#so yeah please pray for the folks in the state

[simplyghosting]

Just a heads up, looks like a Cat 3 hurricane is hitting Florida this week, which hasn’t happened where we are since around 2005. Winds at that level are pretty destructive and there’s already flooding issues right now from the construction and rainfall, so prayers are appreciated.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

i uh.. i’m sorta scared to request cus u feel like a celeb with how damn good your writing is😭 anywaysss a super sad soda oneshot would literally make my day please ahahaaa

Hi lovely! That's so sweet of you to say, thank you for your request. i hope this lives up to expectations lol, its based off this line from canon:

"The only noise was the nurse's soft footsteps and Soda's light breathing. Darry looked down at him and grinned half-heartedly. "He didn't get much sleep this week," he said softly. "He hardly slept at all." "Hhhmmmm," Soda said drowsily, "you didn't either.""

****************************

Sodapop had never much liked church.

He’d always had trouble sitting still, and when he was little spending two hours sitting still and listening to a sermon he could hardly understand was like torture. As he got older, sitting still never became any easier, now matter how hard he tried, and the leniency afforded to a squirming child wore thin once he was about eight. But church had been important to mom, and anything that was important to mom was important to dad too. Darry had hated church as much as he did, always too practical to put much faith in it.

“How am I supposed to not believe in Santa but believe there's a man in the sky watching over me?” Darry had asked dad one day when mom was in the kitchen making sandwiches for the church picnic. Dad had taken him and Darry aside then and explained that their thoughts were their own and they could think them all they wanted, but that church was about more than the preachers stories and prayers to God, that it was about community and helping people and learning to dress nice and act properly, so they would all have to keep going. That had sated Darry, ever the dutiful son, and he’d gone in good spirits and kept his disbelief to himself further such that mom and Ponyboy- who’d been fascinated by the stories ever since he could start to understand them- who believed in God wholeheartedly wouldn’t overhear him.

Soda hadn’t been too sure for a while whether he believed in God or not. He’d spent more time focusing on trying not to squirm too much under mom’s glare to puzzle out his thoughts on the universe, and when he was outside of church he was much more focused on fooling around town with Steve than he was thinking about God. He figured it best to leave such thinking to smart folks like Darry or deep folks like Ponyboy, or even pious folks like mom, than for someone dumb like him to think over it. Chances were, no matter how hard he tried to puzzle it out, he’d get it wrong. He tended to get a lot of things wrong. He’d gotten most of his math test wrong the week before, and he was already failing english. So yeah, better leave such thoughts to people who could actually figure it out. It didn’t matter anyway. He still went to church either way, still listened to mom’s scolding after each sermon, and then promptly washed his hands of the whole mess until the next sunday morning.

Then mom and dad had died and they’d stopped going to church. Well, he and Darry had. Pony still went, though whether it was because he still believed or because he felt closer to mom doing it Soda wasn’t sure and he hadn’t dared ask, not when Pony had been in such a fragile state, hardly speaking for months. Truth be told, it had scared him something awful. It had scared Darry too.

Still, much as he hadn’t liked church there were some things he remembered vividly. He remembered the hard bench under his knees when they knelt to pray. He remembered the times mom had dragged him to confession after he and Steve had done something particularly bad, and he remembered the stories. In particular, he remembered the stories of purgatory, of the inbetween, of waiting for heaven or hell, being stuck between salvation and damnation. Mom had always been terrified of purgatory, always abhorred the thought, seemed more averse to it than the idea of hell. Soda hadn’t understood. He’d rather be stuck between life and death than stuck in a pit of fire being tortured forever. When he’d said as much mom’s eyes had filled with shadows.

“Waiting can be it’s own kind of torture, dearest.”

He hadn’t understood then. For all his trouble sitting still, he’d still thought snakes and fire and pain had to be worse than waiting for something- even salvation.

Now though, he’s starting to understand. 

Ponyboy and Johnny have been missing for almost three days, and Sodapop is starting to lose his mind. Here he is, helpless, unable to do anything to find them, to help them, unable to do anything but wait. 

Per usual, mom was right. This is torture. 

He is not used to being unable to do something. Usually he does everything, anything, all the time. Together, he and Steve are a whirlwind, both unable to stop moving for more than a minute at a time, a wild, reckless, fun loving, unstoppable force. But he can’t find a kid brother who doesn’t want to be found, can’t search for a kid who left no clues- and even beating the shit out of Dallas hadn’t made the hood tell him where the kids went. Even though he knows Dally knows.

So all he can do is wait. Darry is in a similar state to him, unable to do anything and horrified by it, but Soda is still so mad at him he can hardly find it in himself to care. He knows Darry didn't mean to hit Ponyboy, just like he knows Pony didn’t mean to be late for curfew- but he still did it, and now Pony is missing. Their fourteen year old kid brother, who loves books and movies and doing dumb shit with Johnny, who is tough but not mean enough to properly defend himself, is missing. 

Shit. How did his life come to this? A year ago all his biggest worries were passing English and trying to get Sandy to go out with him. Now, he’s got dead parents and a missing kid brother and a girlfriend who's been so cagey recently he knows something is wrong even if she won’t tell him what.

Darry is in the recliner, reading the newspaper but he’s been reading it for the past three hours and hasn’t turned the page even once. Soda is on the couch, knee bouncing, not doing anything at all. The clock on the wall ticks methodically, mocking him. The face reads 12:37. This will be the third night Pony has been gone. Soda can’t help but wonder where he’s sleeping, if he’s warm enough, if he’s scared. His nightmares are bad enough when he’s home. What if he has one while he’s away? Sure, Johnny’ll take care of him, but he doesn’t know how, not really, not like Soda does. Johnny doesn’t know that Pony will need him to look away for a minute while he wipes his eyes, and then need to talk for a few minutes before he goes back to sleep. Johnny won’t know he needs someone to stroke his hair to calm him down, but that he’d never in a million years ask for it.

The clock ticks, the minute hand creeping closer and closer to the top of the clock. Soon, it will be once in the morning, just five hours before his opening shift at the DX. He should get some sleep, he knows, but he can’t face that room, that empty bed where his baby brother should be, safe and warm, not out somewhere in the cold. He can’t shut his eyes on the couch either, not when sleeping could mean missing the moment Ponyboy calls or walks through the door. So he sits, knee bouncing, and he waits, his other brother holding his own vigil in the armchair. They’re united in their terror, pulled apart by anger and remorse, and their salvation is a rusty haired kid running from a crime he didn’t commit, somewhere in the darkness.

Part of Soda is tempted to say that this, the waiting, is the worst thing ever, but then he remembers that after purgatory can be heaven, yes, but it can also be hell, and that is not something he is prepared for right now, or ever again. It was bad enough losing mom and dad. He’d rather spend forever waiting for Ponyboy to come back than to find out something terrible has happened to him.

Still, each second that passes is an eternity, and each minute an infinity without Ponyboy here with them, and the clock mocks him evermore as time passes and nothing happens.

“Do you think,” Darry clears his throat, looking the sort of young he only ever looks this late at night, when Ponyboy is asleep and the gang is gone and he can be Darry instead of Superman, “do you think he’s alright?”

Part of him wants to say nothing, to give him the coldness of silence until Pony is returned to them, to let him suffer for his hand in their brother’s disappearance, but Darry is all he has right now, the only other person on earth who understands, and Soda cannot bring himself to be that cruel.

“Yes.” He says instead, because Ponyboy has to be alright, and he cannot torture himself with thoughts of his personal hell when he is already being tormented living in this purgatory.

Darry nods and goes back to staring blankly at his newspaper. The clock reads 2:13 the next tim he deigns to speak.

“You should get some sleep, little buddy.”

“I can’t.” He tells him honestly, and Darry doesn’t fight him, too tired or too defeated or maybe just too guilty to even try. 

“Yeah,” Darry sighs, “me neither.”

They sit like that, trapped in purgatory, until the sun rises over the horizon. Eventually, Darry rises to go shower, Soda goes to start breakfast, and they begin the fourth day without Ponyboy.

The day passes much like the night, waiting, waiting, waiting.

Pony doesn’t call. He doesn’t come home. Dusk falls, and Soda and Darry take their places in the living room.

Purgatory continues.

They wait.

[queencryo]

update: i went to the doctor and they were like 'mm. yeah thats fucked. see a dermatologist here's a 'see the dermatologist' paper'.

by their own reckoning, it'd be a week or two at *best*. i called a few dermstolgists.... the best appt i could grt was nov 7, after Carey (the scheduler) looked through like. *all* of the clinics in the state ran by these folks after i told them how scared i was. i cried a lot on the way home.

got hone, called more places, nowhere had any appts anytime in the next month, second-best was december. apparently got confused because I called n spoke with Carey again by accident, they'd already put me on the 'call if theres a cancellation' list, i cried again and thanked them. Five minutes after I hung up with them, i got a call back: someone had cancelled and tbey called me right away, and I now have an appt in a town 20 minutes away, tomorrow morning. 'Dont cry, because then i'll start crying too'. I told them thank you so much, and god bless them, and im serious if you pray please wish them well tonight (i dont know how to pray)

So. I feel better than I did this morning. I feel blessed, and grateful. Please put Carey (i wish id asked how their name is spelled...) in your prayers if you have any, i love them.

i did a tarot reading today. two, actuallh, with two different decks. I couldn't understand everything the first was saying, except that i probably have cancer (i might be like. panicking and being biased. u know how it is.) The second seemed to be saying that my closed-off and shielded nature is holding me back, and by deliberate and measured effort I can work to fix that and be less fucked. And in so doing I will find community. That feels pretty right. First Real Readings ive ever done tho so. idk

Hung out with new person R, and roommates. Mostly did not think too hard about The Thing. So thats good.

Roommate J says she once went to an urgent xare for a suspicious mole, and they said it was definitely cancer. Then she want to a derma, who said 'nah thats not cancer'. so thats kind of relieving. Mine looks... *bad* though, i dont knkw..

in all... im scared, really scared. But at least I'm not paralyzed with terror like I was last night.

[leossmoonn]

Personal Pillow

masterlist

pairing - jess mariano x fem!reader

type - fluff

note / request - requested by @elovescm “ok so i’m thinking jess mariano x fem!reader in which reader calls jess & says she can’t sleep so jess climbs in through her window to cuddle and read her to sleep <3 and just to add a little something - jess definitely would be very touchy (not necessarily in a sexual way) like playing with your hair etc” . not really edited, enjoy!

summary - jess comforts you after a restless night 

warnings / includes - very mild language (like on or two words), lots of loving touching (hair playing, back scratching, etc.), kissing, jess reading little experts from the color purple (literally one of the best books ever)

————

*gif isn’t mine*

“c’mon, pick up, pick up,” you muttered as you laid by the phone, praying that your boyfriend was also having a sleepless night, or was still for other reasons. 

“hello?” jess picked up after the fifth trill.

“oh, thank god,” you muttered. “y/n, what’s up? it’s one in the morning,” jess asked.

“i’m having a lot of trouble sleeping. every time i try to sleep i feel so uncomfortable. i have weird dreams and i just wanted to talk to you,” you explained.

“i’m sorry,” jess sighed groggily. “it’s fine. i don’t know why my brain and body won’t shut up. i know it’s fall break, but i’d still like to get a decent amount of sleep,” you huffed.

“let me see if i can help,” jess said. “please do,” you exhaled deeply.

you heard some rustling from his end before he talked again.

“your folks still in south carolina?” he asked. “yep, and won’t be back until tomorrow night,” you answered. “great,” jess said, a hint of a smile in his voice.

you didn’t think anything of it, though. it was best not to question him and his devious plans. you would always find out later, anyways.

“it’s really weird not having them here. i know i’m almost an adult, but it’s still weird to be alone here. like, this house is too big for just one person. it feels so cold and lonely and… ah, i’m creeping myself out.” your heart started to race and you shrunk back in your bed, finding comfort in your warm blankets.

“don’t think about that. think about… all of the cute decorations your mom is bringing back to you.”

“mm, yeah, i am excited for that. i love souvenirs,” you smiled. “i know you do. you better not break those, though. remember that one keychain i bought you when i went to michigan with my mom, and you somehow broke it by dropping it?” jess teased. 

“ah, yes! but that wasn’t my fault. it was made poorly,” you giggled. “mhm, sure. you just don’t want to admit you’re clumsy,” jess stated. 

“well, because i’m not!” you denied. “yeah, when you’re not clumsy, pigs will fly,” jess snorted. 

“i thought you were here to make me feel better, not worse,” you pouted. “oh, i’m sorry, bubs. you know it’s all in good fun, though,” he said. you could hear his smirk.

“yeah, i know,” you smiled. 

you frowned as you heard footsteps from outside. twigs were snapping, leaves crackling; it was like you were in your own stephen king book. 

“jess,” you called out wearily. “what’s wrong?” jess asked. “i-i think someone is outside my window,” you whispered. “i’m going to hang up, and-and call the police.”

“no, y/n! it’s me!” jess exclaimed. you then heard a knock on your window, the same sound coming from his end of the line. 

“what?” you jumped out of bed, running to your window, gasping to see jess down below, holding a few pebbles. he was in a wife-beater and blue and green  plaid pajama pants. a smile lit up your face and you hung up the phone, hastily pushing the window open. “what are you doing here?” you whisper-shouted. 

“well, you said you couldn’t sleep and that you wanted me to be here, so here i am,” he grinned. 

you laughed, “i meant on the phone, silly.” “oh, so you’d rather me just go back home?” he tilted his head. 

“no! i just… you are just full of surprises, mariano,” you sighed dreamily. “why, thank you. now, hold this ladder,” he said, putting the ladder against your wall.

“you brought a ladder?” you raised a brow. “yeah, how else was i supposed to get up through your window?” he smirked. 

“you can just walk through the door, you know.”

“and that would ruin this romeo and juliet thing i got goin’ on.”

“i didn’t know you were such a romantic,” you teased. “you know you love it,” he winked. 

you moved back so he could climb into your room. once he got in, you shut the window, then turning your attention to him. 

“hello, beautiful,” he grinned at you. your body warmed under his gaze and you looked at him shyly, your eyelids lulling shut. your brain and body seemed to finally relax from just him being in your vicinity. it was magic how someone you loved could make you go from scared and lonely to warm and fuzzy. 

“hey, handsome,” you grinned back. 

his hand reached up to your face, cupping your cheek. his thumb ran across your cheekbone back-and-forth. you nuzzled into his touch, looking into his eyes with sparkling, dazed eyes. his other hand gripped your hip, caressing your skin through your over-sized tee. you watched his big, pretty brown eyes waver from your eyes to your lips. you both started to lean in, your noses rubbing together. your breathing stopped momentarily as his lips brushed against yours. so soft and gentle, you could faint. 

his lips engulfed yours in a wet, tender kiss. you sighed contently, your hands crawling up his arms and up to his disheveled hair. your fingers ran through his raven locks, cradling his head closer to yours. his hand that was on your cheek went to the back of your head, running his fingers through your tangled hair.

he pulled away slowly after a few more moment, eyes fluttering open. “wanna go back to bed and cuddle?”

“yes, please,” you nodded eagerly.

he slipped his hand into yours as you led him to your bed. you both climbed in, you laying you head on his chest as soon as he got settled. you closed your eyes, bunching up his shirt in your hands.

“feel better?” he asked. “mhm,” you nodded.

“are you going back to sleep?” he asked. you hummed in thought, peering up at him. “maybe in a few minutes. i want to stay awake for as long as possible while you’re here.”

“you should go to sleep now, baby. i’ll be here when you wake up in the morning.”

“you better,” you pouted. “of course, dove.” he sat up, bringing his lips to your forehead. 

you closed your eyes, butterflies fluttering in your chest. he laid back down on your pillow, bringing his arm up and sliding it behind his head. 

“so, what exactly is making you uncomfortable when you try to sleep?” he asked. “i’m either too hot, too cold. my shirt, like, wraps around my body and suffocates me. oh, and the washing machine is going and it keeps waking me up. it’s creeping me out and stuff.”

“i’m sorry to hear that. well, you know, if the sock goblin jumps out of the washer and dryer and makes its way up to your room, i’ll protect you.”

you giggled, looking up at him. “why, thank you. my knight in shining armour.”

“you know me,” he remarked. 

“did i wake you up?” you asked, worry suddenly clouding your mind. “kind of. i had just gotten finished with reading and was trying to go to sleep,” he explained. 

“oh, i’m sorry.”

“no worries. i’ll sleep better here anyways.”

“mmm, always the charmer.” “i get it from my dad,” he snorted. 

“you sure you didn’t get it from you mom’s side? you know, from luke and them?” you teased. 

he grimaced, “don’t even start.” you giggled, “you love me.”

“that i do,” he confirmed. 

“well, do you mind doing some more reading? help me go to sleep?” you asked.

“of course not,” he nodded. he turned his head to your nightstand, picking up the color purple. “i thought you had already read this?”

“it’s one of my favorites,” you yawned and shrugged. he chuckled, “mine, too.”

he opened to the page where you had placed your book mark. he held the book open with one hand, stroking your head with the other. he started to read from the top of the page, his voice changing pitches as he read the dialogue between characters.

his voice was music to your ears. it was low, raspy, but mellow. his eyes followed the words, rapidly going from one sentence to another. he spoke smoothly, barely any pauses of stuttering. it was amazing how fluid he was.

“here’s the thing, say shut. the thing i believe. god is inside you and inside everybody else. you come into the world with god. but only them that search for it inside find it. and sometimes it just manifest itself even if you not looking, or don’t know what you looking for. trouble do it for most folks, i think. sorrow, lord feeling like shit. it? i ast.  yeah, it. god ain’t a he or a she, but a it.”

“shug is a genius,” you mumbled. “that she is,” jess agreed.

he kept on reading. this was your favourite letter that celie wrote in the book. there was so many lessons to learn from the color purple. so much truth in the words that celie wrote to nettie and god. you had always read the color purple once a year, around this time. not reading it would be like caffeine withdrawal. it was even better now since jess was reading to you. 

his fingers twirled your hair around his fingers, massaging your scalp. you breathed in deeply, his masculine, sweet scent filling your nostrils. you breathed out, shoulders falling up and down dramatically. you closed your eyes, basking in his voice, his chest rising and falling, his fingers that were now gently scratching your back. the pads of his fingers crawled up your back, diving under your shirt. you shivered in pleasure at his warm touch, your muscles going limp. 

“i believe god is everything, say shug. everything that is or ever was or ever will be. and when you can feel that, and be happy to feel that, you’ve found It.”

“this is making me cry,” you laughed softly. jess looked down at you, smiling fondly. his hand went back up to your head, running his fingers through your hair. “powerful stuff, huh?”

“it is to me,” you nodded. “well, it is to me, too,” jess said. 

you laughed, “yeah, right. you’ve read this book like, once, and you didn’t even read it. you just skimmed.”

“well, i might have to take another look at it after tonight.”

“you can borrow my copy,” you offered. “just don’t write in it in, okay? you’re annotating drives me crazy.”

jess chuckled, “i’ll do my best.”

you sat up, your elbow holding you up. “if i see even a tiny dot of ink, you will never see your records again.”

jess grinned, admiring your barred teeth and furrowed brows. “yes, ma’am.”

you leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. you laid your head back down on his chest, closing your eyes once again. 

“you’re like, my personal pillow, you know? so comfortable and warm.” you snuggled deeper into his chest. 

“well, i’m glad to be of service,” he rubbed your back. 

you sighed contently as he massaged your shoulders, working out all the knots and kinks that had developed from midterms last week. 

“thank you,” you said. “well, i’m your boyfriend. this is what i’m supposed to do, you know,” he shrugged, 

“no,” you shook your head slowly. “you could’ve just stayed on the phone with me. talk to me about your book and how much you hate working at the diner. but no, you came here in the middle of the night, carrying a ladder. you are just the best.”

“i love you, y/n,” he spoke softly. “i would do anything. even if that means carrying a ladder for a mile.”

you smiled as you began to lull to sleep. you clutched his tank top, inhaling his scent one more time. jess peered down at you, watching you with loving eyes as you fell into a deep sleep. he smiled, his hand returning to your scalp. he entangled his fingers in your soft locks, massaging your scalp once more. 

“goodnight, bubs. sweet dreams.”

————

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[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

WPP - Kenny (We’re The Millers)

This has been sitting in my drafts for months and I was struggling to finish it, but, a bright light ascended from the heavens, in the form of an angel, and that angel’s name is @gladerscake

Big thanks to them for helping me out and finishing this imagine. Go follow them and give all the love and support you can muster!

~~~~~~~~~~

Being in the witness protection program was...interesting.

It definitely was not what you were expecting, but then again, you didn’t know helping out a person you cared about would get you involved in a murder, yet here you are.

You had to leave everything behind, not that you had that much of a life to begin with, but it was comfortable. Now, everything was different. New home in a new state, even a new last name. Thankfully, you got to keep your first name, you were grateful for that at least.

You were surprised to find the most annoying thing was the neighbourhood that the program placed you in. It’s like it was made for Mormons or something, your neighbours were too nice, at least the house to the right of yours. You didn’t really know who lived in the house to the left, working from home had the benefit of never going outside and the only reason you knew who lived to your right was cause those neighbours were the type of people to introduce themselves.

Yuck.

But still, you couldn’t help but be a little curious.

You did know, however, that they had only recently moved in since the one morning truck woke up before your alarm rang that morning. You were grouchy the rest of the day, thus you’ve been slightly petty towards your “new” neighbours since then. You definitely needed to work on your attitude...one day.

After being inside your house for more than a week, you decided you wanted some vitamin D, which you rarely ever did so you must’ve been seriously deprived.

You walked out of the door leading to the backyard with a book in hand, frowning when you saw how overgrown the grass was from your laziness. You told yourself you’d do it later, and by later you meant you would mow your yard when you started to hate yourself enough to the point where you felt too guilty leaving it alone.

You huffed as you sat in one of your lawn chairs that you bought when you moved in, lying to yourself that you were going to spend more time outside when you knew you wouldn’t. A first for everything, you supposed.

A few chapters in, you heard a door open and shut in your neighbour’s backyard, but you thought nothing of it, almost too entranced in your book.

You smiled to yourself when you started to hear 1990s R&B playing softly, not your cup of tea but you enjoyed it occasionally. Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls had just started playing when you heard the neighbour’s back door slammed. “Dude, turn that shit off! You’ve been playing that song constantly and I’m actually getting sick of it. God.” You heard an angsty female voice.

Oh no...you lived next a family.

“Hey!”

You flinched, noticing a blonde girl was talking you. “Uh, hey?” You slowly closed your book, reluctantly walking over to the fence separating the backyards when the girl motioned you over.

“Haven’t seen you around before, just move in?” She asked, smirking slightly, looking you up and down.

You mocked her smirk, not liking the almost condescending look she was giving you. “No, been here for awhile. That’s how I know you’ve only just moved in a few weeks ago.”

The girl’s smirk only grew. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N. Yours?”

“Casey, and that loser is Kenny.” She pointed to the table behind her, seeing a blonde boy sitting somewhat dejectedly in one of the chairs fiddling with a small CD player. “Hey, TLC, get over here!” The boy looked to Casey with a panicked expression, visibly looking like he wasn’t sure if the girl meant it or not. She rolled her eyes, “Come on, dude!”

The boy nodded, frantically walking away to join Casey at the fence. “Hey.” He stuttered, blushing when he noticed your eyes on him.

Casey rolled her eyes yet again. “Yeah, this is Kenny.”

Kenny waved quite adorably, giving you a tight lipped smile. “Did you just move in?”

“No, I-”

“We’ve already had this talk, she’s been here longer than we have.” Casey interrupted, making your blood boil a little bit, her attitude almost worse than yours.

Kenny frowned slightly, but covered it up with a smile. “Oh.”

“Yep. We’ve already become besties.” You said sarcastically, grinning widely, making Kenny genuinely smile a little.

“Kids!” A middle aged man with a stupid haircut, to you anyway, walked over with hesitant look on his face. “Who’s this?”

“Y/N, your neighbour that’s lived here longer than you have. Saved you the trouble of telling him yourself, Casey.” You sneered.

“Oh. Well, I’m David and we’re the Millers! My wife, Sarah, is at the market right now, but I’m sure she’d be glad to meet you sometime.” He smiled widely, making you uncomfortable.

“Uh, dad, chill out. You’re gonna scare away the only girl I find suitable to be friends with in this shit neighbourhood.” Casey whispered harshly.

You didn’t really want to be friends with Casey, you never really got along with girls. Clearly, reading outside was a bad choice...

“Ha ha, if you sass me one more time today, you will be grounded young lady.” David forced another smile.

“Uh, Dad...”

“Shut up, Kenny.”

You quickly realized where the Kenny kid was in the family food chain. It was a shame, the dude was pretty easy on the eyes and seemed nice from what you’ve seen. “Look, I’m just gonna go. Nice meeting you fine folks...” You waved awkwardly, turning around and practically speed walking inside your house.

Well, that was fun...never going outside ever again.

The overall encounter put you in a sour mood, so when the doorbell rang you prayed to god that it wasn’t the yearly check in with law enforcement cause you’d probably get yourself in trouble with that attitude of yours.

You were mildly shocked to see that awkward Kenny guy outside your door, his eyes trained on his feet before you opened the door. “Kenny Miller, right?”

“Uh...yeah, Miller. Uh, I just want to apologize for my, uh, family’s behavior. They don’t have the best of manners, but they’re good people, I swear!” He ranted at such a quick pace that it almost flew right over your head. “So, yeah, sorry.”

You chuckled at his nervousness. “You don’t have to be sorry, especially on the behalf of your family. They don’t seem like the type to appreciate it anyway.”

His eyes widened, holding up his hands and shaking his head. “No, no, no, it’s not like that! They, uh, appreciate me.” You kept your mouth shut, giving him a sympathetic look with a soft smile. He sighed. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“To me, it is. I’ve been in that situation before, so it’s not that hard to notice.”

“Oh...well, they can be nice sometimes I guess.”

“I hope so. Well, it was nice to meet you, Kenny.” You stuck your hand out, smiling when he hesitated but shook your outstretched hand gently.

A week later, you and Kenny actually became friends despite the two of you being almost complete opposites. He was able to poke through your cynical exterior, which was extremely rare for someone to do. He made you laugh, smile, and actually enjoy life when you were with him. You didn’t like it at first, but his adorkable personality won you over.

Kenny was more than overjoyed, he finally had a friend, not one out of pity anyway. The first time you two had hung out, he came “home” with a huge grin on his face. Of course, Casey had to tease him about it all the time.

“I still don’t understand how she can be friends with that loser and not me!” Casey ranted. “It doesn’t make sense!”

“Casey, stop calling Kenny a loser, please.” Sarah sighed, tapping away on her keyboard.

As soon as Sarah said that, Kenny walked through the door with another grin on his face. “Hey, Ma!”

“You don’t have to call me that here, hon.” Sarah voiced, shutting her laptop and walking out of the kitchen, but she smiled to herself.

“Pop your cherry yet?” Casey smirked evilly.

Kenny immediately blushed. “I told you, we’re just friends...”

She rolled her eyes. “You obviously want to be more than just friends with her. You should just ask her out and get it over with.”

“But...Melissa...”

Casey huffed loudly. “Dude, I already told you, she’s probably moved on by now. She was a total babe, she can and probably has done way better than you.”

“Hey...” Kenny frowned, to which Casey just shrugged, her eyes training back to her phone. He sighed as he sat down across from his “sister.” “I do like her...but I don’t know how to bring it up. I’m awful at talking to girls about...that kind of stuff.”

Casey snorted. “Yeah, no kidding.” But she dropped her amused smirk when she saw Kenny glaring. “Sorry, sorry.” She sassed. “I mean, it did work out with the ginger to be fair, but we have to stay in this shithole until further notice. But I really do think you should shoot your shot with what’s her name.”

Kenny rolled his eyes. “Y/N.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just-”

“That girl is bad news.” David suddenly voiced, walking into the kitchen.

“What do you mean by that?” Casey asked.

“Uh, hello? Pay attention to your surroundings instead of that stupid phone of yours to see that we are in witness protection. We can’t trust any of these creepy neighbours.”

“Uh, I think you’re a tad bit paranoid, father dearest.”

“Y/N’s really cool though!” Kenny expressed.

David rolled his eyes. “But we don’t really know her, we don’t know if she’s a snitch or something.”

Casey laughed. “Wow, you really are paranoid, dude.”

“Ha ha, very funny, just go to your room and listen to your Metallicas and AC/DCs.”

Casey’s face contorted into a disgusted scowl. “I don’t listen to that garbage.”

“Shut up.” David simply replied, making Casey stand up and storm out of the room and up the stairs. “Look, Ken, I get you like this girl, but you need to be careful. Don’t say things you shouldn’t and all that. You have a tendency to not know when to shut your mouth. So, don’t do that, kay?”

Kenny nodded curtly, avoiding David’s eyes as he felt his face heat up in slight anger. He knew he had some...issues with keeping his mouth shut about things that should be kept a secret, but he grew up, right? He’s not as naïve as he was before they went to Mexico, but his “family” still treated him like he was five. Plus, he knew you weren’t the type to be a snitch.

While Kenny was dealing with feeling underappreciated, you were having your own set of issues to handle. Today was the day for a check up with law enforcement to make sure you were on your best behavior. You always were, but it still made you anxious to no end. And you prayed that Kenny wouldn’t rush in to your house like he got into the habit of doing when you were interrogated.

Of course, that didn’t happen. 

“For fuck’s sake...” You muttered under your breath when you saw Kenny’s shocked and scared face when he saw you sitting with a couple local police officers.

On your end, it just looked like he was scared of police officers. But Kenny’s mind immediately went haywire, thinking that you called them over to investigate them even though the police were already informed of “the Millers” situation. 

“Kenny, now’s not a good time.” You sighed.

“No, no, it’s okay.” The police officer in front of you said. “We’re done here anyway.” He walked out of your house with his partner, leaving you and Kenny in an awkward silence.

“What was that all about?” Kenny asked, not being able to control the bitter tone in his voice. “Did you think we’re that bad or something?”

“Kenny, I-”

“We’ve been doing really well here!” Kenny interrupted. “No problems with anybody, been on our best behavior.”

“Kenny.”

“I don’t wanna go to jail. I can’t go to jail. We’ve only been here for a couple months.”

“Kenny, stop!” You finally yelled, losing your temper. “They were here to check up on me, for fuck’s sake.”

Kenny’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but still had a slight expression of panic. “Here for you? B-But-”

“I’m in witness protection, you dweeb, same as you.”

“Oh...Wait, how did you know I’m in witness protection?”

“Your family,” You finger quoted, “looks nothing like you. All of you don’t look anything alike. How paranoid and secretive that David is, it wasn’t too hard to put things together. You rambling off like an absolute moron a minute ago just reaffirmed my theory.”

Kenny frowned. “Dang, I thought I had worked on that.”

You smiled slightly. “It’s alright, Ken. I’m no snitch, and I’m not very judgmental about someone’s past. What did you even do though? You’re definitely not the type to break the law.” You chuckled.

“Oh, well, we kinda smuggled some drugs across the Mexican border.” He stuttered.

“Holy shit, dude! That’s sick! What was it? Was it coke?” You grinned, eager to learn.

Kenny blinked at your excitement, but obliged to all your questions, sitting down next to you. “No, it was marijuana.”

Your face slightly dropped in excitement. “Oh. I really think weed should be legal. It’s stupid, it’s not even a hard drug.”

“Well, we’re lucky we even made it out alive. But what did you go through to get yourself here?”

Now, you definitely didn’t judge past crimes of others, if they’ve atoned for it and changed that is, but you had no idea if Kenny would judge you. You actually found yourself not wanting him to look at you in a different light, and you’ve never felt that way before. 

Kenny seemed perfectly sweet, almost too sweet to judge anyone, but on the other hand...the stuff that had landed you in the program was definitely heavier than some weed smuggling. 

Maybe it would be too much for him. Maybe it would be best to just make something up, something less horrible, something he wouldn’t be too shocked by.  As tempting as that route felt, the idea of lying to him weirdly didn’t sit well with you, though. 

Kenny was quick to notice the lengthy pause that followed his question, as well as the way your shoulders tensed and your eyes averted to the parquet floor. Oh no. Had he pried into something too personal? Was he an idiot for asking?

“Oh, um...you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to!” Kenny hurried to assure you, slight panic beginning to etch his bluish-green eyes, his fists clenching and unclenching involuntarily. “I was just curious, is all! I’m sorry if it’s too persona-“ 

“It’s okay!” To his surprise, you pulled on a tight-lipped smile, giving him a look as nonchalant as you could manage at the moment. “Really, you don’t have to apologize for asking. Plus, you already told me about your thing, so...” You trailed off, softly, wondering how to proceed. 

As much as you resented the thought of Kenny seeing you differently, you decided even that unpleasant outcome would still be better than lying to him. You’d rather not. You liked Kenny. Despite not having spent a tremendous amount of time together, you could tell he was a genuinely good person, and you definitely enjoyed his company. Not to mention, it would be a blatant lie if you said you weren’t at all attracted to him. 

Casey may have spent most of their interactions calling him a “loser” in some form or another, but you couldn’t be farther away from agreeing with her. A part of you was positively annoyed with the way she treated him. Then again, taste is subjective. It wasn’t Casey’s fault if she didn’t have a good sense of it. 

With a deep intake of air, you nervously flipped a loose strand of hair over your shoulder, still avoiding direct eye-contact with Kenny. “I, uh...It’s a rough one, really. And kind of a long story. I wouldn’t wanna dump something like that on you, if you’d rather not hear it” 

He tentatively pursed his plump lips, but nonetheless nodded for you to keep going. “I’m sure I can handle it! Whatever it is, I’m not gonna judge you, Y/N. I promise!” 

Promise, huh? Guess you were going to have to see about that. 

Trying to ignore the rapidly increasing pace of your heart and slight tremble in your fingers, you began your story. 

You didn’t want to go into too much detail, for the fear of oversharing, but you did tell him as much as you felt you could. About how you used to have a friend...a pretty close friend, who you cared about a great deal, who had always been kind and generous, alas, a bit of a troublemaker.

About how she had fallen in with the wrong crowd, something you admittedly failed to see coming. How that crowd turned out to be a notoriously vicious gang that had it out for some other poor girl, who had apparently slept with one of the gang leaders’ boyfriend without realizing it. 

How that gang, your friend included, lured her onto a rooftop to “fuck with her” and “teach her a lesson.” Only that night, they went too far and ended up pushing her off. The girl died instantly, and due to the heaping pile of evidence, it wasn’t a particularly long investigation. Almost everyone involved were arrested shortly after, and you, having been brought in as one of the witnesses, had a choice whether you wanted to testify against your friend or not. 

At first you weren’t sure if you wanted to do that and make matters worse for her. However, after some much-needed reflection and consideration, you decided it would be the right thing to do. Someone had died, and your friend played a part in it. You couldn’t turn a blind eye to something that big simply because you two were close. 

Your friend was put away, along with several other gang members. Still, quite a few of them were still out there, and they definitely seemed like the type to hold serious grudges. You were no longer safe at your former home, and now...well, there you where. 

Kenny listened intently all the while, not once daring to interrupt, not even to ask a question. By the way your breathing had hitched and your lips had stuttered at certain parts, he could tell how hard that must’ve been for you to go through in the first place, and how unsettling it was for you to revisit those moments in order to share your story with him. 

You didn’t notice, but as you were nearing the end, Kenny had inched to sit closer to you, his large hand carefully landing on your shoulder with a soft but warm-hearted squeeze. He had briefly hesitated in making that move, but the need to offer you comfort and reassurance overpowered his nervousness. His only hope was that you wouldn’t flinch at his touch, and so he felt a huge wave of relief wash over him when you did no such thing. 

“So...that’s about it. Sorry, I know it’s a fucking bummer story, compared to your weed smuggling adventure.” You attempted a chuckle, only it came out as more of a sad scoff. 

Your heart was still pounding and you were still reluctant to look up at him. Although, as you finally noticed Kenny’s warm hand gently squeezing your shoulder, you felt a soothing brush of comfort spread through your limbs, and you couldn’t deny how nice it felt. 

“Whoa...that’s...I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” Kenny frowned, unsure of what the right thing to say could be. 

“It’s okay, really. I’ve had some time to process it and move on. Well...not completely, but I’d say I’m doing much better now.” 

Kenny went silent for a minute, clearly still digesting the information, and the worries you had about him looking at you differently came back in full force. You opened your mouth to ask him about it, but he beat you by a millisecond, speaking first. “Why...why were you so nervous about telling me?” 

So he had noticed. Figures. The art of the poker face wasn’t something you’d ever truly mastered. It sometimes annoyed you how easy your anxious state was to spot, but there wasn’t much you could do about that. 

“I don’t know, I...I guess I didn’t want you to see me as a snitch or judge me-“

“Judge you?” Kenny interrupted, sounding confused about the mere insinuation. “For what, not sticking up for your friend when she had got herself involved in a murder?” 

“I mean, she was still my friend, so...” 

“So what? That doesn’t change the fact that she got in the middle of something so horrible, that could’ve been avoided, if she had paid more attention to who she hung around.” 

You couldn’t say you had expected that. It was almost weird hearing Kenny talk that way, but you were definitely relieved to hear where he so firmly stood in regards to the whole “judging you” idea. 

You bit your bottom lip in agitation as a thought you had been wrestling with for a while creeped its way into your mind again. “Sometimes I feel like maybe I could’ve done something...could’ve checked up on her more or somehow stopped her from hanging out with them...maybe I could’ve kept her from having anything to do with it.” Your voice grew quieter, sounding barely above a whisper as guilt flashed through your eyes, your muscles tensing, uneasily, at the thought. Kenny was immediately closer, his arm wrapping around you, as if trying to shelter you from your own thoughts. 

“Come on, don’t do that to yourself, Y/N. You can’t control the actions of others, not even your friends. Least of all your friends, probably.” 

You allowed a small smile to touch the corner of your lips as you instinctively leaned into Kenny, his closeness calming you, his soft reassurances shushing the self-deprecating thoughts he could sense looming over you. 

“Yeah, you’re right, I guess. I just try not to think about it often, it really sucks diving into that stuff.” 

“Of course it sucks. I just hope you know that none of it was even a little bit your fault. From what I can tell after spending some time with you...you’re a really good person, Y/N.” 

You looked up at him, noting the way your faces were only a few inches apart by that point. The close proximity brought a rosy tinge to your cheeks. “You think so?” 

“I do! Why wouldn’t I? You’re smart, you’re funny when you want to be, you’re great to be around, and heck, you’re one of the very few people I know who doesn’t make me feel like I’m constantly doing something wrong.” 

Hearing that made you simultaneously happy and sad. With the way Kenny’s “family” treated him almost around the clock, it was no wonder he felt that way. You wished he didn’t have to. You believed someone as wonderful as him deserved so much better. If only he had at least one person close to him who would tell him how much better he was than most guys out there, how anyone should be lucky to call him a friend... or maybe more than just a friend. 

In that moment, you found yourself thinking what it would be like if you were that person. You imagined it would feel the same way it always did when you were around Kenny, only better. In all honesty, you couldn’t find a single reason not to try. What harm was there in trying? Oh, that’s right...something could go badly wrong, and then whatever friendship you had with him would be in shambles.

That’s what the pessimistic side of you thought about it. But the other side, the more hopeful and affectionate side, had other ideas. 

Even though you and Kenny were brought into the witness protection program by very different circumstances, you were still in it together. You didn’t have to hide your true identities or your past, at least not from each other. That had to count for something, right? 

While you were taking a second to collect your thoughts, Kenny was facing some inner turmoil of his own. With the newfound closeness of the two of you, his cheeks were positively crimson, his pulse quickening, heart thumping against his rib cage. Any doubts he’d had about whether or not he wanted to ask you out had vanished - he absolutely wanted to do that. But how? When? Would now be a good time? He wasn’t sure. Yet, he was very aware of the fact that if he were to lean in just a little bit closer, he could just kiss you right then and there... 

Kenny briefly remembered David’s “count to three” method, but for some reason it didn’t feel right to use. Not with you, not like that. All he wanted was to just go with the feeling, and that feeling was beckoning him to your lips. 

Oh, screw it. If you were to push him away, so be it. He would probably die a little inside and never attempt to do anything like that ever again, but at least he would know your immediate answer. 

“Kenny...?” 

Your soft questioning voice reached his ears as his gaze trailed over your delicate face, taking in every feature, and with a soft but resolute breath, he leaned in. 

Your eyes went wide when Kenny’s lips landed on yours. You froze for a second, not knowing what to do. Luckily, your instantly skipping heart gave you the hint you needed to flutter your eyes closed and melt into it. 

He kissed you so gently, so carefully, but not like he was afraid of scaring you away. More like he wanted you feel completely safe and give you every chance to stop it the second you wanted to. 

You didn’t. 

Instead, you wrapped an arm around his neck, your fingertips brushing the ends of his short sandy hair, your lips moving seamlessly and warmly against his own.

Kenny couldn’t believe you were actually kissing him back, but damn, he was thrilled that you were. He felt the affection in him surge as the softness of your lips put his mind in a haze. His hand timidly slid down to your waist, bringing you closer to him, and you willingly went, deepening the kiss as you did. 

After a few blissful moments you finally broke away from his lips, your noses nearly brushing each other as you looked up at him through glimmering eyes. “I was almost convinced I would have to do that myself...” 

Kenny breathed a soft chuckle, not taking his gaze off of yours. “To be honest, so was I...” 

You grinned at his burning cheeks, releasing a light chuckle of your own before reconnecting your lips for another kiss, swallowing the muted grunt that rumbled from Kenny’s throat. 

Things were going to get better now. For both of you, you were sure of it. Kenny was finally going to have someone who would show him what it’s like to be truly wanted and appreciated, and you were going to have someone who wouldn’t dream of hurting you and who you knew would always do his best to understand you, give you everything he could give. 

Maybe this whole witness protection program thing wouldn’t be such a tedious affair, after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks again for helping me @gladerscake​ , you’re the sweetest ❤

[cazimagines]

Cazzy, dear! Congratulations on your 900 followers! You deserve it! You writing is fantastic and the writer herself is a sweetie! 💛💛💛 I don't know if you are still taking requests but I wanted to request anything from the smut list with Sebastian Zöllner 👀 (i swear that I tried to pick one but as I was reading the list i just "ohhh this is nice" at least 20 times so... yeah)

Thank you, Artemis 🥺 you are so amazing and kind!

I couldn't decide either 😅 so I consulted @rumblelibrary on the matter and we decided to go with the smut quote, "I couldn't stop thinking about you all day" and the 'Sex in car' so here we go!

It was a normal Saturday.

The radio quietly played in the background as you cleaned the plates from when you had been making an apple crumble which now sat half-eaten on the countertop. Your cat, Mittens, walks between your legs, rubbing up against you in an attempt to try and con more food out of you.

You giggled at her effort, bending down to give her a scratch on the top of her head which had her purring.

You glanced out of the window in front of you, sighing happily as you watched your prized roses lightly sway in the wind, the way the letterbox that you had painted yourself fitted in with the colour scheme of your house made you abundantly happy.

Yes, this was a normal Saturday afternoon.

Until it wasn't.

You watched in shock as a car rounded the corner, and though it had lots of space, it managed to drive straight into your letterbox, subsequently knocking it over.

"What the fuck!" you yell, almost dropping the plate in your hand in surprise. Quickly after placing it down, you picked up the end of your skirts to run quickly to your front door and confront the driver, but as you opened the door you saw a man you had hoped you'd never see again.

"Y/n!" he yelled gleefully, throwing his arms up into the air in excitement.

You groaned, closing your eyes for a second, hoping, praying that when you opened them he wouldn't be there, but when you did he was still there, lifting his sunglasses up and down on his eyes smiling at you.

"Are you drunk?" is your first few words to him, causing him to frown in confusion,

"No?"

"You don't sound very sure"

"I'm confused as to why you would think such things!"

You point to your broken letterbox but Sebastian just scoffs and waves it off.

"I'm not drunk, I'm high!"

"High???"

"High! High on love my dear y/n"

You sighed, once again closing your eyes hoping that this wasn't happening.

"Sebastian, we've been broken up for three years now"

"And you have been on my mind ever since, every year, every month, every day. Like today, I couldn't stop thinking about you all day"

"You're crazy"

"Perhaps, but I've come to take you away, come let's go" he urges, opening the passenger's seat for you to get in but you shake your head.

"I'm not going anyway with you Sebastian"

"Sebastian, Sebastian" he mutters, "Why Sebastian, you always called me Seb before"

"When we were dating, we are no longer dating after you stole that money from me"

"I was going to give it back!"

You scoff, knowing very well he wouldn't and from the look of his worn, messy suit that was almost falling off him, he still didn't have much money, which made you frown at the expensive car beside them.

"Sebastian... where did you get that car?"

"I stole it from my ex-girlfriend"

"You did what?" you exclaim, not believing he could surprise you anymore, yet he did.

"Here look, come with me in the car and we'll take it back together"

"No! There is no need for me to come you should do it on your own"

"But I might not! I might drive somewhere completely different, but if you are there I'll make sure to drive to the correct place"

You bite your lip, a part of you saying you should go, while a part of you said you shouldn't.

"I'd have no way to get back home" you mutter,

"I'll pay for your taxi, she'll pay!"

You sigh and resign yourself to its fate and quickly get into the car. Sebastian smiles widely at you and quickly runs to the other side of the car and gets in.

At first, the car ride was awkward, with Sabastian trying to talk to you, and you effectively ignoring him until he resulted in turning on the music in the car.

You almost chuckled as you heard the familiar sound of the Bay City Rollers 'Saturday night' starting to play through the speakers, fitting for today.

Sebastian rolled down his car window and stuck his head out, enjoying the feeling of the wind rushing through his hair though it made you anxious about his driving. As the lyrics started he shouted them out to the wind.

"S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!, S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!"

You rolled your eyes at his excitement and Sabastian caught it, "Come on! Sing along. You're not going to tell me you've now gone off the Bay City Rollers, you used to sing to me 'Bye-bye baby' all the time, I certainly listened to it a lot after you left"

A soft smile breaks out upon your face as you start to sway to the music and watch how much Sebastian was enjoying himself. It was almost like the good old days when you two were together and it made your heartache missing them.

"Sing!" he exclaimed, looking back over to you, and you just had to give in.

"At the good ol' rock and roll, Folk show, I've gotta go!, Saturday night, Saturday night" you sing alongside him, the mood of the song lifting your spirits a lot.

That's how you and Sebastian spent your trip, driving through landscapes blasting music as loud as you could, singing your hearts out until finally, he pulled in on a ledge on a hill, looking out over a landscape.

"Sebastian this isn't-" you begin but he cuts you off before you could state you weren't at his ex's house.

"I know, I know, I lied, it's just... I really missed you, I missed us, this. It's, it's not the same without you y/n"

You shake your head, feeling your heart falling, "Seb, don't do this, please"

"Why not? We both want this"

"I can't set myself up for heartbreak again"

He licks his lips and then grasps your hand tightly. "I promise y/n, I can change, I won't steal your money again, I won't runoff. Please, Let me have another chance"

He gave you those goddam pleading, puppy dog eyes, tears welling up. He knew how to play you like a fiddle and of course, you gave into him.

Nodding, a smile broke out onto his face and instantly he grasped your face and pulled it onto his, kissing you passionately. You reached up and grabbed his long hair, wrapping it in your fingers and tugging it making him moan into your mouth. After a bit, he tried to push himself nearer you but there wasn't enough space.

"Let's take this to the back," you say and he nod's excitingly.

Getting out of the front of the car, it hardly took you a second till you both were in the back, and you found yourself lying down on the back seats as Seb pushed your skirt up to your thighs and slowly pulled your pants off.

You had to hold onto the side of the seat as you gasped when you felt his tongue lick your sensitive area, twisting upon your clit before diving into your cunt, quickly lapping at you.

His fingers tightened around your thighs as he pushed his mouth into you, determined to have you cum on his face.

Say all the bad stuff you want about Seb, but one thing he always knew how to do well was eat you out, he was an expert at it. In only a few minutes he had you quivering before him, calling out his name, and oh the wonders that did to him, hearing his name upon your lips, it made him more eager, pushing his tongue as far as he could inside of you until you were coming on his face.

He licked up as much as he could before finally pulling his face out of your legs and slowly climbing on top of you to kiss you again, letting you taste yourself upon him.

With one hand he interlocked his fingers with yours, holding you gently and with the other he undid his fly and pulled himself out, slotting his legs between your thighs to start pushing into you.

You cried out and let out a loud moan feeling the way he stretched you out, and Seb also heaved and moaning into your neck as he trailed kisses upon it.

"Oh god, how I've missed you y/n. I've missed this so much"

"No one has ever been the same" you gasp as he starts to move his hips thrusting into yours slow as first, but then picking up the pace.

"That's because you were meant for me, no one else could satisfy you the way I do, and no one else ever will get a chance to"

"I'm all yours" you exclaimed in the heat of the moment, and at hearing your words he eagerly pushed his hand under your skirt to rub your clit, making your back arch from blinding, please.

"Seb- I'm going, I'm going to"

He grunted as he pushed into you as hard as he could "Same" was all he was able to say before you felt his seed spill into you as he stilled and the feeling of him cumming within you was enough to send you into your own blinding pleasure, your eyes rolling back as you let out a loud moan.

Eventually, he collapsed onto you, breathing heavily as he pressed lots of kisses upon your face, saying how beautiful and amazing you were,

You sighed, wrapping your arm around him to hold him close. You knew he wouldn't keep his promises, you knew he would run off eventually, that's just who he was, but at least for now, you got a chance to pretend that wasn't so.

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART SIX 

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: major marijuana usage!!  Summary:  Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: say hello to your new potential love interest - he’s cute, no? let’s see how he compares. 

As always, if you see @lantern-inthenight​, tell her thank you for being the very best editor. 

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

On Monday it had dusted snow, but tragically, it had happened while you were in class. You hadn’t even known until you were leaving campus and had seen the lightest coating left on some spots of the grass by the treeline. 

When you got back to the apartment, Josh was already there, stirring a huge pot of something on the stove. The room smelled like a restaurant.

“Josh, oh my god, it snowed and I missed it!” you exclaimed, tossing your jacket over the back of the chair. 

He paused what he was doing to look up at you and chuckled. “Don’t worry, I promise that’s not the last time.”

“What are you making?” you asked, padding across the linoleum to peer over his shoulder. 

“Vegetarian chili,” he answered, lifting a wooden spoon to your face. You blew on it for a moment before taking a taste. “It needs something, but I can’t figure out what.”

“I think it’s perfect,” you replied and meant it, suddenly excited to have a bowl of it. 

He hummed at you. “Thanks, but it’ll be a while before it’s done.”

You watched as he swiped the scraps from vegetables from the cutting table into the compost bucket. 

“You want to watch a movie tonight?” he asked. 

You frowned back at him. “I wish I could, but I’ve got a lot of work to do on my presentation. I’m supposed to be reading it to the class in like two days.”

“Alright,” he agreed, just a shade on the solemn side. There was one thing you knew for sure, and it was that there was a lot you would endure to make sure you didn’t have to see him looking sad. 

“I think I can still concentrate on it if I sit with you during a movie.” 

He laughed under his breath at your bargain. “It’s okay, you can work in your room instead if you’d like. Or, you can have the living room and I’ll keep to my bedroom.”

You scowled at him and pointedly replied, “Don’t be stupid, Joshua. Okay, I’ll make you a deal. I’m going to work on my paper until dinner time, then we can watch a movie.”

“I’ll take that deal.” He reached out and took your hand, shaking it once in a faux professional manner. 

“But, that means I have to work all night on it tomorrow,” you warned, looking directly into his eyes. 

He just grinned back mischievously. 

+++

“So, what happened?” you prompted, dipping a spoon into a cup of strawberry yogurt. Kate peeked up at you over the rim of her cup, crunching a piece of ice as she set it back down on the cafeteria table. 

You had been expecting Josh to join you for lunch, but you’d gotten a text telling you that he had to bail to work on production stuff and he’d see you later. You had been a bit disappointed, but you had to admit that you envied his dedication. Plus, you had Kate to keep you company. 

She poured more of her Diet Cherry Coke from the bottle into the cup of ice as she talked. “Not much, honestly.” She looked like she was going to continue until her gaze caught on something over your shoulder. 

You were just about to turn your head to find what she was looking at when she spoke again abruptly, making you halt all movement. “Don’t look, but there’s a guy by the vending machine that keeps looking at you.” 

You gave her a surprised look. “Oh, what does he look like?”

“He’s kinda handsome - short blonde hair, probably a little taller than you, a little shorter than me.” She paused, fiddling with the cap of her soda bottle as he snuck peeks at him from across the room. “Okay, quick look.”

You chanced a glance over your shoulder and hummed as you turned back to her. “I think I’ve seen him around. I don’t really know him though,” you stated. “Are you sure he’s not looking at you?”

She huffed amusedly at you. “Pretty sure he’s not.”

“Ooh, speaking of,” you started, reaching out and nabbing one of the waffle fries off of her plate and popping it into your mouth. “Have you been texting Jake?” 

“Not really.” A scarlet-colored smile was forming on her lips. 

“Does that mean yes?” you pressed when you realized that was all the information she was going to give you. 

She shrugged at you, already collecting the remainder of her lunch to toss away with a cheeky look. 

It wasn’t until your last class that you realized where you’d seen that boy before, and embarrassingly, it wasn’t until he was already sitting next to you. 

You glanced over at him, trying not to look too surprised. 

“Hey, do you care if I take this spot today?” he asked, seemingly knowing what your answer would be. You kind of wanted to say no, just to prove him wrong. 

“Yeah, sure,” you agreed sweetly instead. 

“I hope this isn’t weird, but I saw you at Bennie’s party on Saturday and I guess I just wanted to formally introduce myself. I’m Trevor.”

He held out an open palm for you to take, and you cautiously did. “It’s nice to meet you.”

He looked pleased that this was going as smoothly as he had clearly intended - not that he was lacking confidence, but something about his facial posture told you he had expected you to give him a hard time. 

“So, I’m not going to lie, this is partly because you seem to be really good at this class, but would you like to study together sometime? We could maybe get coffee after class.”

You looked at him for a silent beat before replying. “What’s the other part of the reason?”

“You seem nice, and I think you’re very pretty,” he said honestly, giving you a smile. 

You mirrored it back to him with a nod. “Coffee sounds nice.”

+++

You had made it a point to message Kate, telling her exactly where you were and who you were with, and you had texted Josh, telling him you’d be back in a couple of hours. 

Trevor was nice and somewhat funny. He seemed a little intellectually shallow, but you couldn’t actually judge that from an hour and a half long hang out in a coffee shop. 

When you got back to your apartment and checked your phone, you had six messages from Kate. 

Oh i’m kinda shocked

Good for you tho

Is he cuter up close?

Are you guys actually studding

*studying

i’m going to ask around and see if anyone knows anything about him

You snickered to yourself as you were reading them, before quickly typing back, let me know what you find out tomorrow. 

You were greeted by an empty living room and kitchen, but you could see that Josh’s bedroom light was on, so you headed that way as you shedded your extra layers of clothing. 

You knocked on the door frame, though the door was wide open to reveal Josh laying out on his bed with a lit joint between his lips and Penny on his bedside table. Folk music was playing from his laptop in a tinny quality. 

He peeked an eye open at the sound of your entrance, greeting you with a smile. 

“You’re not falling asleep with a lit spliff, are you?” 

“This is my second one,” he replied as if that was supposed to answer your question or quell your concern. “You want some? Or do you want to work on your paper?”

You ran your teeth over your bottom lip. “I finished my paper in class today. My professor gave us the whole period to work on it.”

He perked up then. “I can’t help but notice that wasn’t a no.” And after a pause he finished, “And congratulations - I’m proud of you.”

You gave him an awkward thumbs up that he promptly barked a laugh at.

 “You wanna?”

“I’ve never smoked before,” you reminded him like it might change his mind. 

“C’mere. I’ll help you.” 

You held a finger up at him. “Hang on, I’m going to change. Don’t look at me like that, I don’t want my new sweater to smell like pot, dude.” 

You returned back in your pajamas, still nervous, but now comfy. He patted the spot in front of him on his bed, prompting you to clamber on. Once you were situated, you tugged his comforter over your shoulders from where it was bunched up at the bottom of his bed. 

“Are you good?” he asked. 

You nodded at him, nervous enough that he could sense it. 

“I’m going to shotgun you, okay?” He put his hand on your knee for comfort, and you had to admit that the touch helped ground you. 

“Okay,” you replied quickly. 

“Okay?” he prompted again, looking less convinced. 

“What does shotgun mean?” you whispered like it was a secret, making him giggle into his shoulder. 

“I’m going to blow the smoke into your mouth. Since it’s your first time, I don’t want you to get super high.”

“Oh. Yeah, that wouldn’t be good,” you agreed. 

“Okay, I’m going to take a drag, and you’re going to open your mouth and suck in the smoke when I blow it out.”

You watched him raise the paper to his lips, the cherry turning bright orange as he inhaled. It wasn’t until he leaned forward with a closed mouth that you realized how...intimate the moment was. 

You weren’t positive he wasn’t going to press his lips directly to yours until you opened your mouth and pulled in his exhale. 

“Hold it in a second if you can,” he instructed, his voice a bit deeper from the smoke. 

You did as you were told, grimacing as you exhaled. “It tastes like dirty socks.”

He snorted a laugh, tipping his head back until it was rested against the wall. 

“I’m not sure what I expected though, because it also smells like dirty socks,” you continued, prompting his laughing to continue until he was sighing contentedly. 

“That’s cute,” he said through a grin. “Innocent.”

You could feel your cheeks warming by the second. You rolled your eyes at him playfully. 

“Do you feel anything?” he asked, sitting back up to attend to you. 

You shook your head. “Not really,” you admitted. 

“You wanna try again? You can just take a hit yourself if you want.”

“Actually could you do it again?” you asked, embarrassed, but not enough so that you were willing to do it alone. 

He gave you a grin, lifting the blunt back to his lips, but this time when he leaned forward, the fingers of his right hand found your jawline, pulling you into him too. When he blew the smoke to you, it was just inches from your lips, and this time you drank it in, forcing it deep into your lungs and holding it there. 

It started to hit you moments after you exhaled it - this pleasant, warm feeling. 

“Hang on,” you said excitedly, throwing the blanket off of you as you scrambled to get off the bed. When you returned you had a little speaker and your phone. The playlist that the two of you had collaborated on for cleaning days started playing, and even though he was laying out flat on his bed, you could see his lips turn up into a smile. 

You laid next to him, resting your head on his arm and giving a pleasant sigh. 

“What’s it feel like?” he asked, a rasp behind the words. He lolled his head to the side to look at you. 

“Warm and fuzzy. Kinda like being in love or seeing a really cute kitten. But also kinda like being on a sailboat in the middle of...I don’t know, some European sea. I can’t think of a single one right now if I’m being honest though.”

When you met his eyes, he was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Damn, that’s awesome.”

He sat up on his elbow and reached past you to grab something from his nightstand. You were going to look and see what it was, but staring at the little speckles of plaster on his ceiling was suddenly the best thing you’d ever experienced. 

“Do you always wear cologne?” you asked, suddenly unsure if you were talking really slowly or if your brain just couldn’t process the sound on time. 

“Usually.” When you were able to look over at him, he had a bag of Tootsie Pops by his side, one of the sticks hanging out of his mouth. “You want one?”

You agreed by holding out your hand, letting him give you whatever flavor chance had picked for you. 

He had unwrapped it already, which you thanked him for as the flavor of grape hit your tongue. 

“What flavor did you get?” you asked, turning over so you could lay on your stomach, head propped up by your hands. 

“Cherry,” he replied through a smile, opening his mouth to show you after he asked, “Is my tongue red?”

You giggled at him. “Yeah, it definitely is.”

There was a long, comfortable pause, but you were in no state to determine how long it lasted. 

“I went on a date today.” It came out like an admission, despite your efforts to keep the statement casual. 

He had an impressed look on his face ”Oh, yeah? With who?”

He sat up with what looked like some effort until he was sitting cross-legged. You breathed a laugh, casting your eyes to the pendant of his necklace where it rested against his sternum.

“This guy, Trevor.”

The shocked smile he gave you felt a little surreal in your state. “I didn’t know you even knew any other people here.”

“I actually met him today,” you admitted. 

“And you went on a date with him?” And before you could answer, he continued. “How did it go?”

“It wasn’t really a date, per se. We just had coffee,” you informed. “And, actually, I even bought my own. “

He raised his eyebrows at you until you realized he wanted you to answer the other part of his question. 

“Oh, it was okay. I liked him.”

“Was he kind to you?” he asked, keeping his expression level. 

You nodded. “Yeah, he was. He offered to get my coffee, but I didn’t want him to think he was like. Doing me some big favor, you know?”

Josh huffed a laugh. “That sounds about right. Sounds like you.”

“We made plans for him to come over on Thursday and study.”

Josh tossed the stick of his sucker across the room, landing it perfectly in the little trash can by his door. “Would you like me to be gone for that?”

You frowned at nothing in particular. “Two things. One, how did you just make that shot? I can’t even move. And two, no, why would I want you to go?”

He shrugged, popping another sucker into his mouth. “I’m full of surprises, you’ve just gotta stick around.”

“Well, I live here so I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” The way you had muttered made him smirk at you. “But no, you obviously don’t have to leave while he’s here. Actually, I’d prefer if you didn’t - I don’t know him very well.”

Josh looked up at you through his lashes for a moment. “Then I’ll be here.”

The both of you hung out on his bed for an indiscernible amount of time, and not once did you ever feel less high. You had intended to get up and brush your teeth, but it didn’t happen, and there was nothing you could do about it. Your eyelids started to feel heavier than you could ever remember them being - like something had ahold of your leg and was dragging you down into sleep. 

The last thing you could recall was the sound of Josh’s smoked-out voice, quietly humming along to the chorus of a song and the visualization of the sound behind your eyes, sweeping back and forth between notes. 

[mldrgrl]

The Matchmaker

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Summary:  Based on this old prompt I got, which I originally said I couldn’t handle, but then inspiration struck and I had to roll with it.  

Scully has only just barely opened the door to the dark office when Mulder is shoving a file into her hands and closing the door behind her.  The projector is on, but the screen is blank, just white square of light and Mulder’s silhouette as he takes her to-go cup of coffee from her hands so she can shrug out of her overcoat.

“Once upon a time,” he says, handing her coffee back to her.

“Really, Mulder?  Once upon a time?”

He smirks good-naturedly and snatches up the remote to the projector to advance to the first slide.  “Once upon a time there was a little tiny tree in a great big forest in New Hampshire.”

“Mmhm.”  

Scully tucks the unopened file under her arm and passes through the warm light of the slide projector to put her satchel down at her workstation.  She takes a momentary glance at a grainy, black and white photo of a large tree and sips her coffee.

“Estimates have placed this particular tree to be somewhere around 400 years old.  This is the earliest photo of it I could find, in the Manchester Daily from 1929.”

“Did someone cut this tiny little tree down and release a great big swarm of deadly mites like the ones we encountered in Washington state?”

“No, nothing like that.”  Mulder winces and scratches the back of his head before advancing to the next slide, another black and white photo from a different angle, wider so that the tree in question stands small and alone in the middle of a field against a backdrop of mighty oaks and firs and pines.    

“Well?” she asks.

“Did you know there are countless legends about enchanted trees?  Trees with magical powers, trees that have the ability to heal or harm or grant wishes or foretell the future?”

“Folklore.”

“Every single culture has some kind of legend about the power of a tree.”

“Mulder, you once tried to tell me the same thing about Bigfoot.”

He ignores the wisecrack and clicks through his slides, narrating the images that appear on the screen.  “The Jinmenju tree in Japan is said to have fruit with human faces that laugh at people who happen to walk by.  There’s the sacred Norse tree Yggdrasil, center of the cosmos and where the Gods gather for daily court.  In Iranian mythology the Bas tokhmak is said to contain seeds that eliminate sorrow and despair.  And the Hungarian égig érő fa or sky-high tree that only selected shamans are entitled to climb and encounter magical worlds in the clouds.”

“Sounds suspiciously similar to Jack and the Beanstalk.”

“And then there’s the Hart’s Location Flame Thrower Redbud.”    

Scully presumes the new slide is the same tree that was in black and white at the start of the slideshow, only now it’s in color.  The leaves are multicolored, mostly red and purple, but some are so dark they’re nearly black.  Though small, the tree stands out in sharp contrast to the yellow fieldgrass, blue sky, and the green trees behind it.

“Well, it’s certainly beautiful,” she says.

“The locals call it The Matchmaker.”

Scully snorts softly.  “And why is that?” she asks.

“If you open up that file I so generously put together for you, you’ll find newspaper clippings from the past half-century, most of them wedding announcements, citing this tree as a key to what led these couples to a happy union.”

“Mulder...you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Of course with any good legend, there’s a catch.”

“Of course there is.”  She puts her coffee down and opens the file, but doesn’t take more than a passing glance at the pages she flips through.

“From what I can gather, and keep in mind this is the Cliff’s Notes version of things, people believe the tree can predict compatibility in couples who make the pilgrimage there.”

“And how, pray tell, does the tree do this?”

“Glad you asked!”  Mulder advances the next slide, a close up photo of the left hand of a woman.  The ring finger is disfigured in some way, appearing to Scully to almost resemble a twig.

“What the hell am I looking at, Mulder?”

“You’re looking at an example of what might happen if a couple is not compatible.  There’s an online Usenet group dedicated to finding matches for anyone who’s had, let’s say, experiences with the tree that have left them unrequited.”

“Unrequited?”

Mulder scrolls through the next few slides without comment.  There’s another photo of the side of a woman’s face with what appears at first to be a small pinecone earring, but on closer look the pinecone is actually attached to the earlobe.  There’s another of a hand, masculine this time, with veins that look like tree roots creeping up from wrist to knuckles.  The last one is a forearm covered with a thin layer of moss.

“They say the only way to reverse the effects is by true love’s touch.”

“True love’s touch,” she repeats.

“Hope you’ve got your hiking boots ready and an overnight bag in the car,” he says, clicking over to an aerial photo of a forest.  “We’re headed to a little town on the outskirts of Crawford Notch State Park.”

She tries not to sigh in response.

*****

The flight to Manchester is less than two hours and they arrive just before noon.  Scully has flipped through the file Mulder gave to her, and though the clippings make for amusing anecdotes, she sees nothing noteworthy or remarkable.

“What exactly is your interest in this case,” Scully asks, buckling her seatbelt after she takes her usual navigational seat in their rental car.  “Not that I even believe there actually is a case here, let alone an x-file.”

“You don’t think it’s unusual just how many couples cite that tree as a turning point in their relationships?”

“Not really.”

“You’re not even a little curious?”

“About what?”

“The tree.”

“Quite honestly, I’m far more curious about what you’re going to buy me for lunch than I am about a matchmaking tree.”

He chuckles.  “Ah, well, lucky for you our first stop happens to be a diner not too far from here.”

“Yes, lucky me.”

*****

The diner resembles a small cabin and is nestled amongst the trees off the side of the road.  She doesn’t want to admit it, but the drive so far has been beautiful.  The highway is narrow and tree-lined and it’s autumn.  Miles upon miles of yellows and reds and golds and greens and oranges.  To say that the road is picturesque would be an understatement.

The little cabin-diner is warm and cozy.  A wood-burning stove is on in one corner, easily heating the small space.  There’s a long counter with swivel-seats dividing the cabin in half, lengthwise, and four booths pressed up against the front windows, two on either side of the door.  Only one man sits at the counter, sipping coffee and reading a newspaper.  He looks up briefly when Mulder and Scully enter, but immediately returns his attention to his newspaper.

A waitress in an emerald green, button-down dress and starch white apron comes out from behind the counter with two menus.  She smiles congenially as she says good afternoon and waves to the booths.

“Take your pick,” she says.

Mulder looks to Scully and she sees him glance at the counter.  She nods and cuts her eyes to the nametag pinned above the pocket of the woman’s uniform.  “The counter is fine,” she says.  “Janet.”

“Sure.”  Janet turns and her blonde curls bounce lightly against her back.  Her shoes squeak as she makes her way back to the other side of the counter and places the menus down side by side.

“What do you recommend?” Mulder asks.

“Can’t ever go wrong with a burger,” Janet answers, pulling an order booklet out of her apron pocket.  “But, the special today is meatloaf.  And the soup is tomato bisque.”

“I’ll do the burger.  Medium well.  Is that pie under that dome back there?”

“Pecan.”

“More of a sweet potato guy.”

“Yeah, me too.  Well, sweet potato girl.”  Janet laughs and winks and Mulder chuckles and nods.

Scully clears her throat and slaps her menu down on the counter so hard that Mulder jumps.  “I’ll have the chicken salad,” she says, pushing the menu towards Janet.  “Balsamic vinaigrette on the side, if you have it.”

“Sure.”

Janet swipes the menus from the counter, scribbles their orders down and rips the paper from the pad to slide it through a small window behind her.  Scully adjusts her napkin and cutlery as Mulder swivels towards her and leans in close with his elbow on the counter and his hand across his forehead.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you being hostile to the witness.”

“The witness?”

Mulder inclines his head towards Janet and then raises his eyebrows.  “Did you even read the file?”

“I gave it a glance.”

“Janet is one of the unrequited.”

“Too bad for Janet.”

Mulder narrows his eyes a little at her and puckers his lips to form a question.  She doesn’t know why she’s suddenly feeling so catty, she just does.  No, that’s not true.  She does know why she’s feeling catty.  The past year her partnership has felt like a game of ping pong, bouncing between extreme highs and extreme lows.  And the wedge that was driven between them by Diana Fowley, may she rest in peace, is not far enough in the rear view mirror for her liking.  They’re on the mend, both professionally and personally, but she still can’t help but feel threatened in some way when Mulder turns the charm on with strangers.

“I’ll stop being hostile if you stop flirting,” she blurts out, regretting not only what she’s just said, but the way in which it flies out of her mouth.

“Flirting?”

“Forget it.”

“Flirting?”

“Nevermind.”  

Mulder straightens in his seat and puts both hands flat on the counter.  Scully rolls her shoulders back and tucks her chin down.  She lets her hair fall across her cheeks to hide her embarrassment.  Janet is suddenly there in front of them again, two glasses of water in her hands.

“Didn’t even ask if you folks wanted something to drink,” she says.

“Got any iced tea?” Mulder asks.

“Sure do.”

“Two lemons, please.”

“And for the lady?”

“I’ll just have the water, thank you,” Scully says.

Janet is gone for what feels like only seconds before she’s bringing a glass of iced tea to Mulder and a small glass dish of lemon slices.  Mulder thanks her warmly and for some reason, that makes Scully feel even more chagrined.

“Janet,” Mulder says, reaching into the interior breast pocket of his jacket to grab his ID.  “My name is Agent Mulder and this is Agent Scully.  My partner and I are actually on an assignment right now that you might be able to help us with.”

“Me?”

“Have you ever been out to see a tree they call The Matchmaker?”

The smile on Janet’s face wavers and then fades into a frown.  She stands stock still for a few moments and then grabs a rag from the side of the counter as though she’s about to clean something, but then just twists it nervously her hands.

“What do you know about it?” she asks.

“Not much, which is why we’re here.  We know from our preliminary investigation that you’re amongst the group that calls yourselves the unrequited.”

Janet nods slowly.  “That’s not...a crime, is it?”

“No, no.  We’re trying to determine if you might be the victim of one though.  It’s my understanding your contact with the tree has left you with some sort of affliction.”

Janet nods again and then hesitates before tucking the rag in her hands into her waistband and coming around the counter.  Both Mulder and Scully turn in their seats and Janet turns her back to both of them.  She lifts the hair up off her neck and it’s then that Scully’s interest is finally piqued.  The back of Janet’s neck is rough and scaly, resembling tree bark.  Scully whips a pair of latex gloves from her pocket and leans closer to Janet.

“Do you mind if I…?” Scully asks.

Janet glances over her shoulder at Scully, looks at the gloves she’s pulling on, and then nods her head.  “Go ahead,” she answers.

“Agent Scully is a medical doctor,” Mulder says, unnecessarily.  

Scully gently prods the ridges at the back of Janet’s neck.  It appears as though the skin is very dry and may flake away, but in reality it’s very thick and does not give at all.  Mulder hovers over Scully, his chin nearly touching her shoulder.

“It could be an allergic reaction,” Scully says.  “It appears to be a localized eczema.  Have you seen a dermatologist?”

“I’ve been to every dermatologist in the area,” Janet answers, dropping her hair and turning back around.  “They’ve done biopsies, tried laser removal, creams, gels, cryotherapy, the whole nine yards.  No one knows what it is or how to treat it.”

“And you think the tree that Agent Mulder mentioned earlier has something to do with this?”

“Oh, I know it does.  I was foolish enough to ignore the warnings and so...well, now I’m one of the unrequited.”

“I see.”

“Can you walk us through how it happened?” Mulder asks.

“It was about five years ago now, I was a senior in high school.  Me and my boyfriend at the time, Anthony, we thought it would be like a funny thing to do just before graduation.  We’d been together all through high school, grown up on the same block, and we were planning on getting married the next fall.”

Scully lets her eyes drop momentarily to Janet’s hands and notes the absence of a ring on her finger.  

“You knew of the stories before you went up there?” Mulder asks.

“Oh yeah,” Janet answers.  “I mean, if you’re from around here, you hear all about it from the time you’re a kid.  And everyone wants to brag about it, you know?  You hear from all your friends, my parents touched The Matchmaker and then got married, but no one wants to talk about the other side of it.”

“You and Anthony?” Scully asks.  “You never married?”

“Well, how could we?  He wasn’t the one.”

“According to the tree.”

“If it was true love, I wouldn’t be afflicted.”

“You really believe that?”

Janet points to her neck.  “I didn’t until this happened.”

“You didn’t believe in the legend when you went there?” Mulder asks.

“Not really.  Who would believe that a tree could do this?”

“You folks need to talk to Hattie Vale,” the man at the other end of the counter suddenly pipes up, even though he doesn’t even look up from his newspaper.

“Hattie Vale?” Mulder asks, swiveling in his seat to face the older man.

“Mmhm.”  He nods once and turns the page of his paper.  “That cursed tree is part of her legacy.  Janet, I’ll take my check now, if you please.”

“You got it, Wallace.”  Janet gives Scully a wry smile before she heads behind the counter again, ripping a page out of her booklet.

“Can you tell us how to find Miss Vale?” Mulder asks.

“Take the red bridge about a mile inside the entrance of Crawford Notch. Sign’ll say private property, but it’s just to try to keep looky-loos away from the tree.”  Wallace takes a few bills out of his wallet and puts them on the counter.  “Thank you, Janet.”

“See you tomorrow,” Janet says.

“Miss Vale lives out by the tree?” Mulder asks.

Wallace folds his newspaper and then stands and tucks it under his arm.  “Go right at the fork, that’ll take you to Hattie.  Go left, that’ll take you to The Matchmaker.  And take my advice, don’t touch that tree.”  

“You have a personal experience you’d like to share with us?”

“No.”  Wallace pulls a hat out from his jacket pocket, slaps it on his head, and walks out of the diner.

“Why do I not believe him?” Mulder says to Scully as he turns back to face the counter.

*****

Hattie Vale’s home is exactly where Wallace says it would be.  While the diner was a faux cabin, Hattie’s place is the real deal.  Scully would not be surprised if it did not have running water or electricity.

The woman that greets them on the porch is both ancient and spry.  She’s stocky and squarely built, wearing a thin housedress and a hand-knit sweater and moccasins on her feet.  Two long, grey braids fall over her shoulders to her hips.  Her face is sunburnt and weathered, deep lines in her forehead and at the sides of her mouth.  She grins broadly, revealing a handful of missing teeth.

“I had a feeling I might get visitors today,” she says.  “And here you folks are.”

“Are you Hattie Vale?” Mulder asks.

“Sure am.  Who’s asking?”

“My name is Agent Mulder, this is Agent Scully.”  He stops at the edge of the porch and holds up his badge and Scully does the same.

“That supposed to impress me or something?”

“Ah, no Ma’am,” Mulder says, chuckling as he tucks his ID back into his pocket.  “We’re investigating some unexplained afflictions associated with a tree in these parts referred to as The Matchmaker.”

“You’re about three centuries too late for that, bub.”

“Forgive me for my tardiness.”

Hattie laughs heartily at Mulder’s joke and Scully has to fight not to roll her eyes at him when he gives a pleased grin in her direction.

“Come on in, I got coffee I can put on.”

“That’s not necessary, Mrs. Vale, we only want to ask a few questions,” Scully says.

“Come on in anyway, let me put my feet up.”

Mulder hops up the stairs onto the porch and Scully trudges up behind him.  She’s surprised to find that the cabin actually does have electricity and is fairly tidy and well-furnished.  The large room is a combination kitchen, dining area and living space.  Hand-woven rugs are strategically placed on the wood floors.  Knitted blankets are draped over the couch and a lounge chair.  There’s no TV, but there is a transistor radio perched on a folding tray next to the chair.

Hattie plops herself down into the lounger and pulls a lever to extend the footrest.  She leans back with her hands over her belly and flexes her toes inside her moccasins.

“How long have you lived out here?” Mulder asks, waiting for Scully to take a seat before he perches himself at the edge of the couch.

“Well, I was born here, so I figured I might as well die here too, but I did move out to Vermont for a time when I got married.  After I raised my kids and my husband passed, I thought it was as good of time as any to come back.  That would’ve been somewhere around 1942, I think.”

“That was fifty-seven years ago,” Mulder says.  “You had already raised your kids and been widowed by then?”

Hattie laughs again.  “I was born in 1885.”

“You’re 114 years old?”

“Don’t look a day over 100, do I?”  She wiggles her shoulders a little and lifts her brows.  Even Scully has to smile in amusement.

“Mrs. Vale,” Scully starts.

“Hattie, please.  Never liked formalities.  So stuffy.”

“Hattie, can you tell us anything about the tree?”

“Maybe why some might say it’s cursed,” Mulder adds, and Scully grimaces.

“A curse?  Bah.  Sounds like you’ve been talking to my grandson.”

“Who’s your grandson?” Mulder asks.

“Name is Wallace Byrd.  He’s my girl Rosemary’s boy.”

Mulder and Scully give each other a glance.  “We did...happen to run into someone named Wallace,” Mulder says.

“Wally had a bad go of it when he was a young man.  He blames the tree for it, silly boy.”

“So, you don’t think it’s cursed?”

“Not at all, the tree is blessed, if anything.”

“Do you happen to know how it came to be blessed?”

“Oh yes, I can tell you exactly how it came to be.”

There’s a twinkle in Hattie’s eyes as she starts to tell the story of the tree, one that makes Scully even more dubious and Mulder even more interested.

“My four times great grandfather, Jean-Luc Benoit, came to this area from Quebec City in the first half of the 1700s,” Hattie says.  “There was a Winnipesaukee tribe that lived nearby and they traded goods often.  Jean-Luc fell in love with a squaw from the village called Little Flower, and she with him, much to her father’s dismay.  Sensing that Jean-Luc was going to ask for his blessing to marry his daughter, her father met with some of the elders of the village and they told him he would have to ask the white man to pass a test of his true love if he were to take one of their women away.”

Mulder nods encouragingly at Hattie and then grins at Scully.  His enjoyment of the tale is palpable.  She keeps her gaze straight ahead, afraid she might slip and very unprofessionally roll her eyes at him.

“Little Flower’s father took the advice of the elders,” Hattie continues.  “Except, he decided he was going to give the would-be suitor an impossible task.  He told Jean-Luc to plant a seed, and only when that seed had flourished and become a tree, could he have his daughter’s hand in marriage.  Jean-Luc said his love was unhurried and he would plant the tree and wait as long as it took.  A ceremony was held for the planting and to everyone’s astonishment, the tree grew overnight.”    

“Overnight?” Mulder asks.  “Incredible.”

“I’ll say,” Scully murmurs.

“But, that wasn’t to be the end of it,” Hattie says.  “Little Flower’s father was distraught by the turn of events.  Instead of turning to the elders as he had before, this time he went directly to the tree, believing the Gods may have grown the tree as punishment for his trickery.  He apologized for his wrongdoing and pleaded with the tree for a sign that would show him that Jean-Luc was worthy.  When he went home, his village was in chaos.  They told him that right before their eyes, his daughter had started growing leaves where her hair was and roots where her feet were and that she reached up to the sky and her arms became limbs and her fingers became branches.”

“She turned into a tree?” Mulder asks.

“So they say.  Little Flower’s father was distraught and horrified.  He tried pulling her feet from the earth, but the roots just grew deeper.  When he saw that he could do nothing, he ran to Jean-Luc and asked for his help.  The instant that Jean-Luc touched the tree that Little Flower had become, she was restored to her human self.”

“And since then, people have come to ask the tree to show them who their true love is?” Mulder asks.

“That’s about right.  Mostly locals though, passing the story along to their children and grandchildren.”

“Mrs. Vale, Hattie, are you aware of any pesticides that may have been sprayed around the tree or perhaps any poisonous foliage that might surround the area?” Scully asks.

Hattie shrugs.  “Been years since I’ve been out by that tree.  The state took that part of the land years ago when they formed the park.”

“Have you heard about people coming away from the tree with afflictions?” Mulder asks.  “Skin problems, or physical ailments of some kind?  You said your grandson, Wallace, believes the tree to be cursed.  Has he been suffering from an ailment after contact?”

“Ailments?  No.  Broken heart is more like it.  Wallace brought his sweetheart out to the tree before he proposed.  He was a believer in the legend and said the tree showed him that Corrine, that was his girl, was his true love.  A week before their wedding she was killed in an automobile accident.  He never got over it.  Now, he thinks the tree cursed him to a life alone.  I tried to tell him many times not to take stock in that tale.  It’s just a tale, after all.”

“So, you don’t believe in the legend?” Mulder asks.

“Believe in a tree that grows overnight and wraps a girl up in branches?”  Hattie laughs.  “You’d have to be crazy to believe in that kind of thing.”

It’s Scully’s turn to grin and Mulder smiles good-naturedly.  He stands, and Scully does as well.  

“Thank you for your time,” Scully says.

“Could you tell us, what’s the best way to reach the tree from here?”

“Once you cross back over the bridge head due west.  The ‘no trespassing’ signs should lead you right to it.”

*****

It really is a stunning tree, Scully thinks, as they stand before it.  The photos didn’t do it justice.  The sun shines onto the top of the tree, making it look alive with red-purple flames.  The branches curve out and the leaves cascade like a waterfall.  The field grass flutters in the wind like a golden wave around their feet and the leaves of all the trees that surround them shake and rustle.  She has to brush her hair from her eyes and away from her cheeks.

“Well, I guess we should take a look,” Mulder says.

“What is it that we’re looking for?” she asks.

“You tell me.”

“I don’t know, Mulder, I’m not a botanist.  Plants aren’t something I ever took a strong interest in.  I’m not even sure I’d truly be able to identify poison ivy if I came across it.”

“Leaves of three, let them be.”  Mulder smiles as he pulls on a pair of gloves.  “Something we used to say as kids to avoid it when we were camping.”

“And somehow I’m guessing you still managed to pull your share of rashes.”

“I don’t know where these baseless accusations are coming from, but I will neither confirm nor deny the generous supply of Calamine Lotion my mother kept on hand for such occasions.”

Scully snorts softly and pulls her own pair of gloves on.  Mulder is already crouching before the tree, running his hand over the dirt. He picks up a fallen leaf and twirls it by the stem.

“It looks like a heart,” he tells her, turning it upside down and holding it up between pinched fingers.  He’s right.  

“Bag it,” Scully says, handing him a plastic bag.  “We’ll need soil samples as well.  Maybe scrape some bark off as well.”

“I take it your theory is the tree is toxic?”

“Perhaps.”

“Mmhm.”  Mulder seals up the leaf and stands back up.  “Any of those poisonous plants you mentioned before known to cause skin irritations for over five years?”

“Mulder, I’m fairly certain that contact with this tree is merely coincidence.  Take Janet, for example, she could have daily exposure to an allergen without even knowing it, causing that rash at the back of her neck, her laundry detergent, for example.”

“Something that all of the dermatologists she’s been to have failed to diagnose?”

“I’m only saying that there are more probable explanations for why someone would develop a skin irritation than a centuries old legend.”

“Probable, but not implausible,” he says.

“Mulder, you’re crazy,” she answers with a shake of her head and a small laugh.

He pockets the plastic-wrapped leaf and then walks away from her to circle the tree.  Scully studies the lush mane of leaves, trying to determine the best possible way to part them and reach the trunk.  She puts her hands into a gap and a few birds fly up and out of the tree in a panic, their wings flapping wildly.  She jumps back, heart racing.  A sudden breeze ruffles the back of her hair and she shivers.  Goosebumps prick her arms, but she isn’t cold.  Her shoulder pulls up automatically as the inside of her ear is tickled with what feels like a soft whisper.

“Mulder?”  She turns, but no one is there.  She hurries to the other side of the three and spots Mulder a few yards away, looking up into the white pines that border the clearing.

Scully turns back to the tree and finds another gap in the leaves to part.  She cautiously pushes them aside and finds she’s able to lift a section back and step under the canopy of branches.  Hunching slightly, she pulls her pocketknife out and scrapes a bit of bark from the thin trunk and bags it.  She crouches down to collect some dirt as well.  As she straightens her knees, her heel comes back and catches on a tree root and she stumbles.  Her first instinct is to throw her arm out and her hand smacks into the tree trunk.  She can feel the bark bite into her palm through her glove and the inside of her wrist is scraped in her efforts to prevent herself from falling.

“Dammit,” she mutters, wobbling into her hunched position and letting go of the tree.  She pulls the sleeve of her blazer up to inspect her hand.  There’s debris on her glove and the inside of her wrist is scratched red, but the skin wasn’t broken and she’s not bleeding.  She rotates her wrist a few times and fortunately it doesn’t feel sprained, just a little sore.

“Scully!” Mulder calls.

“Yeah,” she answers, warily.

“Where are you?”

“In here.”  She can hear the crunching of the field grasses and leaves underfoot as Mulder approaches.  She pulls the cuff of her sleeve down over her wrist before pushing the leaves aside like drapery and steps out from the canopy.

“You have…”  Mulder approaches and reaches up to pluck a leaf from her hair.

“Thanks.”

“It matches,” he says, twirling the red leaf softly against the ends of her hair.

A breeze comes up again and that same whisper and tickle of her ear returns.  She shivers again and moves her hand up to take the leaf from Mulder, but he pulls it back and puts it in his pocket.

“Find anything interesting?” he asks.

“Bagged up some bark and some dirt.”

“You ask the tree if it was cursed?”

“I did.”

“What was the answer?”

“Stop letting your crackpot partner talk you into fruitless jaunts to the forest.”

Mulder chuckles.  “There is some poison oak in the woods up there.  You’ll be happy to know I steered clear.”

“Wonderful,” she says, wincing as her wrist burns slightly when she peels off her gloves.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You think those are storm clouds rolling in over there?”

She nods slightly, rotating her wrist in her pocket.  It’s beginning to itch.

“I guess we should probably head out then?”

“No argument from me.”

*****

They leave New Hampshire with nothing more than the samples and family legends.  Mulder finally accepts there isn’t much of a case to be had, especially when they can’t find any other afflicted locals to speak with, and they return home.  They run the samples through the lab, but the results don’t account for any toxins.

A week passes and Scully’s wrist doesn’t seem to stop itching.  It’s at its worst during the day at work and seems to calm at night when she goes home.  She sees a dermatologist who can’t find anything wrong, but gives her a prescription for an anti-itch cream that does nothing to help.

They’re out of town again, on a case in Iowa.  She shouldn’t be relieved to be doing autopsies again, but it’s been awhile since she’s been in a morgue and not out in the field.  She’s either too busy to notice her itching wrist, or it miraculously ceases to bother her for the day.  When she’s back at the motel, having a pizza dinner over crime scene photos and witness statements, her whole hand starts to feel like it’s on fire.  She excuses herself from the table and shuts herself in the bathroom.

By all outward appearances, nothing is wrong with her wrist.  It’s not inflamed, it’s not scratched, it’s not even red anymore, but her skin crawls.  She holds it up to the light and takes a closer look, running her thumb across the line where wrist meets palm.  There does seem to be a slight bump where there wasn’t one before.  She checks her left wrist in comparison and then the right one again.  When she scratches at the little bump with her nail, she can actually feel a slight pull under her skin.  She pushes at it with her thumbnail and then her skin ruptures and what looks like the stem of a leaf emerges.

“Oh my god,” she whispers.  There is a pair of tweezers in her toiletry kit that she finds and then plucks lightly at the stemp, but it doesn’t budge.  It doesn’t hurt and it doesn’t bleed and no matter how hard she pulls, the stem is immobile.  After only a few minutes she’s nearly in tears with frustration.  She wipes her watering eyes dry and then goes back to the table to rejoin Mulder.

“I need to show you something,” she says.

Mulder pauses with his hands full of photos and looks at her.  He sets them down and then wipes his hands on his pants and leans forward, elbows on the table.  “Okay,” he says.  “Show me.”

Scully pulls the sleeve of her shirt up and drapes her hand across the table, wrist up.  Mulder looks down at her hand and then up at her.  He moves his face closer to her arm and tilts his head from side to side.

“What am I looking at?” he asks.

“When we were in New Hampshire, I scraped my hand on that tree.”

“The Matchmaker?”

“Yes.  It wasn’t a bad scrape, no skin was broken, but since then, my wrist has not stopped itching.”

“What is that?”

“I don’t...I don’t know.  I tried using my tweezers on it, but it wouldn’t come out.”

Mulder picks up Scully’s hand with both of his and runs his thumbs across the bottom of her palm.  Her whole arm tingles when he touches her and she can feel something move beneath her skin.  

“It feels like...I’m not sure...”  Mulder puts a little more pressure on Scully’s wrist and slides one of his thumbs up to her palm.  Suddenly it feels like her whole hand opens up somehow and something unfurls out of her wrist like a butterfly to rest in her palm.  It’s a red, heart-shaped leaf.

They’re both silent, staring down at her hand, at the leaf.  Her arm still tingles and she sways slightly, lightheaded.   “Mulder…how did…?”

“I don’t know.”

“What just happened, Mulder, it’s impossible.”

“Well, there is one explanation.”

“Don’t say it.”

“You touched the tree.”

“A tree didn’t do this, Mulder.”  She jumps up from the table, determined to pull the leaf from her hand, but it’s stuck to the stem and the stem won’t budge.  “I need scissors.”

“Well wait, maybe you should see a doctor.”

“I am a doctor!”  She rushes back into the bathroom to get the small scissors from her toiletry bag.  Mulder follows behind and watches as she attempts to cut at the leaf and the stem, but the scissors just slide right off of the leaf as though it refuses to be cut.

“Stop,” Mulder says, putting his hands on her shoulders.  “Come on.”

“Mulder, there is a leaf growing out of my hand!”

“I can see that, come out here.”

Mulder guides her out of the bathroom back to the table, but she doesn’t want to sit.  She stares at her palm and at the leaf while Mulder sits and then he brings her towards him with his hands on her hips.

“Let me see,” he says.  

Scully reluctantly shows him her hand and he holds it gently, tracing the shape of the leaf in her palm with his index finger.  He pinches the leaf between his fingers and pulls gently and the stem slides out of her wrist without any effort at all.  When it’s completely free of her hand, she feels something wash over her that she can only describe as utter euphoria.  She sways slightly on her feet, leaning into Mulder and putting her hands on his shoulders to hold herself up.

“Scully?”  The leaf flutters to the ground as he grabs her hips.

“Oh, I feel…”

“Sit down.”  He stands and tries to urge her to sit, but she holds onto his arms and shakes her head.

“No, I…”  She feels overwhelmed by something she can’t describe, but the force with which she aches to be as close to Mulder as possible is powerful.  It’s like she can’t breathe, but he is oxygen.  It’s like she’s freezing and he’s a warm fire.

“I really think you should sit down,” he whispers.

“Mulder,” she says, blinking lethargically.  Her voice is slow and her eyes are heavy.  “If it was the tree, then that would mean…”

Mulder puckers his lips a little and his chin juts forward as he swallows.  “It would mean whatever you want it to mean,” he says.

Her heart hammers in her chest.  She tingles from head to toe, but especially where his hands grip her hips and where his arms press against hers.  She opens her mouth a few times, but doesn’t know what to say.

“I heard you, you know,” he says.

“Heard me?”

“When I was exposed to the artifact.”  He lets go of her with one hand to reach up and lightly touch his fingers to her forehead.  “I heard you.  I don’t need an enchanted tree to tell me what I already know.”

She should feel embarrassed, and maybe two months ago she would have, maybe even two minutes ago, she would have, but not now.  She drops her gaze to his mouth and then she looks up into his eyes again.  By some unspoken, mutual agreement, they both lean in.  Mulder bends and tips his head to the right, Scully lifts onto her toes and lets her eyes slip shut just before his mouth touches hers.  The kiss is soft and unhurried.  It’s tender and sweet in a way that makes her feel warm and secure.

“I can’t believe this is real,” she whispers against his lips.

“What part of it?”

“All of it.”

“Of course you don’t.”  He chuckles and bends down to pick up the leaf he dropped.  He twirls it between his fingers and then brushes it against her nose.

“It’s just not possible.”

“All of it?”  He cocks his head a little and his eyes fall to her mouth.

“Maybe not all of it.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m having a hard time believing it myself.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”  He smiles, and bends to kiss her again, but she leans away and puts two fingers against his lips.

“Why did you take me up there?” she asks.

“I’ve owed you a nice trip to the forest for about seven years.”

“Is that all?”  

“Autumn in New England?  I only wish we could’ve found something worthwhile to stick around a little longer.”

“So, you never intended for…”

“For you to start becoming part tree?  Not at all.”

“Oh my god, I just can’t...I can’t wrap my brain around it.  It’s…”  She covers her face with both hands and shakes her head.

Mulder kisses the knuckles on her right hand.  “You wouldn’t be you if you believed it.  Once upon a time there was a very skeptic little g-woman named Scully.”

“You are not allowed to start any stories with ‘once upon a time’ any longer,” she says, taking her hands away from her face.  “Bad things happen in fairy tales.”

“Well you are forgetting one thing though.”

“What?”

“They always end with ‘happily ever after.’”

The End

[hankwritten]

Disapprobation

Demoman/Soldier, 3k Warnings: Mild Sexual Content, Internalized Homophobia

n. Moral disapproval; condemnation. Tavish’s life has a lot of shouldn’ts

Tavish’s life has a lot of shouldn’ts

For instance, he really shouldn’t be risking life and limb to meet up and have drinks with some barmy American he met at a projectile weapons convention. He shouldn’t be breaching contract over a bloke who’s got so many screws loose he could open up a hardware store, shouldn’t be sneaking around when the best case scenario is a few good laughs and the worst case scenario is losing a multi-million dollar salary.

He shouldn’t keep his lunch in the same place he keeps his potassium chloride. He shouldn’t drink so much, but he’s heard that one so many times anyway it’s hard to pay attention to. The voice of self-preservation is constant and buzzing, putting a churning in his gut, reminding him that he could be making friends with folks who aren’t a walking death sentence. He shouldn’t be going out for ribs. He shouldn’t be accepting invites to Las Vegas for the furlough.

He definitely shouldn’t be pressed into the mattress, another man’s tongue in his mouth.

The hotel bed creaks as Jane kisses him harder, and he thinks, oh god he wishes he could just not think. Their bodies are hot pressed against each other, their fancy jackets gone for the evening as they’re down to their undershirts as insubstantial barriers between skin on skin. Jane is heavy on top of him, and he shouldn’t like how that feels, to be held down while he and his best friend suck the air out of each other’s lungs. Jane has each of his wrists pinned to the sheets, and he shouldn’t like that either, how Jane’s taken control, how Tavish is slowly letting himself come undone.

There’s this plop at the loss of suction as Jane lifts his lips off Tavish’s and onto the Demoman’s neck, whisper-hissing, begging, praying, “Tav, Tavish. Oh god Tav.”

It’s slippery where time is now and where it was minutes ago before he was like this, before he was craving Jane's everything. It happened because they were laughing or maybe fighting or maybe…no they just tripped. They tripped and Jane landed on Tavish, and it wasn’t different at first. It just knocked the wind out of him. It wasn’t until Jane was chuckling and trying to push himself up that they had stopped, that they’d locked eyes and Jane’s smile had slowly fallen away, a mask lifted to something underneath. It was hunger, small and fiery at first when Jane’s eyes openly raked Tavish’s body, not disguising the fact as they took in his state of undress since—unlike Jane—Tavish had been successful at getting out of his dress pants. The hunger had grown hotter, burned brighter, a bonfire as someone kept shoveling more on, and Tavish drank in being looked at like a dying man in the desert. He’d never been desired like that, not in his entire life, and when Jane finished his tour of Tavish’s body he couldn’t suppress the hitch in his breath when their eyes finally met again.

He’d swallowed when Jane leaned closer. He’d closed his eye as Jane had pressed that first, tentative kiss against him.

Now his back arches, shoving his stomach up into the human canopy above him. His nipples are hard and he didn’t know they were so damn sensitive until they scrape against the solid plane of Jane’s chest and he whimpers. He shouldn’t be doing that either. He’s a damn mercenary, a Demoman, and he shouldn’t...

“God Tavish,” Jane’s muttering in his mouth in-between rough kisses. “I fucking. I love you. Want you so damn bad.”

And Jane must be a fucking mind reader because those words are a switch in Tavish’s brain. He can’t censor the moan that comes out of him, no matter how weak, how pathetic he sounds as his hips jerk upwards. Jane is moving his arms, and it takes him a second to notice that Jane is taking time to pin down both his hands with one of his own, and his free one now slides down until it can toy with the edge of Tavish’s undershirt.

“Jane…”

It’s the only thing he’s said in ages. He shouldn’t be saying anything at all, let alone confessing what’s coursing through his system, revealing how I want you isn’t quite right but I want you to want me is just so damn conceited. So the only thing he can do is breathe Jane’s name in a plea.

The roaming hand snakes up under his tank, the pretense of attire gone as the too-cold fingers press against unbearably hot flesh. Jane further displays his mind reading powers tweaking Tavish’s nipple with his thumb, clawing out another gurgle from the Demoman.

It’s so dangerously similar now, edging so close to fear, the shouldn’ts piling in his head as his breath increases. He tries to lift his arms and can’t. He tries clear his mind and can’t. He tries to make his voice behave where his body will not, as Jane’s knee begins to move up-

“Jane,” he yelps, only this time he says it in panic as his eye snaps open and he jerks upward. “Shit Jane- shit we need to stop. We’ll- shit.”

Jane freezes. The constriction around Tavish’s wrists lessons, and then disappears entirely and Jane rears back onto his haunches. Tavish wriggles until he’s against the headboard, panting heavily.

“Holy shit,” he coughs.

“You alright Tav?” Jane is looking sideways at him, but not in the way Tavish is expecting. The expression on his face is inscrutable.

“No. No! Of course not, we almost just-” The ghost of Jane’s body is on him, the memory of seconds ago where his hand was so close to Tavish’s waistband. He tries to shake it away. “If I hadn’t said something just now, we would have both crossed some damn lines.”

“Uh. Yeah. Probably.”

Tavish looks up and is bludgeoned upside the head with understanding. He realizes why Jane’s expression is so damn weird: he’s not ashamed. He’s not ashamed in the slightest.

“Jane,” Tavish says cautiously. “You know why we can’t do this, right?”

This when they’re still half-undressed on the bed together, breathless and sweating and the only thing keeping them back is Tavish’s self control. No one else’s. He’s alone at the wheel and Jane’s only refraining out of personal respect, not any sense of how screwed they are.

Jane squints at him. Thinking hard, peering deep into the soul he sometimes claims a RED can’t have, (and at the next drunken moment declaring that if it existed, it would be the purest, bravest soul in the damn world.) “Because you are…no longer in the mood?”

“Because we’re in enough trouble as it is!” Tavish throws up his hands. “Do you know how bloody condemned we are? Already RED and BLU can catch wind of us at any moment, I can’t go into half the places you can in this blasted country, and we want to add shagging each other in our Vegas hotel room to that bloody list?”

Jane’s forehead wrinkles, his features that Tavish has only ever seen go soft in the past few minutes now toughening up again. “Were you not…wanting that?”

“Fuck, Jane of course I wanted it,” the admission falls out too quickly. Too late to grab back and saying it aloud is its own line crossed. Having already failed to keep it packed down, he tries to at least get to his point. “I just shouldn’t.”

Jane stares at him blankly.

“Right. Of course.” Tavish presses the heel of his palm against his forehead. “Look at who I’m talking to here. Man who’s never suppressed an impulsive urge in his life.”

“It is not an impulse Tav.” Jane almost sounds…offended. Or something like it, as though he's irritated he has to make such an obvious correction. “It’s not an impulse if I’ve thought about doing it nearly every day since I’ve met you.”

That desire, that hunger Tavish had seen. He knows Jane has looked at him before, can now recognize it for what it was, those eyes flickering at him sometimes with the smolder beneath. It feels unwarranted. He feels undeserving, that Jane has been fancying him for months, and he diverts, “if that’s what you want, there’s a lot better sheep in the field.”

Jane narrows his eyes. “Gross.”

“Ach it’s an expression-” Tavish huffs. “Look, if men are to your tastes, you can find a hookup that’s a lot less dangerous. You don’t have to lower your standards just because I’m…around.”

“My tastes?” Jane scoffs. “What do you know about my tastes, DeGroot? Every time we go to the pier, you get me the wrong flavor of ice cream—even when I tell you exactly what kind to get.”

“I told you lad, they were out of ro-”

“My tastes,” Jane carries on, “are rocky road and handsome Scotsmen. So you can take that to the bank and sign it.” Jane crosses his arms.

A new, cool feeling runs down Tavish’s spine, the freezer-burn of fluster. “Jane,” he groans, running his hands over his scalp, craning his neck backwards until Jane finally falls out of his vision. “You’re not making this any easier.”

“I don’t understand why it’s can’t be easy. I love you. You, uh…” Jane trails off. “Like me. I think.”

Not since they stopped groping each other has Tavish wanted to touch him this bad, to assure him that he wants what Jane had given him, wants his hands, his mouth, to feel him again-

Tavish lets out a strangled cough, hard minutes of trying to cool off down the drain. Jane notices his state, the dilatation in his eye, and that only adds to his embarrassment. “Ach, please Jane. It’s not that simple. I just need you to listen, just a few minutes.”

“Fine. I will listen. But then you have to listen while I tell you what I think.”

Tavish allows it. He starts, “doing...” He waves his hand, disturbing the humid air between their still cooling bodies. “This, would be risky. More dangerous than anything we’ve ever done.”

“Un. Like. Ly,” Jane scoffs. “We’ve been sneaking around for ages by this point, and we’re damn good at it. Face it maggot, you didn’t want retreat with your tail between your legs until sloppy makeouts came into the picture.”

Tavish folds his arms. “I was thinking about it before then too. That we should break it off.”

“Ah bub bub bub!” Jane points out gleefully.

“It’s ‘bup bup bup’.”

“Quiet. You thought about it, but you didn’t actually do anything. So what is it Tavish? What’s the difference between then and now?”

An awkward silence hangs between them.

“…C’mon lad, don’t make me say it.” Tavish tries to look away, but he can still feel the solar rays of Jane’s glare socking him in the jaw. “Ach, it’s- what we got here isn’t right Jane. It’s not a natural thing for a pair of mates to do.”

“Ha! Natural?” Jane laughs. “I don’t buy that ‘natural’ crap from hippies and I certainly don’t buy it from you. I do not care about how natural the devil’s lettuce is! I do not care how much natural they cram into those granola bars, or how much fiber will help my bowel movements! Natural is for suckers.”

Tavish stares at him, long and hard, and finally, finally something small and brittle inside him crumbles away just enough that he’s hit with a weak chuckle. “You know, sometimes I don’t know how crazy you really are, and how much is just insight disguised as malarkey.”

“Good,” Jane smirks. “Keep it that way.”

“But still we need to-” Tavish rubbed his eye. “We need to think about this. It feels like I’m the only one here who’s trying to keep us both from getting killed.”

“Why?”

“Well someone has to, and it certainly isn’t going to be you.”

“Why?” Jane is angry now. “Why does one of us have to be holding the goddamn reigns? I didn’t ask you for ribs because I thought you would keep me back, I asked you for ribs because you broke that cop’s back and it was the most glorious display of patriotic strength I have ever seen!”

“Patriotism for where, exactly?” Tavish asks tiredly.

“You damn know well where. Don’t ask stupid questions.”

So Tavish doesn’t deign him with anything, just sits there massaging his head. He knows his rationality is eroding. That Jane is sitting here chipping away with his donkey’s indifference, his stupid, (literally) hardheaded attitude that Tavish can’t just turn away from.

“So,” Jane says. “I listened. Now you listen.”

“I barely got a word in edgewise,” Tavish complains.

“And they were all bad words. Now,” Jane sits crosslegged, stripped in the half-light coming in from the window, painting him radiant. “It’s clear you have some hangups about your latent bisexuality.”

Tavish puts all the power of a two-eyed stare out the focus of his singular optic, hoping the pure concentration gets his disdain though.

Jane carries on. “It is nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Ach, it's just that...I shouldn’t have wanted…shouldn’t have even…”

“You and your damn shouldn’ts,” Jane frowns.

The frustration, the embarrassment, all the waves of different emotions Tavish has been put though are washed away in the new torrent of shame. “Ah fuck.”

“Tavish,” Jane says sternly as Tavish begins to clutch his head. “I have been dying to put you in a supportive yet comforting hug for the past twenty minutes. Permission to embrace you?”

Fuck he could use a hug right now. He could use Jane right now. He nods.

He leans in to the enveloping warmth as Jane holds him in a touch that is scored all different than before, yet the same strange intimacy he’s starting to suspect relates to what Jane said before that knee-shaking I want you so damn bad. That he didn't say that in the heat of the moment or because he feels sorry for the sad Cyclops that happens to be his friend, but because he genuinely wants this as much as Tavish does.

Oh god does Tavish want this.

“Tav, has that stupid voice in the back of your head telling you not to do things ever made you happy?” Jane asks the back wall over Tavish’s shoulder.

“Kept me safe,” Tavish sighs.

“That’s not what I asked, private,” Jane reiterates. “Has it made you happy? Has it ever actually helped you find the man you’re supposed to be?”

Tavish thinks long and hard, bringing his hands up run shaky fingers through Jane’s hair. “No,” he admits. “I don’t think it has. You?”

“Me? I crushed that voice years ago under the heel of my American-made double buckle combat boots. Like a goddamn ant.”

Tavish snorts. “Figures.”

They stay like that, holding each other, for a long time. They stay like that until the neon pizza sign across the street winks off, until the digital clocks on the matching nightstands read long past 4am.

“I don’t know what to do about this,” Tavish admits finally.

“Fair. Even if you did, I wouldn’t listen. You’ve changed your mind so many goddamn times tonight I’d tell you you’d have to sleep on it first before I believed you.”

“I have not,” Tavish laughs. “Just…there’s a lot. And I’m scared. I’m scared every day RED or BLU’ll find out and we’ll be…” He sighs. “I guess it wouldn’t matter at that point if we were friends or…anything else. We’d be dead either way.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Tavish leans back and finds it in him to grin at this stupid, crazy, reckless man that is certainly going to get them both killed. No, no he’s not going to think like that anymore. They’re in this together, and they’d share the blame just as much as they shared each other.

He squeezes both hands to the side of Jane’s face and says, “I love you too, you crazy, crazy Soldier.”

It’s worth it to see the light flare up in Jane’s eyes, the dopey grin that springs to his face. “Well, then that makes you just as crazy as me.”

“Aye, I suppose it does.” He presses his forehead to Jane’s. “We’re already doing a spicy shimmy on what’s taboo and what isn’t. I suppose we shouldn’t give a damn what’s considered crazy.”

Jane’s face is so beautiful, the only shame being how long shouldn’t has kept that realization at bay. But Tavish quashes it, watching as a new question forms in Jane’s brow.

“I know I told you to sleep on it but,” Jane bites his lip. “Can I stay here? While you do that.”

Tavish likes Jane's warmth against him. He likes him here, where their atoms are pressing out against each other in the closest the universe can approximate as touch.

“Aye. Come here.”

They lay down on Tavish’s bed, and Jane rolls around until he’s nestled in Tavish’s arms. As their breathing slows, in sync then out of sync then back again, Jane says, “even if you weren’t freaking out, it’s a good thing you stopped us when you did. We don’t exactly have any condoms.”

Tavish’s jaw locks, and he quickly scoots his pelvis back a few inches. “You’re doing that on purpose,” he snarls into the nape flush with his nose.

“Maybe. I’m craaaaazy, remember.”

Tavish hates him, and loves him more in that moment than he ever has. If this is the night where he’s cut everything off, where he’s chosen this Soldier over the world’s approval, then so be it. He makes a little mental image of an ant, and steps down.

[luxekook]

trivia love | knj

⇥ pairing: kim namjoon x reader

⇥ genre: non-idol au with fluff and smut

⇥ summary: in which the reader and namjoon become ridiculously attracted to each other over weekly late night trivia sessions

⇥ word count: 5.4k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, dirty talk, terrible trivia team names, namjoon being devastating, low-key exhibitionism, smut in a bar bathroom, oral (f receiving), sub!joon, switch!reader, everyone being nerdy af

Weekly trivia used to be so fun. Your team - The Multiple Scoregasms - used to demolish the competition with ease. You used to be able to think so clearly and answer so correctly. You used to revel in the free drinks earned with your $20 bar credit winnings.

Keywords: used to

For the last two Thursdays, not only had your team lost miserably, you seemed to have lost all recollection past your own name.

The reason? Team Text Us, We're Single.

First of all, their team name was highly deceptive. There was no way that all seven of those beautiful team members were single. It was absolutely ludicrous.

Second of all, only one member of the group seemed to even take trivia seriously. And they still won. Twice.

And last of all, you were high-key attracted to said member. You sighed, thinking back to simpler times before you first saw him two Thursdays ago…

The first thing you saw when you walked into Queenie’s Bar was a squad of middle-aged men debating the merits of Draco Malfoy’s redemption arc.

And the second? Just the cutest smiling boy you’d ever seen in the entirety of your existence. He was tall and deliciously tan, with cute dimples that surfaced suddenly when he smiled at the bartender in thanks.

As you stood in the archway of the bar gaping at this dimpled god, you got jostled from behind by your friend Olivia. “What’s the hold up? Go claim our usual table, (y/n)! I’ll get the drinks.”

You snapped out of your reverie. Cute boy or not, he was likely to be part of tonight’s competition; and, therefore, you needed to annihilate him accordingly.

Nodding inwardly, you stalked past the men who now had moved on from Draco to a heated argument surrounding house-elves and their rights.
 “Hermione just dropped her whole campaign! S.P.E.W. was never mentioned again!” One man thrust his hand through his thinning hair in exasperation, “God, did the campaign buttons mean nothing?”

You cracked a smile as you settled into your usual table in the middle of the crowded bar. You loved Thursday night trivia with everything you had.

Thursdays brought in an eclectic sort of crowd to Queenie’s. The groups scattered throughout the bar represented everyone from middle aged Potterheads to skulking e-boys to nerdy young adults (READ: you) and - apparently - to models (READ: Dimples).

You spotted your roommate Jordan and your friend Marlene hurrying through the door and raised a hand to wave them down. Marlene noticed you first and yelled, “Yo, (y/n)!”

Typically, you would have been embarrassed by this behavior, but it happened each week without fail. So, you just gave a half-assed salute.

The only thing that Marlene, the only extrovert in your circle of friends, loved more than being the center of attention was forcing the rest of you into the spotlight with her.

Her reasoning? Something about comfort zones and shit. Your reasoning? Pure evil.

Jordan rolled his eyes at you and grabbed Marlene, dragging her over to your table. “She needs to be stopped,” Jordan said in lieu of a greeting, “She’s a menace to introverts everywhere.”

“Puh-lease,” Marlene plopped into her seat dramatically, “Y’all love me. Besides, if you got rid of me, who would do speed trivia rounds for you?”

You and Jordan exchanged a panicked look at the mere thought of being put on the spot in front of a large crowd. “You make a convincing argument,” you sighed, “I guess we’ll keep you.”

“Well,” Marlene concentrated on something over your shoulder, “I might leave voluntarily if other teams are out here looking like that.”

You turned, seeking out the team in question, and locked eyes with Dimples. He blushed furiously and ducked his head, blonde hair falling to cover his eyes. His friend to his left, equally as attractive, gave Dimples a weird look and shoved his shoulder. You whipped back around before you got caught staring - again.

“What the fuck?” Jordan whispers-yelled across the table to you, “Do you know that boy, (y/n)?”

“No,” you choked out, already halfway to whipped over someone you’d never even met.

“Well, damn,” Olivia finally arrived, somehow successfully holding four drinks, “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing,” Marlene smirked, “Just a cute boy thirsting over (y/n) from afar.”

“He is not thirsting!” Your disclaimer went by unacknowledged.

“Oooh, we love a thirsty boy,” Olivia slid into her seat next to you and turned around to assess the crowd, “Shit. Which one is he? All the boys at that table are hot.”

“The one with the dimples,” you automatically answered, your mind replaying his squinty-eyed smile in full HD.

“Whoa, hold on a minute,” Marlene whipped out her pen and notepad like she was about to take notes, “Now, how do you know he has dimples?”

“Uh,” you sank low in your seat, “A good guess?”

“Nope, try again,” Jordan cackled, “You twirl your hair when you’re lying, bitch.”

Goddamnit. You released your traitorous hand from your hair immediately. “Fine, because I saw him smiling when I arrived, okay?”

“Interesting,” Marlene scribbled gibberish on her notepad, “And how do you feel about that?”

Now, two long weeks later, you still had no idea how to answer that question. However, you did know that you longed to talk with him for hours and absorb the knowledge he seemed to hold in every crevice of his brain. You did know that a darker part of you wanted to see him kneeling before you, completely at your mercy. You did know that his thighs were distracting, to the point where you accidentally dumped your entire beer down your shirt because you were too gaping at the way he leaned over the bar to order drinks.

And, unfortunately, you did know that he seemed to be equally distracted by you. This bit of knowledge came via your friends; and, therefore, you were in full denial.

“Question nine,” the bartender-turned-announcer cleared her throat, jolting you from your inner thoughts. “Who wrote 1818’s Frankenstein?”

“Mary Shelley!” You whispered across the table to Jordan, who then scrawled the name onto your team’s answer sheet. Satisfied, you shot a furtive glance around the bar and frowned as the surrounding teams all seemed to be confident in their answers as well. Your gaze strategically skipped past the table in the back section of the bar before returning to face your teammates.

From her seat next to Jordan, Marlene spotted something in the very direction you had been avoiding and giggled, “Dimples is staring. Bottoms up, fam.”

“Again?” Olivia rolled her eyes and drank from her dwindling gin and tonic. “He just looked at her, like, thirty seconds ago!”

Your eyes swung to Jordan as he attempted to covertly take a sip of his vodka cranberry.

“Please tell me you all aren’t drinking every time he looks over here,” you groaned, crossing your arms, “How are you even sure that he's looking at me?”

“Maybe because his eyes were glued to your ass when you walked by his table earlier on the way to the bathroom,” Olivia cackled, “I mean, I can’t blame the guy. Those jeans really do make you look thick.”

“And that’s ‘thick’ with at least three C’s and possibly a Q,” Marlene added, shooting you a thumbs up and nod of approval.

Jordan arched an eyebrow slyly, sipped his mixed drink, and drawled,“Well, why do you think she wore them?”

That snake!

“Top ten anime betrayals,” you whispered, eyes wide in the wake of being exposed.

Marlene and Olivia gasped in unison and turned towards you. Olivia hissed, “You bitch. Have you been holding out on us? Have you been seducing him?”

“Question ten,” the announcement blared from the bar’s speakers, saving you briefly from the brewing interrogation you felt was headed your way. “What novel begins with the words 'Call me Ishmael’?”

“Moby Dick,” Marlene answered, “Now, back to the matter at hand. I cannot believe you didn’t tell us this crucial information. We could have been scheming together if we knew you liked him.”

“Like him?!” Your shriek drew the attention of the neighboring table, and you shot them a sheepish smile. When they finally looked away, you immediately reverted back to your murderous state, “I don’t even know his name! And when have you been scheming?”

“Fine,” Jordan acquiesced, stirring his paper straw around his drink, “Maybe you don’t like him yet, but you definitely want to sit on his dick. Am I right or am I right?”

Gleefully, Marlene and Olivia faced you with fierce looks of anticipation.

“Fine,” you sniffed, trying to scrape your shredded dignity off the floor, “Yes, I want to sit on his dick. Is that so wrong?”

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Olivia rubbed her palms together, grinning deviously, "I mean, we already know he's into you. Why can't you just say something to him?"

You looked at her like she had just spoken Latin backwards, "Have you seen him? He’s so sweet. I could ruin him.”

“I don’t think he’d even mind though,” Marlene sighed, gazing over at the boy in question.

Jordan snorted as you buried your head in your hands and audibly prayed for anyone out there to take pity on you.

"We're moving on to our next category, folks," the bar's sound system crackled to life, answering your prayers, "Harry Potter."

"Oh, fuck yeah," You and Marlene - resident Harry Potter dweebs - exchanged high fives. Finally, a category you could probably win with your mind functioning on minimal capacity.

"Question eleven: In the Goblet of Fire, who poses as Mad-Eye Moody, Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

"Barty Crouch," you and Marlene said, pausing for dramatic effect, "Junior."

You cracked up as Jordan and Olivia shook their heads. "I question our friendship every damn day," Olivia joked, gazing off into the metaphorical distance - aka at the wall.

"You love us, bitch-ass," Marlene aimed a kick in Olivia’s direction under the table.

You grinned at their antics and went to take a sip from your beer, only to discover it empty. "Another round?" You ask your friends, standing to head over to the bar.

"Yes, please," Jordan groaned, "Anything to make it through these next four questions."

"Anyone - besides Jordan - want another round?" You revised your original statement aloud.

"Wow, have I mentioned I love Harry Potter lately? Like, yes, ten points to Hogwarts, bitch," Olivia thrust her empty glass in the air.

"That's not even how House Points work, Liv," Marlene sighed, "Solid B- for effort."

You turned to leave. "Wait!" Jordan drew your attention back to your group, "Stick your ass out when you order. He'll be watching." He shot a quick glance in He Who Shall Not Be Named (Because You Don't Know It)'s direction. "Oh, wait. He already is. Go get 'em, Hedwig."

You inwardly screamed at the knowledge that you were being watched by the current focus of your attraction and decided not to comment before leaving.

"Hedwig?" You heard Marlene addressing Jordan as you walked away, "Did you mean Hermione? Hedwig is Harry’s fucking owl. RIP, by the way."

God, you loved your friends.

Arriving at the large wooden bar running the length of the room, you flagged down one of the bartenders and circled a finger in the air to indicate another round. You and your friends came often enough for most of the staff to know your orders by heart. It was awesome.

"Question twelve!" The sound jolted you upright. You hadn't noticed you were standing right next to one of the extra speakers the bar used for trivia. Idiot, you cursed yourself, why must you be like this?

"Why was the Whomping Willow planted?" Cringing again at the volume, you craned your neck and located Marlene, who gave you an affirmative nod of 'I got this, fam.'

"Here you go!" The bartender placed your drinks in front of you, "Same tab?"

"Yes, please," You nodded, attempting to smoothly grab all four drinks, "Thank you!"

"Need some help?" The sweetest voice you had ever heard in your life sounded from your left side. You slowly turned your head to face its source and was equally as stunned by the beautiful boy in front of you.

This was one of Dimples’ teammates - one of the Team Text Us, We're Single boys.

"Um," your brain resembled the scene from Spongebob where he forgot his name. Your eyes darted over the boy's shoulder in a deliberate attempt to avoid his cute scrunched eyes and wide smile. But, you were only faced with something even more devastating.

Six boys openly gaped at you from the back table. When you caught their eyes, three looked away, two grinned shamelessly, and one blushed right to the tips of his ears.

Cute. Your insides turned to mush over how adorable your Dimples was.

"They're the worst, right?” The boy in front of you commanded your attention once more, "So nosy. Now, let me help you. I'm Jimin, by the way, from Team Text--"

"Us, We're Single," you finished, "Yeah, you guys beat us the last two Thursdays. We had such a nice winning streak going, too."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better," Jimin smiled wide, "Most of us don't even care about trivia."

"That makes it even worse," you groaned, sliding two drinks his way, "I'm (y/n), from The Multiple--"

"Scoregasms," Jimin laughed, "Awesome name."

"Thanks!" Your confidence soared at his praise and you smiled genuinely, "It's some of my best work."

"Question thirteen!"

"Oh shit," Jimin muttered, "Let's go before I miss any more questions. Joon will have my ass on a platter."

You nodded, mind whirring to try to determine which team member this 'Joon' was. Maybe the intimidating-looking boy with the bleached blonde hair pushed back in a headband? Or the really muscular one in all black with the doe eyes and long brown hair?

"When Dumbledore and Harry first visit Horace Slughorn, what is he disguised as?"

At the question, you grabbed the two remaining drinks and head back to your table with Jimin following close behind. As soon as you began your journey, you rolled your eyes at the completely obvious way your friends were pretending they hadn’t been watching you and Jimin interact this entire time.

You had never seen them having such an animated conversation about... "Bagels are so good! I love how you can choose from so many different types, like cinnamon raisin, sesame, blueberry, honey wheat--"

"Hi," you forcefully placed the drinks down in front of your friends and succeeded in interrupting Marlene's riveting tirade about bagels, "This is Jimin. He was kind enough to help me."

"Hey, Jimin," Jordan eyed the boy appreciatively, "Decided to scope out the competition, huh?"

"Honestly, sort of," Jimin chuckled. Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, not liking the sly edge his grin took on in the slightest.

"Well, hopefully (y/n) didn't give much away," Olivia giggled, staring up at Jimin with heart eyes, "She's our team leader."

"Damn straight." You plopped back down in your chair, "Want to sit with us? We can grab an extra chair from a nearby table."

"Nah," Jimin glanced over his shoulder at where his teammates were probably still staring, "I should get back. Want to hang out after trivia though? We can merge tables!"

Before you could even answer, Marlene enthused, "Yes! That would be so fun. Don't you think, (y/n)?"

You gave her your most lethal side-eye, catching onto what seemed to be happening here, "Yes... so fun."

"Great!" Jimin ignored your dry tone, "Talk to you later then!"

You all watched as he sauntered away.

"Damn," Olivia sighed, "That boy is fine." You nodded sagely as your eyes stayed glued to Jimin's firm ass as he walked away in those tight jeans.

"So, what's the plan, team?" Jordan clapped, "We have T minus twenty minutes to get 'Operation Get (y/n) Dicked Down' up and running. Let's do this."

God, you hated your friends.

Twenty minutes later, your team had solidly lost. However, unlike the last two weeks, your loss did not come as a surprise or alongside any hard feelings. You four were too busy prepping to hang out with seven intimidatingly hot boys.

You were the only one not excited.

“And that concludes trivia for tonight, folks,” the bartender announced, “Team Text Us, We’re Single wins once again. Please come to the bar to collect your bar credits, lads.”

“Oh my god, okay, it’s happening,” Jordan bounced up and down in his seat as you all watched the bar start to clear out, “Stay calm. Stay fucking calm.”

“I don’t know how you have any room to call (y/n) and I nerds while you straight up quote The Office, Jord,” Marlene laughed.

“The Office is an Emmy award-winning show,” Jordan sniffed, “Come at me when Harry Potter wins a Pulitzer.”

“The Pulitzer is only for American authors,” Marlene cried.

“I rest my case,” Jordan lifted his glass.

“What?” Marlene yelped, “That makes literally no sense.”

“As much as I hate to interrupt this fascinating argument,” Olivia drawled, “We’re being summoned.”

You gulped, glancing behind you. Sure enough, Jimin was flagging you all down from across the bar, while a few of his teammates dragged over an empty table towards their own.

“Shit, I guess this is it,” you sighed.

“Jesus, you’re not going off to war, (y/n),” Jordan rolled his eyes, “You’re literally about to meet the your trivia daddy.”

“Please— and I cannot stress this enough,” you paused, “Never say that again.” With that, you stood, grabbing your drink and sauntering over towards Jimin with all the confidence you could possibly summon.

You heard your friends’ laughter behind you, and you discreetly flashed them the middle finger behind you back.

“Hey, Jimin,” you smiled at the boy as he greeted you and your friends.

“Hi, welcome!” His eyes were completely encompassed by his cheeks, and you internally screeched at his cuteness.

“This is Taehyung,” Jimin gestured to the curly-haired boy to his right. Taehyung greeted you all with a deep ‘Hi’ and a peace sign.

“Yoongi,” Jimin pointed towards the intimidating boy you noticed earlier with the bleached hair and the headband. Yoongi only nodded in your general vicinity as greeting.

“Hi, I’m Jin!” The stunningly handsome boy at the end of the table burst out, evidently unable to wait until he was introduced. Jin blew you all a kiss as his friends groaned.

“Please ignore him,” Jimin rolled his eyes before moving on, “Those two are Hoseok and Jungkook.” Jimin gestures towards the bar where two boys were collecting two pitchers of beer.

“And, last but not least, our trivia leader Namjoon,” Jimin’s grin turned devious as the boy in question raised his hand in greeting and ducked his head back down.

“Please sit,” Jimin gestured towards the scattered empty chairs amongst his group.

“(Y/n)!” Jin called suddenly, his arm flopping frantically in the air, “Come sit next to me!”

Your eyebrows shot all the way up as your heartbeat accelerated. Sitting next to Jin meant sitting next to Namjoon - your Dimples.

Nodding, you made your way over. It would be rude to refuse his request, and you could not help but wonder if Namjoon’s friends were also schemers.

You rounded the corner of the table and plopped down between the two boys. “H-hi,” you offered, eloquent as ever. You sipped your beer to cover up your burning embarrassment.

“Hi,” Jin grinned at you, “Thanks for joining us at the handsome end of the table.”

You choked on your beer, before cracking up, “The handsome end?” You loved this boy already and couldn’t resist the urge to tease him, “Oh, you meant Namjoon.” You shot the boy you just mentioned a sly smile as Jin spluttered.

Namjoon cocked his head slightly as he slowly broke into a shy smile, “Yeah, he definitely did, (y/n).”

Lord Almighty, the way he said your named almost sounded like a confession.

“Oh, this is insane, you fools!” Jin shook with incredulity, “I am worldwide handsome. Not Namjoon. Ugh, I need new friends.”

Jin stood and skulked over to the other side of the table as you all laughed. He was so extra, you could already tell. However, his antics had done wonders for your nerves.

Turning back to Namjoon, you leaned in closer, “Did he just make an Always Sunny reference? Or was that just me?”

Namjoon nodded, eyes glinting in amusement, “He did. You watch that show, too?”

Your conversation delved into your favorite shows, your favorite movies, your favorite meals. You felt like you had known Namjoon forever with how comfortable you already were with each other. Yet, you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes strayed to your lips every so often or how his hands crept closer to your thigh with every parting word.

The boy was into you. You were almost 85% sure of it. So, you decided to test him.

In the middle of Namjoon’s story about the time Jungkook almost burned down his apartment complex, you slid your hand over his. Namjoon paused, and you looked up innocently. He gulped and continued.

You smiled viciously on the inside. Your fingers played with his, intertwining with them, playing with his rings, brushing over his palm.

As Namjoon’s story drew to a close, you tugged his hand onto your thigh and released it. Nonchalantly, you picked up your beer and took a sip.

Shooting the boy a quick glance in your periphery, you found him staring openmouthed at his own hand encompassing your thigh. He gave your thigh a tentative squeeze, and you hummed in content. His eyes shot to yours.

“W-what are you doing?” Namjoon’s pupils were dilated as he blinked at you.

“I just wanted your hand on me, Joon,” you pouted, “You can take it off if you want.”

You moved to shift his hand off you, but his grip tightened. “I like having my hands on you, (y/n),” he said, his voice deeper than ever, “I also like you calling me ‘Joon’.”

“Two more things we can agree on,” you smiled at him, stomach full of butterflies and anticipation. Glancing around you, you realized that your friends were dispersed throughout the bar.

Marlene, Jordan, Hoseok, and Jungkook were dancing wildly in the middle of the bar’s tiny dance-floor. Jimin and Taehyung were bothering the DJ to presumably keep playing an assortment of random songs from the early 2000s. 

Olivia, Yoongi, and Jin sat at the bar, watching the others and laughing as Jungkook kept hitting the whoa no matter what song played. Currently, he was hitting the whoa to Baby Got Back.

Turning back to Namjoon, you find him looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“What?” you questioned, eyes searching his inquisitively.

He shoved a hand through his messy hair. “You’re so intimidating, (y/n). You’re so smart and beautiful, and it messes with my brain.”

“You’re intimidated by me?” You arched an eyebrow before smiling sweetly, “I promise I don’t bite… Unless you want me to.”

“I do,” he answered automatically. You both paused. His eyes widened comically, “F-forget I said that.”

“You want me to bite you, Joonie?” You sighed into his ear, relishing in his shiver, “You want me to mark your pretty skin?”

“Yes,” he breathed out.

“Okay,” your mouth descended to his neck, searching for a weak spot. His breath hitched as your mouth neared his thrumming pulse point. Bingo.

You placed an open-mouthed kiss onto his warm skin before sucking lightly. Namjoon moaned, shifting in his seat. 

You bit down, and his hips bucked instinctively. Pulling back slightly, you licked over the mark that was slowly blooming on his neck.

The clear imprint of your teeth on his neck had you grinning like a fool. You really wanted to own this cute, shy, intelligent boy.

You looked up at Namjoon. He was watching you with his puffy lips parted, his breathing hard. “Can I kiss you?” You asked, eyes focused on his. He nodded frantically, and your lips tugged up in a small smile.

Slowly, you inched your mouth closer towards his. Your breaths mingled. You pressed your lips to his gently and wrapped your arms around his neck.

You kept kissing Namjoon until you finally had to come up for air. Leaning your forehead against his, you locked eyes, breathing each other in.

“Can I sit on your lap, Joon?” You asked in between peppering kisses on his reddened cheeks.

After getting a nod in confirmation, you straddled his lap and returned your lips to his. The small part of your brain still thinking rationally reminded you that you were in a very public bar. The much larger and irrational part of your brain urged you on as your hips shamelessly grind onto Namjoon’s. The hardened cock that you felt through his jeans was too tempting. And, besides, exhibitionism was fun, right?

You bit down on Namjoon’s bottom lip, and he thrust against you.

You broke away and turned your head to the side, needing another moment to breathe. Namjoon began to kiss your neck, and you let out a small laugh as he nipped at your skin. He was marking you right back.

Namjoon lifted his head again as your lips parted. His face was inches away from yours. He stared at you like a starving man.

“Fuck, baby,” Namjoon said lowly, “I’m beginning to think you might be the devil, because you just snatched my soul.”

You stared at him. “That was so goddamned cheesy.” Your giggles made him turn an interesting shade of maroon.

“I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Jin-hyung,” you heard him mutter before you captured his lips once more.

As you kissed, his fingers slowly inched downwards, caressing you. You decided then and there that you would have this boy.

“Undo my jeans,” you commanded after pulling away from his mouth. His eager fingers dropped to your zipper, fumbling in their haste. Once your jeans were undone, you felt him hesitate. You instructed him, “I need your fingers.”

He thrust a finger into you. “Mm, Joon,” you dropped your head into the crevice of his neck as he pumped another one in, stretching you. His fingers curled inside you, as you shifted your hips.

“Rub my clit,” You demanded, and he pulled his fingers out and circled it immediately. You moaned at both the new sensation and at the loss of his fingers inside you. “Keep your fingers in me, use your thumb.” You gripped onto the back of his head, pulling on his hair in punishment.

His fingers thrust back into you without warning as his thumb circled your clit. You felt yourself clenching around him, so close to coming just from his hands. Still, you needed more. You were definitely a greedy bitch.

You pulled his hand from your pants, and he stared at his fingers, which were sticky with you. You watched enraptured as he lifted his wet fingers to his lips and sucked.

His eyes widened, “Fuck, (y/n), you taste so good. You have to let me eat you out. You need to let me put my head between your thighs. Please.”

“Bathroom,” you gasped out, “Now.” You shimmied off of Namjoon’s lap and onto shaky legs.

“Follow me in one minute,” you kissed his cheek and tried your best to casually make your way to the bathroom. However, you were pretty sure you had already blown all efforts to be casual as soon as you sat on Namjoon.

Finally, you entered the empty single-stall bathroom and let out a sigh of relief.

Two seconds later, a knock sounded. You barely opened the door wide enough before Namjoon was all over you. His hands gripped your ass as he backed you against the wall next to the sink.

He gazed down at you with hooded eyes, “You still want this, right?”

“Yes, Joon,” you leaned up to kiss him one more time.

Namjoon sank to his knees before you.

You audibly moaned at the sight. Quickly, you tugged your jeans down your legs and kicked them to the side. Your underwear followed suit.

Namjoon cursed lowly as you lifted a leg onto the ledge of the sink, baring everything to him. “Well,” you smirked, “You wanted to put that smart mouth on me.”

“You are going to kill me,” he muttered. His hot mouth closed over your clit. Parting your lips, he caressed you as he sucked and licked. His fingers thrust into you once more, pulling out slowly then pummeling back in.

“Harder,” you moaned. He fucked you faster, adding another finger, stretching you.

He pulled his mouth away from you, his lips swollen and pink. “How the fuck can you taste this good?” He panted as he carried on fucking you with his fingers, grabbing at your ass with his free hand.

His mouth returned to your pussy, circling your clit with his tongue and moaning against it. His fingers continued to push into you relentlessly.

You felt your toes curl as your orgasm approached at a maddening rate. “J-Joon,” you cried his name, your back arching as the pleasure built up with each stroke of his tongue and movement of his fingers.

Without warning, he sucked on your clit harshly, and you came, clenching around his fingers. Namjoon continued to pump them in and out of you, carrying you through your orgasm. He licked your pussy, lapping up everything you gave him with his tongue. After a bit, your fingers wound into his hair and pulled. “Stop,” you begged, legs shaking with overstimulation.

He pulled back immediately and lifted his head, looking thoroughly fucked-out. His lips were more swollen than ever. His hair was a tangled mess. You had never seen anything better. “God, you look so sexy right now,” you mused, reaching a hand to stroke at his cheek.

“Are you guys finally done in there?” You cringed as Jordan’s amused voice shouted at you through the bathroom door, “You have work tomorrow, (y/n).”

“Jesus H. Christ, Jordan! Go away!” You screamed back at your infuriating roommate.

“…I’m going to take that as a ‘yes’,” he replied, laughing, “See you out there, champ.”

“I’m going to murder him,” you seethed, accepting your jeans from Namjoon who held them silently out to you.

You scanned the floor of the bathroom, “Wait, where’s my underwear?”

Namjoon’s cheeks flooded with color as he lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck, “I needed some form of reminder of tonight.”

You shrugged, giggling as you tugged on your jeans, “Let’s make a trade.”

“I’m listening,” he grinned, goddamned dimples popping out and making you want to kiss him forever.

“You keep my panties; I keep you,” you grinned back at him.

He blinked rapidly, “Keep me?” You nodded, nerves erupting. Had you misread the situation? Did he just want this to be a one-time thing? Shit, had you royally fucked this up already?

He kissed you suddenly, and you relaxed.

“Please keep me,” he mumbled, “I’m a mess, but I can be your mess if you’d let me.”

“We can be messy together,” you gripped his hand in yours, “Now, come on. We have to go face our friends.”

Namjoon gulped, looking rightfully terrified at that prospect. “Or we could sneak out the back?”

A smirk wound its way onto your face, “I really do like the way you think, Joonie. Let’s go.”

With that, the two of you snuck out of the bathroom and out the backdoor of the bar.

“I knew it!” Marlene and Jimin greeted the two of you with triumphant fists thrust high in the air. Jimin whipped his phone out before you or Namjoon could even say a word. “Hey, hyung? Yeah. They’re out here.”

Ignoring the gloating pair, you turned to Namjoon, “We could still make a run for it?”

He met your eyes; and, without a word, you both took off.

Shouts of your names followed you down the dark alley as you both cracked up. This was definitely not how you had pictured your typical Thursday trivia night to go down, but you were not disappointed. No, you shot the boy running beside you an affectionate look, you weren’t disappointed at all.

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

[kumkaniudaku]

Meet the Parents: Four

A/N: This is the last part of this series and a late Valentine’s Day entry. Enjoy another piece of the Chad and CoCo saga. I love you guys! 

Warnings: Not Proofread

Word Count: 5212

“Our parents are coming to visit next week.”

Tasha let the sentence fall from her lips like an observation about the weather and not a random declaration in the middle of weeknight dinner. Chadwick sat beside her on the couch, eyes trained on the television before turning his head for a view of the side of her face. Even in her profile he saw embers of worry smoldering behind her eyes. Chadwick quickly chewed the last bits of black beans in his mouth to answer.

“What?”

“Our parents,” she repeated, finally looking over at him. “They’re coming to visit next week.”

“Our parents? As in just your parents or -.”

“Both sets. Yours and mine. They are going to be in this house next weekend under the impression that we haven’t talked in years when we’ve been playing house for almost two months.”

“Yeah, so,” Chadwick added, not seeing the issue. “We’re grown. Shit happens.”

“My parents think that I’m getting married next fall, Chadwick. They think I’m still with Elijah.”

Chadwick stopped chewing to cough up pieces of rice that had shot to the back of his throat in surprise. “Shit.” He paused to gather himself as Tasha leaned forward to rest her forehead in her hands. “Okay, that explains your folks. How are mine involved?”

“My mama took it upon herself to contact your mama and, I think, they’re on a mission to help us reconnect like this is some family drama or something.” Tasha kept her lead low while her fingers placed air quotes around reconnect. A split second of silence hung in the air until quiet snickering caught her attention. “I’m glad you think this is so funny.”

“It’s too ridiculous not to laugh, baby.” Chadwick fought to stifle laughter as he watched Tasha stand and stomp off toward the kitchen. He hadn’t intended to belittle her feelings, but he wasn’t sure how to process the information. “C’mon, T. I’m sorry!”

In their shared haste to explore a new chapter of their relationship, neither Tasha or Chadwick had alerted their families and friends. Sure, a few people had made assumptions, but nothing that they speculated equaled solid proof. To call the lack of information a secret was too harsh. They preferred the term oversight. But now, with a visit from their families looming, the new couple needed a plan that included cleaning up said oversight without admitting to what would surely be seen as an outright lie.

Tasha stood in the kitchen angrily scrubbing at an empty sauce pot when Chadwick walked in and leaned on the counter beside the sink. He watched with a fond smile for a moment before reaching to grab her wrists and pull her close.

“Hey, look at me,” Chadwick requested, taking Tasha’s chin between his thumb and index finger. Hip lips pressed gentle kisses on her nose and mouth until she relented and returned his affection. “We’ll be okay.”

“You say that like you have a plan.”

Chadwick smiled and pecked Tasha’s lips. “I always have a plan, baby.”

To Chadwick the solution was simple: play along with their parents and finish the long weekend without giving up more information than was necessary. If their mothers wanted to believe they’d done a good deed, let them.

Together, they spent days fine tuning their deceit. Tasha made sure to remove any trace of her existence from Chadwick’s house, scouring the home for an out of place pair of heels or a wayward piece of mail in her name. Chadwick crafted an intricate script with details so precise that CoCo had begun to believe their lie.

The night before mom-eggedon, as Tasha had named their arrival, the couple lay tangled in bed tightening their story.

“So, we’ll have to delete each other’s number for this to work. It’ll look weird if my name pops up in your contacts.”

“How would they even see? I’ll go to another room.”

“That looks suspicious. You have to make the call in front of her.”

“Okay,” Tasha agreed, sighing as she scrolled through her contacts and reluctantly removed Chadwick’s number. “What else?”

“Make sure to grab your bonnet and headscarf before you leave in the morning. Or I can stash them in my drawer. Let me know.”

“You pick. I... need a break.”

Tasha’s sudden bout of anxiety was enough to end any and all conversation that night. She has resigned to the notion that she would have to come clean the minute her parents stepped off of the arrivals sidewalk and slid into the backseat of her car. Still, she was careful to use her best poker face in the off chance that she was home free. Chadwick didn’t share her worries, but he empathized. His parents weren’t nearly as invested in his personal life. He wasn’t the one due to be married in a year’s time.

Sun beat down on Tasha through the windshield of her car while she anxiously glanced in her rearview mirror for any sight of her parents. She hadn’t slept the night before and slipped out of Chadwick’s bed early to avoid any talk of the weekend. In her mind, if she left without speaking to her boyfriend, she could easily forget their connection. She was wrong. All she could think about was ringing his line for another dose of reassurance.

Tasha’s eyes followed a parking official making stops at each car along the curb, silently praying that her parents would emerge from the building before she was handed a ticket.

“Come on, come on,” she whispered, hoping she could will them outside. Her fingernails tapped nervously on the dash until, finally, she caught a glimpse of her mother’s traveling hat moving toward the sidewalk. She bounded from the driver’s side in a single motion and waved her hands for their attention.

“Mom! Dad! Over here!”

“My baby!” Elaine was the first to greet her oldest daughter, leaving Gerald to grab her rolling luggage and haul it to the car.

Tasha smiled as her mother pulled into a hug way too tight for her tense body. “Hey, mama. You travel safe?”

“As safe as I could, child. Your daddy complained the whole time, but we’re here now.”

“Set your old man up with first class tickets next time, Pumpkin. I need some room for these knees.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. I’ll upgrade you for the flight back. Let me grab those.”

Gerald tried to wave Tasha off, but he was too slow. Tasha had already started to channel her nervous energy into overextending her hospitality. Every question was answered with an uncharacteristic amount of enthusiasm. Neither of her parents noticed as they marveled at sights and sounds of Los Angeles. They sat with their faces nearly pressed against the car windows, rattling off questions and observations about the state of the city. Complaints about the traffic earned a laugh that was too loud for the conversation and a shared look of concern between Gerald and Elaine.

“So, how is Elijah,” Elaine asked, looking at Tasha through the rearview mirror with a smile. “We haven’t heard from or about him in about a month. Is he okay?”

Tasha’s foot stuttered on the break as she pulled into her driveway, making the car jerk in response. She took a breath and rolled her shoulders back before answering.

“He’s fine, I suppose. We... aren’t together anymore.”  Tasha’s jaw clenched at the admission and shook her head. She hadn’t said the words aloud yet.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“He wasn’t good enough for you anyway, Pumpkin. His ears were too big to have nothing in between ‘em.”

Tasha chuckled as she shut off the engine and opened the driver’s side door. “Thanks, Pop.”

“I agree with your father. Now, you have more time to wait on the man that’s supposed to court you, not the other way around. You know, I know a guy.”

“Mhmm,” Tasha mumbled. “Here, let me help with that.”

Gerald stopped pulling suitcases from the trunk and kindly pushed his daughter’s hand away. “I got it, Pumpkin. Take your mama inside. She’s been dying to see your house.”

Tasha laughed at her father’s thinly veiled plea for alone time before ushering her mother into her home. Elaine stepped into the foyer and paused, taking a long look at her surroundings. Beside the door, a basketball rested by a black duffle bag.

“You’re playing basketball again,” she questioned.

“Every once in a while I play with the girls as the facility. No big deal.”

Elaine took another look at the oversized sweatshirt barely hanging out of the bag. “Hm.”

Before Tasha could address Elaine’s non-verbal judgement, her mother had moved on to the living room. Elaine stopped to examine photos and sculptures carefully placed on each surface, finding many of them to have ties back to home or family. Her fingers ghosted over awards from her daughter’s time away from home and she smiled. If Elaine was nothing else, she was proud of Tasha.

While she listened to her husband and daughter wrestle luggage into the house, Elaine carefully took a seat on the large sectional to rest her aching legs. The way she flopped against the plush piece of furniture surprised Elaine, making her giggle but stop when she got a whiff of the air around her. Beside her head lay a dark fleece blanket and she took a deep inhale to place it as a source of the masculine smell.

“This is a nice blanket, Nicole,” she complimented. “It looks warm.”

“It is. Got it on a trip back from Connecticut last year. Great naps have been taken under that thing.”

What Tasha thought as a random fun fact about her favorite blanket made her mother smirk with realization. She knew the smell of a gentleman caller when she encountered one. Though the information wasn’t enough to stop the plan she had in motion, she felt a strange comfort in knowing that Tasha was living a life that pleased her, something Elaine had drilled into her and her sister’s head since their pre-teen years.

“Dad, you want a drink. I have this expensive artisan beer that Ch... a friend left over. When they visited. A friend.”

Tasha stilled to slow her rapidly beating heart at her near mistake. Neither of her parents had seemed to notice and, for that, she was silently grateful.

“My girl is drinking beer now,” Gerald questioned with a wide smile. “Becoming just like your old man.”

“Yeah, well, I dabble. Gotta keep up with the white boys at the Lakers game.”

“Atta, girl. Beat ‘em at their own game. C’mon, show me.”

On one side of town, Tasha busied herself with introducing her parents to the wonders of pale ales and stouts, while on the other, Chadwick emptied grocery bags filled to brim with dinner ingredients. He spent much of the process silently scolding his parents for placing items in areas he knew CoCo wouldn’t enjoy. When his mother moved to place the entire jug of orange juice in the door of the refrigerator, Chadwick couldn’t resist the urge to stop her.

“Actually,” he started, intercepting her before she could place the jug. “I have some pitchers you can empty that into. They’re nice, I promise.”

His mother eyed him as he retrieved a monogrammed pitcher from the cabinet and rinsed it in the sink. The last time she’d visited, he barely had food in the refrigerator. Now, he had specialized pitchers for juice.

“Where did those come from?” Carol asked, trying to get a better look at the glassware.

“Crate and Barrel. I went with a friend a couple weeks ago and they suggested them.” Unlike Tasha, Chadwick had a solid grasp on his lines and practice keeping secrets.

“Hm. This friend suggest those vanilla candles in the living room, too?”

“Those were a gift. Want one? I have a few more in the linen closet.”

“No, I’m alright. Just... noticing some changes.”

“Like what?” Chadwick asked as he stashed breakfast meat in the refrigerator drawer.

“You live alone now. That’s new.”

Chadwick shrugged, seemingly unphased. “It’s been a couple of weeks. The split was mutual. We’re on better terms these days.”

That was an assumption on his part. Chadwick didn’t know the status of his friendship with Charmaine, but he harbored no ill will. Carol opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by her husband walking into the kitchen with a big smile.

“Hell of theater you got back there son. I bet the big game looked good on that big ‘ole screen.”

“Wanna try it out? I think the playoffs start tonight.”

“What about dinner?” Carol asked.

“We’ll eat early. It’s just us right?”

Chadwick tried to avert his gaze once his mother started to look between him and his father. He didn’t want to let on that he knew more than she had shared.

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk about. You remember Tasha, right?”

“She was my best friend, ma,” Chadwick laughed. “Of course I remember her.”

“I know, I know. But did you know she lived here now?”

“She mentioned it when she sent a gift for the movie.”

“So, you two talk again?”

“We’ve talked once or twice.”

“Have you met up?”

“No.” Chadwick answered, keeping his voice flat to appear neutral. Carol smiled in a way that indicated she had information to share. Chadwick allowed the charade to continue.

“Well, I heard from a little birdie that her parents are also in town this weekend. Maybe you should invite them over.”

“Ma, I don’t know if we’re back on those terms yet. It’s been a while.”

“I know,” Carol answered, drawing out ‘know’ as she took steps toward Chadwick. She latched onto his arm and smiled up at her son. “But, what if she stopped by? Just for dinner?”

Chadwick looked between his parents, paying special attention to his father’s grin. He’d never known his dad to be invested in his private life, but there was always spark behind his eyes when Tasha was involved.

Finally, Chadwick pretended to relent.

“Alright, ma. I don’t have her number, though. How will I call?”

Carol clapped her hands like a giddy child and started a search for her phone. “Don’t you worry your head, boy. I have her number right here.” She extended her arm toward his face. “Go on. Call her. I wanna hear you.”

Chadwick felt his body tense and mind begin to scramble for a response. He had expected to make the call when a moment of solitude presented itself. Now, he was forced to go off script and risk throwing Tasha off balance. On a whim, he decided to grab his mother’s phone to make the call.

The phone rang once, and then a third time before Tasha answered.

“Hello?” she answered with a genuine question thick in her tone.

“Hey, Tasha. It’s me...Chadwick.”

Everyone listened as the sounds in the background became louder before CoCo responded. “Hey, Chad. I have you on speaker. My parents are here.”

“Hi, Chadwick!”

“How ya doin’, son!”

Both Tasha and Chadwick chuckled at her parents' excitement.

“I’m good. Good to hear from y’all. Welcome to LA.” Chadwick listened to Elaine and Gerald share various versions of thank you before continuing. “Hey, so, funny thing...my parents are here too.”

“Oh really? Give them my love. I know they miss me.”

“We miss you so much, sweetie! Why don’t you come eat dinner with us tonight.”

Chadwick chuckled at his mother’s excitement, “That was my line. She beat me to it, but the invite stands. We’d be happy to have y’all over.”

“We’ll be there!”

“Ma!” Tasha and her mother argued in hushed whispers on the other line, nearly making Chadwick forget that the whole conversation was a carefully planned charade. “I guess we’ll be there. You’ll send the address?”

As if she needed it. “Sure. You’ll get it from another number, okay?”

He wasn’t sure why, but Chadwick felt butterflies flutter in the pit of his belly as if this were truly the first time he was seeing the love of his life. He welcomed the feeling and smiled on the other end, making his parents join in on his happiness.

“Great. See you soon,” Tasha answered, a hint of smile in her voice to match Chadwick’s.

They hung up with promises to text for more details and inside jokes that made only them laugh. With a few white lies, they had tricked their parents, and nearly themselves, into believing they were set to embark on a glorious reunion between college friends.

Tasha spent hours rifling through what little clothing she still had at her condo, tossing outfit after outfit onto her bedroom floor until she came up with something she felt would catch her man’s eye.

Across town, Chadwick and his mother arranged and rearranged the dining table dishes to ensure that he was putting forth the best “first” impression. They settled on elegant china that Chadwick felt was a bit too formal for the occasion, but he let it stand. At the very least the flatware would impress Tasha’s parents.

As Tasha drove through Chadwick’s neighborhood, she made sure to maintain a facade of discovery. She didn’t take the normal shortcuts or skip the growing pothole on the street that tormented her each day on the way home from work. She pretended to be surprised at the ornate sculptures crafted from bushes at a nearby house and the amount of expensive cars in the driveways they passed.

“The boy is doing well for himself,” Gerald commented from the backseat.

“Very well. But, we always knew it’d be like this. Chadwick was destined to be big.”

Elaine spoke about Chadwick as if he was some utra celebrity and not the same kid that she had to constantly remind to slow down while he ate so that he wouldn’t choke on his food.

Tasha laughed as she pulled into his driveway. “He’s a movie star. It’s to be expected.”

One by one, the Greene family stepped out of the car into the crisp, early Spring air and started up the short driveway toward the door. Tasha hung back and examined the house from the outside, admiring how the two potted plants they’d placed on the porch were starting to go into one another like their namesakes.

Gerald rapped his knuckles against the door several times before Elaine scolded him for being rude as she pressed the doorbell. When Tasha caught up to her parents, the door opened and sent light from the inside spilling onto the front porch. Chadwick popped out of the house with his arms open wide.

“Family!”

He gripped Tasha’s parents into tight hugs, sharing familiar pleasantries as he welcomed them into his home. Elaine stuttered when it was her turn to embrace, taking a deep whiff of Chadwick’s shoulder and feeling transported to a moment earlier in the day. She kept quiet, but took note of his hug with Tasha as he moved on to greet the other members of the household. Elaine noticed the way he seemed to hug her like a man familiar with the curvature of his lover’s body and shared a look with Carol that spoke louder than words.

As a unit, they quickly fell back into familiar behaviors, catching each other up with life’s happenings and new discoveries. On the far end of Chadwick’s sectional, he and Tasha sat close enough to share side conversations that only they could hear.

“Just like old times,” Lawrence, Chadwick’s father, commented over his glass of water. “You two haven’t changed in over 20 years.”

“What you mean, dad? We’re just over here talking.”

“That ain’t just talking,” Gerald chimed in. “Y’all always had your little secret language.”

“And a knack for keeping each other’s secrets.”

Tasha looked over at Elaine who sat with a knowing smirk on her face that unsettled her daughter. Chadwick easily maintained his cool as he sipped from his wine glass.

“That’s how it goes when you’ve been friends this long. We are still friends, right?”

Tasha felt her cheeks become warm through her bashful smile. “Of course. Always.”

Both sets of parents looked on with fond smiles while their kids shared a moment of rekindling a little more than longtime friendship. Elaine and Carol exchanged winks to congratulate each other on a job well done.

“Well isn’t that sweet,” Carol spoke after clearing her throat. “But, I think the roast is done. Can we move this moment to the dining room?”

“Yeah, sure. Tasha, can you help mama in the kitchen? You need help right, mama?”

“I’ll take it wherever I can get it,” she laughed.

“Now, you know you don’t ever have to ask me for help. I’m right behind you.”

The group quickly dispersed to different corners of the house, leaving Tasha and Carol to explore Chadwick’s kitchen on their own. Tasha took it upon herself to reach into the drawer beside the stove and grab pot holders. Carol watched her move around the space as if she had been there a thousand times.

“Did you say you’ve visited Chad before?”

Tasha looked back as she opened the stove and shook her head. “No, ma’am. This is my first time.”

“Hm. Okay.” She continued to watch Tasha carefully slide the roast out of the oven and close the door with her hip. When Tasha turned around, Carol tried to recover a moment too late. Tasha smiled nervously.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” Carol quickly answered. “I just...I thought...it doesn’t matter. I’ll grab another bottle of wine and meet you in the dining room.”

Carol’s pivot seemed to do the trick once Tasha carried the main dish to the dining room. Chadwick sat at the end of the table with a mixed look of boredom and relief once Tasha entered the room. He sprung up to retrieve the dish from her hands, but Tasha gripped his hands to stop him.

“Your mom is being weird,” Tasha whispered.

“Your’s too. She noticed that bottle of air freshener you always spray in here and asked where it came from.”

“What is she a fuckin’ bloodhound?”

“She is you,” Chadwick laughed. “I think I got us out of it, but be careful.”

Carol’s entrance forced the pair to separate and pretend to focus on different tasks. She eyed their charade for a moment before looking over to Elaine and their aloof husbands solely focused on dinner.

She took a seat beside Lawrence just as Tasha settled in next to Chadwick while trying to avoid eye contact.

“So, who’s going to say the blessing? Tasha?”

Tasha’s eyes grew wide, “Oh, I’m probably not the best person. You know how I am with words and this isn’t my house anyway. How about Chad?”

“Uh, sure. Everybody bow your heads.” Tasha squeezed Chadwick’s hand as a silent thanks and clamped her eyes shut to avoid the daggers he sent in her direction. Chadwick took a deep breath in search of words to fit the occasion. “Lord, thank you for bringing us together again tonight. Especially Tasha and I as long time friends. We-”

“Hope that you will use all of us to tell the truth about our love for one another. Please, don’t let this night pass without every feeling and overlooked detail put on the table. It’d be a shame for us to leave here holding on to what you put on our hearts to share.”

Amens, both genuine and forced, sounded around the table to signal the end of Elaine’s awkward prayer. The group sat in silence while scooping food onto their plates. Tasha and Chadwick attempted to remain inconspicuous.

“Chadwick, how’s Hollywood treating you,” Gerald asked between bites of food.

“Ah, you know how it goes out here. I go to work, come home and avoid all that foolishness in between. The pay is good though. I can’t lie about that.”

“You better be avoiding the foolishness. Tasha, now that you’re here, keep my boy straight.”

“Yes, sir,” Tasha laughed. “If I’m not good at anything else, I’m good at bossing him around.”

“Did Tasha tell you that she’s single now?”

“Ma! We literally just got here. When would I have had time to share that?” Tasha shot her mother a glare across the table and received a shrug in return.

“I only asked a question. Are you single Chad?”

Chadwick chuckled as he slipped his hand under the table and gripped Tasha’s thigh. “No, I didn’t know she was single and, yes, I am recently single. The last relationship didn’t workout quite the way she hoped.”

“Sounds like you two have something in common.”

“Oh you and what’s his name aren’t together?”

Tasha caught Chadwick’s obvious sarcasm and brushed his hand off her leg. He continued to laugh at her expense, leaving no room for her to unleash her frustration beyond a curt smile.

“You know his name, Aaron. And, no, we are not. That is my business to keep to myself.”

“Alright,” Chadwick answered. “Maybe I can hook you up with one of my actor friends. I hear Anthony Mackie is looking for someone your type.”

“I’ll pass. Actors aren’t my thing.”

“Hm. That’s not what I heard.”

Chadwick jokingly nudged Tasha’s shoulder, garnering a look from Elaine and Carol.

“What did you hear,” Carol asked. “Don’t the kids say something about the tea?”

“Nothing. Chadwick hasn’t heard a thing but a seminar on how to still be annoying after 20 years.”

He laughed and wiped his mouth. “I’m pretty good at it, too. You look a little flushed, though. Want more wine?”

A simple diversion pushed the conversation into talks of wine tasting and how to pair reds and whites, effectively ending all relationship talk for a stretch. Underneath the table, Tasha and Chadwick took turns letting their hands wander. The cat and mouse game quickly grew inappropriate with fingers buried between thighs and palms gripping sacred parts over thick denim fabric. Their parents enjoyed helping after helping of food until each person was stuffed and nearly falling out of their seats. Lawrence, however, wasn’t done.

“I could go for some dessert,” he mentioned during a lull in the conversation. “What we got in the kitchen?”

“Mama, you got that cheesecake I ordered, right? Tasha, wanna help me grab it.” Chadwick had been thinking about a way to briefly separate from the group to sneak a kiss or a hug and, finally, he’d found an out.

Tasha peeped the hint of demand in his voice and nodded. “For sure. You know you have butter fingers anyway. We’ll be right back.”

The pair didn’t give their parents time to reject the offer before they scurried out of the room. When they made it into the kitchen undetected, Tasha pulled Chadwick into a searing kiss. He chuckled against her lips while fondling her backside.

“Your joke was not funny,” Tasha mumbled before breaking the kiss. “Mackie? Really?”

“Gotta make it realistic, baby. You handled it like a champ.”

“Mhmm. Next time, I’m coming with jokes about your relationship.”

Chadwick allowed Tasha to slip from his grip and head to the refrigerator. He watched her hips sway for a second before reaching into the cabinet to grab dessert plates.

“Which ones do you usually use?”

“The white marble. Grab the gold forks to match the decor. You did a good setting it up by yourself.”

“Do you know how hard it was to keep my mama from moving stuff around?”

“Probably as hard as it was to keep mine out of my office. Why can’t they be like our dad’s?”

“Because then we wouldn’t love them as much,” he added. “Only a couple more days of this and then I can have you back in here with my shirts on.”

“Oh, so, we aren’t meeting up for some car sex tomorrow.”

Tasha stepped closer as Chadwick lifted a brow and watched her beneath hooded lids. “Don’t tempt me, baby.”

“Now, Aaron. You know that ain’t my style. I’ll call you. We’ll call it lunch.” Balancing the tray of cheesecake in one hand, Tasha pressed a quick kiss against Chadwick’s lips before turning to leave the kitchen.

“Who wants cheesecake,” he hollered as he followed Tasha back into the dining room with a smile.

Both sets of parents watched the couple attempt to pass out slices without bumping into each other, taking note of the clear gloss making Chadwick’s lips shine. Lawrence tried to send messages to his son to wipe his mouth but all of them went unnoticed. Elaine and Carol shared smiles while Gerald stifled a laugh.

After passing out each piece of cake, Tasha and Chadwick took their seats and found all eyes on them.

“What,” Chadwick asked as he stabbed a fork into his cheesecake.

Lawrence cleared his throat. “I think you have something you need to share, son.”

“Like what?”

“Maybe Tasha will know,” Elaine added. Tasha forced a laugh and smiled.

“I don’t even know what’s going on right now. What are you talking about?”

“How about you start with how long you and Chadwick have been seeing each other. And be honest this time, Pumpkin.”

Tasha and Chadwick froze. In the mirror above his parent’s head and noticed the evidence of their secret still on his lips. There was no sense in preserving the farce. They were caught red handed. So, he smiled and shook his head. Tasha finally relented with a hearty laugh.

“When did you know, mama?”

“Child, as soon as I smelled man on your couch and hugged this one at the door. You have to be smarter than that.”

Carol chimed in and pointed at Tasha, “And this one went in the kitchen and started pulling things out of the drawer like she owned the place.”

“You don’t think we noticed the glassware in the fridge? You drink orange juice out of the carton and now all of a sudden there’s pitchers all over the place.”

“Since when do you drink beer, Pumpkin. I knew you either had a boyfriend or you were going through a midlife crisis like your mama when she only drank martinis for a year.”

Chadwick and Tasha listen to all the places they had neglected tiny details, feeling slightly foolish that they’d tried to pull the wool over the eyes of the people that knew them best.

“Okay, you got us,” Chadwick admitted. “This was all Tasha’s idea. I wanted to tell y’all right away. It’s been almost two months of this lie she made me tell.”

“Oh, hush! I just figured we would tell you when we were ready. Well, when I was ready. I’m sorry, y’all.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Carol answered.

“This just gives us more time for planning.”

Tasha raised an eyebrow while leaning into Chadwick’s side. “Planning what?”

“The wedding of course,” Elaine exclaimed. Tasha’s groan became covered by Chadwick’s boisterous laughter.

“Lay ‘em on me, Ms. Greene. What you thinking?”

“How do feel about a rustic wedding, Ooh ooh, let me go grab my phone. Did I tell you I have a Pinterest now?”

[fenheart87]

Trading Circle of Hell

@semi-slaughtomatic happy belated birthday doll! I will be cross posting to AO3 later as well but I wanted to get this out there now that its done!

-start-

"Welcome welcome! Females to the left and males to the right! Look for anyone with a purple butterfly mask to make your purchase or ask for more information on our unique invenitory! Rumor has it our esteemed kings shall be here today, make your selection quick for I fear even I wouldn't dare say no to them...."

Viperion scanned the room in disgust, cages with humans, demons, various kinds of fae and more supernaturals were lined and spaced very strategically. Only one or two people could view a 'selection' at a time and there were plenty to choose from.

"This is not what I was expecting." Chat Noir spoke up, teeth bared in rage at what he was seeing. They had been tipped off there was an underground market, an illegal one even by demon standards, and here was the proof right in front of their eyes.

"Easy Plagg, we have time to browse and choose carefully from the... Inventory."

"Yeah yeah Sass, kumbyyah and all. I want one with spirit."

"I want one with some brains, the traps keep killing people." Sass responded, sharing a smirk with his companion and drawing his hood closer to his face. The last thing they needed was for someone to recognize them as they were investigating this horrid black market before they could shut it down. The problem with the recon mission was that they needed to be stealthy and being the Snake and Black Cat made them the best choice, even if they had more favorable morals and senses of justice within them unlike many other demons. It was the secret that made them good rulers and their following loyal to them and them alone.

"Welcome gentleman! Forgive me I have spent too much time topside lately, is there anything specific you happen to be looking for? Someone for manual labor or more physical labor in the place of rest?" The Showrunner as he chose to title himself wisely decided to not touch either of them like he had for many of the other buyers.

"I need someone with a firey spirit and tough enough to withstand the Hell Fires."

"Oh, you must live under our illustrious leader Chat Noir then, pray tell would a dragon suffice good sir?" Beady eyes were shining in glee as Plagg exchanged a glance with Sass.

"Depends on the age and gender, perhaps you can direct me where I could find such one?"

"Of course, in the front row at the very end of the left side. A Longg follower that is quite the spirited miss. And for you fellow good sir?"

"I need someone smart and cunning, quick as a mouse if you will,"

"Ah I wish we could've acquried a Mullo follower but alas not this round... I do however have a special quiet thing that could fit the bill if you're interested?"

"Perhaps, show me your inventory and I may still need to browse, I have other stations that could be filled if I do not find someone to my liking." Sass followed the leader and hid his disgust with all of his being, he wanted nothing more than to poison the man with a quick strike. The cages had various states of captured folk in various stages of distress or anger, the collars adorning their necks were equipped to restrain their unique talents and powers, preventing any type of escape from their cages. Guards and hired demons of lower levels were mingling around the crowd should someone get lucky enough to successfully escape from behind the bars.

"Here we have a pretty little thing but awfully quiet. she does have a voice but her glare usually speaks for her, I have had some issues with one so she is at a discounted price, only 150 thousand."

Sass raised a brow at the price, many of the others were easily going for ten times as much for a starting bid. Either she was too much to handle for the ring leader or she was damaged in some way. Finally looking at the cage, his breath caught. He would know those blue eyes anywhere and was glad that his self control was damn good. Her resemblance to her parents was uncanny, even if they had not been seen by a single eye in over 200 years.

"She's a looker but anyone who dares to get too close suffers, unless that's your type of ah, fun shall we say?"

"I'll take her, she'll make an excellent addition to the baker's guild. If she turns out she can't bake well, I'm sure she could plead to Tikki for help before she became the next meal."

"Very well, as with everyone else I'll collect the payment before the next round and after inventory has been checked and secured, you can take it home with you. If anything else catches your eye, please let me know." With that, the Showman left to prey on other prospective buyers and Sass glanced around, noticing only a few other demons looking at the few cages with interest. It was safe enough he supposed.

"Tell me little one, do you like sweets or cheese?" Pulling carefully on his power, he let flow enough to touch his eyes, making them turn mint green and seeing her eyes flash a pale pink, drawing a gasp from that luscious mouth. "So you are a true Mullo follower then."

"Snake." She murmured and smiled sweetly, eyes flashing once more.

"Black cat is here too, the Longg follower is coming with us and this place is done for." Sass whispered, directing his gaze towards the other side where he could see Plagg was prowling and looking at everything with a calculating gaze, casing the entire space.

"Kagami?" She whispered so softly he nearly missed it, drawing his attention and she flushed pink as she shrunk down.

"Well then, even better. Plagg, if you're ready I am. Nothing else has caught my interest."

"Good, let's find the Showman and collect." The green of his iris was gleaming, a yellow tint coloring them acid and the barely concealed rage shining. Their aura made everyone scurry away from their path as they followed the twists and turns through the cages.

"Ah, is there a problem, good sirs?" The Showman was on guard, eyes narrowed and watching carefully for any signs of aggression.

"Ah, he's a devout follower of Lord Viper himself, very covetous this one is. Terribly sorry but it would be in everyone's best interest if we were to collect and leave the place in one piece." Plagg smiled, fangs fully on display which kicked up the tension a few notches.

"Ah we can certainly make an exception but the prices do change for those in a hurry to get to the breaking in part. Do you have your own collars for your purchases?"

"Now now, it's not nice to insult paying customers, good sir." A black gloved hand produced two simple collars, the scent of ash faintly stirring the air.

"Ah, this way then." With a couple of gestures, two lizard demons who posed at security moved through the crowds and collected the cages, going down a different hallway then the trio did. The lanterns glowed eerily with the Hell Fire flames, Plagg and Sass having to bite back their power to prevent a surge in the flames and revealing themselves to the scum they were forced to follow.

"Alright, very simple to do. I'll deactivate the collars and you can place yours, once secure then I'll remove the standard ones. Precautions you know…"

Sharing a glance they split and stood in front of their chosen. The slimey demon brought over two charged stem crystals and with a small fizz of power the collars were deactivated. Sass noted the little mouse seemed upset but not scared as expected, carefully he stepped closer and leaned down slightly to secure the 'collar', a small whisp of smoke puffed to signal the lock was in place. Taking the other charged stem, the Showman waved it nearby and the slave collars fell off into his hands.

"Thank you for your time and interest gentleman, enjoy your investments!" Waving them to follow one of the guards and the other bringing up the rear, the four made their way out of the illegal catacombs market. Continuing on for a few tense miles until they were sure the guards had indeed returned, they stopped.

"Alright, introductions! I would happen to be Chat Noir, ruler of all the darkness and destruction. For stealth purposes please refer to me as Plagg."

"Viperion, Lord of Time and Incubi. Code name Sass."

"Kagami, a devout Longg follower. I work under the name Ryuoko." The dragon dusted herself off nonchalantly, eyes piercing in their intent to gage how much of a threat the two lords were.

"Multimouse, a converted Mullo follower."  Viperion ignored the sly grin and everything that it said from his fellow demon lord.

"So what's the plan?" Ryuoko asked, smirking.

"Well, do what we do best…" Blue eyes turned a shimmering green and emerald green took on an acid yellow green shine.

"Destroy those who break the Seven Hells contract." Each collar shifted into a choker, a reaction to the sudden leak of power from demon lords, this would boost both female demon's powers as well as protect them. The time of reckoning was at hand.

[grantyort]

Prelude IV: Relight

Post-Surgery: DAY ONE

[Sean sits in the hospital bed, legs crossed, staring into space when he hears a familiar voice.]

Joey: Sean, Sean Diaz? Well damn. I never thought I’d see your sorry ass again!

Sean: Geez Joey. Is that how you talk to all your patients?

Joey: Just the ones I like.

[Sean chuckles]

Joey: C’mere big man.

[Joey gives Sean a big bear hug]

Sean: How’ve you been Joey?

Joey: Can’t complain. These days, they got me up in hospice care. You’re probably the first person I’ve seen today that didn’t need their bedpans changed.

Sean: Sounds terrible.

Joey: It’s all not all bad. Lot of these folks have stories that you wouldn’t believe. One of my patients has lived through five wars and two depressions, tells me I’m a credit to my race.

Sean: Yeesh.

Joey: (shrugs) She means well. It’s almost flattering compared to some of the stuff I’ve heard. Been on this job almost ten years now, some people still treat me like I have no idea what I’m doing.  

Sean: That sucks Joey.

Joey: Yeah... Anyway, you seem to be doing pretty well for yourself. From what I heard, this procedure cost a small fortune. You must have friends in high places.

Sean: Yeah, something like that.

Joey: And no guard at the door this time. I assume everything got cleared up with the police? Not planning to make a break for it again are ya?

Sean: Nah, no daring escapes this time.

Joey: Good. I don’t think I’d survive another blow to the head.

Sean: Listen Joey I’m really sorry-

Joey: (laughs) Relax Sean! I’m just messing with you! It’s ancient history as far as I’m concerned. Say, did you ever end up finding that brother of yours?

Sean: Yeah. He’s actually coming to visit me tomorrow.

Joey: Can’t wait to meet him!

Sean: Famous last words.

Joey: So… what you been up to these days?

Sean: Mostly just cramming for the SATs, drawing, listening to music. Normal teenage shit.

Joey: That’s good to hear. I was worried about you man. You went AWOL after the hospital. I got police and Feds breathing down my neck for weeks. Then a month later, I hear about a couple of kids trying the border to Mexico on the news.

Sean: Sorry I never reached out. I just didn’t want to get you more involved than you already were-

Joey: You made the right call. They questioned me for hours. My apartment was filled with G-men, my girlfriend was freaked. I honestly thought she was going to dump my ass.

Sean: I’m really sorry Joey.

Joey: Don’t sweat it Sean, it was for a good cause. Besides, everything worked out in the end.

Sean: Yeah I noticed, how long have you been-

Joey: Almost a year now. We’re expecting our first baby in the summer.

Sean: Congratulations dude!

Joey: Thanks, but honestly, I’m kinda nervous, don’t think I’m ready to be a father.

Sean: You’ll be a great dad, Joey. You’re awesome at taking care of people.

Joey: You’re damn right. Speaking of which, we should probably take a look at that eye of yours.

[Joey takes off the bandage and gives Sean’s eye a thorough examination]

Joey: Well it looks a helluva lot better than the last time I saw it.

Sean: That’s good to hear. I wasn’t sure it would work.

Joey: Well it’s too early to say if your vision will fully recover. But at the very least you won’t have to walk around with a patch anymore.

Sean: Good. It’s hard enough finding a prom date let alone one that’s willing to go with a pirate.

Joey: Still with the pirate jokes huh? Hopefully, you’ll have to write some new material after this.

[Joey applies a new bandage on Sean’s eye]

Joey: And you’re all set. Now as much as I love our talks, I gotta make my rounds. Buzz me if you need me.

Sean: Later Joey.

Joey: See ya tomorrow Sean.

 [Joey leaves the room. Sean turns to look out the window. The door shoots open, and a small figure comes bursting in.]

Daniel: Sean! 

[He jumps onto the bed and into Sean’s arms]

Stephen: (out-of-breath) Sorry, I tried to stop him, but he outran me.

Sean: You okay Stephen?

Stephen: I am… just need a minute to catch my breath. The old ticker ain’t what it used to be- I need to sit down.

Daniel: Take it easy grandpa.

Sean: What are you doing here, enano? I wasn’t expecting you guys until tomorrow.

Daniel: I made grandpa book an earlier flight. I just couldn’t wait! 

[he hugs Sean again]

Sean: Haha easy. I just had surgery, remember?

Daniel: Oh right, s-sorry.

[There’s a brief flash, followed by a shutter click]

Sean: What’re you doing, gramps?

Stephen: Oh nothing, just commemorating the moment. Thanks to your brother, I finally got the hang of this newfangled smartphone camera.

Daniel (whispering): He had it stuck on selfie mode for days. Anyway, did it go? Is your eye…

Sean: I mean… it’s not 100% yet but I can sort of see again.

Daniel: T-that’s awesome! Can I see it?

Sean: Dude last time I showed you my eye, you almost cried. Besides, the doctors say I still need to keep the bandage on for a bit, while it heals.

Daniel: Right. That makes sense. Oooh this room looks cool. Do they have Netflix or a Playbox?

Sean: It’s a hospital, dude.

Daniel: Lame.

Sean: So catch me up. Did I miss anything interesting at home?

Daniel: Nah… Chris is still on that fishing trip with his dad so there’s no one to hang out with. Oh I almost forgot. He made you this card. Isn’t it awesome?

[Daniel gives Sean a hand-drawn “get-well-soon” card from Chris]

Sean: Yeah. It’s pretty cool. We can have Claire put it up when we get back.

Daniel: Grandma’s still in that feud with the lady from church.

Sean: Which one was that again?

Daniel: Agnes, the one who gives off major Lisbeth-vibes. She says grandma stole her casserole recipe for the church bake-sale. Lying bitch.

Stephen: Language!

Sean: Maybe one of us should try to smooth things over before it gets nasty.

Stephen: Hell hath no fury… lemme tell ya. I’ve been married to your grandmother long enough to know once that woman sets her mind on something… there’s no stopping her. Best to just let things run their course.

Sean: Claire can get a little… passionate sometimes. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen her lose her temper for real.

Stephen: There’s a fire in that woman. It’s part of the reason I married her. Just pray she never turns it on you. I hope I’ll never live to see that day, god willing.

[Sean notices Daniel circling the hospital bed, pressing his hand on various parts of the mattress]

Sean: (laughs) What are you doing, enano?

Daniel: Just trying to figure which side of the bed I want to sleep on tonight.

Sean: Dude. There’s no way this bed’s gonna fit both of us.

Daniel: The one in Mom’s trailer was way smaller!

Sean: Yeah well… you were a lot smaller back then.

Stephen: They have a nice area for visitors down the hall.

Daniel: But I want to stay with Sean!

Sean: I guess I could ask Joey to bring in a couch or something.

Daniel: Who’s Joey?

Sean: The nurse who took care of me after the accident. I told you about him, remember?

Daniel: Oh right! I can’t wait to meet him!

 DAY TWO

Joey: How are we doing today? Any headaches, dizziness, socket pain?

Sean: Nah it’s all good. Still getting used to having depth perception again. It’s kinda weird.

Joey: You’ll get used to it. Anything else to report?

Sean: Nothing major. I’ve just been having some really weird dreams.

Joey: We have a psychiatrist on-site if you need a professional to talk to.

Sean: Nah it’s alright, probably just the drugs messing with my brain.

Joey: Well your vitals look good. We’ll go over some basic tests. You know the drill.

(Sean covers his right eye and tries to read the chart. Joey then shines a light and asks him to follow along. Finally, he asks Sean to put the cap back on the pen.)

Joey: You passed with flying colors. The doctor will be in for a final exam tomorrow and then we can discharge you.

Sean: (sarcastically) Too bad, I was ready to become the first Mexican pirate to attend college. So much for being a trailblazer.

Joey: Good to see you haven’t lost that snarky-ass sense of humor.

Joey: Anyway, I’m taking my lunch now. Want me to get you anything from the cafeteria? Wait… don’t tell me. Chocolate pecan?

Sean: You know it.

Joey: I met your brother in the hall. Cute kid.

Sean: (deadpans) Give it a few days. Then see if you get a “second opinion.”

Joey: He does seem a little… “energetic”. But that’s normal for kids his age.

Sean: Yeah one minute I’m his favorite person in the world. The next, he’s off doing God knows what, and doesn’t want me “bossing him around”. You know how it is.

Joey: Can’t say I do. Grew up in a house with three older sisters. Guess I must have been the annoying one. Daniel’s lucky to have you looking out for him. Must be tough sometimes.

Sean: Oh you have no idea.

[Joey claps Sean’s shoulder, he feels a jolt shooting up his spine, everything goes white] 

(Sean sees a door marked: “Miranda A. Connolly, Hospital Director”)

Connolly: You’ve been a valuable asset to this hospital. Stellar feedback from all of your patients and attendings.

Joey: I sense a “but” coming.

Connolly: But, given the dubious circumstances surrounding your transfer and your past involvement with the law. The Board thinks it might be better for one of the other nurses to take this spot.

Joey: Please. I’ve got a kid on the way. We just bought our first house. Can you at least consider bumping up my pay? I haven’t gotten a real raise since I started here. There are kids coming out of nursing school that make what I make!

Connolly: The hospital has limited resources as it is, and the State just slashed our funding again. I just can’t justify raising anyone’s salary right now.

Joey: I break my back for this hospital, work extra shifts, get to know the patients. You promised me at the annual review that I’d-

Connolly: That was before this new information came to light. I’m sorry Joseph, maybe next year.

[Sean snaps out of his trance]

Joey: Sean? Sean are you okay?

Sean: Sorry, Guess I spaced out. Must just be the medication.

Joey: I can have the doctor come by and adjust your dosage.

Sean: I’m fine Joey. I swear. Weren’t you about to take lunch?

Joey: Oh right. We’ll pick this up later.

[Joey leaves the room, looking slightly puzzled.]

Sean: (thinking) W-what what was that? A dream? But It felt so… real.

[Sean takes out his phone and enters the name of the hospital, He finds their website. Under the ‘About’ section he scrolls to the Executive team bio. There is a photo of the woman he saw in the vision followed by a small blurb]

“Miranda A. Connolly is the President and Chief Director of Mt. Cedar General Hospital. She was appointed back in 2016 as Associate Director and has since made ground-breaking changes to the field of medicine and medical care. Under her leadership, this hospital was able to expand greatly, hiring new diverse staff members and vastly improving quality of care for all its patients.”

Sean: (thinking) Holy shit… it’s real. Does that mean I…?

Daniel: Hey Sean! What you looking at?

Sean: Dude! Don’t sneak up on me like that!

Daniel: I wasn’t sneaking. I was practicing my stealth!

Sean: Yeah sure.

Daniel: Are you looking at the new Playbox Pro? My birthday is right around the corner you know.

Sean: Birthday? It’s still January!

Daniel: Never too early to start preparing.

Sean: (rolling eyes) Yeah cuz everything’s always about you.

Daniel: Oooh I bet you were watching those dirty videos again. I’m tellin’ grandpa!

Sean: Hey hands off my phone you little-

[Daniel tries to grab Sean’s phone. Sean wrests his hand away. There is another a jolt]

[Daniel stands in front of the vending machine, staring at the jumbo chock-o-crisp. He looks around to check that the coast is clear. Then he waves his hand causing the chock-o-crisp to fall off the rack and into the dispenser slot.He gleefully retrieves it and devours the candy bar in a matter of seconds]

Sean: Dude, I told you not to eat any more chock-o-crisps! Do you want another trip to the dentist?

Daniel: What are you talking about? I haven’t had one in weeks!

Sean: Yeah sure. So you didn’t pig out at the vending machine before coming in here?

Daniel: How did you-

Sean: Maybe I have magic powers or maybe… you’ve still got crumbs on your collar.

Daniel: Aw, damn it. Promise you won’t tell grandpa.

Sean: Oh so you can tell on me but I can’t tell on you?

Daniel: (smugly) Exactly.

Sean: C’mere ya little shit!

Daniel: Sean stop! Ha that tickles. Quit it!

(After their little bout, Daniel curls up next to Sean, resting his head on Sean’s lap. Sean ruffles Daniel’s hair absentmindedly)

Sean: You ever wish you were… you know “normal” again?

Daniel: You mean not have my powers? Nah. They’re a part of me now. Besides, being normal is overrated.

Sean: (chuckles) I guess it is. But do you ever get that feeling like you thought you wanted something for a really long time but when you finally get it, it nothing like you thought it’d be?

Daniel: Uhhh… you mean like how I begged grandma to get me a PlayBox Live Subscription, but then the exclusives turned out to be shit? And now I have to act like I love it?

Sean: Yeah something like that.

Daniel: (yawns) Meh I’ll just ask for a gaming PC for my birthday.

Sean: Dude you’re like the greediest ten year-old I know.

Daniel: How many ten year-olds do you know?

Sean: Uh… just you and Chris.

Daniel: So, you want me to be more like Chris?

Sean: Wouldn’t hurt.

Daniel: (imitating Chris) “Only the purest of hearts may wield the power of Captain Spirit!”

Sean: Guess that rules you out.

Daniel: (playfully) Shut up.

DAY THREE

Doctor: Okay Mr.Diaz. I want you to follow the light. Look to your right, up and to the right. Good, good, excellent pupil response.  Now look at the chart, cover your right eye and read this line.

Sean: Uh… A, O, E, P… T? Sorry I can’t really make out the last one.

Doctor: That’s okay, it takes time.

Doctor: Now this is probably the last thing you want to hear, but I recommend that you wear a patch over your right eye. It’ll be temporary of course, just until you learn to see with your left eye again.

Sean: (laughs dryly) And here I thought my seafaring days were behind me.

Doctor: You know… pirate actually wore patches so their eyes could easily adjust to the darkness and see below deck- Sorry my son’s going through a pirate phase.

Sean: I know the feeling. My little brother’s been through every phase imaginable.

Doctor: Kids, you gotta treasure every moment. Because before you know it, they’ll be all grown up, ready to go off on their own. Look at me, rambling on. Anyway, I signed your discharged papers. They’ll schedule you for some outpatient care in the coming months.You’re almost ready to go. 

Sean: Sounds good.

Doctor: And you’re sure you don’t want to get do something about that nasty scar? A good-looking kid like you, it would be a shame to-

Sean: That’s okay, I think I’ll keep it… as a reminder.

Doctor: Alright but if you ever change your mind, I could refer you to a great plastic surgeon.

Sean: Thanks Doc, for everything.

Doctor: The pleasure’s all mine, Mr.Diaz. The groundwork we laid here could help hundreds of other patients in the future. We are making history. Your nurse should be along in a moment to help you get discharged.

[Sean sits in quiet contemplation. Reflecting on his dreams and new “vision”]

Sean (thinking): Be careful what you wish for... 

Joey: Looks like everything’s good to go. Remember to use your eye-drops-

Sean: Twice a day. Yeah Joey, I know.

Joey: Guess it’s goodbye again. Don’t be a stranger this time okay?

Sean: I won’t.

Joey: Here’s my number. Call me if ever need professional advice or just want to shoot the shit.

Sean: Thanks Joey. Let me know how everything goes with the baby.

Joey: Oh don’t you worry about that. Soon I’ll be blowing up your phone with pictures.

Sean: Haha can’t wait.

Joey: Now hospital policy says I gotta wheel your ass outta here. For liability reasons.

Sean: At least it’ll be a smoother exit than last time.

Joey: (laughs) Get in the chair smart-ass.

Beaver Creek, One Week Later

Sean: Okay, you ready?

Daniel: (takes deep breath) Alright. Show it to me.

Sean: So… how does it look?

Daniel: Looks… normal.

Sean: You almost sound disappointed. Were you expecting a bionic eye or something?

Daniel: No. I just… it looks good. I like the scar; makes you look extra tough.

Sean: You think so?

Daniel: Yeah… totally badass!

Sean: Thanks, enano.

Daniel: You need a new codename, like Scarred Wolf or Deadshot Diaz!

Sean: Let’s leave the nicknames up to Chris.

Daniel: Hey! I make up awesome names too!

Sean: Whatever you say,“Superwolf”

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

It takes a pack to raise a pup

“This is bad... What am I going to do?!” The gofer nervously paced around the infirmary, clutching the bitten arm in his hand before turning to face the Janitor “Please tell me that this is just a bad joke!” He pleaded “Please tell me that this is just a mistake...”

“Sorry ta break it to ya Bud.” The janitor lowered his cap down in sympathy. “But I ain’t jokin’ and I ain’t wrong about this: dat ova here is definitely a werewolf bite. I should know, I saw what my table an’ chair legs looked like after my first few full moons.”

As this was a very serious situation, he forced himself to hold back his laughter at the intrusive memory of his wife telling him that her solution to keeping him from turning the furnature into his chew toys was to swat his snout with a rolled up newspaper every time he ignored his bones and squeaky toys in favor of the table legs. This resulted in him letting out a noise that sounded like a cough.

“B-but what about my Ma and Grandpa?! They don’t even know that monster stuff goes down in the studio! How am I supposed to explain to them that every month, I’m going to turn into a blood-thirsty monster!?”

“If ya don’t wanna tell ‘em, they don’t have ta know.” Wally shrugged. “A lotta wolves don’t tell even their closest family members.”

“What if my Ma questions why all my clothes are getting ripped up?! What if Grandpa finds out when he sees me turn for the first- Oh no... WHAT IF I BITE THEM?! WHAT IF I EAT THEM AFTER I TURN?! WALLY, WHAT IF I END UP KILLING THEM?!”

Buddy felt sick to his stomach as he slumped down to the floor, Wally sat down next to him and patted his back.

“Hey Buddy, you’re gonna be fine. Trust me! There’s a ton of werewolves here at dis studio, none of us would mind showin’ ya the ropes or givin’ ya some good advice for dealin’ with this. Who knows, it might even be a little fun ta get a new pup in the pack.”

“Uuuugggggghhhhhhhhh...”

The Janitor’s words and smile didn’t reassure the nervous gofer, if anything, hearing that he and Wally weren’t the only wolves in the studio made Buddy wonder if the monster that bit him last week was one of his own coworkers. As he thought about it, The wiry music director who was in a constant state of irritation seemed like he was a good candidate to be the wolf who bit him...

He would be lying if he said he couldn’t imagine the man sinking those sharp teeth of his into a human being’s flesh.

“Buddy, c’mon, look at me. It’s gonna be okay, I’m not gonna lie to you, changing is always scary the first few times but you don’t have to do it alone. I can rally up the pack if ya need all of us or I can just keep this between you and me, but no matta what happens, I’ve got your back.”

“Thanks Wally...” He sighed as he still dreaded what was to come. “How soon can you get them?”

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

“Ta-daaaaa! Welcome to werewolves not-so-anonymous!”

Wally unfurled the crudely-made banner as Buddy walked into the break room, Susie clapped, Henry smiled and gave a friendly wave, and Lacie looked bored and unamused but gave a thumbs up and a half smile.

The gofer let out a sigh of relief that he didn’t know he was holding in. Wally alone could’ve been an outlier among werewolves but not all of them. He knew most of these people; the voice actress was hands down one of the most infectiously cheerful people he’d ever met, The Head Artist was a patient and kind man who the gofer looked up to as both an artist and a father figure, and while he didn’t know the mechanic very well aside from the facts that she wasn’t the most friendly or social of people, she didn’t seem half bad.

These people weren’t monsters, he wasn’t a monster.

“Alright, I know a some of us here already know each other but others don’t so lets start ourselves off with some introductions. Who’s going first?”

“Okay. Hi, I’m Buddy, I’m the studio’s gofer and I got bitten pretty recently so I’m kinda scared about all of this...”

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

On the day of the full moon, Henry rented a van with the intent to take the werewolf pack to a cabin in the woods so that Buddy’s first transformation would be in a secluded area.

“So how’d your folks take it?” Lacie inquired to break the silence. “They didn’t look happy when we picked you up.”

“They took it better than I expected, I guess?” The gofer sighed “I mean, my ma seemed pretty scared, but she seemed more scared for me than scared of me.”

“Yeah, that tends to happen...” Henry nodded.

“Guys, I have a question”

“Go for it.”

“If Sammy’s not a werewolf, then why is he coming with us? Wont he get turned?”

The music director rolled his eyes and took a very long sip from his coffee, he also wasn’t looking forward to tonight but for a very different reason.

“Nah... Don’t worry.” Lacie laid back and stuck her boots up on the dashboard. “Hell’s Songbird is cursed with something else so he’s immune to lycanthropy.”

Nobody noticed that the man had flinched at Lacie’s statement.

“...Is he basically an unofficial member of the pack?”

Wally and Susie’s eyes lit up at the question and they smiled at each other before answering.

“Yes.”

“Definitely.”

“Absolutely.”

Wally broke down laughing as Susie broke out her stage voice, even Buddy let out a soft chuckle at her dramatic movements.

“The grumpy banjo man is indeed the pack’s loyal brother, not by blood or spirit, but by true love-”

Said grumpy banjo man turned to face the back seat, the regular irritation in his voice gave way to a sarcastic, deadpan tone.

“If you people genuinely think I ‘love’ getting chewed, slobbered on, roughhoused with, pounced on, and ripped apart by a pack of near-mindless wild animals almost every single month, then you’ve probably been huffing too many ink fumes.”

“Yeah, yeah, so bein’ the ‘designated driver’ of da group isn’t always fun... But ya do it ‘cause you looooooooooove us!”

Henry sighed in a mix of annoyance and acceptance in a way that implied he knew exactly what was going to happen next.

“I’m a married man.” Sammy continued to deadpan. “I thought you knew that by now.”

This response only egged Wally on.

“Psssst! He’s not denyin’ it!” The janitor stage-whispered “So it must be true!”

“Shut UP Franks.”

Sammy huffed and crossed his arms, but not denying Wally’s statement, which led to a loop of Wally’s teasing and Sammy’s fruitless attempts to shut the conversation down, which was only ended by reaching their destination.

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

Buddy felt goosebumps as the van pulled up to the cabin and the sun slowly started to dip down.

“Here we are.”

“Finally! I swear, every single car ride I have with that. walking. headache. becomes the longest one I’ve ever endured.”

“Hey!”

The cabin itself probably looked like a much more warm and inviting place during midday, but as the shadows of the trees started to cast down on the humble little abode, it looked almost sinister. Although, that could’ve just been Buddy’s imagination working against him.

He hoped it was just his imagination working against him.

“Fuck, it’s gettin’ dark real fast.” The mechanic remarked as she looked at the sky. “Should we slap the meat on the grill now or just wait after we change and eat it raw?”

“We should wait.” The animator replied. “At this rate, if we try to cook it we’ll change before it’s halfway done.”

Buddy helped carry things into the cabin; a cooler, a couple of blankets, a duffle bag filled with dog toys and bones, they all seemed like reasonable items, but he couldn’t deny he felt something was missing.

“Hey Sammy, you’re looking out for us after we change, right?”

“Unfortunately.”

“So where are the ropes and chains? And isn’t there supposed to be bear traps and tranquilizers or something like them?”

The musician raised an eyebrow at the gofer.

“...Why would we need those?”

“...To tie us up and keep us from killing people?”

Sammy’s Jaw dropped at Buddy’s suggestion.

“Holy fucking shit... kid, you’re not turning into a monster, you’re just becoming a glorified puppy.”

“But you said it yourself, you get ripped up!”

“So?” Sammy scoffed. “That’s just what all dogs do.”

“He’s more of a cat person than a dog person.” Susie called out from the kitchen “Take everything he says about werewolves with a grain of salt.”

“Easy for you to say!” Sammy called back. “You’re not the one who had to cover over ninety-seven miles in different directions to round up a bunch of whimpering wolves because SOMEONE decided to set off a bunch of firecrackers just as the moon rose!”

“Hey!” Wally called out. “I said I was sorry!”

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

It was time.

Like it or not, he was going to become a beast.

He knew the others’ own transformations were happening right now, he heard their bones snapping and cracking, the changing shadows cast on the floor as he dashed to his own room praying that he’d make it in time.

In the madness, he saw a glimpse of what Sammy’s curse was. He wished he didn’t see that, it would’ve so much easier to trust Sammy’s protection if he didn’t know that burden of the musician’s curse was like a werewolf’s curse except the ‘wolf’ part was scratched off and replaced with something else. The chill that ran down his spine when his eyes met the monster’s also didn’t help.

Buddy locked himself in his room, quickly taking off his clothes so they wouldn’t get ripped during the change and wrapping himself up in the provided blankets to keep himself from seeing his own transformation.

His heart pounded against his chest as he heard someone whimpering and scratching at the door on the other side.

“Focus, Buddy...” He tried to reassure himself. “Deep breaths, don’t get scared...”

He highly doubted he’d be lucid for his first full moon, but the idea of losing his mind and becoming a ravenous monster just didn’t sit well with him, So he tried his best to stay ‘awake’.

No matter how hard it was.

The curse started off his own changes with either his skin, his senses, or his mouth. He didn’t know for sure as it felt like all three were happening at once as he spat out a bloody mouthful of his own teeth into his hands and watched fur sprout up all over his arms, the taste and smell of blood in his mouth and on his now paw-like hands, as well as the smells and sounds of everything else in the cabin was overwhelmingly nauseating. 

“D-don’t freak out... the others have been through this lots of times... this is completely normal... Stay calm Buddy...”

He tossed aside the teeth and threw himself deeper into the blanket pile in spite of his body’s increasing temperature and new fur coat. The gofer couldn’t tell if the whimpering he heard was coming from the other wolves scratching at the door or from him.

The next thing the curse went after was everything else; muscles, bones, etc.

It was painful, but at the very least it was fast, he didn’t even have the time to whine for mercy before the malevolent force of the werewolf curse stopped. Buddy let out a sigh of relief as he dug himself out of his blanket cocoon.

He looked at the mirror and saw a frightened looking young wolf, his eyes still looked human and his fur seemed to match the color of his hair. While he didn’t like looking at this and calling it his reflection, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud of himself. In spite of fear trying to drive him to the same level as a wild animal, he was still him.

Or so he thought as he was startled by the sound of his door unlocking itself and creaking open.

He let out a yipe and started to bare his teeth and growl at the weird beaked creature that poked its head into his territory. The said creature was not impressed in the slightest and simply came into the room.

Buddy growled louder and snapped his jaws at the creature, his ears laid back and his hackles bristling straight up. While the creature did move away from his bite, it was still not impressed. Out of desperation, he lunged at the black-feathered beast, desperately trying to scare it out but the monster looked like it had dealt with this before as it glided out of the way of his attack and picked him up by the scruff of his neck.

The young wolf flailed, bit, clawed, and snapped at the creature. But he could swear that the beast’s only response to Buddy’s last-ditch efforts to keep himself alive were to roll its eyes and toss the wolf out of the room.

And into the line of sight of two other wolves. Both adults, one of them had pitch black fur, the other one had dark gray fur, but both of them had curious almost human-like eyes.

Thankfully, they smelled familiar to him. Even as a human, he could always recognize the smells of cleaning supplies, bacon soup, and ink. As he got a little bit more used to his new senses, while most of the smells and sounds were still new, and there was too much of it, he could at least identify what they were.

The black wolf came closer to him and sniffed his face before licking it. The other wolf pawed the first wolf’s face away from his own. Assuming that this was just some kind of greeting, Buddy sniffed the first wolf’s face and licked him back, the second wolf let out a noise that sounded like an amused snort.

THUNK

A loud noise from the kitchen that came with a new smell made him realize how hungry he was. Assumingly all thinking the same thing, the three wolves dashed into the kitchen to see the toppled-over cooler being raided by two other wolves. The bird like creature was biting and flapping its wings at them, clearly trying to keep them away from the coveted red meats the cooler held.

“STOP. EATING. PLASTIC!” The creature cried out to deaf ears of the pack. “YOU’RE GOING TO GET YOURSELVES SICK! JUST WAIT FOR ME TO UNWRAP THEM FIRST!”

This tyranny would not stand with the wolves, united as a pack, the five starved beasts joined forces against the giant bird-monster that stayed between them and their food.

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

Buddy woke up groaning with a headache, sore muscles, and an upset stomach the next morning.

Last night was a blur to the gofer, like a dream, the most of what happened during the full moon quickly faded from his mind as he woke up. If it wasn’t for the fact he could still see the bird-monster form of the music director looming over him in the cabin’s rafters, he would’ve chalked the whole thing up to just be a bad dream.

“Sammy?” He groaned. “What happened last night?”

“As soon as I opened the door, all of you ran to the fields instead of the woods.” The music director sounded like he was too tired to be irritated. “I tried to steer you back towards the woods because there was a barn over there, but as usual, none of you listened to me.” Okay, maybe he was still a little bit irritated.

“Oh no... Did I eat anything there?”

“No, but you did get your head stuck underneath a fence and whined until I let you out.”

Buddy blushed in embarrassment as he wrapped his blanket tighter around him.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, everybody does stupid things the first time they change.”

“So how come you didn’t change back?”

“My curse isn’t determined by the moon, it’s determined by... other things. I don’t like talking about it.”

Sammy wrapped himself up in his wings, ending the conversation.

“G’morning.” Wally set down a fizzing glass of water by Buddy, the Janitor looked more exhausted now than he did after a 12-hour deep clean of the studio. “Ya might wanna drink that, it’ll help with the headache.”

“Thanks Wally.”

He smiled as he sipped down the liquid, while the gofer knew that the changes weren’t going to be easy for him to adjust to, at least he had other people who were willing to help him through it.

[jesusintheleast]

The Fight For Affordable Housing Part 2

Previously, a rally took place and the rally was sponsored by the “Chicago Union of the Homeless,” One Northside, and Northside Action For Justice.”

Here are the reasons for opposing the Weiss hospital parking lot zoning change as stated by these sponsors:

*In Uptown, over 50% of renters are rent burdened

*The median rent has increased by 50% in the last ten years

*Many Uptown residents (present and former) are living in tents or doubling up with other relatives or friends

*Lack of low and mid-range housing options is threatening the diversity of Uptown

And now, please listen to Angela Clay, a long-time activist, and a recent candidate in the last Alderman’s election here in Uptown. Just listen to her passion for these exasperating issues that the low-income folks of Uptown have been facing for the past few decades…and continue to face.

So you see and hear… this really is serious business. And Angela continued to remind us all, exactly, what’s at stake. “We are not just at the tipping point of gentrification for Uptown , but the tipping point for the entire city of Chicago,” she said. “If you think it’s not coming to your doorstep, you are a blind bat.”

And Bonnie, the President of the Chicago Union of the homeless, told how she was always raised to believe that this country ought to live up to its promises when our Constitution’s Preamble states: “We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility , provide for the common defense. promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.”

But what does that really mean, and in particular, how does this apply to the debate over “affordable housing?”

It’s simple, really. But it’s also difficult.

We’re talking about how this “democracy” we all share works best. And it works best when all “voices” are heard, and then the majority of voters…“not partisan manipulation, determines the outcome of elections” (Governing newsletter, Sept. 22, 2020).

And so, “the common people” need to be listened to and respected, if true democracy is to have a fighting chance.

“When public officials forget about “We the People,” they fail to “promote the general Welfare” of the nation, “insure domestic Tranquility” or “establish Justice”---all preconditions for securing what the framers described as the blessings of liberty” (Governing newsletter, 9/22/2020).

And here’s the cardinal point. It all boils down to this: “When it says “We the People,” continues Bonnie from the Coalition, “ we need to remember…WE ARE THE PEOPLE… and we shouldn’t have to fight for our housing.”

Angela further pointed out that the proposed development would “offer” 8 units of affordable housing… out of the 300+ units. “We are fighting… just to have a place to be safe,” she said. “We are talking about lives. And we are fighting for everyone. We are even fighting for those who can afford these rents. We don’t want you to be “priced out” either. We just feel that we should have all the affordable housing that we need.”

Sounds reasonable? Does it not?

But take a look at some very real examples of what’s happening all around us… here in Uptown. Check out these two pics of current “spots“ that soon will boast some really “big complexes”….with a token bit of “living quarters” apportioned to what could be labelled as affordable to many of Uptown’s current residents.

And so, what does all this mean for you and I?

I’d say it means that I whenever you or I get a good night’s sleep, well, it’s not just something that we ought to take for granted. Especially since we know that there‘s so many, right now, right in my backyard and yours, who haven’t had a good night’s sleep for a while.

And oh yeah, I guess we could also fight right alongside those who are crying out to not only be heard, but also “housed.”

And how about simply showing some compassion towards those who live this “struggle” each and every day. That might mean, doing some advocacy work for these folks when you can. It might mean volunteering at a shelter, or joining a group that aligns with your convictions. It might mean helping out however God’s leads you as your paths cross with the folks on the bottom… the least in our society.

And I think (no I’m sure of) that we all can pray for God’s hand to move in hearts of all of us who call ourselves a part of this “human race…” to do the right thing. And in those prayers, we need to ask for mercy for all of us who have a roof over our heads… that we can afford.

Thanks for stopping by, Chris.

[bisluthq]

Hi, i sent this to kaylorantisemitism and she directed me to you. Sorry to bother you with my questions. Okay so there's something that kinda confusing me and I'm sorry if this question is dumb. But when i searched about the conversion process, i read about how both partners go to the classes and not just that but also both partners change their behaviors and way of life. What i don't get here is that, josh was already jewish and from what i read about his fam they're super observant and he too. So what behavior of his will need to change?.. Like do they mean getting more observant or refraining from certain things?. Also read about how the couple aren't allowed to live with each other etc for a certain period of time to also refrain from any temptations etc (idk if that's the correct way to explain it coz I'm not English lol so sorry for my English)

Okay idk who told you he was observant but that's... not true. Vicky Ward talks about how even when he sorta had to observe Shabbas while at his folks' house he'd like walk out the room and go on his phone and stuff because he didn't give af about it.

Like Josh habitually tries to please his parents, and his mom's religious, so he plays it up with them but he's like SUPER secular.

Very religious people don't really marry interfaith tbh. Which is why there are a lot of behaviors that need to change when a conversion is happening and that's what you read about. The thing you need to understand about Orthodox Judaism is while it's a y/n (like you're either Jewish or you're not tbh) the degree of observance varies huuuuugely.

So like while I am Modern Orthodox, I - like Josh - don't observe shabbat. I light candles on a Friday and eat dinner with my family but I drive and use electronics and make transactions on a Saturday. I observe the Yom Kippur fast but I don't do any of the minor fasts. I don't eat non-Kosher meat or like treify seafood but I also eat out at non-Kosher places so long as I am eating veggie food or fish. I don't check if drinks/alcohol are Kosher or nah, like I don't care.

That's not unusual at all where I am. It's apparently slightly more unusual in the States because there's a much bigger Conservative tradition but it's still not like... exceedingly rare. And the thing is like I say people who end up marrying interfaith generally aren't very observant because... they started dating a non-Jewish person, you know?

Whatever reason you have for converting has to be declared to your conversion team. So if it's 'for' a partner they have to come with you and say, "Yeah we're going to be a Jewish family if this person converts" and then they're involved the whole way. Orthodox conversion takes YEARS and in that time the converting party and the partner - if there is one - have to live as observantly as possible. This means keeping Kosher, this means keeping Shabbas, this means fasting on like minor fast days, this means davening (praying) in shul.

Josh wouldn't have been doing that shit before she started on the process and it would have sucked for him to have to do it. They purposefully make it hard for both parties because they don't want it to just be a random decision you make, and they don't just put the onus on the convert, like you BOTH have to want this and the partner can fuck up the conversion and delay the whole thing etc if they mess up. It's HARD.

Which makes a lot of converts EXTREMELY observant, and a lot of partners of converts take it up too with far more vigor than they did pre the whole process.

If Josh didn't love her, he would've just married a Jewish girl and never stressed about all this crap. It's truly testament to their relationship and the commitment on both sides that they went through that.

And yes there's a period of time when the couple has to live apart to 'check' that it's not just about sex and for Joshlie I'd posit that was summer 2017.

Hope this made sense and lemme know if you have further questions.