sighed to himself, looking up at the clock. 11 at night on Christmas Day, and the tree was littered with wrapping paper at the base. For Christmas, Cartman has gotten a few new games, some sweaters, and a new iPhone. Everything he asked for, he had gotten, but he glanced towards the door and it seemed like a rock was sinking in his chest. Liane was working and didn’t even watch her son unwrap his presents. Cartman gritted his teeth and leaned back on the couch.

“Why am I even surprised at this point?”

He checked his phone and saw there were no new messages. He figured the boys were hanging out, probably at Stan’s. He wasn’t in the mood to ask to come over but a little acknowledgement would have been nice. He turned on the TV and put a movie on, before getting up and grabbing some whiskey from Liane’s cabinet. A little drink wouldn’t hurt and it wasn’t like he was a kid anymore. He turned 18 a few months ago and graduation would be coming next year.

Cartman looked down at the floor at that realization. Almost over…

He thought about his friends and where he’d be going for college. He managed to push himself the last couple years and got into a pretty good school. Business and Economics, what else?

Cartman took the shot of whiskey and went back to his living room before keeping his eyes on the door. At first he thought he was hallucinating but there was a small noise, a knocking. He glanced out the window to find a bundled up boy with a wrapped box outside. Cartman rolled his eyes and smiled before opening the door.

“Kyle, why the fuck didn’t you call or text?”

The boy pulled down his scarf that was wrapped around his mouth. “It was kind of spontaneous. Anyways, let me in fatass. I’m fucking freezing.”

Cartman didn’t hesitate. He opened the door and Kyle walked in, shedding his coat and kicking off his snow boots. After Kyle took off his hat, Cartman grabbed it and threw it by the door before leaning in and pressing a kiss against Kyle’s lips. Kyle, shocked as he always is when his boyfriend swoops in like that, leaned back and grinned. The kiss was brief, as Cartman pressed his forehead against Kyle’s.

“Tastes like whiskey.” Kyle commented. Cartman shrugged. “Just a little dose for the holidays. Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get this sentimental trash out of the way. Go ahead and open your present!” Kyle was excited and sat on the couch. Cartman sat next to him and looked at the box.

“Do you like the wrapping paper?” Kyle asked. Cartman chucked at the frog print.

“Very thoughtful.”

“More like, I saw it in the front and grabbed it on sight.” Kyle pressed his body closer to Cartman’s side. “Come on, open it, open it.”

“Alright, farewell innocent frogs.” Cartman as he ripped the paper open. He saw a pair of black and red gloves inside and flipped them over.

“Did you make these?”

Kyle flushed. “I mean, I did tell you I was taking up sewing classes. I just thought it would help me keep my mind off things and well, I just figured you needed new gloves.”

“I still have my old pair,” Cartman said and Kyle glared.

“They’re worn and all holed up! You haven’t used them all winter.”

“Hm, you’re right. Well I’m not complaining if it’s something you made.” Cartman slid the gloves on. They were a little big but they would work. He loved the colors, and how Kyle did a good job even with just starting the hobby a year ago.

“They look great,” Kyle said, and Cartman put his hands on Kyle’s cheeks.

“They feel ever better.” He leaned in and pressed a fast kiss again before standing up.

“I have something for you too. Hold up,” Cartman ran up the stairs and came back down with a gift of his own. Kyle smiled in surprise.

“You got me something?”

“Well, no shit. You’re my boyfriend, and uh…”

Cartman didn’t say anything else. His face was starting to turn red. “Go ahead and open it.”

He passed it to Kyle, who starting opening it before he saw a picture in a frame. It was the two of them taking pictures in the photo booth.

“Oh my God, the pictures by the putt putt place. Holy shit this was a couple years ago, you still have these pictures?”

“It was our first date, I wanted to save them for something special.” Cartman said. “You dragged me in the photo booth and we look pretty good.”

Kyle laughed, “I just thought we would take funny picture. But we ended up looking so good together.”

“I know it isn’t the fanciest present but…since we are graduating soon, it might help us think of each other.” Cartman pulled his hands with his gloves and wiggles his fingers. Kyle nodded and leaned into Cartman’s chest.

“But you know you’re only gonna be a couple states away. I can drive and see when you whenever you want.” Kyle said. Cartman didn’t say anything at first and Kyle looked in his eyes.

“Hey, everything will work out. Let’s enjoy our time now and have a good Christmas before the other guys get here.”

Cartman blinked. “They’re coming over?”

“Of course dude! We want to celebrate Christmas with you but I needed to get here first because, well, so we can have our own time, y’know?”

Cartman brought his arms around Kyle’s torso, pulled him and chuckled.

“Thank you for everything Kyle, and Merry Christmas.”

[singulari-taee]

The Danger in Duality | 05

COLLEGE! AU  |  ASSASSIN! AU  |  ANGST  | SMUT  | COMEDY |  8.5k

BTS X Reader

“You and your seven squad members must take on the struggles of being world-class assassins while also living as full-time college students.”

    The sunlight was painful when your eyes finally adjusted. You groaned, stretching out onto the empty spot next to you. There was a moment of confusion in your morning haze as your brain caught up to the night before.

    Oh, right. He had been there last night. In a last ditch effort to calm your nerves, you let him sleep up there with you. Yoongi, your smart-mouthed squad member, of all people.

    Everything looked as if usually did--nothing out of place, the blanket from the floor neatly folded on your dresser. It made you wonder if he was ever there in the first place. Your hand went to your waist, left with the ghost traces of his touch. The whole thing was so strange, you thought. In all your years of knowing him, you never took him for a cuddler. But for some reason, you weren’t completely put off by it. And that’s what worried you the most.

     Whipping your covers off, you began your daily routine as you got ready for classes. You went to wash the dishes that you had left on the table the night before. Though to your surprise, they were already clean in the dish rack.

    Your eyebrows knitted together. Luna must have washed them when she got in, you figured. Shit, you couldn’t keep up with the piling debt of favors you owed her anymore. You sighed, turning on your heels as you left the apartment.

________________________

      Classes passed slowly. It was the usual--everyone played on their phones, took naps mid-lecture, and asked dumb questions that could have been answered if they had just done the fucking reading.This only added to the painful Thursday lull.

     You trekked across campus towards the boys’ apartment, a kind of solace when the day came to an end. You began to run down your mental to-do list. Begin research for your history project, send a couple emails, sharpen your knives, do your calculus homework, update your kill log, and maybe even go to the gym since you hadn’t had a mission in 2 weeks. You’d try to get some of the boys to come if you could--Jungkook would go for sure, that kid practically lived in the gym.

     Crossing the street, a familiar frame walked toward you. The petite girl waved almost frantically with a wide smile.

   “Hey!” you expected her to walk past, but she parked in front of you on the sidewalk, “How’s it going?”

     You shifted feet awkwardly, looking past her at the apartment building that was just so close. “Okay I guess. Just glad to be done with classes...you?”

      “Not so good,” Luna sighed, “I went to the library to print something for a class but all the machines were broken. I have to turn in my assignment in an hour or I’m screwed.”

     “Damn, that sucks.”

   She turned over her shoulder, “Oh, don’t your friends live there?” she asked, pointing to the building behind her.

    “Yeah, I was just headed over there now actually.”

     “Do you think they have a printer I could use? It would only be like 2 seconds!”

   In the back of your mind, you saw the loud machine that sat unused in the corner of their living room, collecting dust over the months.

    “If they don’t it’s okay I guess, but I just really need one. This assignment is worth like 10% of my grade and if I don’t get it in then my average is dead and I already know I won’t be able to bring it up if the midterm is anything like the last exam and….”

     You watched her ramble on, stressing. As you came to your conclusion, you already knew the boys would kill you for it later.

    “Yeah I think they do,” you said slowly, “Come on, I’ll bring you.”

   She launched into a string of ‘thank yous’, and you immediately pulled your phone from your pocket and typed in the groupchat.

----------------------- You: HIDE EVERYTHING!!

Namjoon: ???

Hoseok: What?

You: IM COMING OVER IN 2 MINS WITH LUNA HIDE EVERYTHING

Seokjin: WHY

Taehyung: omg

Jimin: wtf???

Seokjin: _____ we have 3 assault rifles, a machete, and a dozen poison darts on the kitchen table WHAT are we supposed to do with them??

You: IDK HURRY AND FIGURE IT OUT ALMOST THERE SORRY

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

       Luna had been speaking the entire time you typed. You caught some words, responding with grunts in between as you climbed the stairs to the 2nd floor. You nodded and gave what little reactions you could to draw out the walk in feigned interest, but the distance to the door only shortened. Your feet dragged along the floor, still covered in wet footprints from the rain of the night before. In no time you were in front of the wooden barrier, and you begrudgingly brought up your fist to give 3 slow knocks.

      When the door opened, Namjoon stood in the doorway. A tight smile was spread across his face as glanced over you and Luna. You knew he was trying to hide his heavy breathing.

      You looked past him into the living room, where the others were casually splayed across the sofas.

     Too casually. The place was never this quiet. Or clean.

     “Hi,” he said as he opened the door to let you both walk in, “I’m Namjoon.”

     “Hey, nice to meet you, I’m Luna.” she said as she reached out to shake his hand. She waved at the boys, “I’ve only heard about you but I’m glad to finally meet you guys!”

    “Same to you,” Hoseok said, sparing a glance up from his laptop to smile.

     “Luna was wondering if she could use your printer for an assignment,” you said.

    “It’ll be really fast then I’ll be out of your hair,” she said.

     “Yeah sure, it’s over here,” Namjoon said and walked her over.

     You made your way over to a free spot on the sofa, the entire way feeling eyes digging into your face. When you finally gave in to look at them, you turned to see several stares, mixed with all of the confusion and annoyance you were expecting.

  ‘What.The. Fuck?!’ Jimin mouthed.

   You shrugged, “Sorry!”

     Seokjin was making a scene with his body, arms flailing as he wordlessly screamed at you.

     “You’re lifesavers, you have no idea,” Luna said as she turned around.

     Seokjin froze, arms awkwardly placed above his head. He beamed, his smile as bright as it was fake, “I’m glad we could help.”

      The printer loudly spit out the papers, and Luna placed them in her backpack, “I really hate to do this, but can I use your bathroom before I go?”

     There was a pause around the room.

     “Uh yeah sure, you can use Seokjin’s. It’s back here,” Namjoon said, leading her down the hall. His was definitely the best option. His room was always the cleanest, and free of weapons.

      Namjoon walked back into the living room, and everyone listened intently for the sound of the bathroom door closing. You could already feel the energy building, and you knew all of that pent up pressure would explode soon enough. When the light sound of the door came, everyone turned to you and erupted in heated whispers.

     “_____, seriously?!” Hoseok spat.

     “Your roommate?!” Jimin said.

     “We had to stuff everything in the couch and in the pantries!” Jungkook said, “I almost stuck myself with a dart trying to rush!”

     You held your hands up, “HEY! I said I was sorry! I couldn’t just let her fail her assignment.”

    “I mean, you could have,” Jimin said.

     Yoongi snorted. He was sitting on the opposite end of the sofa, shaking his head. He hadn’t said anything since you had walked in, an out of character move to say the least. He’d be the first person you’d expect to dig into you over something like this, clawing into you with some backhanded comment that was bound to make you both go back and forth until someone intervened. But no, he was silent.

      The evening news had began, the anchor’s drawl calling everyone’s attention. Watching local news as a group had always been a good way to keep your eyes out for potential crimes and missions you’d need to take care of later.

      The screen flashed with red letters reading ‘Breaking News’, as a mugshot of a young man appeared in the far corner. He was in terrible shape, face bruised and scratched, eyes tired and bloodshot. He seemed strangely familiar, the face triggering something in your memories that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Then it registered.

      “Wait...Jimin isn’t that your frat brother?” Seokjin asked.

     “Whoa, that is him,” Taehyung said, scooting closer to the edge of the sofa.

     “This man, Lee Haneul, walked into to the city police station this morning and reported himself for drug possession and possession with the intent to distribute. Lee carried many substances with him, including cocaine, several methamphetamines, and rohypnol, a common date rape drug.”  The anchor said.

     They showed a clip of Haneul in handcuffs being escorted to a police car, head down and out of it.

      “Police say that it was a very strange situation,” the reporter said, ”When the suspect was searched further, they were horrified to find that one of the man’s testicles had been severed. He did not state how it had occurred, saying that he could not recall. Investigators believe that it could be an effect of the drugs. The suspect is pleading guilty to all charges, and if prosecuted could face up to 20 years in prison.”

     The room turned to Jimin, who was suddenly interested in his fingernails.

    “You didn’t...” you said.

     “Jimin…” Taehyung began.

    “My God,” Namjoon sighed. 

    “Wow,” Hoseok said.

     He shrugged, “I told you I would handle it.”

     You stared open-mouthed at the boy, “You really cut one of his balls off?”

    “Yeah, why only one?” Jungkook asked.

    You could all hear the the sink run in the bathroom, and soon after the door opening.

   Luna walked into the living room and grabbed her backpack, “Thanks so much for everything, I couldn’t have done it without you--”

    Suddenly a kitchen cabinet flew open. Two pistols tumbled out as they clattered loudly onto the floor. Luna turned to the sound and you jumped up immediately.

      “Luna!” you were next to her in a second, bringing an arm around her shoulders,

     “You know it's no big deal, we’re all happy we could help you out!” you quickly guided her to the front door. You pulled it open and you walked her out.

     “You’re really the best, _____. Anyways, thanks again! It was nice meeting you all!” She called over her shoulder as you watched her walk down the stairs and out of sight.

     You closed the door, back against it as you took a deep breath.

   “She seems nice enough,”  said Hoseok.

   “I don’t know, I still get psycho vibes,” Jimin said.

     “Rich coming from the guy that just cut another man's balls off,” you said.

    “Correction, it was just one ball,” he said, “And he shouldn’t have been such a shitty person. I’m just handing out karma”

    “What are you going to do if he tells that you were the one who did it?” Taehyung asked.

    “After the night we had, believe me, he won’t say a thing.”

     As a member of the squad, none of you were supposed to use your abilities to take justice into your own hands outside of your given assignments. There was only an explicit rule about killing off the clock, and technically Jimin didn’t break that. Though torture was never banned, it was expected that you all would use your own moral compass and self control to make your own decisions. Jimin had gotten Haneul to turn himself in by his own means, effectively getting another dangerous criminal off the street. Technically, by The Academy’s standards, Jimin didn’t do anything wrong.

     “Let’s hope so. The last thing we need right now is for The Academy to get us out of some more shit,” Namjoon said, “After that gun incident they’re not too happy with us right now.”

     Everyone eventually went to find the weapons they had hidden around the apartment. Namjoon went to retrieve the AK-12 he had jammed under the kitchen sink, Jungkook pulled the poison darts from the couch cushions, Yoongi slid out the machete he had camouflaged under the wood of the fireplace. Everyone was working to get things back to normal, save for Hoseok. He was in the corner of the room, focus trained on his computer screen as he scribbled notes into one of his notebooks. You remembered him mentioning something about some big group project for his midterms coming up, and it seemed to be the bane of his existence lately. (“I have one request. When I die, I’d like for everyone in my group to lower me into my grave so they can let me down one last time.” he had said.)

    “I think that’s everything,” Seokjin said to the pile of weapons stacked on the coffee table.

    “No,” Jungkook began, “I put 12 darts in the couch and I can only find 11.”

    “It’s in there somewhere. Just don’t sit on the cushions too hard.”

    “Hey! They’re giving away free cheese fries at that fried chicken place on the corner today,” Taehyung announced as he pointed to an ad on his phone, “The deal is over at 8.”

    The place was a hole in the wall probably as old as the city itself, but the fries were so good you’d do shameful things to get them for free on any other day.

    It was now 7:40.

     “You’re shitting me! Why are we still standing here, let’s go,” you said.

    “The line is probably around the building,” Hoseok said, “I’m swamped with work and I have to meet with my group later. If its too busy then I can’t go.”

   “You need to eat though, right?”

    “They do have good fries…” he said to himself.

    Contemplation crossed Hoseok’s face before he gave in. Seconds later everyone was putting on their jackets and practically running out the door.

     Though the line wasn’t long, the inside of the restaurant was chaotic. Voices and clattering plates were the main soundtrack, the place filled with rambunctious college students and overwhelmed waiters.

    The group rushed to the only empty booth in the place. A frenzied waitress came over a few minutes later. She was quick in taking your orders, seeming to try her best to be hospitable but obviously overwhelmed by the buzzing around her.

     “Is your fried chicken batter made with onion powder?” Namjoon asked the waitress.

       There was a collective eye roll. It was a given that Namjoon would have some question about the food whenever you went out to eat. It would happen every time, without fail. It could be a place that you’ve all been to a dozen times, and he would still come up with something new to satisfy some newfound curiosity. (Are your Arnold Palmers more lemonade or sweet tea? How long do you grill your steaks for them to be considered well done? What’s the third most popular thing on the menu?)

    “Here we go again,” Jungkook muttered.

    “Is he serious?” Seokjin asked you.

     The girl seemed to snap out of her frenzied state. You could practically see her rewinding the question in her head, “Um, I’m not really sure but I can ask the kitchen.”

   “It's fine, we’ll all just have an order chicken and cheese fries for everyone. Thank you!” you said.

    She left the table how most waiters do when you all eat together, fast and confused.

    You turned to him. From his wide eyes and lanky armed shrug he clearly didn’t understand.

    “What? I read an article last night talking about the dangers of onion toxicity and wanted to be sure.”

     “You’re sitting in a restaurant with a C level sanitation rating and you’re worried about onion toxicity?” Yoongi asked.

    “Honestly, you could probably catch tetanus from just the forks in this place,” you said.

    “True, but the food is so good if I saw a hair in my fries I’d just mark it off as extra seasoning and keep eating,” Hoseok said, still writing in the notebook he had brought with him.

     None of you could say he was too wrong. It was just that good.

    “Fine whatever, enjoy your high blood pressure and onion-induced anemia,” Namjoon muttered.

     There was a collective ding! around the table. It was a familiar sound, one that made your heart rate speed up just the slightest out of habit. Your phones only made it when you were all being contacted by one entity in particular.

     You all immediately fished in your pockets with silent urgency. A long red message popped up on your screens.

_______

MISSION #43: IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED!

Mob Hideout uncovered.  

“The Menaces” :  Mob with drug smuggling focus. Crimes include murder, theft, arson, and drug distribution. Most influential with males ages 17+. Responsible for 15% of civilian murder deaths in last 3 months. The Menaces will be looking for new recruitments tonight within a group of interested young males at the top of the hour.

In-Location Scouts will need to be on site compiling information while acting as patrons of the casino. The “Recruitment” Plants will need to act as an interested candidates for the Mob and momentarily infiltrate. Security Surveillance will need to keep a watch for odd activity and notify those inside immediately.

Roles:

In-Location Scouts: Namjoon, Yoongi, _______, Jimin, Jungkook

“Recruitment” Plants: Hoseok, Taehyung

Security Surveillance: Seokjin

Location: Grand Castle Casino.

Recruitment in abandoned parking garage in south east wing.

Private rooms in south west wing serves as a brothel for high rollers, servers in casino also work there as prostitutes.

Find main target names, photos, and location coordinates below.

______

      You all met eyes for a brief moment before scrambling out of the booth and bolting for the door.

   “Everyone meet back at the apartment in 20!” Namjoon said.

    The group turned to run home, but Hoseok’s hands shot up.

   “Wait, wait, wait!” Hoseok said, “I can’t go.”

   “What?!” Namjoon asked.

    “I have this midterm group project remember? I have to meet with my group in half an hour and if I’m not there I know we’ll all fail.”

    “So you’re ditching the mission for a project?!” Jimin said, in disbelief, “Just text them and say something came up!”

   “You’re one of the biggest roles in this mission, we need you!” Taehyung said.

   “It’s due tomorrow and we’re not even close to being done! My grade is already shit, I need this. This mission came out of nowhere what do you want me to do?!” Hoseok said.

   “Come!” Jimin said.

   “Whatever, we’ll figure it out later, lets just go!” Namjoon said.

    You were at your apartment in record time. You slung open your bedroom door, digging through your closet and throwing random clothes on the bed. It was rare that you all got surprise missions like this. But when you did, everyone took it even more seriously than the others. The Academy wasn’t one to send you out unprepared, so if they said a mission needed to be completed immediately, it was urgent.

    That’s why it was irksome that Hoseok bailed. Even though it wasn’t planned, and you knew he had been working on this project for a while, no one had ever just decided to not come on a mission before. It was unheard of, and you couldn’t even imagine what The Academy would say if they ever found out.

     You threw on a black cocktail dress, hiking it up to slide two small combat knives into the hidden bands on your thigh. You had packed on more muscle since last time you wore it so it was more fitting than you remembered it to be, but you didn’t have time to be picky.

   You rushed to the boys’ place, running up at the same time as Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin, who were all panting as they carried their weapon cases. The oldest boys come bolting down the stairs.

    The squad jogged over to the parking lot towards the van. Seokjin usually parked in the same place every day, so it was to your surprise when the spot was empty. From the look on his face, he was just as surprised as you.

   “The van is gone,” he whispered, head whipping as he scanned the lot.

“What do you mean the van is gone?!” Jungkook asked.

     “The van is gone! It was here earlier today, and now it’s not!” he barked, “Somebody stole my van!”

    “You sure you didn’t just forget where you parked?” Taehyung asked.

   “I park in the same place every goddamn day! All my monitors, locators, mics-- everything was in there! How am I supposed to do my job?!” Seokjin grabbed fistfuls of his hair, beside himself.

    “We don’t have the time for this! We’ll find the van later Seokjin, we have a mission right now,” Namjoon snapped, “Okay, the casino is near downtown, right? So, the best option for us would be.... to take the train.”

   “The train,” Jimin said, flatly. It was less of a question and more of a ‘are you serious?’ statement.

   “Any other bright ideas, then? Our main mode of transportation is god knows where right now, I don’t see any other alternatives, Jimin,” he said, “The station is 2 blocks from campus, 5 from here. We can make it if we run.”

    If Namjoon of all people was saying you should run, you knew this was literally the only option you had.

    “Look, he’s right. We don’t have the choice to be picky. Let’s just go,” you huffed.

    You all shared a look, then picked up your feet to run to the station. The looks you all got were nothing compared to the night of the frat party. You passed groups of your peers, turning to look back twice at the group of 7 careening down the sidewalk.

   You all rushed to the ticket office.

   “Is there a train going to downtown now? When does it leave? How long will it take to get there?” Namjoon asked the teller. He was breathing hard, questions barely distinguishable.

    The woman looked him over with a roll of her eyes, unbothered despite his antsiness, “Yes there is a train, it’s scheduled to leave in 2 minutes, and it should be there in 20-”

   Namjoon all but threw a bill at the teller, “7 tickets please!”

    She huffed and slowly pulled some from her drawer, seeming to drag just to annoy you. Namjoon snatched them from her hands and you ran, following him.

    The train was seconds from pulling off from the platform when you jumped on.

   The space was crowded with the evening rush, and you all barely had space to move in the packed car. The civilians looked you all over. You could admit, it was a strange site, a group of twenty-something year olds dressed like they were all going to completely different places. You were lucky that your weapon cases looked like briefcases or else you’d all the in trouble.

    “Fuck are they looking at?” Jungkook muttered, adjusting the mask over his mouth.

   “Jin, if it makes you feel any better--” Taehyung began.

    “It won’t. Don’t talk to me,” Seokjin snapped, arms crossed. He radiated pure rage and annoyance, a dangerous cocktail even for him.   

     A woman in front of you took a step back to make room for more bodies, causing you to back away in the already limited space. Your back collided with another figure, and you turned to see Yoongi. He was squished, flat against the door of the train. You were pressed against him, butt to his crotch with no room for movement. You cleared your throat.

    “Sorry, I can’t move.”

    He grunted.

    Even through the many biting smells in the train, you picked up the familiar smell of his cologne.

    The train made a sharp turn in the tunnel, making you bump even further into your squad member.

   “Shit,” you mutter, almost losing your balance. You stepped onto his shoes on accident. He looked down at the floor to see your bare feet, your heels in your hand.

      You were good at a lot of things, but running in 5-inch heels wasn’t one of them. The last thing you needed was to twist an ankle on the way to a mission, you figured, so you ran the way-- shoe-less. Of course, not your first or desired choice, but you’d touched worse in your life--much worse. The frigid floors beneath your feet made you hyper aware of the filth that surrounded you in the train car.

    Yoongi stuck his legs out, the toes of his shoes wedging under your heel to separate you from the floor.

    “Yoongi, what-- I’m good, I’m not gonna stand on your feet.”

    “Just do it. This is my good deed for the day and I’m offering,” he said, “But if you give me foot fungus, it’s your ass.”

      You sighed, stepping onto his shoes. You grabbed the rail for support as the train continued to move.

     “God, why’re you so heavy?” he complained.

    You put even more pressure on his feet. He stifled a groan.

    The roar of the train fell to silence as it came to a halt. The doors opened, and bodies poured from the car. Your squad members gathered and hurried through the doors of the station into the downtown nightlife. The casino was across the street, a marvel of flashing lights.

      “Okay,” Namjoon said, “A few things didn’t go as planned but it’s fine. We’re fine. We just need to make some changes. Jin will you be okay?”

     “Since I don’t have any of my stuff my job will be hard...really hard...but not impossible. There has to be a security room with cameras in the place that I can work with. I just need to find it.”

     “I’ll go with you to look for it,” Jungkook said.

    “We know Hoseok was supposed to be here but we’ll have to work with what we’ve got for that role. That leaves us with...Tae,” Namjoon said.

     “I can do it,” Taehyung declared.

    “Are you sure? There was supposed to be two recruitment plants for a reason, one of us can take Hoseok’s place--”

    “They chose me for a reason too. I’ve got it. Trust me.”

      Namjoon nodded, “Okay. Everyone have their roles? Weapons? Earpieces? Alright,” he put his hand in the middle, and the others did the same, “Make it clean. Make it quick.”

     There was an echo of the phrase, and then you broke apart. You crossed the street and split into your separate groups. Your group squatted by some nearby bushes, taking the weapons you needed from the cases before sliding the big box deep into the brush.

    After walking the perimeter of the building, you found a side entrance, protected  by a single security guard. You came up behind the man, putting a chloroform napkin over his face. The man sank to the ground, and Jimin and Yoongi carried him into the shadows. Yoongi snagged the keys from his waistband and lead you all inside.

      The inside was filled with drunken chatter and the whir of games. People all over giving up wads of money for a night they were sure to regret later.

     “I don’t like the feeling of this place,” you said. Past the smiling faces and flashiness, there was an underlying unease, “2 o’clock. Two guards on the upper level.”

      The boys spared a glance up, seeing the two men in black suits standing above you all, surveying the floor below.

     “They don’t look like regular security,” Namjoon said, “They’re Mob affiliates for sure.”

    “There's more in that far left corner,” Yoongi nodded.

    “Shit they’re everywhere,” Jimin said. It seemed like every few feet there was another man wearing the same black suit, face a little too serious for the environment.

    “Jungkook, Seokjin, how are you guys looking?” Namjoon asked the earpiece.

     “Still haven't found anything yet, we just got inside,” Jungkook whispered, “Seokjin is terrified though, you should see him over here.”

     “I’m not scared, okay? Being inside is just...different,” Seokjin said.

     “Tae, what about you?” Namjoon asked.

     “I’m on my way to the hideout, I should be there in a few,” he replied in a low voice.

     Jimin put his arm around your shoulder, “You look like a snack, and I’ve got the munchies.”

     You made a face, “That was probably the ugliest thing you’ve ever said to me. And that's saying something.”

    “But I’m not lying! Hey, Yoongi, doesn’t she look like a snack?”

     Yoongi glanced at you, “She looks like leftovers.”

    “And you look like scraps.”

     “But even leftovers still get ate,” Jimin said, “He’s just jealous of what we have, love. Don’t listen to him,” he whispered.

    “I never do,” you said and elbowed Jimin in the stomach.

      You scanned the room and felt like you were being watched. You looked and caught Yoongi’s stare. He was looking you over, eyes glued to your body when he finally made it up to your face. Your eyes met, and he looked away, suddenly engrossed in a conversation with Namjoon.

    Your eyebrows knit together. The hell was that? you wondered

     A server walked by, a sway in her hips as she carried a tray of drinks.

     Jimin let out a low whistle, eyes glued to her retreating figure. He had a lightbulb moment.

    “I’ll go talk to her and get into the brothel...for information.”

   “The Academy said the brothel was for high rollers only, and you haven’t spent a dime here,” Namjoon said.

   He rolled his eyes, “Please. Watch this.”

     He followed after the server, who was now standing at the bar. He placed a hand on her back, leaning against the counter with a bright smile.

        “You’ve gotta give it to him, he’s got a lot of confidence,” Yoongi said as the three of you watched.

      “I mean this is his thing,” you said.

    Jimin said something and smirked, never breaking his gaze as he looked at her under his long lashes. The woman laughed, and even from where you stood you knew she was blushing.

    “Okay, say he does get in. How long do you think it’ll take before she takes him back there?” Namjoon asked.

    “10 minutes,” Yoongi said.

    “Give him a little credit,” you said, “I think 5.”

    As soon as the words left your mouth, she grabbed his hand and lead him away from the bar.

    He looked over his shoulder and winked.

    “He’s good,” you mused. If you had to say anything about Jimin, it was that he was great at his job.

    He walked with the server through a few back doors of the casino. The server typed a code into a padlock, grip still tight on his hand. It opened to a long hallway with many numbered doors, red lights coating the entire space with an alluring energy.

     “While I wish I could have you to myself tonight, I’m off the clock,” she pouted, looking up at him with a lust he was all too familiar with, “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

    They walked down the hall, their footsteps echoing off the walls. They stopped in front of one door labeled  ‘#4’. She tapped on the barrier, and it opened to a young woman in white lingerie. Her hair was messy, falling to her waist and adding emphasis to her curves. She eyed Jimin momentarily, a smile slowly spreading.

   “I see you brought me a good one,” she said.

    “You better thank me later,” the server said before turning to leave, giving Jimin’s hand a final squeeze and blowing a kiss.

   Jimin walked into the room. It was small, nothing else but a bed. The room was also covered in a red light, adding to the lure and temptation.

   She started to fiddle with his buttons, “Lets take some of this off, yeah?”

    “Jimin, a reminder that this is a mission and we can all hear you. Please don’t actually fuck her.” you said.

    “Please,” Seokjin echoed.

   He put his hands over hers, stopping her, “This looks really nice on you.” He said about her lacy ensemble. His hands lightly went from the tops of her arms down to her hips, “It would look good off too, I’m sure.”

    “Why don’t you find out?” she began sliding off her strap and he pulled her closer.

   “Later. I actually had something else in mind,” he said. He caught her eyes, holding them. A moment of confusion crossed her face. He quirked a brow at her, his seductive nature only enhanced by the light in the room. Just like that he saw her resolve waiver.

    “Oh...okay…” she said.

    He sat on the edge of the bed, and she followed.

    “White really suits you,” Jimin remarked, looking her over. She had been ogled by other men all night, but his gaze was different. It was loaded, more intense. She rarely talked much to the others, going straight to business, but he was different. It was refreshing. He was like a flame, dangerous yet so beautiful you couldn’t look away.

    “Thank you,” she replied, pulled into his gaze.

   “This place is really something. I thought it was just a regular casino, I didn’t know they had beautiful women like you here too. Must be my lucky day.”

    He didn’t have trouble reading her. Given her attitude, he knew she couldn’t have been in the business for too long. She had to be new. This would be easy, he thought. He would barely have to touch her.

      She laughed, running a hand through her hair. She was never nervous around clients, but around this man? She felt like she was losing control of herself, “This place is anything but regular.”

    “Really?” he asked, “Tell me more.”

    “Oh...I probably shouldn’t have said that. Nevermind.”

     “No,” he put a hand on her thigh, thumb tracing light circles, “Tell me...I want to know.”

      She made the mistake of looking at him again, and she was trapped in his eyes.

    “I mean, there’s just a lot that goes on behind the scenes that a lot of people don’t know about. But I’m not allowed to talk about it.”

    “Oh?” he brushed her hair behind her ear and leaned in closer, her heart rate steadily increasing. He placed a hand on her head, angling it so her neck was exposed to him. Her breathing grew shallow, and she was hyper aware of the hand still on her thigh. Her eyes closed, reveling in the touch of the gorgeous man. “Not even for me?”

     “I...I…” she breathed.

   “I just have a few questions, baby.” His breath tickled her throat, and his fingers creeped up her leg.

   “I just want to be touched,” she begged, “Please just touch me.”

   “How about this? I ask you a question, and for every one you answer you get to take something off for me? Deal?”

    Her eyes fluttered open, and she nodded, “Okay...what do you want to know?”

  “First...why is there a brothel at a casino?”

    She fidgeted, “We just make money for...them.”

    “The Menaces?” Jimin asked.

   She nodded, “The Casino too...it's a cover. What we make here and what’s made out there just goes back to them.”

    “Good. Take that off,” Jimin said, nodding to her garters. She slid them off her legs.

     “I heard that they’re recruiting boys tonight, do you know anything about that?”

    “Not much, only that those poor boys have it way worse than us. Its harder for them to leave. I’m not around them that much, but from what I’ve seen they beat the living shit out of the new recruits. I guess to see if they’re built for this. They just recruit young guys because they’re easier to use,” she said, words flying from her mouth.

    Yeah, this would be really easy.

    “Bra,” he demanded.

     Her fingers couldn’t undo the clasp fast enough. She took it off and threw it onto the floor, hungry.

    “I know the guys in the suits out there are all Menace guards. Is there anyone else that I should keep an eye on?”

    “Everyone that works here is Mob affiliated. The servers, bartenders, and dealers. Even the cleaning crew. “

   “Good. Panties.” 

    She lifted her hips and slipped them off into the pile by her feet.

     She was completely naked now. Jimin looked her over and smiled, leaning in again. She closed her eyes, breathing uneven as he neared the shell of her ear. He was so close, she just needed him to touch her, she had never wanted anything more.

  She felt something drop into her lap.

    “Thanks, babe.”

   She looked down to see a thick roll of cash, held together by rubber bands.

   By the time she tried to register what happened, he was already out the door.

____________________

    Past the large room of games, the rest of the first floor was oddly quiet. It was a maze of sterile white halls and unmarked doors that made the two squad members uneasy.

    Seokjin walked in front of Jungkook, tiptoeing anxiously.

    Jungkook slapped a hand on his shoulder, and the oldest yelped. Jungkook stifled a laugh.

     “I told you to stop doing that! You’re not funny!” Seokjin said through clenched teeth.

     “I couldn’t help it,” Jungkook whispered, “Having fun inside with the big kids?”

    “Fun’s not the word,” he replied, “I still can’t believe someone had the nerve to take my van. Who steals vans?! I was parked next to a Mercedes!”

   “Maybe they’re gonna sell it for parts or something.”

   “I swear if they-”

    There were footsteps approaching, and the two of them paused to hide behind a nearby wall. Three men walked past, talking into walkie-talkies.

    “We just left the security room, everything looks good,” one said.

    “Great. The recruits are filing in now. We’ll start in 5,” replied a staticky voice.

     When the hall was clear, the two walked on. The men were leaving the direction they were approaching, so the security room had to be close.

     “Here, take this,” Jungkook reached a gun over to Seokjin who eyed the weapon hesitantly, “I’m here to protect you, but you should have something too.”

    The oldest took the weapon gingerly in his hands. Sure he knew how to use it, he had been to basic training just like everyone else. But there was a reason why he was behind a computer all the time while the others handled the hands on work. It just wasn’t his thing.

    They rounded a corner to see five men standing in front of a single door.

    The men looked at them, guns drawn “The hell are you doing back here?!”

    Jungkook turned to Seokjin, “Stay behind me.”

    The youngest pulled a gun from his holster and fired, bullet landing in the middle of one men’s forehead as he slumped to the ground. The men paused in shock before spraying the hall with bullets. Jungkook ducked, shooting a gun out of another man’s hand and then hitting him straight through the heart.

     Seokjin stood open mouthed, frenzied as he tried to keep up with Jungkook who was quickly making it closer to the door. Another man ran up to Seokjin ready to shoot when Jungkook kicked the gun out of his hand and then roundhouse kicked him in the face, knocking him out cold. He shot him too, he couldn’t be too sure.

     A man came out of the room, horrified at the scene before him. He pulled out his gun, and Jungkook disarmed him before he could pull the trigger, grabbing him by the hair and slamming him against his knee with a hard crack. The last two ran up to him, and Jungkook pushed them both against the wall, one piled against the other. He placed the end of his pistol against one of their foreheads, and fired, the single bullet piercing both of their skulls and covering the wall in red.

    Jungkook turned to look at Seokjin, who was standing in the middle of the hallway, dumbfounded

   “See? Piece of cake,” Jungkook stepped over the bodies and opened the door. There was a wall covered with screens, focused on patrons, entrances, game tables and parking lots.

    Seokjin took a seat before the screens, “Alright, we found the security room,” he told the earpiece.

   “Good, do you see Taehyung?” Namjoon asked.

     There was one fuzzy screen that showed a dark parking garage, a group of young men walking in a line as they were brought in by large Mob bosses. He could see their squad member at the end of the line, head down and in character.

    “Got him.”

______________________

    The musty garage was lit with a few flickering lights, the smell shooting to the back of Taehyung’s nose as soon as he walked in. A few muscled men had given him a “pat down” earlier, which just consisted of them hitting him harder than necessary to see how he’d react, but he kept a straight face.

    He followed the line of boys into the space until they were told to stop. They stood before a group of large men, each holding some sort of weapon at their hip. They appraised the boys, each breathing heavy with a tinge of fear in their darting eyes.

     A man stepped forward, tattoos covering every inch of exposed skin. He was one of the leaders, Taehyung noted, along with the others in the room. They were all in the photos The Academy had sent earlier. His targets were all mere feet away.

    “So you wanna be a Menace, huh?” he asked, getting silence, “I SAID DO YOU WANNA BE A MENACE?”

   The boys jumped, muttering answers with eyes down.

    He walked towards a boy, “Why do you wanna be here?”

   “I-I don’t know--” he was interrupted when the man landed a punch in his gut, making him curl up and fall to his knees.

   “Wrong answer.”

    He made his way to the next boy. The man and the others began making fun of him, giving his face a few slaps as they pointed at his clothes in an ugly display of power. They went from boy to boy, pointing out flaws, slapping them around, and reveling in their weakness.

   He finally made it to Taehyung who was looking straight ahead, refusing to make eye-contact.

   “I remember you from the pat down. Not gonna lie kid that was impressive,” he remarked. He shoved Taehyung’s shoulder, but his feet stayed glued to the ground.

    The man looked back at his friends, “Shit, look at him! He might not look like it but he’s sturdy.”

   “Say kid, what are you good at?” another man asked.

    Taehyung shrugged, “Whatever you need me to be good at.”

    He laughed, “He’s got spunk too? I like him.”

     The one with the tattoos nodded, “Okay. I think we can get started with the initiation.”

   A Mob boss tossed a machete over and he plucked it from the air easily.

   “Do you know how to use this?” he asked.

   Taehyung eyed the weapon, unsure of where this was going, “Yeah.”

    “Great. Grab one of them why don’t you?” he said. One of the men yanked a boy from the line into the middle of the parking lot. He was scrawny, clothes hanging from his small frame. His expression was stoic, but Taehyung could tell he was terrified. He couldn’t be any older than 14. Someone handed him a machete as well.

    The man pushed the weapon into Taehyung’s grip, “Prove yourselves. You two will go at it, and the last one standing gets in. Simple enough.”

   Taehyung’s heart dropped, “You want me to kill him?”

   “Exactly.”

    “What? Are you crazy? No.”

    A voice rang through his earpiece.

   “Tae, hold it together. Keep character,” you said.

   “No?” The tattooed man repeated.

    “Tae, just play along for a bit,” Namjoon said.

    “He’s just a kid,” he said through his teeth.

   “You’re not going to do it? Whoaaa look at Mr.Tough Guy getting soft!”

    The man closest to the boy came and punched him in the face, knocking him to the ground.

    “Stop!” Taehyung screamed.

     “Who are you yelling at, boy?” The tattooed man said as he took a step closer to Taehyung’s face. His breath reeked of cigarettes.

    Past him, he could see the other men slap and kick the boy, who was already in a ball on the floor.

    “This is how initiation works, you gotta earn your place here. Just know that if you don’t do it, then somebody will,” he said,  “And don’t think if you refuse you can just walk outta here either, kid. If you don’t do it, then...let’s just say you’re gonna get a little more acquainted with this machete than you thought.”

     Taehyung stared daggers through the man, blood boiling. The screams of the boy echoed around the garage. The other recruits looked away, wishing they could be anywhere else.

     “I’ll give you till the count of three!” the man shouted, “One...Two….Three…”

___________________

    You had settled at the bar.

     “I haven’t seen any of the main targets here yet,” Yoongi said, “Where the hell could they be. Seokjin, you see anything?”

    “Yeah they’re all in the garage with Taehyung and the other recruits,” Seokjin replied.

    You all could hear vague conversation through Taehyung’s earpiece, but were in the dark as to what was happening.

    “Does everything look okay with him?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink.

    “Yeah so far. These mob bosses are huge, though. Like, could probably destroy Jungkook in an arm wrestling match huge.”

    “How dare you?” Jungkook said. You could practically see the glare, “You can’t talk you can’t even bench 150! Even  ______’s roommate could probably snap your arm off.”

    “I never said she couldn’t. Now give me some space! There’s like 5 other chairs in here, why are you breathing down my neck?! Ugh, I can’t wait to get my van back.”

   “Namjoon you’re usually good at reading people. What do you think about Luna?” you asked, turning to your leader.

    He sighed, “Off of first impressions alone? Maybe not crazy...but she is a little odd. I see what you mean now about her being nice.”

    “Right! So nice! Too nice! She offers to do my laundry, makes me breakfast, and now washes my dishes. I forgot to put away the ones I used for dinner last night and I saw them in the dish rack this morning.”    

    “That was me,” Yoongi said.

    “You?” Yoongi wasn’t one to pick up after other people. He would just tell you off about how dirty you were until you decided to do something about it.

    He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, somebody had to clean up after you since you obviously can’t.”   

    Or so you thought.

    “I really should have pushed you out into the storm last night. I’m really regretting it now.”

    “I would have loved to see you try.”

    “You know what, I can’t wait to lay in my bed tonight without your loud ass snores keeping me up.”

    Yoongi’s looked like he had a retort on the tip of his tongue but stopped himself. His expression softened.

    He shifted in his seat, “I don’t snore.”

    “Oh that’s where you were last night. I knew I didn’t hear you come in,” Namjoon said, half-listening, half-surveying the room.

    The bartender had come back with the bill. You reached out to take it, and a large hand trapped yours, going for it at the same time. Yoongi’s eyes went from the tab to you. His hand didn’t move.

    “I’ve...got it,” you said, sliding your hand away and placing a 10 down.

    Yoongi brought his hand back and cleared his throat.

    You did the same. Why was he acting so weird? Why were you acting so weird?

    You zeroed back in on Taehyung, hearing bits of his conversation.

    “You want me to kill him?” he asked, “What? Are you crazy? No.”

    “Shit,” Yoongi said.

    “Tae, hold it together. Keep character,” you said in a low voice as more guards passed you.

    “Tae, just play along for a bit,” Namjoon said.

    “He’s just a kid,” Taehyung said.

    “They’re making him kill a kid?” Yoongi whispered to himself, disgusted.

    “We’ve got all the information we need here, we’ve gotta do something, I don’t know how much longer he can hold up by himself--” Namjoon began.

    Taehyung screamed, “Stop!”

    “This doesn’t look good, you guys. You should head over there now,” Seokjin said.

    “Tae, hold up a little longer! Try to distract them or something! We’ll be there in a bit,” Namjoon said. It came out loud, and a guard that was passing stopped in his tracks. He looked you all over, scrutinizing Namjoon who was seemingly talking to nothing.

    “Excuse me, sir,” the guard walked up to him.

    Namjoon broke out running, bolting away from the bar and leaving you both behind. The guard ran after him. Two more guards that were near eyeballed you and Yoongi as they walked towards you. You were still frozen at the bar.

    “We running?” you whispered.

   “Yup,” Yoongi said.

     You both darted away, hearing the footfalls of the men on your trails. You weaved through the slot machines and opened a side door. It lead to another random hallway. Yoongi pulled open a broom closet, and you both stuffed yourselves inside. You could hear the men run past the door, screaming at the other about which way you both had gone.

     Their footsteps retreated, and you became aware of how little space you truly had in the tight closet. You stood against one wall and Yoongi faced you with his back against the opposite side. His arms were placed at either side of your head to keep his balance in the narrow space, caging you in. The closet was dark, the only illumination coming from the crack under the door, but you could still see a sliver of his face.

      You were both breathing hard, trying to quiet yourselves as you heard more people walk past. His chest rose and fell with every labored pant. He looked down, meeting your stare. There was something there that you had never seen before. An interest. A fascination. Dare you say desire?

     It seemed to happen in slow motion. He ducked down, craning his head closer and closer to yours until your faces were just inches apart. You didn’t understand. All you had to do was put your hand up and push him back, but you didn’t.

     His eyes searched yours for a moment as he closed the distance between your lips.

    A voice suddenly snapped you back.

    “Guys, Tae needs backup! You better get in there now!” Seokjin screamed.

    You separated, and Yoongi jolted back to the opposite end of the closet. You opened the door, avoiding his eyes as you both hurried to the garage.

Previous Next

[notarelationship]

Along For The Rides Ch 11

Blaine and Kurt get their summer romance on. Mostly fluff, awkward flirting, a side of misunderstanding and some hanky panky.

Rating: G (yeah sorry) Words: This chapter ~ 6000 Warnings this chapter: none

Read it on AO3,

Read it on Tumblr

So this is the end. Thanks for reading, and thanks to @honeysucklepink for all her work on this. (This chapter I beta’d myself, so I really hope it’s coherent.)

I’m not entirely sure I’m done in this verse, I have a couple things I might want to go back and add as standalone chapters. Also, I’m always up for prompts in anything I’ve published.

Here we go!

--

Kurt is finishing Mrs. Leahey’s oil change when he feels his phone buzzing in his back pocket. He knows it was Blaine, he had flown out with his parents two days earlier for their summer vacation in the South of France (and Kurt wasn’t at all jealous, no he was not), and he’d only had reliable wifi at the airport. But he is supposed to be arriving at their hotel today and Kurt had been expecting a text for the past couple hours.

B: Have you heard anything yet?

K: I told you you would be the first person I tell. K: So no.

Kurt still hadn’t heard from NYU about his admission, and Blaine was almost as eager as Kurt to get some news.

B: :-(

K: Yes, me too K: Are you having fun?

B: we jsut got here. i’m at the bar with mom

K: that doesn’t really answer my question

B: oh, it definitely does. B: not really, on hte fun B: but I am drinkning nice french wine

K: wow I’m not at all jealous. Please tell me more about this french wine

Blaine doesn’t text right back, so Kurt assumes he got distracted and starts cleaning up his work area. It’s late and he’s ready to go home and shower off the garage. According to Blaine, his mother liked to bond with him when they were on vacation, so that meant spending a lot of mother/son time.

B: what are you wearing?

K: seriously?

B: yeah, are you at the garage? what time is it there?

K: just finishing up, so still in my coveralls

B: send me a picture?

K: Blaine!

B: you look hot in those B: you know i like it

K: omg

B: come on Kurt

Kurt sighs to himself, but he’s going to take the picture. It’s not the first time Blaine has asked, and besides, Kurt has a whole folder of photos that Blaine has sent him over the past few weeks. All of them fully clothed, all of them adorable.

In the time it takes Kurt to get to the locker room, where the light is a little better for selfie-arrangement, Blaine does send a picture. It’s framed around his face, with one side of it resting on his hand. He looks a little worn from travel, and a little rumpled, and — Kurt thinks — completely adorable. He’s even wearing a bow tie.

And that’s another thing. Since Blaine’s stint with the carnival ended Kurt has noticed that Blaine’s appearance has gotten progressively neater with every photo he’s sent. Mostly it’s his hair, which has gone from a mop of curls of varying length to something much more neatly presented. Kurt hasn’t asked him about it, but he can’t say he minds.

K: you look adorable. Exhausted but adorable

B: well I am both

Kurt grins and, after several attempts, sends Blaine a photo he’s happy with

B: oh wow B: I wish I was alone in my room right now

K: omg

B: no I mean it, you look amazing

K: I look sweaty and covered with motor oil

B: and I love it

Kurt bites his lip. Blaine does that a lot — tells Kurt that he loves things about him, his hair, his collection of vintage scarves, his sense of humor. When they were playing 20 questions the day before Blaine left, he spent an excessive amount of time telling Kurt how much he loved his voice, once Blaine had convinced him to sing for him. It’s far, far too early Kurt to think he’s in love, but it’s still nice to hear from a cute boy.

B: oh I gotta run B: mom is trying to get the bartender to do shots with her B: I’ll text you tomorrow. Night

K: night Blaine. Don’t drink too much

--

Kurt is down in his basement sewing room altering some vintage jeans he bought off ebay when he hears his dad come lumbering down the stairs.

“Kurt! Kurt an envelope came! And it’s a big one. That’s a good sign, right?”

Kurt’s pretty sure he knows what’s in the envelope. He’d been notified by email three days earlier that he’d been accepted. He hadn’t said anything to anyone because he was afraid it would wind up as some kind of clerical error and not be true. Yet another cosmic joke in the misadventure that had been his life. He hasn’t even told Blaine.

“Are you gonna open it?” His dad is practically bouncing.

“Calm down,” he mumbles, hoping his dad is too excited to be upset with him for being testy. Kurt swivels around on his seat, closing his eyes and holding out his hand for the envelope. He thinks he might pass out.

Kurt doesn’t realize that he’s shaking until his dad puts a hand on his shoulder and he stops. “Kurt? Do you want me to look first?” Burt asks.

Kurt manages a hoarse, “No, I can do it.”

The envelope holds a few sheets of paper, some glossy brochures, and a printed letter. Kurt puts everything down but the letter, looking at his dad once before reading it out loud.

“Dear Mr. Hummel, Congratulations! We are happy to inform you that you have been accepted as a matriculating freshman at New York University’s Tisch School for the Arts, General Studies program….”

There are some other words, but Kurt doesn’t care about those right now.

“I’m in Dad.” He manages a dry swallow and looks at Burt. He wants to say something else, but his tongue won’t work, and it wouldn’t matter anyway. Burt wraps him so tightly in his arms Kurt is pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to do anything other than squeak.

“I’m so proud of you Kurt,”Burt chokes out, and Kurt can hear the tears in his father’s voice.

--

The rest of the summer is a blur. Since he’s a late admission he has a ton of things to do and not a lot of time. There are forms to fill in, deposits to make, and classes to register for, never mind the formidable task of deciding which clothes to bring with him to New York.

He didn’t get accepted to the Musical Theater program, but there are classes in the program available to him, and when Kurt finally gets someone on the phone in the admissions office they tell him that if his grades are good and he’s willing to audition again, he should be able to transfer in for sophomore year, if not the winter semester. That’s good enough for Kurt.

They only thing that’s less than perfect is Blaine. Blaine had been so ecstatic when Kurt texted to let him know he was moving to New York that he’d called him on the phone from France and they spoke for half an hour. But he’s seven solid hours ahead time-zone wise, and Blaine’s mother seems to think she needs to monopolize all of his time on their vacation in case Blaine decides to never come home or visit or call, just like his brother never does. So they text, but they don’t catch each other as often as either of them would like. The weekend Kurt leaves Lima for New York City they hadn’t had any contact in two days.

—

By the time Blaine’s plane lands in New York he’s worked himself into a worried mess. His mother had been annoyed when he told her he was going to have to leave their vacation early to make his orientation weekend in New York, so she decided that the best way to deal with that was to monopolize every minute of Blaine’s time while they were in France.

That means he and Kurt were almost never texting each other in real time, and by the time his plane lands in NY the Friday he’s supposed to start orientation, it’s been days since he’s actually had contact with Kurt. Blaine has heard stories about how you people live in New York for years without seeing friends who live mere blocks away, and he’s determined for that not to happen to him and Kurt.

So Blaine gets checked in and drops his bags at the holding area -- they aren’t even getting their room assignments until after dinner, then finds a quiet spot. His phone still has some juice, so he shoots off a quick text to Kurt. He doesn’t want it to be too pushy, but he needs to let Kurt know he’s here.

B: I’m here! In New York! B: I don’t know if you’re here yet, but I’d love to see you!

Blaine stares at his texts. I’d love to see you??? That sounds like something he’d send his cousin. Before he can come up with something more in tune with the actual excitement he feels about finally being in the same city as Kurt, his orientation section leader calls for everyone in the group to turn their phones off and pay attention. Blaine does, but only because he wants to send the perfect message, so he needs time to compose something.

--

Kurt’s flight is late. He’s supposed to register at 4:30, get his dorm key, move in, and then attend a snack and non-alcoholic drinks party in the common area starting at 5:30. When he finally frees his luggage from what has to be the most run down looking carousel in any airport in the US, Kurt has already decided that he’s not going to risk taking the bus into Manhattan. It’s worth spending some of his limited cash to get where he needs to be. He stands in the too long line for a taxi, looking around at the people and the cars and the bustle. For a moment nothing else matters. Even the airport is thrilling in New York.

Kurt calls his dad once he gets in a cab, and again when he gets to the dorm. His admission information had told him he was going to be in a triple -- one of the unfortunate side effects of being a late admission, but he didn’t realize exactly what that would mean. The room is small.

His roommates have been there for a week, and both of them have already been through orientation. Jeremy seems nice, and had claimed the single bed and the desk under the window. Kurt doesn’t meet their other roommate right away, but Jeremy tells him his name is Joe. Kurt is silently grateful that Joe took the top bunk by choice, so at least Kurt doesn’t have to worry about falling out of bed in the middle of the night. But Kurt is going to have to do some adjusting.

When he gets back to his room it’s after eleven, but Kurt feels a little more relaxed. Thankfully his roommates are still awake, so he doesn’t disturb them while he makes up his bed and gets ready to sleep. They chat and ask him simple questions about where he’s from and what he’s studying, and they both seem nice and happy to be in New York too, so Kurt is hoping he’ll be able to make the living arrangements work. Kurt takes a quick shower in the communal showers down the hall, and when he finally crawls into bed he’s asleep before he can count to ten.

--

“So, did he text you yet?”

Blaine is having breakfast with two of his suitemates -- David and Wes -- and apparently he’s already talked about Kurt so much they’ve both become invested in his attempts to make contact.

Blaine tries not to let his disappointment show when he answers, but he can tell by the sympathetic looks Wes is giving him that he’s probably not that successful.

“He, uh, texted me when I was in the shower. He’s got orientation all day, but he’s here. In New York.” Blaine doesn’t tell them that Kurt had pre-emptively cut off seeing him at all for at least a week by telling him how full his schedule was. At least that’s how it had felt to Blaine. “We’re trying to set a time to get together.” Kurt’s dad was coming in the next weekend to bring him all his stuff, so it was looking like almost two weeks before they’d be able to see each other.

“Blaine,” Wes starts. “You’re going to be pretty busy too, you know? Between class and group projects and meeting with your advisor, you’re not really going to have a lot of time to yourself for a while.”

Blaine pokes a straw into his milk carton, too aggressively. “I’ve never had any trouble keeping up with my schoolwork.”

“Dude, this isn’t like high school. You’re at Juilliard. You’re going to be practicing Lizst until your fingers bleed.” David watches him poke at his eggs. He doesn’t really want to eat them. “Are you gonna eat those?”

Blaine pushes his plate across the table toward David. “I’ll be fine.”

“Look Blaine, I’m not trying to be harsh, but it’s really common for high school romances to not survive the move to New York - or anywhere, actually. You’ve both gone off to college. You’ll both want to be taking advantage of that freedom, won’t you?”

Blaine blinks and looks at Wes. He’s not -- “Kurt’s not my high school boyfriend.” He doesn’t miss the skeptical way David and Wes look at each other before returning their attention to Blaine. “We met over the summer,” Blaine hurries to explain. “We discovered we were both going to be going to school in New York City and we --” Blaine hesitates. Maybe Kurt doesn’t want this as much as he does? He doesn’t know how to know the answer. Blaine thought he did. Kurt seemed to be worried about whether he would get to New York at all, but maybe he wasn’t sure about Blaine either? “We wanted to connect once we got here.”

“It hasn’t been 24 hours Blaine,” Wes rolls his eyes. “Get settled. You have time to work it out.”

Blaine wants to believe that, so he forces a smile. David starts telling them about a girl he met yesterday in the drama program, and Blaine tries to let himself be distracted.

--

“I don’t know Rachel, it’s been like three weeks and we can’t seem to connect.” Kurt has Thursday mornings open, so Rachel offered to come down and meet him at the diner around the corner from his dorm. “Maybe he doesn’t really want to see me?” He orders pancakes from the waitress and hands her his menu.

“Ooh, are the pancakes vegan?” Rachel asks the waitress, who just glares at her with one eyebrow raised. Rachel closes her menu and pushes it to the edge of the table. “I’ll have the pancakes too.” Once the waitress leaves she turns her attention to Kurt. “Do you really think that? I mean, this is only the second time we’ve managed to get together since we’ve both been here. New York is a busy place. Everyone has obligations.” Kurt considers this. He’s been busy, but he really does want to see Blaine. “I mean, have you just come out and asked him?”

Kurt frowns. “Not really? We just keep not being able to find a time. If it’s so hard to find time for each other now, what does that say for us being able to have some kind of real relationship?”

“Well,” Rachel says, and Kurt can tell it’s her ‘helpful Rachel’ voice, so he braces himself for whatever is coming. “What have you been doing instead of seeing Blaine?”

Kurt had to think about that. “I had orientation -- but so did he, and then Dad brought the rest of my things, and he was here for about five days and we did a bunch of tourist stuff. And there have been a few informal mixers in the dorm that I wanted to go to since I don’t know anyone -- and did I tell you one of my roommates is gay? Jeremy? He seems to know people here, so I went to a party with him.” Kurt stops. The party had been mostly people their age, but it was a first for him. “Honestly Rachel, I’ve never been in a room with so many other gay men. It was kind of intimidating.”

“But kind of great?” She asks. When Kurt nods she gives him a gentle smile. “There’s a lot to discover in New York, Kurt.”

“Yeah. I guess.” The waitress brings their pancakes and Kurt watches Rachel drown hers in syrup before he indulges himself and does the same. “I was just hoping one of the things I would discover would be Blaine. We had such a good connection. I want to see what that could be.”

“So stop deflecting the issue. Text him a time and place and tell him you’ll meet him there. What about brunch? Ooh! Or karaoke tonight! You said he liked to sing. Maybe he’d want to meet us there?” Kurt had agreed to go out that evening with Rachel to the NYADA student bar for karaoke, but that didn’t really seem like where he wanted to finally reconnect with Blaine.

“Too many people,” he says. “And brunch is always so loud. I want something more intimate.”

“Okay, then coffee, late afternoon on Saturday. Just do it.”

“What if he’s not interested anymore Rach?”

Rachel shrugs. “Then at least you know, right?”

Kurt hates to admit the sense of her suggestion, but he really doesn’t want to wait any longer. He has so many things he wants to tell Blaine. Everything that’s happened and everything he’s done. He wants to hear all about Juilliard and Blaine’s weird but cool sounding living arrangements (because they had at least traded that information. Blaine has a single room in a suite and Kurt would kind of like to see what exactly that means).

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Why wait Kurt? Text him now.”

Kurt silently thanks the universe for putting Rachel in his life, even if she’s a pain in his ass. She knows just when to push. Kurt unlocks his phone, taking a minute to compose a text that doesn’t sound weird.

K: Hey are you free on Saturday afternoon? like 4? K: There’s a great coffee place a couple blocks from here K: Can i buy you a coffee?

When Blaine texts back an emphatic yes!! send me the deets not thirty seconds later, Kurt grins to himself and goes back to his pancakes, ignoring the satisfied smile on Rachel’s face.

They spend the rest of breakfast chatting about Rachel’s courses and the people she’s met at NYADA, and all of the opportunities she’s sure to have ahead of her, and Kurt is happy to let her go on for a while. He can use the break from the inside of his head.

--

Kurt double checks the address before they leave the subway, but the neon sign spelling out Callbacks in glowing red script makes it obvious. He’d invited Jeremy to come with him, as a thanks for inviting him to his friend’s party, as well as the dozen other ways he’d been helpful since Kurt arrived. Apparently he is also a karaoke enthusiast, and the more people who are willing to get up and sing, the more fun the night would be.

Inside the bar is more crowded than Kurt expected.

“It’s Thursday,” Jeremy explains, leaning into Kurt. “New Yorkers always go out on Thursday. Friday and Saturday are for the bridge and tunnel crowds.” Kurt nods, filing this away with all of the other information he’s been gathering. He spies Rachel over in one corner with a few people who must be her NYADA friends, and points her out to Jeremy who returns Rachel’s exuberant wave.

They work their way to the bar to get some non-alcoholic drinks, since the bartenders are very obviously checking IDs, and Jeremy provides a running commentary while they wait on the level of hot guys in the room. Kurt has been very grateful to discover Jeremy could be as vicious as he was about the outfits some people wore.

“Oh my god, that is some suit,” Jeremy points out. “At least he’s got an ass to match it, yum.”

Kurt laughs and turns around to check out the target of Jeremy’s judgment.

At the other end of the bar is a group of sorta loud guys, but they’re singing - not causing trouble, so no one seems to care. One of the guys, with his back to Kurt, is wearing a dark magenta suit - just to the right side of pink, but not pink - with a grey windowpane pattern. It’s not exactly loud, but it sure is eye catching, and a little much for a night out at the bar. After a few seconds of staring Kurt thinks he actually recognizes the suit from a Brooks Brothers catalog from a few seasons ago, which explains why it kinda works. As he looks down the backside of the wearer he has to acknowledge that he does indeed have the ass to pull it off.

Reflexively, Kurt glances away. The urge to look away before he gets into trouble is still something he’s trying to shake, but here in a NYADA karaoke bar, filled with drama students and other performing arts folks in an obviously wide assortment of sexual orientations and identifications, he’s finally safe. So he looks back. It is a nice ass.

So he looks, his eyes trailing from Magenta Suit’s ass all the way up to his shoulders. He’s not a tall guy, but the cut of the suit fits this guy so well that Kurt can easily imagine a narrow waist tapering down from those shoulders. When the guy turns his head and Kurt finally catches a glimpse of his profile, all the noise in the bar turns into a distant echo. It’s Blaine. Blaine.

“You alright honey?” Jeremy asks. He’s got their virgin drinks in hand, one eyebrow raised, and almost a look of concern on his face.

Kurt is having a hard time forming words, and it’s loud in the bar anyway, so he leans in close to Jeremy’s ear. “It’s Blaine.”

“Blaine?” Jeremy’s eyes go wide and dart around the room. “Mr. I’ve-met-the-love-of-my-life-at-a-traveling-carnival-in-Ohio Blaine? Here?”

“Over there, with the great ass!” Kurt whisper shouts. Jeremy stomps his feet, squealing in his excitement for Kurt, but Kurt is already turning back to look at Blaine’s profile. Blaine is laughing now, obviously enjoying hanging out with his friends. They’re singing and jumping around and having fun. Blaine is radiant, and Kurt can’t look away.

Other than a few shared photographs it’s been weeks - months - since they’ve seen each other in person, and Kurt can’t get over how different Blaine looks. With his his hair neatly combed and his perfectly fit suit he looks almost like a different person.

And that’s what Kurt is worried about. What if this impeccably well groomed Blaine wasn’t really interested in small-town Ohio Kurt? Not that Kurt couldn’t hold his own in the style department - he definitely could, but maybe Blaine isn’t interested in bringing his midwestern summer fling from Ohio with him into his new life in New York.

Kurt’s imagination is still tormenting him when, without warning at all, Blaine finally turns his head far enough to see him. Kurt is still so overwhelmed by Blaine’s presence in the bar that he doesn’t notice when Jeremy kisses him on the cheek and wishes him luck, but he does notice Blaine’s face going from confusion to excitement in a second before his expression crumples.

He’s too far away for Kurt to hear him speak, but he can see Blaine mouth Kurt? and move in Kurt’s direction, away from his friends. Kut lets his feet take over, and he pushes through the crowd, toward Blaine.

“Blaine!” Blaine practically leaps at Kurt, and Kurt accepts the hug gratefully, so happy just to be touching him again. When they break apart Kurt looks into Blaine’s eyes, but whatever had upset him a moment ago seems to have gone, and his face is lit up by the same smile that had burrowed into Kurt’s heart over the summer. “You look amazing,” Kurt tells him. “That suit fits you like it was made for you.”

Blaine turns away, his head nodding slightly, and Kurt knows that if he wasn’t already red faced from the heat in the bar Blaine would be blushing.

“Well, I actually had it tailored,” Blaine tells him. “I was inspired by your attitude so I found a good tailor as soon as I got to New York.”

Kurt beams at the idea that Blaine had been thinking of him. “Well it was worth whatever you paid,” he says, and because the moment isn’t awkward enough, he continues, “Special night?” Kurt looks over at the group of boys Blaine was with.

“Oh, um we had a recital, earlier. They’re semi formal so everyone has to turn out in their best.” Blaine fusses with his lapels. “This is the best I brought. Though I’m probably going to need to pick up a couple of other suits. I’m going to stand out pretty badly if I show up in this thing every time.”

Kurt thinks he’d stand out spectacularly, but he keeps it to himself. “Oooh, fancy clothes shopping. Sounds fun.”

Blaine’s face brightens a bit. “Maybe you want to come with me? I mean, you’ve got a great eye. If you’re not too busy.” Blaine’s eyes dart over Kurt’s shoulder, and he goes on before Kurt can respond. “Is that Rachel?”

“Yes!” Kurt is grateful for the redirection. “Come say hi. You can meet my roommate too. He’s a pip.”

Blaine follows Kurt to the back table where Rachel is sitting with a few of her NYADA friends, and Jeremy. Kurt hasn’t met any of Rachel’s friends yet, but Jeremy is already ensconced in the middle with an arm around one of them like they’ve known each other since birth.

“Blaine! What are you doing here?” Rachel practically knocks their little table over as she leaps out of her chair and hurls herself at Blaine. “Did you know we were coming? Kurt did you tell Blaine we were coming tonight? Do you sing Blaine? Kurt I remember you told me Blaine sung. Sang. Sings?” She screws her face up in a confused scrunch. “Is a singer.” If Kurt didn’t know better he’d think Rachel is drunk.

“Uh, hi Rachel,” Blaine looks a little stunned, but manages to hug Rachel and keep her from falling down when she looks like she’s teetering.

Kurt tugs her arm, pulling her to the side. “Rachel are you drunk?”

“I might have had some of Leo’s cosmo.” She looks up at him, eyes huge. “And by some I mean I may have drunk the whole thing.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. He doesn’t care if Rachel is having a drink -- so long as she doesn’t get them thrown out -- but she can be a handful to keep track of when she’s tipsy. “Well why don’t you introduce me and Blaine to Leo and the rest of your friends?”

“Great idea!” Rachel giggles and slips an arm through Blaine’s elbow, turning him toward the table. She introduces all of her friends, then says “and the adorably terrible flirt in the middle is Kurt’s roommate, Jeremy.” Jeremy wiggles his fingers in their direction, winking. “Everyone - this is Kurt, my very best friend from high school. And this is his Blaine.”

Kurt stammers. Leave it to Rachel to completely humiliate him.

“I don’t — I don’t know if that’s entirely accurate,” Blaine says, next to him. Kurt turns to look at Blaine, but he’s staring at Jeremy. “I should leave you guys to hang out, and I should get back to my friends,” Blaine adds. “I’ll catch up with you later, Kurt.”

“Oh,” Kurt is sure he’s missing something, but it’s too loud and there are too many people in the room for him to figure out what it is. “You could all join us, if you want? I’m sure we could cram some more chairs in,” he says to Blaine.

“No that’s okay,” Blaine says. He gives Kurt a quick squeeze on his arm and with a wave at everyone goes back to his group.

“Kuuurt!” Rachel pulls him down on the seat next to her. “Blaine is here, isn’t that so amazing!”

“Oh my god Rachel you are such a lightweight,” he answers. “He’s here with his friends.”

Kurt is trying not to read too much into it. Blaine had seemed happy to see him at first, but he was so reluctant to hang out with them. Maybe he felt obliged to spend the time with the friends he came to the bar with. Kurt turns to see where Blaine is now, and finds him smiling and joking with his friends just as he’d been doing earlier. If anything, they whole group of them had got noticeably more physical with each other.

“Is it time to sing?” Kurt turns to see Rachel tugging on his elbow. “Kurt do you want to sing with me?”

“No, you go ahead,” he tells her. When Rachel pouts at him he adds, “Maybe later, after I soak up some alcohol fumes.” Kurt turns her around and gives her a little push toward the stage.

Kurt settles in and watches as Rachel completely captivates everyone in the room with her karaoke version of “Don’t Rain On My Parade.” It’s a Broadway friendly bar, so everyone is into it and Rachel is really on, stolen drinks be damned. Kurt hangs out with her friends, and one of them buys him a drink and slyly slips it in his direction, and Kurt is grateful. He doesn’t want to get drunk at all, but he’s not opposed to something to help him relax.

As the night goes on, people take their turn at the mic, some good, some bad, some drunk, but Kurt can’t help but glancing in Blaine’s direction all night. He’s usually talking to someone else, but every few glances, Blaine is looking at him too.

At some point in the evening Kurt gets up to use the mens room. It’s weirdly crowded, and by the time he gets back to the bar area there’s a group of guys on stage singing. It takes him a minute to catch up with the words and the music, and when he does he realizes it’s Blaine and his friends.

Before you met me I was alright But things were kinda heavy

They are singing Katy Perry. And they are choreographed. If he didn’t already have a devastating crush on this boy this would have put him over the edge. They are singing along to the karaoke track, but Kurt can almost picture them in a coordinated acapella arrangement. There is no way they didn’t rehearse this.

Kurt can’t take his eyes off of Blaine. He’s charming and charismatic and oh so much more talented than Kurt imagined. When by some miracle Blaine finds Kurt in the crowd, he locks eyes on him for the rest of the song.

My, heart, stops When you look at me Just, one, touch Now baby I believe This, is, real So take a chance And don't ever look back Don't ever look back

At some point Rachel appears at his elbow, giving him a squeeze as she jumps up and down.

“He’s so good!” She squeals. “And I think he's singing to you Kurt,” she whisper-shouts in his ear.

By the time the song is over Kurt doesn’t think, he knows. He untangles himself from Rachel and heads to where he can see a couple of Blaine’s taller friends in the crowd. But when he gets there he doesn’t see Blaine with them. He waits for a minute, but Blaine doesn’t appear anywhere. He’s about to head back to Rachel when one of the boys approaches him.

“Kurt?” The boy sticks his hand out politely to shake. “I’m David. If you’re looking for Blaine he went outside to get some air.” He pulls at his shirt and frowns, giving the universal sign of “too sweaty,” and Kurt nods and heads toward the exit.

Kurt hadn’t thought it was too warm inside, but once outside Kurt is relieved to be in the cooler air. He spies a group of people hanging around smoking, and the usual New York foot traffic walking around, but initially sees no sign of Blaine. Kurt takes a walk to the corner with no luck, and worries that Blaine might have just left without saying anything to him, after obviously singing to him. He stops for a moment, staring into the New York night - the whole night has been weird. He just wants to go back to his dorm and get some sleep.

“Kurt?” Kurt spins around and finds Blaine standing ten feet away. He looks hot and a little sweaty. He looks lovely.

“I was looking for you.” Kurt takes a step closer, then leads Blaine around the corner where there are less people.

“Jeremy’s cute,” Blaine says when they stop.

“What?”

“Jeremy. He’s cute.”

“Again, I say what?”

Blaine huffs a little, crossing his arms across his chest. “Congrats. Hot gay roommate.”

“Oh my god. Is that why you’ve been so weird?” Kurt is genuinely taken aback. “Jeremy is my room. mate. Roommate. That’s all.” Kurt retaliates with his own crossed arms. “I thought you were avoiding me.”

Blaine’s eyes go wide, and Kurt has to lean back to keep from falling into them. “I thought you were avoiding me, Kurt.”

It doesn’t take long for either of them to drop their defenses.

“I’m not. Avoiding you, I mean. I want to see you,” Kurt says. “Moving has been a lot -- a lot of things.” Blaine nods in what looks like agreement. “Did you sing that song to me?” Kurt asks. Blaine nods again, only he’s not looking at Kurt, and Kurt can’t really take how awkward it is. “Blaine,” he says, stepping forward. “How did you know I would be here?”

“I didn’t.” Blaine finally looks at him. “my roommates used to do it for their show choir, and when I was trying to think of ways to, I don’t know, impress you, one of them suggested a song, and they taught me oomf -” Kurt stops him with a kiss. When Blaine finally relaxes into it, yeah okay, Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine’s neck, walking him back to the wall of the building. As far as Kurt’s concerned, they can stay out here until the morning.

“Blaine!” Kurt doesn’t recognize that voice.

“Kurt!” That one is Rachel.

They separate slightly, but Kurt doesn’t really want to get that far away. “Hey Wes,” Blaine says, but his arms are tight around Kurt’s waist.

“I guess you finally worked it out,” Wes says.

“Thank god,” Rachel says. “I thought Kurt was going to combust.”

“Yeah we’re good, if that’s all you need,” Kurt waves Rachel off. Blaine leans in to kiss his neck, and Rachel giggles. “You can be on your way. Tell Jeremy I’ll get myself home.”

“You could come home with me,” Blaine murmurs so only Kurt can hear. “I’ve got my own room. With a door and everything.”

“I have class at ten Blaine.” Kurt is tempted anyway.

“You’ve been in New York almost a month. It’s past time for your first walk of shame.” Blaine waves at Wes and Rachel as they walk back into the bar. “We don’t have to do anything.”

“Blaine Anderson, if you think I am going to spend an entire night in your bed and not touch you in sexy ways, you are very mistaken.”

“Okay that’s cool too,” Blaine says, feigning nonchalance. Then he smiles. “So yes?”

Kurt laughs and kisses Blaine again. “Yes.”

[everlarkficexchange]

Prompt 68

Written by: @lynamloveseverlark

Prompt 68: Katniss gets locked out of her apartment wearing only a towel and the only person she can turn to for help is her neighbour Peeta. (submitted by @sunflowerslyf)

A/N: A big thank you to @savvylark for being my beta on this.

I step into my shower, relishing in the feeling of the hot water trickling down my body, helping to relax my sore muscles. I hum along with the songs filtering out from my phone sitting on the counter. This is just what I needed after the hell day I had at work.

I lather up my loofa and scrub the grease and grime from my body and actually take the time to ‘de-fuzz’ as I call it. It’s just shaving my legs, since it’s becoming warmer out. I think I might stick on a dress and go for a walk in the park.

After my shower, I pad slowly into my living room to grab the new moisturisers I bought in the pharmacy on the way home. It’s very rare I treat myself to something new, but they were on sale so a couple of bucks won’t kill me.

Prim’s cat, Buttercup, looks at me from his post on the couch. I give him a scratch behind his ears. He’s getting old, his sight is going and, for some reason, instead of going deaf, his hearing seems 10 times better than it was when he was a young cat. If I have the tv on too loud, or an ambulance goes past he loses his shit.  

All of a sudden, my doorbell goes off. Buttercup flinches and stands up, his hackles raised.

“Who is it?” I call out. Nobody usually rings my doorbell.

“It’s me, Miss Everdeen,” calls a young voice, a kid from down the hall. “Mom ran out of milk and wanted to know if you had any?”

“Okay, hang on,” I reply through the door. Figuring I could just slip my head past the door and hand whichever kid it is the carton, then finish getting dressed.

I grab the milk, thankful it’s more than half full, and pad over to the door and start unlocking the bolts. I peek my head and shoulder around the door to hand out the milk when, out of  nowhere, a big red water balloon comes hurtling towards me. Hitting me square in the nose and bursting.

“YOU LITTLE SHITS!” I scream and run out into the hall. “WAIT UNTIL I TELL YOUR MOTHER! OR EVEN WORSE IF I GET A HOLD OF YOU!” I stop at the top of the stairs.

Realising I’m still in a towel, I look down and grumble “oh shit” to myself and walk back towards my apartment.

I stop dead in my tracks. The door to my apartment is shut!

“Double shit. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!” I groan. I try pushing the door but it won’t budge.

I hit my head off the door trying to think of what I can do. I don’t even think I left a window open. Not that I’d go out and climb up the fire escape in the tiny towel I have covering me. Fucking stupid me not doing the laundry and washing the big towels that actually cover me better than this one! It sits just at the cusp of my cleavage, not that I have any normally but I have this wrapped around me so tightly it gives the illusion of some, ending just above my knees but split halfway up my thighs.

I realise with horror, that I’ll have to knock into a neighbour.

I take a moment to think of my options. I won’t knock into Miss Mags, seeing me in this state of undress would probably give her another stroke, and I would no way in hell want to do that to the sweet lady. Seneca Crane is a creep so he’s a no too. Plus I think he’s in work but shit, he might be getting home soon. Shit! I gotta move fast!

I knock into the apartment across from me, hoping he is awake. Peeta is an EMT and was on a late shift last night, I think.

“Please answer, Peeta,” I mumble to myself, praying the door opens.

Peeta’s POV

I’m woken up by a scream, followed by shouting out in the hall. Well, not unusual for this apartment block. The kids around here are very rambunctious and don’t have consideration for their neighbours.

I try to doze back off, hoping to get a couple of more hours before I have to get up and get ready for my next shift.

I’m roused by a soft knock on my door. Wondering who it could be, I sit up rubbing my eyes. “Hold on, be there in a minute!” I call out.

Getting up off the bed, I pull on my gym shorts and grab a t-shirt. I’m pulling it over my head as I swing my door open.

I’m gobsmacked by who stands at my door.

My neighbour from across the hall, Katniss Everdeen, stands before me in a forest green towel that leaves very little to the imagination. Her long hair cascades down her back with a few strands falling on her chest. Water drips off her hair and my eyes involuntarily follow the droplet down her cleavage.

Shaking my head I break myself out of the filthy thoughts my mind is having.

“Katniss, what can I do you on?” I ask. Her olive skin turns red and she looks at me funny.

“Huh?” she asks.

Realising my slip up I turn beet red myself. “Sorry, eh still half asleep,” I mumble hoping that assures her I’m not a perv like Mr. Crane two doors down. “What can I do for you?”

She sheepishly smiles at me. “I seem to have locked myself out. I was wondering if you would be able ring the super for me?”

“Yeah, sure. Come on in. I need to find my phone. Do I want to know how you got locked out in a towel?” I ask as she follows me into my apartment.

“I was only out of the shower, when a kid knocked and asked for some milk for his mom. I got the milk, opened the door when a water balloon came hurtling towards me. I ran out after them before realising my state of undress, only to find my door shut. Don’t know how, but it is what it is,” she tells me while standing just inside my door, looking delectable as hell.

I walk into my bedroom and grab my cell phone. Walking back into the living room I notice she looks awkward and my chivalrous brain kicks in.

“Would you ehm, like to borrow something to wear? I might have an old t-shirt or something you can put on, if it will make you feel more comfortable while we wait.”

She looks at me with her slate grey eyes, weighing up her options. After what feels like hours of awkward silence she answers.

“Yes please. That would be nice, thank you.”

While dialing the super, Mr Abernathy, I walk back into my room searching for a clean t-shirt. He doesn’t answer and instead of leaving a message, I just hang up. Coming up empty, the only thing I can find clean is an old work shirt of mine that shrunk in the wash.

“I could only find one of my work shirts for you. I hope it’s okay,” I tell her handing over the shirt. “You can use the bedroom to change. Mr Abernathy didn’t answer but I might be able pick the lock for you.”

She quirks a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me. “And how do you know how to pick a lock?” she asks me with amusement in her voice.

“Breaking into my dad’s liquor cabinet back when I was 16 has it perks,” I smile back at her. “Would you happen to have a Bobby pin on you?”

She stops dead from walking into the bedroom to look at me as if i have 10 heads.

“Really Peeta?” she asks me. “Do I look like I have a bobby pin on my person?” She shakes her head and continues into the room.

“Oh god,” I groan. “Sorry, I said I was still half asleep.”

I decide to search the bathroom as there must be one in there from when cousin Delly stayed with me a few weeks ago.

“Ah-ha!” I declare triumphantly holding one up. Walking back into the living room I stop dead at the sight of Katniss in my work shirt.

Never in my life have I seen anything more beautiful or arousing than what stands before me. I pray that not all of the blood in my body has ran south.

Katniss is standing with her back to me, her hair falling down her back. My work shirt swamps her tiny frame, one side of the collar shows the barest hint of her shoulder. The hem of the shirt comes halfway down her thighs and the side cut shows the barest hint of her unblemished buttock.

That, my other head thinks, is begging for a hand print. I mentally chastise myself.

“So I managed to find a bobby pin my cousin left behind. I can just go out and try to pick the lock on my own or you could stand out with me, whichever you would feel most comfortable,” I ramble out.

She turns around and I instantly decide this view is more beautiful than the last.

Her olive skin is tainted pink with embarrassment from the whole situation. She has left the top few buttons open which gives me a peek of the swell of her breast. The rest of the buttons are done up perfectly and still leaves little to the imagination.

I fleetingly notice she’s left the towel on underneath.

“I’ll stand out with you if that’s ok. Wouldn’t want anyone getting the idea you’re breaking into my apartment,” she replies.

“Well; that is what I’m doing Katniss,” I chuckle.

We walk out into the hall and I squat down and concentrate on opening the lock. Out of the corner of my eye I notice blood trickling down her leg.

“You’re bleeding!” I gasp instantly turning and grab her calf to get a better look at it. But as soon as I touch her I feel like I’ve been struck by lightning.

Pulling back, I look up at her apologetically, then get back to my task of opening her door.

[seventyfiveapples]

Shaken

CHAPTER 5

Bright / Nick Jakoby x OFC

(Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4)

Oh hello: it's you, plot and angst. Yes that's right, but there is important background stuff to lay down. I promise there will be sexy times soon. (SO SOON.) So, I was thinking that if Nick was the nation's first orc police officer and it's present day LA, and "races living separately" is a thing, then it might be a pretty Big Deal for an orc and human to date. So that had an affect on some of the conversations in this chapter, and maybe Ward has a little “journey” as he evolves on this topic. Is this too much exposition? Is this too plot heavy? Would it stop me if it was? haha enjoy.

The sun was bright and warm the next day, and Nick took a moment to tilt his head upwards and take a deep breath before climbing the stairs to the station. Was it always this bright? Did the lantana on the sidewalk always smell so sweet? Everything seemed a little... more today. He smiled to himself, thinking about his date with Lucy - their conversation, the way she looked at him... even the end of the date, when their goodbye kiss was so rudely interrupted by the San Andreas fault.

It was a small earthquake: 3.5 or 3.6 tops, but he could tell Lucy was thoroughly freaked out. He realized that she must be relatively new to the area. 

When she gripped him tightly for stability, he thought his heart might pound right out of his chest: Not only did she seem to like his company, she trusted him. She believed he could keep her safe. He wanted to keep earning that trust, to make her feel safe as much as he could. Every now and then he could tell that there was something… some fear at the back of her mind… that kept her always a little on edge.

When she’d asked to come see him at the station today, her whole demeanor had changed. He saw her fear most clearly then.

Oh shit, he thought suddenly, seeing Daryl at his desk across the room. She’s coming to the station today. Nick still hadn't told him that Lucy was human. Maybe it wouldn't be a big deal... Maybe he should tell him just in case.

His partner waved at him from across the room.

“Hey Casanova, how was the big date?”

Nick couldn’t help himself from grinning ear to ear.

“It was… really good! Really REALLY good.” He smiled to himself for a moment and then just shook his head. “She’s incredible… funny, smart, kind, driven... AND,” he concluded, “she picked the smoothie café.”

“Well, aren’t you two just two little orc peas in a pod? You know what, I’m happy for you, Nick.”

“Hey Daryl, can I talk to you about something?”

“Sure thing right after you go turn this paperwork in.”

Daryl handed him a small stack of folders. Nick frowned. Daryl hated to turn in paperwork. The new Captain could chat up a brick wall, and might not even notice. He would take up no less than fifteen minutes of Daryl’s time every time he saw him, regaling him with tales of the glory days of his youth while Daryl tried his best to politely excuse himself. If Daryl Ward could barely get a word in edgewise, Nick didn’t know how anyone else managed.

Luckily for Nick, the captain’s anti-orc bigotry expressed itself in something close to the silent treatment. He barely said two words when he saw Officer Jakoby. For once, Nick didn’t entirely mind being treated differently.

He headed down to drop off the papers.

***

One thing Lucy would never get used to in Southern California was the earthquakes. There was something so unsettling about the ground under her feet moving… what kind of place had she moved to, where she couldn’t trust the ground?

Luckily, yesterday’s was a smaller one. Nick had taken it completely in stride. He hadn’t even flinched when the tremor rolled through - or when she grabbed onto him for dear life. Real smooth, Lucy. There’s that confident image you try to project.

She thought of how he looked at her when she'd held him. She didn’t think he’d minded one bit, actually.

In the police station, she walked straight to Officer Jakoby’s desk. It was empty for the moment.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” Asked a tall, black, human officer from behind her.

“Oh! Thank you, I’m just waiting for Officer Jakoby.”

“He’ll be right back if you want to have a seat. If there’s anything I can help with, he’s my partner.”

“You’re Daryl Ward? It’s nice to meet you! I’m Lucy Harris and-“

“You’re Lucy Harris.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“That’s right, Officer Ward, and I was-“

“Lucy Harris. Teacher, smoothie fan... you’re a human?” He had an odd look on his face as he asked her this question. What was going on here?

Lucy said nothing, watching Daryl as he looked at her with an expression she could not interpret. Finally, she spoke.

“Um, yeah. Last time I checked... Is Nic- Officer Jakoby coming back soon?”

“Yeah, why don’t you just take a seat.” He said, suddenly chilly. Lucy pretended to be fascinated with the contents of her purse while she waited.

After a few minutes, Nick came back. He smiled when he saw Lucy but paused as he approached, seeming to sense something off in the room.

“Hey, Nick. Thanks for meeting with me. Is there somewhere we can go to talk privately? This is kind of... sensitive.”

“Sure. We have a few empty offices down the hall.” He turned to Ward and saw a look that was a mix of... Disappointment? Disgust? Something in between?

“Partner, we can talk in a minute, but right now I could use your help.”

***

The three of them sat in an empty office while Lucy removed three items from the purple canvas tote bag she had brought with her.

“I came home a week ago and my roommate had found this propped against our front door,” she started.

The officers looked closely at the items - torn brown wrapping paper with Lucy’s full name printed in block letter, the framed photo, and the note reading “Found you.”

“Do you have any idea who might have left this?” Asked Ward.

“Absolutely."

***

Two and a half years ago, Lucy Harris didn’t exist.

Jennie Perkins, however, was living a quiet life in Tacoma, Washington. She worked as a teacher at a highly regarded private school and lived with her boyfriend of a year and a half, Dave West.

One day in the early spring, an FBI agent approached her, out of the blue. She told Jennie that her boyfriend was not who he claimed to be, but a murderer and drug dealer involved with organized crime. She brought boxes of photos and documents: not enough for a legal conviction but more than enough to convince Jennie, who was undone by the news. She was shocked and unmoored. Everything she knew about the person she thought she loved had been a lie.

The agent convinced her to hide cameras and listening devices in strategic locations around the house. She advised Jennie to “act normal” until they could build an airtight legal case.

Easier said than done. Overnight she’d gone from a relatively carefree life to being essentially a spy, knowing that her partner was living a double life and trying to make sure he’d be arrested. Acting normally without tipping off a paranoid criminal required tremendous effort.

After a couple of months, something violent happened at their house while Jennie was at work. She never found out what it was. In fact, she never saw the inside of that house again. The takeaways from the incident were 1) that one of the cameras was knocked loose in front of Dave and his “colleagues,” and 2) that Dave probably knew Jennie had hidden it, and was cooperating with the feds.

The agent and Jennie agreed that they would fake Jennie’s death (an elaborately staged car accident) and she would move out of state under an assumed name until the trial was over. The FBI slotted enough resources to help her get set up, and Lucy Harris was “born.”

About a month ago, Lucy received notice that the trial was about to start. The FBI agent had contacted Lucy/Jennie to start making arrangements for her to come and testify.

That phone call was the last time anyone had heard from the agent.

A week later, they found her body in a field by the highway.

Her apartment had been torn up as if someone was looking for something… Lucy had a pretty good idea of what. Not quite three weeks after that when the package had shown up on Lucy’s door.

“So," Lucy concluded. "Billie and I moved into a new place. Luckily, her brothers had an empty rent house right next door. I was just starting to feel okay again, but the afternoon someone slashed two of my tires. They left this.” She reached into her bag to pull out the knife and note. She couldn’t look Nick in the eye when he picked up the note full of slurs and read it.

“Apparently, he's close by, and he knows where I am. And I don’t know what to do. So I wanted to just report this, just in case there's some way to find him or stop him.”

There was a moment’s pause, as the officers digested what she had told them. Daryl spoke first.

"Damn," he said. “That's... a lot. Look I know this is a long shot, but I don't suppose you have any evidence about this? Before we commit to any security detail, we'll need some hard proof.

Lucy looked up, surprised. She let out a sudden sharp laugh.

“Oh no, I have tons of evidence! Boxes and boxes. I made copies of everything I gave to the agent. It’s all in a safety deposit box. I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason I’m still alive. I haven’t visited it in months, but it’s all there.”

“We’ll need to see it.”

“Well then you’ll need to figure out how to get me there unrecognized, because I am pretty sure he’s following me.”

Nick swallowed hard. Had he followed them on their date? Lucy looked at him, a guilty expression washing over her face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Nick. I should have. I just… it seems like I keep putting more and more people at risk. I had a great time with you, but I don’t blame you if…” she shook her head. She didn’t have to say it. She knew he’d want to call it off. Hot tears sprang to her eyes, as the reality of the whole situation settled on her. It was the first time she’d talked about this in two years to anyone except Billie.

“Lucy, you haven’t done anything wrong. Daryl, could you give us a minute?” After his partner left, Nick moved close enough to lay a strong hand on her forearm and look straight in her eyes. “Lucy, I really like you. I’m not going anywhere. It’s going to take more than that to get rid of me.”

“More than a murdering psychopath?” she said with a skeptical laugh.

He raised his eyebrows. “Murdering psychopaths? I eat those for breakfast. They go great with that kale smoothie.” He didn’t often make jokes, but when he did, they seemed to have been borrowed from cop movies. Lucy broke into a loud laugh, part nerves and part surprise, and hugged him. 

“Now, tell us everything that might help us track down this asshole.”

***

Later, on patrol, Nick broke several minutes of silence with a pointed question. “Something on your mind, partner?”

“I guess not.”

“You ‘guess’ not? The fuck does that mean?”

“If you don’t want to tell me about your business, then I guess it’s not my place to say shit about shit.”

“Meaning?” Nick asked gruffly.

“Why didn’t you mention she was human?”

“Does it matter?”

“You know what all those assholes at the station are gonna-“

“Does it matter to YOU, Daryl?”

Daryl looked out of the window, not answering. After a few seconds, he spoke.

“You should have told me.”

“Ward,” Jakoby started, keeping as even a tone as he could, “are you upset because I didn’t tell you, or are you upset because you don’t think orcs and humans should date?”

Ward paused again, and tried to choose his words carefully. “Each of the nine races stay separate, you know that. That’s why there’s peace.”

Nick snorted, a humorless laugh. It was two steps forward, two steps back with his partner.

“Peace?! Is that what you see out here?” Driving through an Orcish district, they saw gang-tagged graffiti on every wall, smashed windows covered with plywood boards, crime scene tape around one corner, and a group of teen orcs glaring at them. In the distance they could see a billboard advertising jewelry. It read: “exclusively available in the Elf District.”

“I’ll tell you what I see,” Nick concluded, “a powder keg. I don’t think keeping people separate is really helping anything.”

He continued: “Look, Lucy and I didn’t plan this, and we’ve only had one date, but I really like her. How the fuck does that hurt anyone?”

After another pause, Ward finally spoke. “What about her? I mean, you’re used to all the bullshit people say. Do you really want to put her through that?”

Daryl had struck a chord. Nick hated to think of Lucy - of anyone - being insulted or attacked because of him.

“She’s not naive, Ward,” Nick responded in a softer tone. “It’s her choice to make, and mine. No one else’s.”

“I just… it’s not going to be easy for you.”

“Maybe not. Since when do I take the easy road?” Nick asked, smiling a little. “I’m used to people - humans, orcs, whoever - saying shit to me. They’re going to do that anyway.” He stopped for a minute. “I know they say shit about me to you, too.”

It wasn’t an accusation, but Daryl felt a pang of guilt. Had he heard what the other officers said about him on a daily basis in the locker room? Had Daryl even spoken up? He couldn’t remember.

“I’m not asking you to confront them, or fight my battles. I’m just asking - in this situation, with Lucy - if people get ugly, it would mean a lot to me to know I had your support… if I do have it.”

Nick looked at him with questioning eyes and Daryl sighed. He’d never known any orc-human couples and it just seemed odd to him, but Nick had a point: who did it hurt? Nick’s request was so sincere it cut through anything Daryl might have said in protest.

Besides that, Daryl thought of Lucy's story. How were they ever going to find this guy? A little orc/human racial tension might be the least of their worries.

More than anything he kept thinking, what if the tables were reversed? What would Nick say if Daryl asked for his support, for anything?

He would offer it without hesitation, of course.

“Yeah,” Daryl replied at last. “You got it, Nick.”

***

Across town, Dave West paced in his makeshift room: an abandoned shipping container at the very far end of the docks. At his feet lay a spectrum of weapons, but he would have to add to these: most of them wouldn’t do too much on the orcs that were protecting Jennie now. He logged onto his computer to keep tabs on her through the GPS tracker he’d placed on her car.

The police station, huh? He wondered if it was business or pleasure. He flipped through the photos he’d taken of Jennie and the orc police officer on their date. He’d probably have to move a little more quickly than he wanted to.

There was still no sign of her visiting any storage units or banks with safety deposit boxes. He had to wait, for now, damn it. As long as that evidence was out there, he was in danger of not only criminal conviction, but he was in danger from all of the other people who were mentioned or implicated in whatever she had gathered.

He’d be better off in prison than out and “free” with them as his enemies.

No, for now, he just had to wait for her to slip up. Once he destroyed the evidence, he could kill her and everyone who tried to help her, and get back to San Francisco.

Or, he thought, flipping through the photos again, he could help things along and get... creative.

@beastlybfs @bonnietakesnosh-t @fantasticauthorofzonk

[ethanalter]

'Outlander' Postmortem: How production designer Jon Gary Steele built the 'A. Malcolm' print shop

Claire and Jamie (Caitriona Balfe and Sam Heughan) enjoy their reunion in A. Malcolm’s print shop (Photo: Starz)

Warning: This post contains spoilers for the “A. Malcolm” episode of Outlander.

A successful 18th century printer’s press like the one owned and operated by one A. Malcolm — a.k.a. James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser — doesn’t just spring up overnight. No, the lovely Edinburgh-based print shop where Outlander‘s long separated couple, Jamie and Claire, had their six-episodes-in-the-making reunion on this week’s super-sized installment took well over a year of careful planning and construction by the show’s production design team, headed by Jon Gary Steele. Speaking with Yahoo Entertainment, Steele reveals that his crew started work on A. Malcolm’s shop midway through shooting the show’s second season. “Halfway through one season, we always start on the next,” he says, which means his team is already deep into designing Season 4 while Season 3 is still airing. “It takes a lot of time to get these sets done.”

And key sets like the print shop are treated with exceptional care. Not only is it the scene of what’s arguably the season’s emotional high point so far, but it’s also an environment that fans of the Outlander novels have been waiting to see brought to life… and they’ll know if the details aren’t exactly right. Fortunately, Steele is as detail-minded as the show’s devoted fan base, whether he’s building Jamie’s printing press or the brothel pied-à-terre where the Frasers continue their reunion. “The reaction we get from the fans makes us excited and proud, because they love the detail, so we work harder to make everything better each season,” he says.

We spoke with Steele about building a working version of “Bonnie,” Jamie’s beloved printing press, and the little details he hopes fans notice in the episode’s two major sets.

As I understand it, you built an actual printing press for Sam Heughan to operate in the print shop scene. Yes, we paid a specialist who does these recreations for universities, libraries, and museums, and had two of them built while we were filming Season 2. We also had someone come in and show Sam how to work it. Almost everything you see on that set was made [for the show]: every counter, every piece of print. I’ve had people ask me, “Why didn’t you put the print shop on one level?” I wanted two levels, because I thought it would be more visually interesting if Claire had to walk in and look down for the iconic scene of the reunion. I pitched it to Ron [Moore, the showrunner] and Matt [Roberts, the writer and producer] as it being a precursor to a factory. His store is upstairs, and then down below you can see all the workings. It was all built on one stage, and there’s catwalks and stairs that you can take. The downstairs was split in half with a wall of glass like the glass upstairs. It makes it more interesting for the camera. We didn’t want it to be a box: we wanted it to be possible for them to shoot it [from many angles].

Jamie hard at work over his beloved printing press, Bonnie (Photo: Starz)

Jamie names his printing press “Bonnie,” and in the book his name is carved on the frame. Did you replicate that detail? I don’t think we did. I wish we had remembered to do that! We tried to fill the set with detail and make sure that no matter where you looked, it looked period-correct and that there’s stuff to shoot through, as well as hanging paper drying everywhere. We did tons of research and saw that printing presses in the 1700s had these tool leather walls, so we did our own version of that. That’s the most ornate part, and it’s in the store where Claire comes in. It’s more utilitarian downstairs.

Is this the model for how a well-off printing press might have looked in the 18th century versus a less-successful publisher? Yes it was. We try to make everything look beautiful; even the ugliest stables, we try to make look as real as possible, but also beautiful in a way. And that’s what we tried to do here. For example, we spent a lot of time on the “A. Malcolm” sign that hangs outside. We knew it was a hugely important thing for fans of the book. I told the graphics people that I wanted to put lots of symbols into the sign, so we did all sorts of research into different symbols and incorporated them. There’s tin, because there’s tin in the press, as well as Jamie and Claire’s initials. We also wanted to be able to shoot through it so they could have camera on one side, while Claire comes up to it on the other. And they really did make signs like that: they were cast-iron and were pierced, so we tried to make it period-correct like that.

Claire examines the sign for A. Malcolm’s print shop (Photo: Starz)

Like many of the sets, the printing press is predominantly lit by candlelight. How does that factor into your designs? We worry a lot about it. Back in Season 1, we used to joke that everything had to be brown with a bit of gray. It’s been fun to see more color appear. There’s a lot of red in the printing press, and we couldn’t use red in Season 1 because that was the color of the redcoats only! But everything is thought about with the candle in mind. We have candles, candelabras, and chandeliers on almost every set, and we also build fireplaces because that’s what they did in the 18th century: it was a source of heat and light. For exteriors, we have metal braziers. The DPs love them, and they look really good on film. When you shoot in a courtyard, it adds a little burst of golden color. We always take samples of colors and fabrics and hold them up next to the costumes, with candles next to that to see if they look good in candlelight or not. The DPs always make it look beautiful.

What’s one detail about the printing press you hope viewers at home notice? My favorite part is the storeroom upstairs because of the walls. We put little bits of gold on the molding around the doorways and the bookcases when you walk into the room. I remember a carpenter going, “You want gold in the touch-up?” I told him that it’s just a highlight. When it’s lit with the candles and chandeliers, the gold shimmers in the light. That’s my favorite thing. Also, the tool leather walls that aren’t tool leather, but look like it!

Let’s turn to the Edinburgh brothel. You’ve designed a lot of brothels for the show already. How did you want this one to stand apart? What I was trying to do was take this space and cover it in old rugs to make it look like a harem. The way I described it to Ron was, “I want to put built-in daybeds everywhere, with one in the center for the madam. And then everything around the openings will be covered with rugs.” He was like, “Rugs?” And I said, “Yeah, rugs. It’s not Paris — it’s more downscale.” We were trying rugs, and at first none of them matched, but then we found some we loved and made duplicates and covered the walls in the whole place so it creates a tapestry of rugs. And it works! It’s crazy, but it works. [Laughs]

And that was entirely your own invention? This is my fourth year on the show, and you always want to do something different. We’ve done tons of taverns and a couple brothels before, and we know fans love this stuff. So even though it has to be period correct, we want [each set] to be special. Everyone on this show wants it to be special in every scene and in every detail, be it the armorer who does the guns or the set decoration or the costume designers or the props department. When you see Claire’s medicine kit for the next season, it’s like a piece of art — it’s stunning.

Jamie and Claire continue their reunion at Jamie’s apartment above a brothel (Photo: Starz)

Speaking to the beauty aspect, Jamie’s private room does seem a bit more romantic than an actual brothel likely would have been. Anywhere that Jamie and Claire are going to have a romantic scene we try to make as sexy as we can, even if it’s a barn. They ended up having more scenes there than we thought, and the crew was actually a little angry about shooting in this little room. I was like, “This is way bigger than it should be. It’s really just a room in a brothel — this is the triple the size!” They need that room to shoot; it all works out and looks great.

Since they have to film so many intimate scenes, do Sam Heughan or Caitriona Balfe have special requests in terms of the kind of mattress or bedding they prefer to lie on? We only try to make sure the bed’s big enough for Sam, because he’s 6’3″ long! There was one scene where the rug they were going to be on was really abrasive, so we had to swap that out. But they’re very kind and generous to us, and never really ask for anything from us. They always come and say thank you to all the departments about how beautiful everything is. That’s a good thing, because we’ve all been on projects where it’s not like that.

Any hidden details about the brothel you want to call out to eagle-eyed fans? We put these little columns on the madam’s daybed. It was built especially for her so she could lounge on this giant daybed with thousands of pillows — kind of like an opium den, but it’s Scotland! So we put these big twist columns on there, as well as the fireplace mantles. Someone said, “That’s a little bit much for a brothel,” and I said, “If you can’t do it in a brothel, you can’t do it anywhere!” There’s certain sets that have to be exactly period correct, but we try to have fun with it [when we can].

Most of your pre-Outlander production design credits are films that take place in contemporary settings. Has it been fun living in the past for three seasons? I love it! It’s the most fun stuff I’ve ever done. I love doing things like American History X and Cruel Intentions also, but it’s a dream to do the 18th century, because it’s such a beautiful period for design. We build so much stuff and research continuously; everybody in the department is always looking through books or magazines, and Google is huge. What’s interesting is that in Season 1, we would type “18th century” into Google and you’d get Game of Thrones or other period shows. Now when we’re researching stuff, we see pieces of our own sets! I should have stock in Google. [Laughs]

Outlander airs Sundays at 8 p.m. on Starz.

Read more from Yahoo Entertainment: Notes from our ‘Outlander’ wine tasting ‘Outlander’ Postmortem: Toni Graphia on writing the prelude to the print shop scene: ‘Stay tuned!’ ‘Outlander’ postmortem: Duncan Lacroix talks Murtagh Fraser’s surprise resurrection

[winterequinoxx]

The Lost Eschaton

Ok, since I decided to start posting actively on here, I wanted to share an original short fic that I wrote a few years ago. Totally unbetad. Can't even remember why I wrote it in the first place, I think it was a prompt challenge?

Here ya go:

There is junk everywhere. Stacks of outdated newspapers lean against a tower of decaying photo albums. Are those….Yes. All of her old high school trophies were underneath the window, behind the pile of winter coats. Broken electronics are scattered across whatever empty floor space they landed on. 

“How did it get this bad, Martin? I can’t...he was never like this before Mom died…”

Tiffany stands in the kitchen, peering over the bar at the war zone that her childhood living room had turned into. When she had agreed to help her brother clear out the house after moving their father into a nursing home, she imagined reminiscing with him over the good times they had in the house, perhaps crying over a forgotten piece of jewelry that her mother had left behind, definitely getting drunk at the end of the day, but she is beginning to think that the bottle of whiskey that she had stashed in the trunk of her car was going to need to be cracked open before she could even process the amount of work that needed to be done. Her brother has planned ahead though, benefits of living five minutes away from Dad instead of five hours, he knew what he was walking into and was on his second beer. It was nine in the morning. 

“Yeah….this all started about three--no wait, Sarah had just gotten pregnant with Jenny---so yeah, four years ago? He was so worried that people were listening in on him or something. Paranoid sonovabitch. You invent one superlaser and you start to think everyone’s out to get ya.”

Martin’s laugh is a tight, forced thing, as if even the air didn’t want him to kid himself anymore. His normally perfectly styled hair and pressed clothes are nowhere to be seen, exchanged for heavy bags under his eyes and paint splattered t-shirt and shorts. Tiffany couldn’t help but grin when she eyed the bright pink and purple flecks. Hazards of having two daughters under the age of eight. Pastels everywhere.

“Speaking of, where is the rest of the brood? We are going to need more backup. Any chance you can call in some of your Marine buddies. OH! How about Jason? Jason’s hot. He seeing anyone?” Tiffany grins over her shoulder as she starts putting the large moving boxes together, she can at least start shoving appliances from the kitchen out of the way.

“Jason is very happy with his new boyfriend. Stop hitting on him. Sarah and the kids will be by later after the fairy princesses have their naps, but Trent should be here any minute. He just got his Driver's license. Be appropriately impressed.” No sooner had he said it than Tiffany hears a car door slam in the driveway. Her adopted nephew shuffles into the house, gives a cursory glance around at the chaos that was the living area, and seems to deflate.

“Hey Trent, why don’t you help me in the garage. That’s where dad kept the heavy stuff, and I’d rather get going on that before the sun gets much higher and we roast in that tin death trap.” Martin finished off his beer and snags the teen by the shoulder, shouting back at his little sister “Don’t let anything in there bite you. You know how Dad liked to tinker!”

Tiffany cleans for hours. It gets moderately better when her sister-in-law and nieces show up, but if there is one thing that those two little ones did not like, it was getting dirty. To forestall the screaming fit that would erupt if a speck of anything tarnished their princess dresses, Sarah set the seven and three year olds up at the kitchen table with coloring books and a tablet streaming kid-friendly YouTube. Martin and Trent make quick work of the garage, arranging for a local scrap yard to collect some of the larger items before they return to the blissful relief of the air conditioning. With the house in a much more manageable state, the three adults and one teenager decide to tackle one last area.

The Basement.

Tiffany and Martin stand in front of the door. It is unlocked. It has always been unlocked. But Tiffany has never set foot on the staircase before. The Basement was Dad’s Space: Do Not Enter, By Royal Decree, Under Pain of Grounding. 

“Ok, brother mine, go ahead. You know what’s down there, right? We gonna need to have Trent haul old computers out on his back?”

Martin slowly turned  his head, looking at her as if she had suddenly sprouted whiskers, a tail and called herself Lassie. “The Hell you talking about? I’ve never been down there. I didn’t have a death wish.” 

“You two are ridiculous” Sarah shoves her tiny frame between the siblings and opens the door, feeling along the wall for a lightswitch.

It isn’t necessary. 

As soon as the door opens, lights begin to flicker, a generator hums to life, and metal shutters slam down covering every exterior window and door. 

BIOMETRICS UNIDENTIFIED. SYSTEM LOCKDOWN INITIATED. STATE IDENTITY.

The voice that echoes out of the walls of the house was definitely their father, but much younger. Tiffany remembers that voice reading her bedtime stories when she was Jenny’s age. It shouldn’t be yelling like this.

STATE IDENTITY. INTRUDERS WILL BE TERMINATED. 45 SECONDS.

“WHOA! DAD! Um...It’s Martin...the person who opened the door is my wife Sarah…”

MARTIN: VOICE PRINT CONFIRMED. SARAH: IDENTITY VERIFIED. FOUR MORE INDIVIDUALS IN THE BUILDING

“SHIT! DAD, Don’t shoot. It’s me, Tiffany. The other three are the kids, Trent,  Maria and Jenny. DO NOT TERMINATE ANYONE!”

TIFFANY: VOICE PRINT CONFIRMED. BIOMETRICS CONFIRM CHILDREN IN THE HOME. TERMINATION SEQUENCE CANCELLED. PLEASE ENTER THE WORKSPACE

“Oh, hell no. Nope. Not gonna happen. You two have fun going down into deathville. I’m taking the kid and we are going to sit and watch videos with the girls. You can deal with whatever craziness your father dreamt up.” Suiting actions to words, Sarah stomps down the hall, dragging a wide-eyed Trent with her. Tiffany and Martin peer down the narrow stairs. Only room to go down single file. An intense battle of rock-paper-scissors breaks out, with Tiffany coming out the loser. 

“Big bad Marine sends his baby sister to her death. I can see the headlines now.”

“Shut up, you won’t die. Dad liked you better anyway.”

At the base of the stairs is one of the most elaborate computer systems Tiffany has seen outside of NASA. Security cameras show the exterior of the house, and a couple of warehouses and storage rooms that have even more sensitive equipment set up.  On one screen, there is a countdown. 3 days, 7 hours, 56 minutes, 18 seconds.  Right in the center of the console was a simple VCR, with a post-it note that said “Play Me”. Tiffany elbows Martin, and he reaches forward to hit the play button. The center screen comes to life. 

Their father is sitting in his recliner, holding his glasses in one hand, a bottle of scotch on the end table next to him as he rubs at his eyes. With a deep breath, he looks into the camera.

I’m sorry kids. I’m so damned sorry. If you’re watching this it’s because the toxin got to me, and I’m no longer with you to explain. Your mother’s death was not natural. We had been working together to contain an airborne contagion that was manufactured by accident. By Our people. Our government covered it up, said that it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Making fools of ourselves, overreacting. You know how it goes.

He paused to take a long swig out of the bottle at his side.

 We were the last hope and we failed. I got so close, so close to fixing it and then my samples were stolen right before we found out about little Jenny. I’ve been working backwards ever since. I wish I could say that everything is ready to go. That all you have to do is call General Whats-his-face and you could save the world. But I can’t. I can’t. I don’t know how far the damage will reach, but there are enough supplies in the basement here that you can survive for about three months. God I hope you brought the little ones with you. If the lockdown was triggered, it won’t lift for three months. By then you should be able to survive whatever diluted toxin is left. And whatever is left of humanity by the end of all this. 

With a last swallow of scotch and tears running down his face, their father reached forward and turned off the camera. Tiffany’s eyes are drawn to the countdown again, finally reading the heading:

PROJECT ESCHATON GOES LIVE

3 d: 7 h: 50 m: 20 s

[mig42no]

"OUTBREAK" A Jacksepticeye Horror story @therealjacksepticeye and @wiishu Part One - New Neighbors The sun shone on the busy town of Brighton as the clock struck twelve noon, everyone on the streets were busy doing their daily tasks. Cars honked as they drove along the highway, attempting to merge with the daily traffic. Among the vehicles was a moving van, with its driver hastily squeezing between the other cars to reach the place within the specified time of arrival. The truck made a left and into a less busy suburban road, eventually stopping by a house a few blocks away from where it had turned. The front door of the house was wide open as a tall, skinny man with green hair has been waiting for them there. The man looked up from his phone and saw the truck, he glanced at his watch and approached the delivery guy with a wide smile. "Nice, you got here right on time! Too many cars on the road at this time of day, eh?" He commended, his voice high and Irish. The worker brought out his clipboard and read out the man's name, "Mr. Seán McLoughlin?" He asked. "Yes." Seán smiled. "Will you please sign here?" The man gave him the clipboard and the Irishman gladly complied. "Alright, boys! Let's get movin'!" The driver ordered. Two others jumped from the passenger side and began their task. __________ Two hours had passed, and the men had already finished unloading Seán's belongings from the truck and had brought them in the house. "Thank you, kind sirs." Seán said, giving the driver a tip for their job. The driver did not leave his spot yet, "Uh, Mr. McLoughlin? Will you please sign my daughter's shirt?" Seán's eyes widened in surprise upon seeing the guy unfold a black t-shirt with an image of an eyeball with green sclera and blue iris printed on it. "You are Jacksepticeye, right? The famous YouTuber?" The Irishman grinned, "Aw, come on, I'm not that famous! I'm just a guy screaming at video games." He chuckled, signing the shirt with the marker he was provided. "You've made my daughter laugh whenever she's feeling down, and for that I am eternally grateful." A single tear slipped out from Seán's eye. "I'm always happy to help, sir." He couldn't help but smile as he handed him back the shirt. "Thank you very much, Mr. McLoughlin." The man bid goodbye. "Don't mention it!" He waved, watching the truck drive away. Seán walked back to his new house, still having a wide grin on his face. On the front porch was a woman waiting for him, she had short brunette hair, bright blue eyes, and a slim frame. She was holding up her phone recording him as he approached her. "The famous Jacksepticeye bidding goodbye to the moving guys." The woman laughed. Seán put his arm around her and kissed her forehead, "This is it, Signe. I can't believe we'd be able to afford our own house." The couple walked into their new home together, genuinely proud of how far they've come, and how strong their relationship had been over the years. He suddenly felt his girlfriend wobble slightly, her skin was cold and she looked pale. "Hey, babe. Are you alright?" He stopped walking, voice echoing in the living room that lacked furniture. "I'm fine, Seán. I think I'm a little bit winded after a whole day of cleaning up the house." "You should take a rest." Seán guided her to the couch. "I should be preparing supper." Signe rushed over to the kitchen, her heels clattering on the tiled floor, "We have guests coming over, remember?" "How about I cook? You don't look fine to me." "I'll be fine, Seán, stop stressing yourself over me." "Are you sure?" "Uh, what's that? I can't hear you over the sound of the radio!" Signe's voice came from the other room along with the sound of her portable radio blasting music. Seán laughed. He then went up the stairs, "Call me if you need anything." __________ The doorbell rang. It could be heard throughout the house. Seán was at his recording studio working on his setup when he heard it. The man ran down the stairs and dashed for the door, adjusting his shirt in the process. He opened it and two people were standing there: a man and a woman, their hands linked together. "Felix! Marzia! Glad you came!" Seán greeted the couple with a hug. "Come in! And welcome to our humble abode." "Marzia!" Signe ran and hugged her, their height difference noticeable when her arms wrapped under Marzia's arms. "Now, it's time for dinner." She guided the couple to the dining room. The four were enjoying the food Signe has prepared. They were sharing their most cherished memories with each other, not noticing how fast time flew by. Upon finishing, Seán stood up, "I'll do the dishes." "And I'll help you." Felix helped gather the plates and went after him into the kitchen. "So, how's your first two days in Brighton treating you?" Felix asked, handing him a bottle of dishwashing soap. "Still managing, but overall good." Seán scoffed, who was carefully placing the fragile plates in the dishwasher, "There's still some stuff to set up like my recording studio, and we need some furniture." "I'll tell you what," The Swede said with a smile as he sat on the counter, "How about we take you two to the pier tomorrow evening? Y'know, for a little rest from making videos and doing all this." Seán's face sparked with joy, "Sounds great, Felix!" His excitement evident in his tone, "It'll be the perfect place!" "Prefect place for what?" "This." His wet hands dug into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet pouch. He unbuttoned the cover and took out a shimmering, diamond encrusted ring. Felix gasped, "You're going to tie the knot?" He whispered, sounding more excited than his friend. "What does it look like?" He chuckled, "When I first met her, I knew that she's the one. I wanted to propose to her a month ago, but I decided to hold back until we have moved out of Athlone, and the Brighton pier seems like the best place to do it." "Congratulations, bro." Felix patted Seán's back, "I'll tell Marzia and we'll make sure you two have the time of your lives." "Thanks, man. For everything, and I mean everything. Without that Pewdiepie shoutout I dunno if I'd be able to buy my own house." Seán said wholeheartedly, pulling his friend for a hug, "Thank you." "No problem. Will I be the best man?" "Hey, don't rush me." The Irishman laughed. "Seán! Felix!" Marzia's yell came from the living room. Her panicked yell alerted the men, especially Seán. The two ran to her aid and saw Signe with her head in a bucket, gagging. "She said she's feeling lightheaded." "Signe." Seán pat her back as she vomited even more, "I told you you should've taken a rest." She was catching her breath, a thick strand of drool dripping from the side of her mouth, she was pale as a piece of paper. "Come, I'll bring you to bed." He scooped her up in his arms and carried her bridal style as he walked up the stairs. Minutes later, Seán went back down, "She's alright now. Just tired from a hard day's work." "Thank God." Marzia's hand went to her chest, "I hope she'll get better." "I told her she should rest." The man brushed strands of green hair from his forehead. "And you, green Pewdiepie, should get some rest as well." Felix said, glancing at his watch, "You have a big day tomorrow, and it's getting pretty late." "I'm so excited for you, Seán!" Marzia cheered, "We'll pick you up tomorrow morning." "Thanks for coming over." Seán led them to the door. "Thanks for having us." Felix replied. It was a cold evening, Seán shivered as he guided his friends out of the house and walked with them until they reached the sidewalk. It was past eight in the evening, people have begun settling in their houses after a hard day's work. The streetlights illuminated the sidewalk along with the lights from every house on the block. "One last thing, Jackaboy," Felix stopped in his tracks, "In case Marzia makes me sleep on the couch again, do you mind if I crash here?" He asked in a serious tone then beamed at his girlfriend, who responded with a grin. Seán guffawed, "Anytime." He waved goodbye to them, watching the two walk to their house that was just one house beside his. _________ He locked the doors and went up the stairs exhausted, his feet making heavy thumps on the floor as he went to their room. Seán silently pushed open the door to not disturb his sleeping girlfriend. The room was dimly lit orange by a single lamp on their bedside table, illuminating the bed and a lone cabinet. To his shock, no one was on his bed. "Signe?" He called out, before noticing light coming from the bathroom. He approached the door and heard sobs, "Signe? Are you alright?" He knocked. The door opened and Signe showed up, rubbing her eyes with her sleeve. She looked up at him, her eyes swollen with tears. "What's wrong?" Seán's heart sank upon seeing her. "T-There's something, I-I need to t-tell you." She stammered. "You can tell me anything." He pulled her in for a hug and led her to sit on the edge of the bed. "I've been feeling quite ill a few days now," She recounted, "I'm sorry, Seán." "Sorry for what?" He narrowed his eyes, utterly confused. She didn't say a word. Instead, she rolled up her sleeve that was concealing what she was holding in her hand: a small rectangular plastic apparatus with a small oval window at the center that serves as an indicator. Seán took the object in his hand and looked at the small window. Two pink lines. He gasped, his mind racing and so was his heart. "You're... pregnant?" "I missed my cycle five days ago." She bowed her head, "I'm sorry." A smile immediately formed on his face, "What are you talking about? This is great!" He lifted up her chin to look at her. A huge wave of relief washed over Signe, and those tears of sadness were instantly replaced with joy. She pulled him closer and kissed him on the lips. "I'm going to be a dad!" Seán declared, rubbing his girlfriend's belly. His heart overflowing with joy knowing the great news. He was happy that it was Signe who got to carry his child, the woman he has been with for three years. "Hopefully he, or she, won't be as loud has the father." Signe laughed, placing her head on his shoulder as he giggled at the thought. "We'll be up all night when this little loudmouth is born." He said. "I can't wait to-" Suddenly, loud blaring of emergency sirens came from outside, sounding throughout the area. It was followed by distant screams for help, tires screeching and gunshots firing. "What the fuck is that?" Seán approached the window blinds and peeked through the slits. He saw smoke rising from a few blocks, people on the road were running away being chased by other people. A van swerved into view and ran over a couple of the pursuers, splattering blood on the windshield. Not long, the vehicle crashed into a nearby telephone pole knocking it over and blocking the road. Seán glanced back at the victims of the hit and run to see them rise again from their puddles of blood, they were making indistinct gurgling sounds, limping as fast as they could to the crashed van dragging their broken limbs along the way. The group surrounded the van and used their bare fists to punch through the glass. "What's going on?" Signe grabbed his arm and peeking through the window like him. Seán watched in horror as the poor man was pulled out of his van and swarmed by the group, screaming in terror. Seán screamed upon seeing a bloodied human foot fly out of the horde. "Holy fuck!" He shrieked. Signe jumped and looked away, "What is going on?!" She dashed towards the window but her boyfriend pulled her away from the awful carnage. He ran to the door, "Stay here. I'm gonna board up the house." She held her boyfriend's hand preventing him from moving any further, "I'm coming with you."