#the waiting to exhale soundtrack? BITCH.

[texasbama]

I was going to ask you your 5 favorite songs Babyface has worked on or song himself, but it might be impossible to choose.

Between Boyz II Men, Toni Braxton, TLC, Whitney, Johnny Gill, Mariah, Brandy, and Az Yet (I Know they aren’t as famous as some of the others, but their debut album was one of my favorites) his footprint is all over that generation of R&B. I’d be hard pressed to come up with anyone who did it better.

Oh maaaan!! You took me BACK with Az Yet! Last Night is still my song! Lol

And you’re so right. You cannot talk about r&b - shit just music in general- without talking about Kenneth “Babyface” Edmonds. He has worked with LEGENDS. I mean he even produced a hit for Fall Out Boy ffs.

His pen game is insane. His ear for music is out of this world. Picking just 5 would be impossible😩😩😩

[bucknastysbabe]

Thank you hotd fam for making me feel like a million bucks— it’s also so freeing and fun to be confident and open about this to ppl in my personal life. I told my aa sponsor and she was like YES GIRL! What a queen. Next up for HOTD I’m gonna try to get into the obsessive Criston hcs but I am a busy bitch

Anyways this nasty shit has been sitting in my drafts TOO DAMN LONG. I have so many Bucky blurbs if anyone is into those— they’re already written. BUT in honor of going to an all day Catholic event tomorrow I’m going to try to get excommunicated by posting this. Ladies and gents and fancy folx I bring you: ✝️beefy priest bucky✝️

Noble and Chaste

“Lust; disordered desire for or inordinate enjoyment of sexual pleasure.” -Catechism of the Catholic Church

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Rough oral (m!receiving), priest kink, LOTS OF SACRILEGE, teasing, confession booth, manipulation, age difference, dom!bucky, priest!bucky, BEEFCAKE BUCK, reader is of age, degradation, dirty talk, deep throating, f!masturbation, smuttysmutsmut

1977

St. Maria Goretti Boarding School. Also known as where parents send their daughters who are whores or have a temperance issue. Or both, just like you. Your parents sent you up the east coast to this place in upstate New York. It was down the road from an asylum. You felt that was a planned threat.

You placed your new record onto the player. It was the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever. You loved disco so much. Back in New York you’d gone to some clubs and partied all night long to their songs. Now you were here surrounded by idiots and dusty nuns. At least the priest was funny. You had a year left, this being your senior year. You could pretend to be normal and get back into your parents good graces before fucking off to college and being free again.

For now you smoked out of the window, singing to the along to ‘Night Fever’. Wanda whined from her bed, “No smokingggg, Sister Agatha will whip us again.” You rolled your eyes and snickered, “You want one or not Maximoff?” She groaned and joined you on the windowsill, lighting up.

The girl was accused by her parents of being into ‘witchcraft’. In reality she just liked crystals and horoscopes. She took a drag and spoke on the exhale, “Did you hear about the assistant priest coming to train under Father Dugan?” You whinged, “He better be hot this time. The one two years ago was a square.”

Wanda gasped, “Girl! He’s a man of the cloth.”

The pair of you devolved into giggles, bumping shoulders affectionately. You spent the afternoon gossiping and planning on how one would seduce the young priest.

You ended up wearing your skirt from freshman year. You’d grown since then, leaving little to the imagination. Of course you had your thick white tights on underneath. If your button popped loose on your shirt during the nightly meeting, everyone would be too prudish to say anything until afterward. Wanda dolled you up with the little makeup the pair of you had smuggled.

The nightly meetings were a bore. It was run by Father Dugan. They were a time for the ladies to share about a topic and learn how to deal with it more ‘christ-like’. Sometimes you’d just start laughing uncontrollably to Sister Agatha’s chagrin. You strolled in, last in line of the senior girls. There was about twelve of you, filling the chairs. Sister Agatha watched like a hawk from the back of the small room.

Father Dugan walked in with the new priest. A collective low burble of noises broke out amongst the ladies. You whispered to Wanda, “Fuck— he’s like sex on legs.” Dugan smiled knowingly but you focused in on the new one. He was powerfully built, all wide shoulders and huge arms. The priest had brown hair to his neck and the prettiest lips. His angel face and baby blues didn’t quite match up with being sturdy as a brick shithouse.

He introduced himself softly, “Hello, I’m Father Barnes. I’ll be helping Father Dugan here until I’m assigned to my first parish. I can’t wait to get to know you lovely ladies of the Lord.”

You lowly groaned, “I can’t wait either.”

The pair of holy men sat in two of the chairs in the circle. You eyed Barnes’ chest straining his black garb. God he was gorgeous. Father Dugan started with a prayer and some scripture. He began, “And with that, I’d like to talk about confession and honesty today.” You snorted when the others all suddenly had something to say. They could try but he was yours.

You sat through the boring drivel and bit back a laugh when Elizabeth burst into tears about lying to her parents. Agatha cleared her throat pointedly, staring you down. You caught blue eyes on you, and smiled good-naturedly at Father Barnes. He blushed and redirected his attention to the squalling Elizabeth. Wanda elbowed you.

“Since you seem to be so invested, why don’t you share your thoughts?,” Dugan asked humorously as he pointed at you. You laughed flatly, straightened up and crossed your legs. You dryly rambled, “Well Father. To be human is to sin. We’re born with it. Instead of holding onto the guilt I just confess it. Whether it’s to you or my friend, I have to be honest. Even if I just pray to the Holy Spirit. Keeps me in check.”

Dugan replied, “Well said. Humans are sinful. So we must-“ You blocked off his voice to a dull hum as you ‘accidentally’ popped a button on your shirt, revealing your cleavage. Wanda smirked from next to you. You stretched your arms, highlighting the opening. Father Barnes’ eyes flickered over before dropping to the ground. Then repeating again. Hooked. With an exaggerated gasp you excused yourself from the meeting, citing ‘impropriety’.

You relaxed in your bed, kicking your legs as you laughed. Wanda busted in and pointed at you. She hissed, “You little minx! He watched your ass when you left the meeting!” You rolled onto your side with a smirk. You drawled, “I just gotta get some more info,” you hugged yourself dramatically, “get closer!” Wanda cackled in glee before Sister Maria told you two to hush through the door.

The next day you were in the cavernous library. Considering all your faults you did try to keep your grades up to secure your way out. You wrote down equations, a bored hand supporting your head. You heard a door open behind you, and some footsteps echoing after.

“Dugan warned me about you,” Barnes spoke.

He tried to sound confident but you picked up on the slight crack in his voice. You smirked at your paper before schooling it into a placid expression. You retorted, “Whatever do you mean, Father?” You turned to face the young priest, who perched on a table two rows away. His muscular arms were crossed defensively.

Barnes’ lips pouted as he stared you down. A few beats of silence passed over the room before he spoke again.

“I think you know what I mean,” he deadpanned.

You mimicked the clergyman’s pose, turning around to sit on the table. You spread your legs ever-so-slightly. Barnes’ eyes stayed on your face but his jaw twitched and cheeks flushed. You purred, “Tell me. What did Dugan say about me?” You thought the man was going to explode as he slapped his hand down on the table and spluttered, “Quit with the nonsense!”

Your lips stretched into a catlike grin.

“Tell you what Father, I’ll confess to you what I do so sinfully. Then we can start fresh huh?”

The angered brunette’s heaving chest slowed as he processed your words. Accusing blue orbs bore into you before he clicked his tongue. Barnes replied, “Fine. Lead the way.” You laughed and hopped off the table, swaying down the hallway leading to the chapel and confession booths. You felt his heat close behind, but the man kept quiet.

You entered the booth, kneeling immediately. The priest entered the other side, the curtains closing with a swish. You heard the wood creak as he sat down. He cleared his throat awkwardly. You made a sign of the cross while speaking, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was one month ago."

You saw his silhouette shift behind the screen. You continued, “Since my last confession I’ve sinned greatly. I was inattentive and late to the last mass. I didn’t show respect for my classmates. I’ve been prideful, angry, envious, and a gossip.” The priest hummed quietly as you breathed, “I’ve been especially bad lately. A lustful sort. I know why Dugan said what he did.”

His breath hitched as you falsely expressed sorrow in your next words.

“I haven’t been chaste in word and thought. I’ve had impure thoughts and gratified myself sexually to them. I just can’t help it. It’s been so long since I’ve been fucked.” Your voice petered out in a sigh, “And you look so good.”

He growled suddenly, “Do you think this is a joke?”

You shook your head vehemently. You cried, “I’m so sorry— do you think I’ll be forgiven?”

You yelped as he jerked out of the booth. You thought he was leaving before a big hand ripped you up violently by the arm. Barnes pressed you up against the unforgiving wood of the confessional. His nostrils flared and jaw ticked as he furiously glared at you. The brunette’s hand gripped your arm in a vice.

You held his gaze, panting softly. He hissed, “You probably won’t be forgiven. But neither will I.” His lips sealed against yours roughly, dominating the space. You opened up, letting the man take his rising frustrations out. Your free arm wrapped around his neck, gripping at the base of his skull. You moaned lowly as he nipped your lip, big body pressing into your giving flesh.

The priest let go of your arm to move both hands down to your ass, squeezing forcefully. He groaned raggedly, “Fuckin’ Jezebel— Delilah— Been thinkin’ bout that ass since last night. Whore of Fuckin’ Babylon.” You whined at his words, chasing his plump lips eagerly. Father Barnes sucked on your tongue before massaging it with his own. His thick cock pressed into your waist, throbbing hotly.

You moaned, “Wanna suck you off— please.”

He pushed you down quickly. You cried out when your knees hit the wood floor. He jammed two thick fingers in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. Saliva filled your mouth as you sucked the best you could. His eyes rolled back and you saw his cock twitch under his dark slacks. The brunette breathed out, “Do it then, do it since you need it so bad. Slutty little thing.”

Trembling hands undid his belt and popped the button. You slid down the zipper and pulled him out with a shaky noise around his unmoving fingers. Drool fell down your chin, dropping onto the floor between your thighs. Your pussy throbbed and clenched in need. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, sucking on the wet digits with a long groan. Your hands held onto the man’s hips as you slid him in your mouth.

You started with kitten licks around his tip before swiping your tongue against the leaking slit, savoring the salty taste. The priest swore and groaned, thighs flexing. Then you started to suck and hollow your cheeks to take him in. His hips thrusted forward and you gagged. Barnes cursed, “Fuck— you’re gonna take this cock like a good girl now. I’m gonna fuck your throat, mhm.” You nodded around his length, sucking air in through your nose.

Tears slid down your face as he eased the hot flesh down your throat. Eventually your body accepted the intrusion and he started an easy rhythm, hips thrusting shallowly. The man let out a weak noise and gripped at your hair. He quickly sped up, the slick noises of your throat heightening. Father Barnes hissed, “Sh-shit you feel good. Damned succubus.” His strokes stuttered when you whined pathetically on a particularly hard jerk of his hips.

You reached a hand down between your legs, shoving your fingers into your panties to get at your swollen clit. He laughed breathlessly, “Yeah pretty girl— come when I fill your whore mouth.” You circled your fingers harder around the sensitive bud, bucking onto your hand. He was earnestly fucking your throat now, you choking on a whimper every other thrust. The man of the cloth fared no better, running a frantic hand through his long hair and softly begging for forgiveness as he let out a particularly high noise.

Barnes cried out, “G-gonna come, fuck, fuck!” He pulled you flush to his pelvis, your nose hitting his wiry curls. You felt him twitch and swell as the man emptied down your throat. You seized up on your fingers and wailed around his dick as you gushed in your panties. The brunette slid out with a whimper as you gasped for breath. Your swollen lips throbbed as you heaved in. The clergyman rubbed a big hand against your cheek.

He looked down at you, pinkened cheeks and hazy eyes making him look like an angel. Barnes demanded softly, “Act of contrition.” You whined a ‘huh’ as he repeated harder, “Say the act of contrition.”

You made another sign of the cross with a weak hand as you hoarsely prayed, “O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended you and I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell. But most of all because I have offended you, my God, who are all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve with the help of your grace, to confess my sins, to do penance and to amend my life. Amen.”

He drawled, “You’re absolved. Come back next week.”

Barnes extended his other hand to help you up. You stumbled like a newborn foal into his broad chest. His stony face eased into a soft smile as he murmured, “Such a good girl. You alright?” You nodded against his chest, worn out from the experience. He kissed your forehead and warned, “No speaking of this. Then maybe I’ll let you come on my tongue next time.”

[alphabetboyluvr]

bad decisions - jjk | six

Summer is spent in a technicolour haze of Purple Starfuckers, club lights, unorthodox gym routines, and enough glitter to open a craft shop. Jungkook doesn't quite know how, but he's always finding flecks of the metallic warpaint on his gym gear. Has a little laugh to himself whenever he does the laundry. Mutters, "Fucking Disco Ball." It's monsoon season by the time Hoseok and Danbi make their first appearance at the club without you. He texts you—boo, you whore—and waits in the backroom of the bar until he sees a reply come through. Busy tonight, your reply reads. It feels a little cold, but you don't mean for it to be. You're just a rush, and Jungkook nagging you is the last thing you need. JK: Busy doing what? You: none of your business x

Bad Decision #6 - Wishing

warnings: i like to call this a montage chapter - it's gets us through the entire summer :) gym trips! dionysus nights! jungkook being sexy in the gym! dynamic and friendship solidified!

soundtrack: c'est la vie - ethan surman; my type - brb.; happiness - the 1975

wc: 6k

bd total wc: 370k (on-going)

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

The scowl on your face as you reach the gym prevails. You've a coffee in one hand—iced americano, double shot—and the hood of your sweater is bunching around your shoulders. You lift it over your head, and push the swing door of the gym open with your shoulder, wanting to avoid the unwanted eyes of Jiyeong, just in case she's working.

You don't look over to the reception, but the lobby is empty, regardless. It's quiet, always a little less busy in the morning than it is in the evening.

You make your way to the gate of the gym. Punch in the code. Get it wrong. Tell the keypad to 'stop being a prick'.

You try again, exhaling a weighty sigh as you do so.

There's a whir as it works this time, hinges clicking open for you. The metallic clang of gym equipment and grunts of burly men cloud the air, battling with the voice in your head for the title of most annoying sound. Always have to win, don't you? Couldn't just take a loss!

It's a flaw; one that you'll admit to, but one that you wouldn't change for the world. A little bit of drive is good, even if you do drive yourself up the wall more often than not.

Hood up, a pair of leggings and a sweater on, black high-tops tied in bows around your ankles, you look like death warmed up. You haven't showered yet, and there's still glitter caught in your lashline, but you've a point to prove.

And so, just shy of midday, your feet stomp heavily up the stairs, as thunderous as the look on your face.

It's not that you're actually mardy or moody at all—you're just hanging like an absolute bitch.

Whatever Jungkook puts in those tiny purple shots is lethal. Writes you off every single time.

Admittedly, you had gone a little harder last night knowing that you didn't have work the following day, but that's beyond the point. Normally your hangovers aren't so bad, especially not when you drink water throughout the night—which, thanks to Jungkook, you had been.

Jungkook doesn't notice your arrival until you roll down onto the bench behind him. You're on your side, legs tucked up, just like you had been in your bed when his message had arrived in your inbox.

He's in shorts—black, finishing midway down his thigh—and a big baggy t-shirt. On his feet, he's matching with you. Black Chucks. The only difference is that he ties his around the front. His bows are double knotted and little lopsided, the white trims on the soles scuffed and well worn. He's got history in his hi-tops, and you wonder how it compares to yours.

There's a girl in another city who matches him, and it isn't you. You don't have the tiny 'J' scrawled into the rubber of your soles like she does. He's scratched out her initial on his sole.

Takes a little longer to erase it from his other soul, mind you. It's still there. Only faintly, but enough to make him trip over himself from time to time. S'why he always double knots. Harder to fall, that way.

There's concentration on his face, features perplexed as the weight he lifts forces him to exert more energy than he's fully ready for. His teeth are bared, face tight, brows tied in a pretty knot between his eyes. You can see why Jiyeong is so territorial. He's not a bad-looking bloke. Quite handsome, actually.

He exhales as he brings the weight down, resting it on the ground, chest heaving ever so slightly before he turns to look at you. His brows are still furrowed, but his eyes are soft as his body gets more comfortable and settles into a state of rest.

A breathly laugh graces his lips as he reaches for the towel by your head. He pays no mind to the fact your crown is resting upon it, whipping it from beneath you to dab at the sweat gathering on the back of his neck.

"I said bright and early," he smirks, knowing that you must be hating everything about this interaction.

"It's before twelve," you mumble, eyes closed, knowing that watching his dimples form would only make your tummy feel all light and vomit-inducing. You're too hungover for anything other than neutral sensations. "It is bright and early."

"You're basically asleep."

"The bet was that I'd be here, Jeon," you remind him, voice a grumble as you shuffle deeper into your position. "Not that I'd be doing anything useful."

You've a point. It's not one that he can argue against, and so instead he just shrugs and picks his water bottle up from beside the bench. He tosses a little back into his mouth, the stream of water running from the plastic opening and into his mouth with such precision that you're sure he must be an asshole deep down.

You don't buy the nice guy front. Only assholes look that good doing the bare minimum. You'll get to the bottom of his assholeness eventually, but not now. Not when you're this grouchy, and everything feels a little biased.

"C'mon," he says as he knocks his head to the side. "Treadmill. Walk with me. You'll feel better for it."

"I think I'll die," you tell him with so much certainty he can't help but laugh at you.

Still, he stands in front of you and waits for you to join him. Knocks his knee against yours. Kicks your shoe with his own.

He's patient, his eyes soft as they look down at what a sorry state you are. There's something about the way his lips purse gently that makes him feel like a safe bet.

You've no regrets for tumbling out of bed and catching the subway to meet him at the gym. Your head is killing, granted, but it would have been killing you at home, too. At least this way you can feel like you've actually done something productive despite the hangover.

"Trust me," he insists, holding out his palm. "It really will help."

And so you take his hand, letting him pull you up. They warm, and a little clammy, but you don't mind.

When you're finally on your feet, your eyes are level with his chest. He's broad, chest well defined even beneath the shirt. You try not to think about the fact you've seen him shirtless, but you can smell the scent of his laundry detergent, and it adds a whole new element to the enigma the Jeon Jungkook is. Looking at him, you'd imagine a scent of musk - something woody, maybe. Instead, he smells like fresh blooms, sweet peas under summer sun.

You don't let yourself linger for too long, fearful of him reading into the way you can't seem to keep your eyes off him. He's just new. Something shiny. Fresh. Excitement amongst the mundane of a city you've grown tired of.

He reaches down to pick up your half-empty coffee and takes a sip as he begins to walk away. "Tastes like shit."

You pull it back from him, and nudge his side. "Feels like crack cocaine. The Purple Starfuckers, man... they actually kill me."

"You're welcome."

Small talk peppers the walk down the steps—How are your friends? Get home alright? How was Jimin feeling in the morning? How long do you have to stay after closing time?—and flitters around the pair of you as you set your inclines. His is noticeably higher than yours, but you're not here to work out. You're here to win a bet—of which he keeps reminding you that you lost, and that you are, in fact, a loser.

You just tell him to fuck offin return.

He never does. Just smiles, beams all wide, teeth on display, nose a little scrunched, and says, "Sounds like something a loser would say."

Jungkook is easy to be around. His company, his humour, the anecdotes he tells. They're delivered freely, revealed without pressure. No diamonds are being formed, but there's enough of them in your eyes when you laugh with him, regardless.

You reduce the ease of your interactions to your perceived lack of expectations he has of you.

There's security that comes with fucking someone's housemate. You're no longer a viable sexual conquest, and therefore you don't have to worry about an ulterior motive for your exchanges with Jungkook. Jimin's been there, done that.

For Jungkook to be hanging out with you, you think he must actually like your company. It's mutual. Reciprocal. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

There's a clear line drawn in the sand between the two of you, as you walk forward on separate treadmills. He matches your speed—slow and lethargic—despite his marginally higher incline, before offering you his water.

You hold up your coffee, but he shakes his head. "It'll dehydrate you."

You'd left in such a rush (and without any intent on actually working out) so had neglected to bring any water with you. Never mind the fact you stopped by the coffee place inside the subway station. Force of habit.

You're chronically dehydrated as it is. Danbi has to remind you that you need water, not just iced americanos to get you through the day. Sometimes you listen. More often than not, you don't.

"Sure?" you ask, aware that you don't really know each other well enough to be sharing drinks yet (despite the fact he'd already helped himself to your coffee) but he just nods. Doesn't really see it as a big deal.

"Don't backwash," he tells you as you're mid-sip, and it almost makes you choke the water straight back into the bottle. You refrain, swallowing it down, coughing slightly as you recover from your shock.

"Christ. Too late," you joke as you pass it back, before he makes some crude remark about how you've basically kissed now, and that 'you can't have your way' with both him and Jimin.

"Fuck off," you laugh. "For starters, Jimin and I aren't like, a thing. It was a one-time hook-up."

"Sure."

"Well, I mean, he tried last night," you shrug, looking up to the mirror ahead, finding Jungkook's dark eyes already on you.

He doesn't look away as he says, "he did?"

"You served us, Jungkook," you remind him. Your memories of last night are far clearer than they were of the night you'd actually hooked up with Jimin. "He wasn't getting me drinks just to be kind."

"You don't know that," Jungkook pouts, though he's not sure why. He knows Jimin. He was definitely trying to get laid, but he's also his best friend, so he says, "He's a good guy."

"I don't doubt that," you agree, not wanting it to appear as if you're being over-critical of Jimin. You're the one who fucked him, after all. He's incredibly attractive, and you know that many people would consider themselves lucky to end their night with him, but you've fucked handsome men before. It doesn't really couldn't for all that much.

A fuck is just a fuck.

What we do in the dark has no bearing on who we are in the light of day.

"Sounds like you do," he assesses, but you dismiss it.

"Sounds like you're reading into it a little too much," you banter back, slowly learning that Jungkook likes to do that. He overanalyses. You do quite the opposite.

Jimin could have a noble peace prize for all you care. Doesn't mean you've any interest in fucking him again.

The conversation dwindles on, you gradually upping the pace of your treadmill to the point where Jungkook might consider it a brisk walk (though you'd argue it's a jog).

He's kind in the way he takes a second to think before he speaks, conscious of letting you finish your sentences, and also wanting to be sure of the words he articulates. Thoughtful. Mild-mannered. Nice, but not in a way that boring. Nice, in a way that feels safe.

By the time your legs begin to ache, the treadmills have been running for over forty-five minutes.

You've been too busy guessing the conversations between other strangers in the gym. Who they are; where they're going after their sessions. What they'd had for breakfast (and for some reason, Jungkook would guess 'egg whites' without fail for every single person) and what they'd be having for dinner.

He mimics their voices, and you laugh along, adding a narrative. So many lives have been lived by the people around you, and not a single one you get even remotely correct.

There's a burly man, bearded and broad, with a petite girl hanging on every word he says towards the far corner, and you decide that they're a couple.

Jungkook thinks they're siblings.

Makes it a little awkward when the guy starts squeezing the girl's ass mid-squat.

"Yep, no, maybe you're right," he cringes, face scrunching up, lip ring almost disappearing into his mouth as he does so. Unfortunately, he does also then begin to debate the prospect of them maybe being stepsiblings, at which point you threaten to push him off his treadmill.

"You watch too much porn," you tell him, and he can't even argue against it.

It's been a little while since his last situationship ended, and he's been avoiding bedding anyone new like the plague. Been keeping girls he thinks he could grow to like at arm's length. Safer that way.

"I watch a perfectly healthy amount of porn," he scoffs, but then bunches his face up, clearly not proud of himself for making such a declaration. He chooses to not share the fact that he and Jimin split a VPN bill for that purpose exactly.

You laugh with him, the topic moving along to the PG shows he watches instead, the Netflix shows you're both hooked on, and what you'd each chosen for your Vecna song (which also leads to him helplessly defending all of his Spotify playlists from your gruelling judgement ( Justin Bieber defined a generation and I won't listen to you talk shit about him.... And fuck off, Mad at Disney is cute! Cute! I'm never showing you my Spotify ever again. EVER.))

He mirrors you as you slow the pace of your treadmill, looking over to you after checking the time on the clock - 58:23. Longer than he'd expected you'd last. "Done?"

"Done," you nod.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like death?"

"Still?"

"Still," you nod. "Need a Vita500 and a nap."

"There's CU round the corner," he notes. "I'm now about to leave anyways. I'll come with you. You can get your vitamins, I'm gonna grab something to eat."

You nod, not minding in the slightest—but he mentioned food, and your stomach begins to grumble like King Kong atop the Empire State.

"Would die for convenience store ramyeon," you sigh, musing over one of the finest delicacies in life. Nothing beats instant jjajangmyeon, not even a home-cooked meal.

"Wanna grab some?" Jungkook asks a little mindlessly, not thinking much of the offer. "I'll eat with you."

And so he does. The comfort born in the confines of the gym is nurtured over cheap food and even cheaper shots at one another in the form of banter. He's a lot of fun, you think. It's a shame he's always stuck behind the bar and never able to let loose with you in the club.

He texts you midweek to let you know he can put you on the club guest list, if you want. Save paying entry and queuing. You'd be mad to say no - and so you spend the next few days convincing your friends that another night out is a good idea.

It's not. Hoseok somehow ends the night without his shoes, and you wake up with an ache in your lower back from a guy who'd tried to be all sexy in his bedroom last night, failing miserably. Human bodies aren't supposed to bend in the way he insisted on positioning you in.

You ignore the slight burn as you head to the gym though, ready to pretend like Jungkook's the bane of your life once more.

A routine is forming.

What started as a bet becomes a weekend guarantee: you will get shitfaced at Dionysus on a Saturday, and then you will chat shit with Jungkook on the treadmills for the duration of your Sunday morning.

He never lets you off the machines until the scowl that you inevitably arrive with transforms into a subtle smile. Some weeks it's quicker than others, but one thing is for certain; your scowl will always fade.

By week three, he's already by the treadmills when you arrive.

"No napping today," he teases with a soft smile, making light of the way you always curl up on the bench behind him as he does his final few reps. He's already done with them. Got to the gym fifteen minutes early to make sure he would be.

"Kook," you groan, dragging your feet a little and yet still heading in his direction towards the cardio area.

The way his body swings around to look at you, a single brow raised, is like something out of a kid's cartoon. He's so animated and full of energy that it's hard to believe he was at work until five that morning. "What did you just call me?"

"Shut up," you mumble, crossing your legs and sitting down on the treadmill belt. It's quiet—this time of day is never busy—so you don't feel bad for hogging a machine that no one would be using regardless. "Everyone calls you that."

He hops up on his treadmill and sets an incline, while you let your body flop down on yours.

"You're not everyone."

"Be impossible to be everyone," you mumble, eyes closed, body shuffling into a more comfortable position - until the treadmill jolts, moving ever so slowly beneath you. The way you get up is akin to a cat being confronted with a cucumber, a small yelp leaving your lips. "Jesus, Jungkook!"

He's smirking, as if hadn't been tampering with the buttons, shrugging. "Started by itself."

"You could have killed me."

"What a shame that would have been." He grins at you like a kid who just found a stash of candy. "C'mon! Up you get. I've got places to be. A life to live."

You scoff as you begin to walk forward, lowering the incline that he'd set it to. "You? A life? Seems unlikely."

"You know, you're incredibly hard to like," he assures you. You catch the challenge of his gaze in the mirror and simply shrug.

"Yet here you are, still trying to be my friend."

"Can't shake you off."

"You force me to come."

"I do no such thing."

"Ohhhh, disco baaaaall," you begin to imitate him, bringing your clasped hands to your heart as if you really are begging. You sound nothing like him, but it's kind of deliberate. The more ridiculous you sound, the more he'll laugh. "Pwetty pwease come to the gym and keep me company."

"I don't talk like that," he laughs at how whiney you sound. "And fuck off, I've never said that."

"So you don't mind if I leave?"

His hand reaches over and hooks into the hood of your sweater, as if you're a dog on a leash. His grip is tight. Ain't no way you're going nowhere.

"No, you're not allowed," he says sternly, but there's a smile on his face, voice dulcet as the command rolls off his tongue and sinks into your ear. "I'll get bored."

"See!" You laugh, and pay no notice to the fact his hand stays with an iron grip on the fabric of your sweater even after the joke has been made. He keeps it there.

"It's either I have you keep me company, or Jimin keep me company," he says with a shrug. "I've always got a second choice."

"Aw, but I'm your first choice. How cute."

"My god, I hate you," he says as he finally drops his grip on your hoodie, nudging your shoulder as you walk. He busies his hand, tampering with his incline, trying to make it seem like the touch was casual. Nothing to read into.

It's a debate the pair of you are able to have for hours; who hates who more, who hated who first, who's gonna hate who for longer.

It's not flirting as such, but it is a ruse. You deflect the fact that you actually really enjoy each other's company, using hatred as a measure of just how much you like one another. It's all very juvenile.

He tells you he hates you when you steal half of the cheese he buys for his instant ramyeon after the gym, and you tell him that you hate him every single time you show up at the gym. It's a win-win.

By the time week four comes around, you're surprised to find yourself considering signing up for another month.

You rarely use your membership - once a week, to be precise, and only for about an hour at a time. It does give you a luxury of freedom, though. Chances are you'll be able to find Jungkook there, no matter what time of day it is.

You'd swung by one evening that week after work just to show him the painting someone did of breadfish, knowing that he'd be the only other person in the city who remembered something so ridiculous.

He'd been deadlifting at the time, a thick leather belt cinching the baggy shirt he'd been wearing, stopping you quite suddenly in your tracks.

Hands covered in paint, hair up, a pencil still tucked behind your ear, you're the most 'you' he thinks he's ever seen you.

Sure, he's seen you with your makeup all smudged after a night out, and he's seen you after far too many drinks deep, but he's never really had the luxury of a totally sober 'you'. The 'you' that other people get to indulge in.

The glitter on your lids is a little more subtle than he's used to—it's thinner, finer, a little pink in its hue—but still prettily in place. Sparkling under the harsh gym bulbs. It's nice to know you're a disco even in the daylight.

He finds himself holding the bar he's lifting for a little longer than expected. His eyes are on yours in the mirror. You've paused by the top of the stairs, eyes on his.

It had been the shock of how bloody tiny his waist is that had startled you first, the look in his eyes, second.

And it's that second surprise—a pleasant one—which stops you from doing anything else but staring. He's got car crash eyes, and you can't help but watch the disaster of the wreckage burn.

You can't even really take in the rest of his face, and it's a shame, for he's a sight to behold; lips ajar, the freckle beneath them covered by the shadow of his pout, brows furrowing together slowly.

The longer he looks at you, the more strained his expression becomes - until his eyes close, teeth clenching, body holding the weight until he can't support it for much longer. It drops, his body shaking as his chest heaves, the sound shattering the tension between the pair of you.

You feel bad for intruding; as if you've seen him in a way you were never supposed to. It's not like you walked in on him showering or anything as intimate as that, but it's been a while since a man has looked at you like, well, that.

Desire, passion? Sure, whatever. They'd looked at you with those in their eyes.

But Jungkook hadn't been looking at you with either of those wants. At least, not a want for you.

He'd been pushing himself. Proving himself.

And while he hadn't been proving himself to you, you're reminded why you don't fuck anyone face-to-face these days. Eye-contact. It's too much. Gets you all hot and bothered.

And so while his chest heaves, eyes looking you up and down, a little unsure of what the fuck just happened, you do the only thing you can: distract him.

Behind your back is the breadfish canvas, so you bring it around, hold it in the air and smile as brightly as you possibly can. "Please tell me you know what this is."

He takes a second. Tilts his head, and then realises exactly what it's meant to be - a loaf of bread with a fish head and tail tacked onto the end. He's not seen it since middle school. Was the only one of his friends who found it fucking hilarious - and the way you're beaming makes him think that you were probably just as strange as he was, growing up.

Your mutual childhood strangeness is proven right. Transcends in adulthood, apparently. He sends you voice notes of him singing the breadfish song on loop for three days straight. You block him on 4 separate occasions.

Doesn't stop him from making sure the DJ plays the song on Saturday night. He'll take the blocking if it means he gets to see your smile just as bright as your disco-ball eyes.

When Sunday comes, the look on Jungkook's face as you tell him your membership is due to expire is hard to read.

His eyes, for once, don't give much away.

He's forbearing as he says, "You can't use your memberships expiring as an excuse not to hang out anymore. I'll still force you on hangover walks."

His stoicism fades as he tries to hide a smile when you ask him to wait by the door of the gym lobby. You renew your membership. Just for another month. Just enough to keep him happy.

And so the routine continues. Saturday nights are reserved for Dionysus; Sunday mornings for the boy from behind the bar.

There's normally a gap of five or so hours between you saying goodbye at the club and hello at the gym.

Sometimes you go home from Dionysus with Hoseok and Danbi.

Other times, you end up in an apartment that's unfamiliar, with a man who's equally as unknown.

They're always nice enough.

Never nice enough to make you wanna stay the night.

On one occasion, you end up going home with another woman, instead. It's not unheard of, for you, just harder to come by. Your first experiences had been with women, and your dating history is littered with as many women as it is men. You don't subscribe to the idea of sexuality being a linear thing, far more content with just going with who feels right, not what feels right.

Naively, you'd put her on a pedestal, thinking you'd finally get a decent lay—but a drunk shag is a drunk shag. You still ended up leaving as soon as you could, orgasm not quite reached.

At this point, you figure it's a mental block. You never used to have this issue, but you also used to only fuck people you loved.

When the people you loved began to fuck you over, things changed.

You've too many rules now. Too many restrictions on yourself. You can never fully relax and actually enjoy sex for what it is.

The rules are never set in stone, but they always follow the same pattern.

Don't let yourself be vulnerable. Don't get fully naked. No kissing during sex. Absolutely no face-to-face fucking. Taken from behind, or not at all. You'll give oral, but the second some tries to reciprocate, you move it along.

How can you enjoy intimacy with another person when you won't let yourself be intimate?

There are just too many things that remind you still of him; things that will hurt your heart more than it already does when someone else takes his place.

And so sex isn't really sex anymore. It's a tool.

You use it to pretend like you're over everything that happened with your ex; as if you're in control of a situation that he created.

And so that's why Saturday nights are reserved for Dionysus: they're filling the space of date night. Sunday mornings in the gym? Filling the space of lazy morning fucks and brunch down by the lake near Hoseok's place.

Being busy with the gym stops you from making 11:11 wishes for him to show up at your door, and the nights in Dionysus stop you from looking for shooting stars to wish upon instead.

Instant noodles with a guy you barely know don't quite manage to make you forget about eggs benedict with the man you thought you might one day marry, but hey - it's something at least.

On the nights that Jungkook knows you don't go straight home, he checks up on you; will text when his shift is up, again when he gets home, and one final time when he wakes up. He doesn't care for the semantics that come with double messaging. He isn't trying to impress you.

He knows what you get up to in the dark. What you do is your prerogative. He's more concerned about the lack of trust and faith he has in the people you do it with. Despite this, not once does he berate you for it.

Even Hoseok's made a dumb remark here and there about the fact you're 'getting around', but if Jungkook's thought similar things, he doesn't let you know it. He's a good friend. One that you're lucky to have. Thank God you fucked his flatmate and not him, instead.

The illusion of you has slipped by this point, for Jungkook. He knows you too well to toy with what-ifs.

You feel secure in the fact he's not trying to get into your pants; a rarity for dudes these days.

Even Jimin took the hint after you turned him down, and has become a welcome addition to your nights out. He's fun to flirt with, but he knows nothing will happen, so he never pushes it too far - but is also happy to be your cover when another bloke is getting too touchy with you for your liking. He's been your 'boyfriend' a grand total of three times, now - only ever for a night.

You're not too familiar with Jungkook's other friends yet, but you sometimes get in on a round of shots with them. There are four usual suspects: Jimin, Taehyung, Namjoon and Yoongi. All handsome, all perfectly nice. None of them stick to you like glue, though. Not Jungkook did.

Hoseok and Danbi have followed your lead, and consider the boys casual acquaintances; drinking partners for when they happen to be at the bar at the same time.

A dog walker by profession, Danbi always finds herself flirting with Taehyung, who tries his hardest to get a discount on her services. She always refuses.

Jungkook and Yeonjun have a running bet going to see how long it takes until he's paying full price, just for an excuse to see her outside of a club setting. They've had to reset the bet twice, because Danbi might just be the most stubborn woman to have ever graced the planet.

Summer is spent in a technicolour haze of Purple Starfuckers, club lights, unorthodox gym routines and enough glitter to open a craft shop.

Jungkook doesn't quite know how, but he's always finding flecks of the metallic warpaint on his gym gear. Has a little laugh to himself whenever he does the laundry. Mutters, "Fucking Disco Ball."

It's monsoon season by the time Hoseok and Danbi make their first appearance at the club without you.

He texts you—boo, you whore—and waits in the backroom of the bar until he sees a reply come through.

Busy tonight, your reply reads. It feels a little cold, but you don't mean for it to be. You're just a rush, and Jungkook nagging you is the last thing you need.

JK: Busy doing what?

You: none of your business x

Despite the kiss you end your sentence with (he can hear the way you say 'mwah' the same way you do whenever you know you're being a little cheeky), it still feels... off.

JK: Oddly defensive.

You: i'm always defensive :)

You: lemme know when you get home safe

It's a simple role reversal, but Jungkook isn't sure what to make of it. He's normally the one making sure you get home safe. Not the other way around. It's not a 'what-if' scenario that he's run through in his head before. He doesn't like it.

He likes being depended on. Has gotten used to you depending on him.

Pushing it to the back of his mind, he makes orders without much thought, too busy letting himself indulge in what-ifs. It's been a while since he's thought of any regarding you, but he's consumed by them, now. Where you are, who you're with. Why Danbi and Hoseok won't give him a straight answer when he asks. They say it's not their business, but the way Danbi gives Hoseok a grimace whenever the topic is mentioned would suggest she doesn't approve.

It's probably why you haven't told him. He wonders how bad it must be. Secrets aren't something really kept between the pair of you.

There are things he hasn't told you - parts of his past he'd rather keep buried - but he doesn't actively hide himself from you. He thought you did the same.

Apparently not.

He arrives home with no new message from you. It's five thirty, and even though he's a little pissed with the sudden change in your attitude towards him, he can't bring himself to take it out on you.

JK: I'm home, asshole.

JK: Dionysus ain't the same without a disco ball.

Tossing his phone down onto his sheets, Jungkook stares up at his ceiling. There's never been a complicated weight to your friendship, but he's also never been in the dark before.

Above him, origami birds dance in the light breeze coming from his aircon unit.

There's a dozen strung up from his paper folding phase six months ago, when he was trying to get his mind off of the girl whose initial had been scratched out of the soles of his shoes. Thought that if she came back, she'd find the birds endearing.

Kept them up just in case. Now, he just keeps them up as a reminder: You've gotta let wild birds fly away. Can't keep them caged up.

And it's funny, cause the strings the birds hang from feel like a cage for his thoughts, now. They get tangled in the spokes, your name wrapping around the bars. He can't keep you in a cage, either.

Can't expect you to be as you always have been with him, just because it's the 'norm'. Can't expect you not to have a life without him.

You: does your apartment need one?

JK: A disco ball? Don't think so?

Truthfully, he thinks a little disco ball would be fitting strung up with all of his birds.

You: gaaawd, ur such a boy

You: i'm asking if i can come over :(

He tries not to read into the unhappy face, but it has him sitting up, replying just as quickly as his heart is beating. There's something amiss, and he doesn't like it.

JK: Oh. Now?

You: no, next week

You: yes now, doofus

JK: It's 5am?

He doesn't know why he's being like this. Difficult. Perhaps he is a bit bitter. Petty.

You: this isn't a booty call lmao, chill out

You: i'll be there in 15

JK: Do I get a choice?

He's smiling as he sends the message, and hopes you'll read it in the tone he intends. He's bantering, trying to deflect from the heaviness he can feel in your text thread.

He's relieved when you reply just how he hoped you would.

You: no x

JK: See you in 15, db x

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

[atlaswilliams]

"It was game over when my oldest found out I could play guitar. If we don't have some Disney soundtrack blasting, she's making me do my own songs." They were slowly checking off films on the Disney list, each having a more addictive soundtrack than the last. "I'll let her know you're ready and willing to help. Depends on the day. She doesn't like asking me for much these days. Apparently I've got too much going on or something," he exhaled through a smile. He did, but he was a firm believer in balancing just another thing. The male tilted his chin upwards in a nod and without another thought, he joined the other's side, body already aching from the movement that would surely worsen with time. "It's a bitch, isn't it? Just wait until we heat up and your lungs feel like they're on fire. That's my favorite part, " he lied with the flash of a smile towards the other.

"Hey, that's what kids are meant to do, right? Turning their kids into Disney adults?" If he had kids he'd probably be singing Frozen most of the time too, he thought. It was a rite of passage in this age. "I'm glad to hear it, let her know if she needs any more volunteers I'm happy to help out. I bet she's got you working hard, eh?" Danny rubbed his hands together briefly, letting out a puff of air that rose in mist. "C'mon, we can talk while we run. I need to move." He gave Atlas another clap to the shoulder and started off on a slow jog. Even just the brief few minutes of standing still had a chill creeping into his fingers and toes. "You know, I've been back like two years now and I still haven't gotten used to the cold again."

[musicfordinner]

Why am I watching this in the night just now? Yoooo I love me some Case! Legendary R&B singer. Whatchya’ll know about that!

Missing you was one of my favourite songs growing up and I did not know that Case was doing all that shit but it was a different era..

Touch me, tease me goes so hard..

Foxy Brown = goddesssssss

Mary — well y’all know if Mary is on the track it’s a slam dunk

Case is dumb af cheating on Mary, more proof ngas ain’t shit

Yo Case was living hard / had something to say about Bey — video was beautiful

Yo Best Man soundtrack was phenomenal — not as good as Waiting to Exhale, but right up there

I wonder who the “guy who acted like a bitch” was on that song, I suspect Tyrese because he’s crazyyyy

Apparently I’m not the one who thinks that:

Yo real talks Case seems like a hard head.. he hated his biggest song, the ad lib that’s so dope was him fucking up his voice and ruining it in the midst of singing his song but it came out dope on the record.. wow then he got a Grammy nom what

What record was up against Not Your Friend?? Gonna read the comments…

[archivedatl]

Alex’s Myspace Blog, 2008 (two entires)

Undisclosed Rant No. Uno

So I stumbled upon some writing that I’d apparently attempted to hide from even myself, n’ I thought I might as well share it with y’all since we’re all friends here. This was written at a time when I was completely and utterly in love with the idea of a girl that I knew I could never actually have. It also may be the origin of the song "Coffee Shop Soundtrack". Juicy, ain’t it? Bon Appetit Love is not only blind, but a fool, a stumbling mess falling backwards through showroom doors into atmospheres unwelcoming of his presence. He is the unruly show-stopper, bringing the piano’s hook to an untimely end, groping in sultry salutation towards the nearest burlesque beauty, an untouchable object of obsession in the selfish eye of man, to which all occupants react with disapproving sneers and spiteful, sideways glances. They know better than to touch what they cannot have, but faced with such infatuation, he is but a child in a candy shop. Love is the fumbling mess who finds himself caught between a drop-dead-gorgeous match made in heaven, and a promise she made to her family, yet he seeks comfort in the concept of brief, brash contact, while Beauty seeks escape in the promises he makes under cover of dim moonlight and coffee-shop sound tracks; promises he would whole-heartedly keep if the situation called for such a thing... He wishes she knew. Love seeks to prevail when common sense is lost beneath the faint aroma of warm mint in the air she exhales over his smile, and he struggles to come to terms with the fact that Rationality and Reason play larger roles in her life than he ever could. Although her response is as seasonal as the green of the trees, he is content waiting for each and every Spring - the time spent alone in hiding - when they can forget the world and let butterflies multiply inside them, and let warmth spread throughout appendages to disregard a mid-winter’s bitter chill. Above all else, he will remain steadfast as trees do, through the harshest of Januarys, as time is but a matter of context, where in his wasted heart will beat for her always. Hope you like it.

Recent late night musings; part two.

Everyone knows the story of the rock-star and his punk-rock princess. Everyone knows that the rock-star finds himself a new princess in every kingdom he visits. Its common knowledge. There is no happy ending for the princess. There are just too many fair maidens out there. Band dudes are no good, I’ve learned this from experience, and I’m pretty sure your mothers would tell you the same. I’ve lived it. I’ve witnessed it. I’m beginning to grow a little bit sick of it, and yet, I completely understand why it happens. I’m going to post this piece of writing as a cryptic message to those of you who don’t quite understand why a person could bring themselves to act in such a manner, but its my hope and intention that you come to realize just why it all goes down the way it does, and why it continues to happen. We don’t mean to be as shady as we may seem, ladies, but its so damn hard to hold on to a heart back home, when there’s so much in between. Consider that you may be part of the problem. Don’t throw yourself at someone because of who you think they are... Throw yourself at someone because you know you’re both in it for the memories. Temptation is a bitch for everyone. Here’s my bitter and cynical analysis regarding the dogmas of band guys and their "relations" with girls they meet on tour. Hope you enjoy it in all of its brutal honesty. (Note: This doesn’t pertain to all people, nor instances. Its merely my commentary on an observation I’ve made over time. I’m not calling anyone out, nor am I saying that this pertains to myself. Its simply an undeniable truth that lingers, and has lingered since a minstrel first strummed a lyre. Tragic, but true. C’est la vie. However, hope arises in the individual’s ability to change, so don’t let it bum you out too much.) It isn’t that he’s using you, its that tomorrow you won’t exist, until the next time he comes full circle to a city near you, billboards flashing - posters posted, sickeningly honest, brutally blunt, but refreshing, all the same. A familiar face, Guest-list plus one, bring a friend and let the auction begin, Welcome to the lions den. Just think, if nothing were to transpire, you’ll both go on wondering what it could have been like, to hold your very own ammunition, and for a night, fire rounds at the stars, with no fear of restless retaliation. Simple redemption, Sweet, lust-less, redemption, because you’ve been through it all before, you know what to expect, so does he, there are no lines left to cross, no buttons previously left buttoned, so a simple kiss won’t hurt anybody, will it? After all, he lives to revisit familiar lips, unbridled affection, exhilaration, and you show up, Again, and again, and again, fuel to the fire, another notch on temptation’s prison wall. When it comes down to it, what I mean is this, young guys in bands will always act like young guys in bands; brash, fickle, relentless and foolish, and girls will let themselves fall for it. The good news is, everyone grows up. xoxo

[headoverhiddles]

Mephistopheles of Los Angeles - Marilyn Manson x Reader [Smut] (Part II)

Synopsis: After the kiss, it’s impossible to avoid the press. But behind closed doors, there’s no reason to deny that you two have a connection. AKA Marilyn invites you and Johnny over to his place for a night of fun. 

Notes: Third and final part coming soon! Also, I love comments :) 

PART I

PART III

You sit up by your window, watching the pool glisten. You can't come out and say anything-- he was probably drunk. But, you two did have that magnificent conversation before the drinks came around... there was definitely a connection there.

As if you two shared a mind, just as you're about to pick up the phone to call Johnny, his ID shows up on your screen.

"Hey," you say.

"Morning, sunshine," he says, his voice cracking from an obvious hangover, "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

You groan, sliding the curtains shut and blocking out the sun. He laughs.

"Hey, what if--" Just then, someone else starts to call through. It's an unknown number. You really shouldn't answer, you being who you are... but there's a glimmer of misplaced hope inside you, leftover from last night maybe.

"I'll call you back, kay?" you mumble, and swipe on the call. "Yeah?"

"Hey." It's him, deep, gravelly voice and all.

"Hey." You pull your feet up to your chest. "What's going on?"

"I was hoping-- I got your number from Depp by the way, so I'm not a stalker-- that you guys'd come over to my place, like, tomorrow night. Night before your premiere. We could celebrate properly."

"Sounds great," you smile. "How are you not hungover?"

"I am, I'm just a good faker." He pauses. "It felt good to unwind with you last night. I... appreciate company like yours. I also appreciate that that was the sexiest kiss I've had in like, ten years." That's all he says, then he hangs up. Sober, he's a very somber person... but his drunk side shines through every now and then it seems. Smirking, you stand, and start to think about a shower. Johnny will probably be getting a call next.

-

The next night, the three of you are situated in Marilyn's living room, the thermostat set to cool air and a low soundtrack of David Bowie floating in the background.

"Cherry. Blood red. So we can pretend we're vampires." A pyramid of jello boxes sit on his counter top, three bottles of Absinthe that would be used instead of water.

"We basically are," Johnny comments idly, watching a fly crawl along the counter.

"Or, or we can pretend we're eating flesh," Marilyn continues, shaking one packet out into the bowl, "Absinthe and flesh. Or we can pretend (y/n) is menstruating, and--"

Both you and Johnny groan loud enough to drown out the rock star's ravings, and finally he concedes, adding the absinthe (mostly) silently. Ultimately however, Johnny is unable to restrain himself from pitching in. "Who would want to eat a woman out on her period though?"

"You'd be surprised," you answer that one, swinging your legs over Marilyn's velvet couch.

"I wouldn't mind it," Marilyn offered, licking the cherry goop off his tattooed fingers, "If I was like, an actual vampire."

This sets Johnny off again, and as he's laughing, you saunter up to Marilyn, wrapping your arms around him from behind.

"And what if you weren't a vampire?"

"You mean if I didn't need to stick my tongue in a reservoir of ovum littered blood?"

"Yes."

"Well, I know girls get aroused on their period, because their hormones are raging. So if my girl was horny as fuck for me on her period and wanted me to eat her pussy, I mean, I wouldn't say no."

You pat his cheek. "A true gentleman."

"I've always wondered this-- when you fuck a girl on her period and she cums, is it like a dam of blood breaking?"

"What, like the parting of the red sea?" Johnny frowns. Marilyn considers this.

"More like... Titanic, but... the Titanic is your dick."

"Completely false," you say, and both guys look over to you, legitimately interested. "It's the opposite. At least for me. The blood stops for a bit, then... comes back with a vengeance once all your wetness has returned from whence it came."

"Very interesting, love," Johnny says, getting up and pouring himself another drink.

"I love being educated in the vaginal arts," Marilyn says, making obscene slurping noises as he licks the rest of his fingers clean.

As the night wears on the three of you (plus Lily) put down bottle after bottle, smoke a couple of joints, and finish the red coagulated creation. Once two AM hits, the conversation deepens, and the guitar breaks out.

"It's gonna be hell for you answering questions about those pictures this weekend, (y/n)," Johnny says, strumming the acoustic instrument.

"I know. The questions I get are so dumb, I've already had a billion asking about you and me and if we're dating. Just because two people play love interests--"

"And have fabulous onscreen chemistry," Johnny adds.

"Yes, doesn't mean we should get... shipped!" Angrily, you exhale a cloud of smoke, the joint hanging lazily between your fingers.

"It's because the media's bullshit consists of asking why male artists do what they do, and asking female artists why they fuck who they fuck," Marilyn mutters candidly, stealing the joint.

"Load of crap," Johnny nods, playing a riff of The Beautiful People.

"I like you... though," Marilyn mumbles, glancing your way.

"I like you too," you blink.

"I would've fucked you y'know... if the paparazzi weren't such cockblocking motherfuckers..."

"I know. When it comes to the press though, we've gotta make it look like an accident if they did get pictures."

"Which they did," Johnny nodded, "I already saw one this morning titled "Chateau Marmont's Wild Nightlife: Johnny Depp blazes one while rising co-star and shock-rocker best friend get 'cheeky' in the bushes." Now we've got not only rumours about you and me to deal with but you and this fuck." This makes Marilyn laugh.

"I'm just known as the best friend now? Wow." He touches his wow tattoo, holding it up.

"You're faded, man."

"Faded, faithful, and fuckin' fatal."

"They make me look like a fucking stoner now, so I'm not much better."

"You are a fucking stoner."

"I'm Jack Sparrow, mate."

"You're a fucking stoner."

You just roll your eyes as they bicker. You remember what your agent told you-- if it's not purposefully publicized, it's messy, and messy doesn't sell. Guess that's what it's like in the Hollywood dating pool.

"Nah, but of course we've gotta deny all of it," Marilyn sighs. "It would blow up your career in a not-good way cause they'd say this young, impressionable starlet is dating a satanist, or whatever they call me, and I don't really feel like answering a billion stupid questions about you either at this point, not when I'm trying to promote my record. They're going crazy over this cause you're so popular right now, (y/n). It'll be all over People and the internet and shit."

"Covering personal shit is the worst part of this job," Johnny mutters. "Unless it's a story about smuggling cocaine into the Pirates premiere."

"Wasn't that at Disneyland?" you frown.

Marilyn and Johnny both nod noncommittally.

"Worth it," Johnny says, holding his guitar with one hand and flicking a piece of the blood red Jell-O onto the ceiling with a spoon.

"Clean that up," Marilyn grins.

"Lick it off, mate," Johnny laughs. It suddenly falls, and with a jiggle, lands between your breasts. You yelp as it splatters into your cleavage, and the two men fall to the floor laughing.

"Mmmmhmmhmm," Marilyn smiles, crawling over to you on his hands and knees with tipsy half-lidded eyes, "I think I will lick it off." He straddles you on the armchair, one leg on either side, and puts his face into your tits, his tongue sweeping deep licks between, up, down, ugh...

"Fuck, you're making me horny," you whisper. Johnny giggles, standing and snatching a small bag and heading up to Marilyn's pool patio with his guitar.  

"See you two in the morning."

"Don't drown," you call up.

"I don't want to have to clean up your chlorine bloated corpse in the morning," Marilyn adds.

"I will leave you the sexiest corpse you could possibly imagine, brother," Johnny calls back down, stumbling up the stairs. You and Marilyn turn your attention back to one another.

"Your tits taste good," he comments, eyes flickering lazily back down to them.

"My pussy tastes even better," you grin, taking his hand and sliding it down between your legs. He rubs it against you, and comes up with slick fingers.

"Bedroom."

His bed is covered in black silk sheets, a satin cover blanketed overtop of them. Messy piles of books and records litter the floor, and creepy artefacts you wouldn't want to see with a light on surround everything on bookshelves.

"You have blacklights?" you ask, looking around the dark, mysterious room.

"To admire the cum shots on the ceiling," he clarifies.

"Oh, is that all?"

"--But I don't like to call it cum, I like to call it... making wet in you," he giggles.

"Mmm, make wet in me?"

"I would love to make wet in you."

Before you can say anything else, he grabs you by the hips, shoving you forward onto the bed. You land on your stomach, and he stands behind you as you turn your head.

"Take your panties off," he says in a low, level voice, as if he had sobered up in seconds. You feel your bratty side coming out.

"What if I don't?"

He lifts his chin up, looking like a king. "Get on your hands and knees... arch your back and present your ass for me. It's a really pretty ass, I just wanna look at it. Promise."

You do so, and wait in the darkness. After a second, you feel his tongue dart out, licking a stripe up your panties from behind. Then he smacks your ass hard. "Ohgod," you whisper, and he smiles.

"You look so good like this." You flip over, and crawl up to the headboard, hanging on. "Why don't you spread your legs for daddy?"

"Why don't you spread them for me, daddy? I'm a little bit tired."

"Lazy little bitch," he mumbles, sliding his hand between your legs. It rests on your knee, then you feel the pressure of him parting your thighs. He rolls over on top of you, and for a moment, you think he's going to instigate a kiss. You part your lips, waiting for him. Instead, he slides down like a snake between those parted thighs and hooks his fingers into your panties.

"Just lick around them," you smirk, biting your lip.

"Uh, uh. I want to enjoy my meal," he drawls, and pulls them off down to your ankle.

"Eat my pussy good, baby."

"Oh, I plan to."

"Gonna fuck me after that?"

"You know I am, kitten."

He delves between your folds again, making low noises. His hands reach up to grope and grab at whatever they can; your hips, your breasts, your inner thighs. After a moment, you gasp as he slips two fingers into you, then three, fucking you rough with them.

"That's--" You gasp, grinding into his face, "That's so good..."

He hums, the vibration of his lips against your clit driving you wild.

"How fuckin' close are you?" he hisses.

"So fucking close," you whine.

"Cum for me. Make wet... in my face."

"God, you're gonna ruin my ladyboner by saying shit like that!"

A few more masterful circles of his tongue however, and you do cum, gripping the boards for dear life.

"Grab my--" he murmurs, "Grab my hair, love it when it's-- oh, tugged--"

Your hands fly to his hair, and you tug the short black locks as he fucks you with his tongue through your orgasm. Giving you a moment to breathe, he flashes his dark glare up between your legs, eyes shining almost demonically in the dark.

"Fuck me, Brian," you breathe. He crawls up on top of you, holding you by your shoulders as he guides his dick between your legs. When he finally pushes in, he gives a grunt as you moan, wrapping your legs around his ass.

"So fucking good," he groans, and you bite into his shoulder.

"Ohhh yeah, oh yeah," you moan, and he suddenly pulls out.

"Back on your hands and knees, kitten." You obey this time, fucked out but wanting more. He smacks your ass again, and you moan, wiggling back. He spanks you again, and again, and you bite your fist. "Nah, nah," he whispers, "I wanna hear you. Get fuckin' loud, scream it out."

You very nearly scream as he spanks you again, and presses soft kisses up your back, turning into hickies by the top between your shoulder blades.

"Wanna ride you," you breathe. Wordlessly, he lays down, and you roll over top of him, getting into reverse cowgirl position. With another gasp, you sink down over his big cock, and roll your hips.

"That's good," he groans, "Fuckkkk yeah, that's good."

"Daddy, daddy--" you gasp.

"Daddy's gonna make you cum," he whispers, reaching up and around to squeeze your breast. He sits up, so that his chest is pressed to your back, and the angle makes you moan even louder. "I gotchu," he whispers in your ear, "I gotchu, I gotchu, gonna take real good care of you... cause you're takin real good care of me..."

You nearly sob as you reach back and grab his hair, and he sinks his teeth into your shoulder as you had done with him. You feel a bit of blood drip, and cum hard. Marilyn increases his pace as he feels you gush around his cock, pounding you harder than ever. Skin slaps against skin as he fucks you on his lap, and your orgasm keeps burning through you as he mumbles growled-out words of praise.

When you finally come back down to earth, he's pressing kisses to the bite mark, which felt good in the moment, but stings like hell now.

"Guess you're a real fucking vampire, Manson," you giggle. He nuzzles his nose into your neck, laughing.

[camillemontespan]

the history of us [drake x camille] [part ten: 18th august - tightrope]

Part Nine if you want to catch up.

Warnings: Alcohol abuse. Angst (so much angst, I’m sorry). The Greatest Showman references (Lily is four, take it up with her). 

I ummed and ahhed over keeping this chapter the same, worrying it was too much. I’ve not changed it. I’ve kept the bits I wasn’t sure about. 

@jovialyouthmusic @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @sirbeepsalot @pug-bitch @moonlightgem7 @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @emceesynonymroll @notoriouscs @burnsoslow @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @symonde @gardeningourmet @stopforamoment @rainbowsinthestorm @iplaydrake @drakewalkerisreal @drakesensworld @carabeth @ccolz88-blog @dcbbw

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

18th August 2023

The past week has consisted of Drake’s increasing anxiety attacks, shaking hands and drinking.

It feels like something has broken inside him and I can't put him back together. I'm scared.

He's spent this morning lying on the bed looking up at the ceiling. I phoned Bertrand to ask if he could take Lily for the afternoon - I don't want her asking questions. I don't want her to see her father like this and I don't want her worrying.

When Bertrand took Lily, I went upstairs and lay beside Drake with my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He looked awful. Red rimmed, bloodshot eyes and a pale face.

He smelled of whiskey.

I'm going to try and fix this. I'm meeting the King today to talk.

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

'Leave Cordonia?'

Liam sat in front of Camille waiting for her answer.

'Yes,' she answered. 'I want to ask if that would be possible.'

Liam poured himself a glass of scotch. Camille recoiled. As soon as Liam saw her face, he put the glass away.

'Camille. How bad has this gotten?'

Tears pricked her eyes. Liam watched her in concern. 'I am here to talk to you as a friend,' she whispered. 'Forget your king duties for a second. Be my friend. Be Drake's friend.'

Liam passed her a tissue. Camille smiled weakly and rubbed her eyes.

'He's been drinking nonstop,' she admitted. 'He's spent this morning lying on the bed looking at nothing. He either stays in bed or he spends his time in his study with the door locked.'

Liam closed his eyes. Since he had become King, he hadn't really been there for Drake. Drake was meant to be his best friend but their friendship had been placed on the back burner in favour of ruling a kingdom and having children. That didn't mean Liam didn't care though. He could see the anguish in Camille's eyes and he longed to fix it for her.

'You want to leave the country,' he clarified. 'Okay. How long? A month?'

Camille’s grip on her tissue tightened. 'I was going to suggest permanently.'

There was a silence. Camille could see Liam's mind racing.

Liam the Friend would tell her to go. Pack up their stuff and go. Leave Cordonia behind and go live quietly in Texas or New York, anywhere that wasn't Cordonia. Drake and Camille were important to him, especially now they had Lily. They had responsibilities that weren't just each other anymore.

Liam the King was different. He put duty first. Cordonia was his first and only love - no woman stood a chance of sharing equal claim to his heart. This tainted his view on things, meaning he wrongly assumed that every noble had the same loyalty to the country as he did.

That was the crux of it.

'So you would give up your title?' he asked.

Camille nodded. 'Yes.'

Liam exhaled and stood up to pace his study. He looked back at Camille. She was sat ramrod straight, her hands now placed flat on her legs, her eyes following him.

'Nobody has ever relinquished their title before,' he said softly. 'So there is no guidelines for this.'

'I'm desperate, Liam,' she told him, her voice strong. 'At first, I was putting the duchy before him and I realise now that I was wrong. This life is destroying him. The constant media presence, our lives being dissected by everyone. He hates it. We've got Madeleine writing hate pieces about us in national newspapers and since Lily broke her arm, people have been asking if he's even a good father which is ridiculous.'

Liam sighed. He didn't know what to say. There was a long pause until he gathered together some words. 'Camille. As your friend, I would love it if you could just pack up and go to the Walker Ranch so you can have your freedom. Drake never had his chance to break free from this world and you were the one who could maybe have helped him do that. However, I made you a Duchess which now I see was probably a mistake in the long run. You're fantastic in your role but maybe if I hadn't given you a title, you could be at the ranch right now. But that's not how this panned out. You've got responsibilities to the country. You've got a duchy to consider. This is how it is to be noble. I'm sorry Drake is struggling but all these problems come with the territory. I just don't know what to suggest-'

'What if we spent six months in America and six months here?' Camille interrupted, her voice rising with panic. 'That way we're not fully gone.'

'So a part time Duke and Duchess? Camille, this is difficult. There's no guidelines as I said-'

'We can make our own guidelines!' Camille protested. 'Please, Liam. He's your friend.'

Liam closed his eyes. Duty and love was playing tug of war on his heart.

'When you took the role, you swore loyalty to Valtoria,' he said.

'When I got married, I swore loyalty to my husband,’ she replied, her voice cold like ice. ‘I swore to keep his safe and stand by his side through difficult times. I told him he will always be my priority. I lost sight of that a few weeks ago but I've gained clarity now. Drake is more important to me.'

'Camille, I want to help -'

'But you won't,' she said bitterly.

'Don't be like that,' Liam sighed.

'I came to you as a friend.'

'I'm the King,' Liam told her. 'Duty binds me. You should feel the same.'

He regretted his words as soon as he spoke. Camille visibly bristled, clenching her fists.

'My duty is to my husband,' she said, standing up. 'Wife and mother first, Duchess second.'

It was her and Drake's motto. He would mirror hers: husband and father first, Duke second. It was what they swore to each other when they found out Camille was pregnant with Lily.

Liam bit his lip. 'Give me time to think.'

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

Maxwell and Lily were having an impromptu dance party in the living room of the Beaumont Manor. Bertrand was trying to answer emails in his study next door but he couldn't focus due to volume levels of The Greatest Showman soundtrack.

The film had come out before Lily was born but she discovered it last Christmas when Drake and Camille put it on the TV to keep her happy on Christmas Eve. It was now one of her favourites.

Bertrand could hear them stomping along to the introduction of the opening song, like the characters did in the film. Groaning, Bertrand abandoned his emails and strode through to the living room.

He stopped when he saw Maxwell and Lily had found his top hats and were wearing them, pretending to be the showman himself.

'Maxwell, Lily! Can you please be quiet, I'm trying to work -'

Maxwell spun around to face Bertrand, whipping his top hat off and holding it up in the air. 'LADIES AND GENTS, THIS IS THE MOMENT YOU'VE WAITED FOR!' he sang.

Bertrand closed his eyes, counting to ten as he always did when Maxwell was particularly exuberant. Maxwell continued to sing regardless.

'Been searching in the dark, your sweat soaking through the floor!'

'Maxwell..' Bertrand muttered.

'Come on, Bertrand!' Maxwell cried. 'Join in!'

'I am not joining in with this codswallop!' Bertrand hissed.

'You like the film, we watched it when you were drunk and you sang along!' Maxwell protested. Lily was dancing to the song as it continued. Maxwell sighed and keeping his eyes fixed on his older brother, he kept singing.

'Don't fight it, it's coming for you, running at ya! It's only this moment, don't care what comes after! Your fever dream, can't you see it getting closer!'

Maxwell gave Bertrand a wink. 'Come onnnn. Join in. You look like Hugh Jackman anyway, the role is perfect for you!'

Bertrand rolled his eyes. 'I do not look like Hugh Jackman.' His voice trailed off, his eyebrows furrowing as he thought to himself. 'Or do I?'

Lily jumped up and down. 'Dance with us, Uncle Bertrand!' she shouted. 'Pleaaaaase!'

Bertrand watched his goddaughter as she danced with Maxwell, their hands joined together as they sang along. He thought of this morning when Camille dropped her off at the Beaumont Manor. Camille's eyes had been sad and her voice dejected.

'Drake's not doing well,' she had whispered in his ear. 'I'm going to see Liam now. Can you just make sure Lily has a nice day? She doesn't know.'

Bertrand sighed. Camille, you owe me.

'SO TELL ME DO YOU WANNA GO! ' Bertrand burst out. 

Maxwell and Lily stopped dancing to stare at Bertrand with open mouths, watching as he took Maxwell's top hat and placed it on his head. Bertrand twirled and grabbed Lily's hands to scoop her up and swing her in the air.

Maxwell grinned and sang along too, happy that Bertrand was letting loose.

'Oh, this is the greatest show!' the three of them hollered. Lily burst out laughing and Bertrand felt his heart become full. Who cares about proprietary or etiquette right now? She was four. Her parents were unhappy. If he could make her smile in at way, shape or form, he would do it.

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

Drake dragged himself out of bed. He had been aware that Camille had rested beside him earlier. He could still smell her perfume.

Lily must be out somewhere with Camille as he couldn't hear anything in the house. It was silent.

Drake wished it wasn't. When it was silent, that was when he started thinking.

Thinking about how he was a useless Duke. He was a house husband. He was worthless. He didn't do anything.

Drake stumbled his way over to the wardrobe and found his box. His secret stash. A half drunk bottle of whisky was inside and Drake reached out to pick it up. He sat on the edge of the bed and took a deep gulp.

The overthinking soon faded and his vision blurred. His head felt lighter. Good.

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

Maxwell was on the floor.

Bertrand and Lily watched in rapture, top hats akimbo on their heads, as Maxwell rolled across the rug before sitting on his knees, waving his hands in the air as he embarked on an interpretive dance to the next song of The Greatest Showman soundtrack.

'All the shine of a thousand spotlights, all the stars we could steal from the night sky will never be enough...' he sang, standing up to twirl slowly.

This was his moment. This was his time. He hopped, skipped and twirled as the song continued, his eyes closed as he listened to the singer.

'You're a very good dancer, Maxxie,' Bertrand said but Maxwell didn't hear him. He was too caught up in dancing and singing.

Maxwell prepared for the big bit. The part of the song that took his breath away.

'NEVER ENOUGHHHHHH!' he shrieked, his voice breaking slightly as he struggled to hit the high note. ‘NEVERRRRR, NEVERRR!’

Lily covered her ears.

'MAXWELL!' Bertrand barked. 'YOU SOUND LIKE A CAT BEING FLUNG AGAINST A WALL!’

Maxwell stopped singing, his chest rising and falling from the strain. He shrugged. 'Oops.'

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

Camille picked up Lily from the Beaumonts. Maxwell pulled her in for a tight hug when he saw her. 'I'm here if you need me Little Blossom,' he whispered.

They broke apart when Lily raced down the hall to launch herself at her mother. 'Mommy you're here! Join our dance party!'

Camille laughed. 'I'm sorry honey but we have to go home! I love your top hat!'

Lily grinned. She took it off to pass to Bertrand but he shook his head. 'You keep it, darling.'

Bertrand's eyes met Camille’s, wondering how it went with Liam. She shrugged weakly.

When Camille and Lily arrived home, Lily burst into the Manor. 'I need to show daddy my dancing!'

Camille pulled her back gently. 'Daddy's not feeling well today, honey. But you can show me your dancing!'

Lily smiled and twirled her way into the living room. She opened the CD drawer, deciding she needed The Greatest Showman to be played again. As she searched, Camille went upstairs to the bedroom. Drake wasn't there.

Sighing, she went down to his study. The door was locked. 'Drake? We're home.'

There was a silence until she heard him speak. 'Hey babe.'

'Can I come in?'

Silence. She waited for a long time until she gave up. He didn't want to talk.

Camille padded through to the living room and settled down on the sofa. Cheddar and Olive jumped up to lie beside her. Lily had prepared the CD and was now twirling and spinning to one of the songs. Camille listened to her daughter as she sang softly.

Hand in my hand and we promised to never let go

We're walking the tightrope

High in the sky

We can see the whole world down below

We're walking the tightrope

Never sure, never know how far we could fall

But it's all an adventure

That comes with a breathtaking view

Walking the tightrope

With you, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

Camille felt tears prick her eyes as she listened. She felt so cut off from Drake. They were supposed to be a team but they were both letting each other down.

Camille had tried to convince the King but she had no idea if he would approve of them leaving Cordonia. She felt like she was in limbo.

We're walking the tightrope

Never sure, will you catch me if I should fall?

Camille felt so uncertain. She thought she knew how their life together would be. It had looked so shiny and full of promise. How wrong had she been? How naive.

Despite it all, she loved Drake . He was her everything.

The song finished and Lily changed it to The Greatest Show again. Camille was knocked out of her overthinking as the song burst into life.

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

Drake could hear the music coming from the living room. The pounding opening bars, the stamping of feet on the floor.

Drake's head was pounding. His hands were shaking and he felt removed from his body. He needed peace and quiet. As the song got louder, Drake's teeth felt on edge.

Setting down his glass of whiskey, he unlocked the study door and stumbled through the hallway, trying to dodge the sideboard filled with framed photos.

'Can you please turn that noise down?!' he shouted as he entered the living room. 'I need fucking peace!'

Lily stopped dancing and stared with huge eyes at her father who was standing at the threshold, his eyes wild. Camille bolted up from the sofa and turned off the CD. She then sat down on the floor behind Lily and wrapped her arms around her daughter, burying her face in the crook her neck. Lily was shaking with her hands wrung together.

'It's okay, honey,' Camille whispered, trying to soothe her.

Drake turned and skulked back to his study.

Lily rubbed her eyes harshly. 'I didn't mean to upset daddy,' she said quietly. 

Camille held back tears. 'He's not feeling very well, baby. It's not your fault. He's just having a hard time.'

Lily looked at Camille, her bottom lip wobbling. 'Can I help him?'

Camille sighed. 'No. But when he is feeling better later, I think he would like a cuddle.'

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

Lily went to her room. When she had gone, Camille went to Drake's study. She barged in without knocking.

Drake jumped out of his skin. Camille's eyes scanned the room and she located the bottle of whiskey on his desk.

'Enough now,' she said sharply. She picked up the bottle. Drake bolted forward to grab her wrist. 'No!'

Camille wrenched herself away from him and stormed out of the study with the bottle in her hand. She could hear Drake stumbling after her.

Camille reached the kitchen sink. She twisted the bottle cap and poured it down, watching the bottle empty.

'Camille, no!'

She whipped around to face Drake. He shrank back at the look of pure venom on her face.

'That little girl adores you!' she shouted. 'She worships the ground you walk on. You do not shout at her like that ever again, do you hear me?!'

Drake blinked. 'I shouted at her?'

Camille stared at him in disbelief. 'Are you so far gone that you don't remember twenty minutes ago? Seriously?'

Drake paled and slumped down to the floor.

He held his head in his hands and his body shook. Camille bit her lip and kneeled down in front of her husband. 'Drake. Look at me,' she murmured.

Drake shook his head. Camille gently lifted his chin so he was forced to look at her.

'This is the second time we've sat in this kitchen after you've been drinking,' she said softly. 'I told you last time I am here if you want to talk and I'm here if you just want to sit in silence. What I didn't say was lock yourself in your study and drink yourself into oblivion.'

Drake cast his eyes down. Camille lifted his chin up higher. 'No, you look at me.'

Drake looked at her. He looked so lost. Her heart broke for him.

'We can't keep doing this,' she said. 'I can't lose you, Drake. I want you to get help. Professional help. Attend an AA meeting.'

'I'm not an alcoholic,' he whispered. 'I'm not.'

Camille sat back on her heels and studied him. 'Only you can help yourself, baby,' she told him. 'I can try and guide you and be with you but I can't force you. You need to be open to it and right now, if you don't want to admit to yourself that you have a problem, then I can't help you. It goes against everything I believe in because I hate to see you in pain and I wish I could just take you away from this darkness you feel. But I can't help you until you help yourself. '

Drake was silent, processing her words. He was about to speak until they were interrupted by the sound of shuffling.

'Daddy?'

They both looked up to see Lily standing by the kitchen door. She was wearing a unicorn onesie which had fluffy pink feet. She was holding a piece of paper.

'Hi baby girl,' Drake whispered. 'I'm sorry I shouted at you. I'm so sorry.'

Lily awkwardly shuffled her feet. 'I made you a drawing,' she mumbled.

Camille smiled weakly. 'Show daddy, honey.'

Drake reached out to beckon her over. Lily padded over to him and handed him the paper.

The drawing was of two stick figures which were supposed to be Drake and Lily standing on grass with yellow crayon stars etched above. In red crayon in big wavy writing, she had written Get Well Soon Daddy.

Drake stared at the drawing. His breath came out hitched as he closed his eyes, holding back tears. Lily scooted down and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tightly. ‘It’s okay, Daddy.’

Drake held her close. He held onto her as if his life depended on it.

Camille watched them. She had no idea if Drake would remember any of this in the morning.

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

Drake finished reading the diary entry. Reading Camille’s diary was torture.

He hadn’t known she had gone to Liam. 

If he had, would that have changed anything?

Drake looked through the box and came across the drawing by Lily. He studied it for a long moment, his fingers grazing the crayon, before tearing his eyes away. 

He needed to call Camille.

[calumbringbackthewatermelonshirt]

Music for the Soul

a/n: wow, yet another piece that was supposed to be a one shot but I got carried away with.

Cal had officially decided his soulmate sucked. Who in their right mind played the cello at all hours of the night, especially some fucking irish dancing sounding tune? Sure the way the music skipped and danced, seemingly alive was beautiful, but at 2am? On a night when Cal had and early tour promo the next day? Hell, the only reason he’d be interested in finding her would to tell her that this shit wasn’t okay. Eventually she slowed it down to a soft melodic tune, something sweet and sorrowful. It sounded like something out of a movie soundtrack, and executed just as perfectly. Still, every once and awhile, she would stop and repeat a specific few bars over and over again until she could play them at quadruple the correct speed. While Cal may have been pissed at her timing, he had to give her credit where it was due. The discipline of her playing, the emotion conveyed through her music, it was like living art. It was all he could think about as her sorrowful tune lured him into sleep.

In your opinion, your soulmate had some weird fucking taste in music. The songs were just strange. They were, as far as you could tell, bass lines for the most part. All of them were decent, composed of a few deep notes hitting in repetitive patterns, occasionally switching to a more powerful rift. They weren’t bad, but they weren’t your taste either. To you, it sound like a pop/rock sort of mix, songs played on the radio probably. You weren’t sure though. Your musical knowledge was severely limited, seeing as you almost exclusively listened to the same types of classical music you played. The tunes were catchy, though, often implanting themselves in your brain with no hope of a resolution to a song you didn’t know. They distracted you as you played, and you found yourself adding them into your own songs. It was pretty fucking annoying. Especially when you were onstage. Once, you even caught yourself adding one of the basslines into a Beethoven, having to improvise so you didn’t embarrass yourself in front of Carnegie Hall. But, sometimes, you would pick up your own upright bass and pluck out the same tunes that ran through your head all day.||

“It feels good to be back in New York.” Luke was breathing in the smog of the city, the smell of hot dogs from the vendor across the street.

“What makes New York all that special, huh, Luke?” Cal, personally, didn’t give one fuck about the city either way. He did appreciate how easy it was smoke in this city, however.

“I don’t know man. I guess I just love the energy. The vibes, ya know?” Luke pulled a face as he spoke, raising his eyebrows up and down. Calum gave him shit often, but it was all in the name of friendship.

“Listen. I got all of us tickets go see a concert at Carnegie Hall. Y’all need some culture.” Ashton had been scrolling through places he wanted to visit on his phone. Being in this band took him all over the world, but Ashton barely got time to travel.

“Bro, why? No offense, but that’s not really our scene. How about we try and visit a club of some sorts instead? Discover the next big thing?” Michael was being truthful. Classical music really wasn’t their scene.

“Classical music is quite beautiful if you take the time to listen, Michael.” Cal kept thinking about his soulmate, her own music resonating in his ears. Her music, classical music, truly was beautiful.

“What the fuck, Cal? Since when are you some musical snob?” Luke was confused. He really didn’t know much about his dark haired band member.

“Oh, fuck off, won’t ya?” Cal took another drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke out of his lungs as he gazed at the skyline. He hadn’t ever told anyone about his soulmate. Everyone had their own versions of discovery. Some said their entire worlds turned to color as they touched for the first time, some had tattoos that matched the same in their partners, some even having necklaces that matched their significant others. Cal loved his, though. It really fit him, he thought. A few unlucky people didn’t have soulmates, destined to be alone. Cal had, for the most part, convinced everyone in his life the same was true for him. They were sorry for him, pitiful. He didn’t care, however. Cal knew, and while he had no intention of finding his soulmate, he was still content to listen to the soft melodic tunes flowing from the strings of his soulmate’s cello. ||

“Again? A-fucking-gain?” Your best friend, Emily, was freaking out. For no reason, in your opinion.

“Yes again. They somehow found the decency in their hearts to invited me back after my botched attempt at Beethoven. I can’t believe I let that fucking bassline get to me in the middle of a performance.” You were still incredibly angry with yourself. You prided yourself on your professionalism, your dedication and perfectionism. So when you let a few fucking notes corroded into a symphony like that? It was fucking wild that she let it happen.

“Bitch. This will be the second time in two fucking months you’ll have played Carnegie Hall. At twenty. You’re not even old enough to drink, and you’re selling out the most famous concert hall in the United States. Fuck you, bitch.” Emily took a sip of her coffee. The two of you had attended Julliard together, had been roommates all four years. Emily had been a surrealistic painter, however, as opposed to your musical capabilities. The two of you posed a nice contrast to each other, her flighty and always down for adventure, while you were studious and always considered every decision carefully.

“Whatever. I’m just ready to go on the tour. People just don’t appreciate the arts like they used to. This is pretty much a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I’m hella excited. I even did a little shopping and got a few dresses.” You had splurged a little, sure, but it was totally worth it. Like you had told Emily, this was a once in a lifetime thing. You were damn sure to make the most of it.

“You’re still going to the concert with me tonight right?”  Emily had been blabbering on nonstop about this concert for weeks. Normally, you would have insisted she take someone else, especially this close to such an important concert. But, for reasons you couldn’t explain, some strange feeling had said you need to be at the concert, persistent and foreign to anything you had felt before. So you had told Emily that you would go with her.

“Yeah. I mean, I said I would. What the name of this band again? I keep forgetting.” You didn’t really care about the band, but it was supposedly sold out at Madison Square Garden. You figure that you had a decent chance of meeting your soulmate among almost twenty thousand people. Especially with that damn feeling you couldn’t shake. It made you start thinking about everything, all the variables and potentials. Without noticing, you started absentmindedly tapping out the bass line you soulmate was playing on the table with your nails. Emily noticed and smiled a little. She had already been lucky enough to have found her soulmate already, and while you had resisted as much as possible, she was always trying to help you find the one.

“5 seconds of summer. I really think you’ll like them, even though they’re not exactly your scene.”

“Wait, I think I’ve heard of them actually. Aren’t they that one band with the song young-something?”

“Youngblood, dumbass. I thought you were going to listen to some of their songs.”

“I’m sorry this Bach is really kicking my ass. I should get going, actually. I need to practice some more before tomorrow night.” You gave Emily a quick hug and walked to where your car was parked on the street. Maybe you could find the time to listen to a few tracks, at least.||

“Well, well, well. Here we are. Madison Square Garden.” Luke was standing in the middle of the stage, looking out over the stadium that would soon be filled with almost twenty thousand people.

“Madison Square Garden, sold out.” Ashton corrected Luke. They deserved it after everything.

“You good, Cal?” Michael, Luke and Ash were all standing together in the middle of the stage, but when michael looked over and their fourth bandmate, he found him sitting almost dejectedly against an amp. Michael studied his bassist for a moment, taking in the furrowed brow and almost scowl on his face.

“Hmm? Yeah, yeah, I’m great. Madison Square Garden.” Cal stood, brushed himself off and walked to join his other bandmates in the center of the stage. He had been finding himself thinking of his soulmate more and more each day. Sure he had always wondered about her, but why couldn’t he get her out of his head lately? He was starting to get concerned that it would interfere with performance tonight. She hadn’t even been playing much lately, and yet she was in his head more than ever. ||

“Why did I let you convince me to wear this? It’s not me.” Emily and convinced you to wear a tight and short blue plaid skirt, doc martens, and a white tube style tank top to the concert. She had even done your makeup and hair.

“Shut up, you look hot as fucking hell.” Emily was really paying attention to you. She was bouncing on her heels with anticipation, and was even more excited for being first in line. She had dragged you out here about five hours prior to when the concert door opened and the line had just started forming behind the two of you about an hour ago. Still, if it made Emily this happy, you supposed it was worth it. The concert was supposed to start in less than half an hour, but all you really wanted was to be at home, running though pieces on your cello. Instead you settled for fingering through them and humming the melodies softly to yourself. It was barely audible, but as you closed your eyes and concentrated in the music, your expression slowly slipped into a smile. ||

Cal couldn’t quite figure out why, but he was nervous. For the first time in about a year. His feelings had been all out of whack lately. No matter how hard he tried, Cal couldn’t stop thinking about how nervous he was for the show tonight. He was sitting with his head in his hands in the dressing room when it started. The melodies of Bach, Beethoven, even a few du Pre. They weren’t the same as before, though. No, this time, his soulmate was singing. Her voice was soft, like she didn’t want to be heard, but Cal could still tell there was a sort of power behind it. This voice made him feel the same way that hot chocolate on a cold day did, warm and safe. It lit him up from inside, calming him and wiping out any nerves that he felt, leaving mere shadows of the butterflies in his gut. Cal’s lips curled up, and he stood. Cal had never felt more excited to get up on stage. As he did, he couldn't help but sense that you were in the crowd, watching him, perhaps even dancing as he sang. It gave him a different kind of rush, the type that alcohol nor sex could. When he was on stage, all the other boys could tell there was something different to his performance that night. Something more energized and excitable. Tonight, passion reverberated through the basslines he played. ||

@marshmallowtraver

[eerythingisshaka]

Wakanda Got Y’all Pt. 4

[Black Panther x Insecure Crossover]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N:  I know I said this would be the last chapter buuuuut....stay tuned for more!

Molly grips the edge of the counter her sink rests in as she takes a deep breath.  She tries to concentrate on the patterns in her bathroom walls as Erik does his work between her legs.

“How you feelin?”  He asks, looking up at her with a slight smirk.

Molly bites her lip, thinking about how she couldn’t believe she happening.  “It’s good, so far.”

Erik nods.  “Bet.  Lift that other leg up a bit.  I ain’t tryna miss nothin, you know?”

He taps her inner thigh with the back of his hand until she got the message, spreading herself further.

“You ever do this before?”  Molly asked nervously.

Erik bobs his head here and there.  “Ehhh, only one time I remember a female being really down for it, but everyone else is like, offended and shit.”

Molly exhales in disbelief, “Aww, for real?  Tsk, this saves me some wrist strain.  It’s nice to be offered, cuz I definitely wasn’t askin, who would?  Just don’t do too much, being an Edward Scissorhands and shit.”

Erik flexed his dimples as he licked his lips in concentration of her center.  He had already put in most of the work already, he just wanted to get to her outer lips a little.

Taking the razor in one hand, he places one finger against her outer labia for a flatter surface area, dragging the blade along her skin with the grain.  The scratchy sound of the razor taking down the stubble is the soundtrack to the room as Molly holds her breath awaiting him to finish.  She wanted to stroke his locs, but figured that would mess up his flow.  He wipes the razor off, repeating the process until she was clean.  

Erik nods, surveying his work with pride.  “There’s more than one way to skin a cat, but I think this is my favorite.”

Molly looks down for herself, feeling her freshly shaved exterior.  “Yeahhh, look at that?  You ever thought about doing this professionally?”

Erik stands in front of Molly, doing his shrug with a silly face.  “I don’t think I have.  But when I look into it, you can write my recommendation, in detail.”

Their shared laughter slowly faded into blank expressions as Molly felt herself heat with anxiety.  She studied Erik’s eyes dilating, plush lips just inches from hers, she wasn’t quite sure how to proceed.

Erik licks his lips. “You wanna do somethin else, now?” his voice saturated with testosterone fueled bass.

Molly stares at him, eyes wide, swallowing to keep her voice steady.  “Uh, I think you wanted to watch somethin on the TV….right?”

Erik looks down Molly’s body before returning to her face.  “If that’s it, you may wanna bring that leg down again.”

Molly curses under her breath as she pulls her dress back down, crossing her ankles.  

Erik chuckles, “You actin shy NOW is too damn funny.  That’s cool though, I’m bout to head out.”

Molly looks after him heading out her bathroom door.  “Wha-what about a nightcap?  My Netflix list is really thick, if you still wanna chill!”  She gets up to go after him.

Erik picks his jacket off her couch walking for her front door.  “Nah, I ain’t really been into what’s available anyway.”

As Erik turns back to her once more, Molly rubs her arm, wondering how to leave their conversation.  “Um, well, thanks for the shape up?”

Erik flashed his golds, lookin at the floor, “Yeah, thanks for trusting me with a razor after a drink.”

Molly stands there until she squints at him suspiciously.  “And that’s really gonna be it?  My pussy was on full display, and you ain’t tryin shit?”

Erik cocks his head to the side. “You tryna see my dick to call it even?”

Molly wheezes with embarrassment.  “Whaaaaa? Who said that? Don’t try me, ol boy!”

Erik steps to Molly, lookin straight down in her face, “You don’t act like you ready to try a damn thing, witcha shy actin ass,”  Erik says, practically growling.

Molly, gulps again.  Soon as Erik closes in on her, she is a puddle.  “I just don’t know you for real, or what to expect, you know?  It’s-”

Erik shakes his head, “See, you already thinkin too much bout it.  I’m here, you here.  I’m cool, you fine as hell...and I know you think the same.”

Molly kisses her teeth, “Nigga, don’t flatter yourself.”

ERik raises an eyebrow, “I could see it for myself.  The towel was necessary back there-”

Molly pops him in his arm, hurting herself more than him.  “Whatever, boy!  Go on then, I’m good.”

“You good?”

Molly nods.

Erik leans his head down hovering over her mouth.  They look in each other’s eyes for what seemed like an eternity, before Molly closes the gap.  Slowly they sucked on each other’s lips, like ripened fruit.  Molly caught herself leaning into a little further than she consciously meant to, before Erik pulls back.

“Maybe you ain’t so shy.  We’ll see though.  Call me when you need another appointment, Moll.”

Molly closes the door after him, leaning on the doorframe, completely hot and bothered.  

----

“And that’s all that happened?”  Issa asks her incredulously over a stack of chicken and waffles.

Molly shrugs, pickin at her food, “Girl, that was it.  My snatch was all there for him to do what he wanted, but all he did was help a sistah out.”

“Well I wish a nigga would offer me some salon care if I needed to clear some brush.  That oughta be a requirement.”

Molly laughs, “Could you imagine niggas going to a trade school to learn that because that’s what needs to be done to get pussy?”

“Shit, they do that for cars, clothes, and shit.  Get some skills that are useful for once, save a bitch a dollar.”

“Right?  So….. I don’t know.  He told me to call him if I need a touch up.”  Molly says.

Issa looks at Molly suspiciously, “Now, did he really say that, cuz he startin to sound kinda….” her voice trails off as she wiggles her hand side to side.

Molly screws her face up, “No, dang!  It’s a euphemism, no doubt.  But, I don’t know….”

Issa shrugs, “I know you not gettin cold feet after he has literally played with ya pussy already.  Somethin backwards about that.”

Molly waves her hands, “I know!! It just seemed too intimate to do that and NOT have sex.  I ain’t ready to be wifin niggas up or nuthin.”

“Girl, I’m sure he playin you as hard as you playin him, so don’t think too much.  Just call him up cuz I know you hate clingy dudes, so make your plans.”

Molly pulls out her phone side eyeing Issa.  “Pssh, whatever, miss know-it-all.  Swear you know somebody life.”  Molly grumbles under her breath.  As she texts Erik, she asks Issa, “What about T’Challa though?  When’s your movie date?”

“Umm, supposed to be tomorrow.  And it’s not a date, it’s just...an outing between colleagues to blow off steam.”

Molly scoffs putting down her phone.  “Is that what we callin it these days?  Is that why you asked me about the vaginal rejuvenation buy one get one free promo on Groupon?”

Issa rolls her eyes.  “Female hygiene/reproductive health is important.”

“Bullshit, you gettin ya walls waxed for a slip and slide.”  Molly quips.

“Ok!  I don’t even know what he is down for.  He from the motherland and everything, he might be saving himself.”

Molly pauses, pressing her fist to her mouth.  “It is the biggest misconception that these foreign fools out here all high and mighty, chaste.  Sure there’s some, but TRUST men are men, across all borders.  Food and women:  serve it up, they eatin.”

Issa talks out the side of her mouth.  “Everyone ‘cept you apparently….”

“Aight you can pay your own meal if you wanna talk.”

“Nooo!  I love you!  You’re so great!  Pussy is bomb, sure he gon nom!”  Issa sings beggingly.

---

The evening of the associate outing with T’Challa was less than an hour away, and Issa took her place at the mirror.  Looking at her fiercest rival, herself, she catches a rhythm in her head and start bobbing, feelin herself.

Yo, I been peeped that you really feelin me.

So the next step oughta come quite  naturally.

You can make ya move, but remember I’m the driver.

Don’t want a minute man, don’t even think of gettin tired.

Movie popcorn too high priced, it’s really wack

So how about you try making this nani ya snack?

New name alert, you can her goldfish

Make this pussy smile back, dip in my well and make a wish--

Issa sighs heavily, “Why you so damn horny?”  she touches up her eyebrows as her phone goes off.  T’Challa texts her saying he is on the way to the theatre.  Issa confirms, saying she is too.  She spends another fifteen minutes touching up her face and taking pictures for the ‘gram before heading out in her car.  

Issa bops to her Frank Ocean, getting good vibes and feeling completely full and ready for this night.  It was really starting to feel like a stress reliever.

Suddenly a bump hits her tire.  Issa stills herself as her car rolls violently and rickety down the street.  The rhythmic plop of her tire with every rotation signaled she just made herself a flat tire.

“Shit, shit, nooo!”  Issa curses out loud as she pulled over to the first lear space she could find on the side of the road.  Getting out she begrudgingly surveyed the damage: completely flat.

“Fuck!  Why me!”  Issa yelled to the sky as she clopped over to lean on her car in frustration.  Alone in a cute outfit with brokedown transportation at night wasn’t the best situation for her to be in so she pulls her phone out to call T’Challa and cancel first.

He picks up on the first ring.  “Hello, Ms. Issa.  Are you close?”

Issa picks at the hem of her shorts.  “No, I gotta give you a raincheck, I’m sorry.”

T’Challa sighs disappointed.  “Ahh, did you have other plans then?”

Issa double checks her surroundings.  “I wish I did right now, but no I’m not trying to skip out, my car just gave up on me.”

“Oh, do you need a ride?”  T’Challa asks with a little more perkiness.

Issa pauses.  “Uh, I guess, if you don’t mind?  I don’t want to put you out since you’re already there.”

“Oh no!  It is ok.  Please, just let me know where you are.”  T’Challa says.

She can hear his keys jingling as she tells him her address, going back in her car to wait.

T’Challa’s car pulls up behind hers.  He gets out leaning on her driver’s side.  “That’s a nasty flat.”

Issa sighs, “I needed new tires anyway.  I was waiting for a bonus at work, but why not now, right?”

T’Challa looks at her empathetically, stroking his chin.  “Life has a funny way of doing things like that.”

Issa nods, looking at the time on her phone, groaning with disappointment.  “The movie already started.  We won’t get another showing for another two hours.  I knew I should’ve let you go on home instead of getting me, now that we can’t make the show.”

T’Challa wears a long face.  “I was really looking forward to that show about….the dog?”

Issa chuckles, “Yeeaah, that meets the robot and they save Wall Street?”

T’Challa smiles, the apples of his cheeks invading his facial structure.  “Ahh, an Oscar worthy film, indeed.   Shame to miss…..well at least let me take you home then.”  T’Challa opens her car door as he guides her to his.

“Thank you again, I really appreciate it.”  The ride to her house was quiet.  Issa wasn’t sure what to say since the night was presumably over, but it could also not be over.  She was a grown woman, without a curfew or a parent at home, who could tell her what not to do.  But she certainly didn’t feel comfortable enough to have him burn his gas to turn around and go somewhere else now.  Issa sneaks a look over a T’Challa concentrated on the road.  His arm outstretched, toned and shapely with not so humble muscles.  His long, knuckly hands grip the wheel, subtly massaging the rim.  Issa checks her phone to pass the time, coming up with a game plan as he pulls up to her spot.

He drops his hands to his lap, looking over at Issa.  “Well here we are, Ms. Issa.  If you want to go get your car in the morning, let me know.  I don’t mind at all helping out.  Do you have a spare?”

Issa shakes her head, “No...responsibility isn’t my strongest characteristic.”

T’Challa smirks, “I don’t see you that way at all.  You have many talents as I have seen, and you are a great help to me and the team.”

Issa cheeses, “Well, if you say so, I’ll take it!”

T’Challa leans his head on the headrest.  “It’s true, you are a smart woman.   That’s how I know we can be a success.  It’s not lost on me the cultural differences between me and the community here, but with you as a liason, I can make sure no one is offended or lost in my accent.”

Issa chuckles, “It’s all good.  That lady and her kids were really just looking for a fight.  People aren’t always at their best when accepting help so expect some struggle, but I hear you, no problem at all to bridge that gap.  As for the accent, keep that.  It’s a great ice breaker.”

“You think so?”

“Oh yeah.  People perk up to it automatically to listen closer, so if you have meaningful shit to say, it’ll land quicker.  Plus it’s sexy as…..”  Issa’s voice fades as she catches herself saying too much.

T’Challa tucks his lips and nods, looking ahead as they sit for a while in silence.  Issa cursed herself for getting too forward but also, it had to be said; or at least she convinced herself of that.  How else could she try to lay claim to him without a little flirting?  Issa wasn’t ready to call it a night, so she worked up some inner hood nerve.

“So, you wanna come up or nah?!”  Issa asked with a little too much bass in her voice.

T’Challa looked at her half like she was crazy but slowly smiled.  “You would like some company?”

Issa clears her throat nodding, “I mean, sure.  I’m reclaiming my time!  Just cuz we can’t see a new movie doesn’t mean we can’t hang out.  If you want to, you got the green light….”  Issa’s voice trails off as she studies T’Challa’s reaction.

He takes his keys out of the ignition.  “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

Issa and T’Challa make their way up to her place, going in she turns on the light.  “Sorry for the mess.  I stay unprepared for company.”

T’Challa stands surveying the surroundings.  “Oh, it’s alright.  I’m just content to be invited.”

Issa picks some clothes off of the couch and cups from the table.  “Please, sit.  Do you drink?”

T’Challa sits, picking up a pillow, studying its design.  “Occasionally; I wouldn’t mind a glass.  Who is this?”

Issa pulls out a bottle looking back at him staring at the pillow.  “Oh that’s Frank Ocean.  Have you heard him?”

T’Challa shakes his head.  “No, but you must think highly of him.”

Issa screws her face up as she pours some cheap moscato.  “I mean, he cool.  I just really liked the pillow.”

T’Challa reads her reaction.  “You don’t have to be embarrassed, it’s cute.”

Issa nods and whispers a cheer to herself at being called cute as she walks the glasses over to him.  “Yeah, I’m a big music head.  Nicki Minaj is around here somewhere but she may be on time out anyway.  Gettin all loud and outta pocket.”  

T’Challa laughs into his glass as he sips.  “I see.  Well, it’s nice to see someone laying down the law in their home.”

Issa gulps her drink as his vice dropped to a sexy octave.  “Mhm!  That’s me!  All business round here.”

T’Challa leans forward putting his drink down.  “Well we aren’t on the clock now, thank goodness.  This week was very crazy.”

“The craziest!  But that should be a sign that it’s on the way for the better now.”

T’Challa turns to Issa, looking at her a little too long.  “Wise words from an attractive woman.”

Issa was internally screaming at this blunt response, but laughs it off to keep the mood light.  “Well the lighting in here is deceptive sometime, and I had a pimple this morning, so...”  

“No joke, don’t sell yourself short.”  T’Challa says as he leans towards Issa, who was not ready, but became completely ready to try him on.  They embrace slowly.  His lips plush against hers, his hands remain at a gentlemanly section of her leg as her heart beats out of her chest.  The associate outing just got a little personal.

Part 5

RagTag

@hbicprettyprincess

@kimianostalgia

@afraiddreamingandloving

@chaneajoyyy

@myfavemarvelfanfics

@nys30

@blkintrovert

@allhailnjadaka

@cutewylie 

Other Works

King Kil’mawalls  

T’akia

Some Weeks Are Better Than Others

Commencement Day

Song of Stevens

The Coffee Prince

N’Jadaka’s Helpful Hands

If I Could Do It All Again

#SundaySweat

Signs of Rain

World’s Best Baba

[wecouldbelongtogether]

Against the World

CL x G Dragon Fan Fic

Summary: G Dragon makes his way to save the love of his life, CL, after discovering how the american model, Ash Stymest forces her to sleep with him to keep her career going.

Chapter 4: Corrupted

Rating: M

The flight lasted for about 14 hours before CL was able to arrive in Las Vegas and visit her honorary apartment in the area where she can stay during her career journey in Hollywood.

YG immediately communicated with her as soon as she settled down and contacted their contact person to assist her during her early stay there. Her first week became extremely packed up. Her foreign handler filled her schedules with dance practices, television guestings, studio visits where she was able to personally meet international handlers and managers and even introduce herself to some hollywood artists like Justin Bieber, Ariana Grande, Nicki Minaj, Madonna, Lady Gaga, Katy Perry and so many more. Some of them expressed their interest in collaborating with her as well bringing so much hype and thrill to CL, herself.

As her first week passed by, she felt so hopeful and enlightened. Her start was very bright that she didn't regret taking the opportunity of working in hollywood and taking the risk despite her stable career in South Korea.

During her second week's early days, she was able to promote her singles, Hello Bitches, The Baddest Female, MTBD and she signed a contract to sing My Little Pony's soundtrack song titled "No Better Feelin'." It was a really widely open door that welcomed her to a new path. She continued working on her song compositions for her upcoming album as YG promised in the contract she signed with him. Her stay was impeccable. She stayed there for about two weeks but it felt like forever especially that she was so inspired to write music and perform on stage on a daily basis.

There is not a single day that she didn't think of GD as well. She sighed and wished he could come with her and see her reach for her dreams.

It's been an hour since CL spoke to Dara over the phone while she was resting alone at her apartment after her long tiring dance practice at the studio. She shared her experiences and stories to her with so much thrill in her chest.

"How's Jiyong?" CL asked. "Oh? You don't talk to him anymore? He's fine. He was looking for you when you left Korea." She shared, CL exhaled heavily feeling guilty for Jiyong.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell him. How is he doing?" She asked. "Well, he's fine. I think he's busy with BIGBANG's dance practices." She replied.

A weak knock was heard on CL's apartment's front door. "Unnie, wait. Someone's on the door. I'll call you back." She hung up and opened the door.

In front of her was a cold looking man with tattoos in his arms, she could sniff the smell of cigarette on his clothes — it was Ash Stymest.

Her limbs froze as she looked at him and his unexpected visit brought her so much anxiety.

"Ash." She uttered.

He looked at her with a smirk as his eyes feasted on her body covered with her light pink satin night dress — looking at her from head to toe, "mind inviting me in?" He asked.

She gulped and hesitantly invited him in. "No, uhm. Sure. Come in." She stuttered as her chest began to pound harshly.

He stood comfortably at the couch and looked at her with such lust in his gaze. She began to feel conscious but she didn't want him to notice that.

"You want anything? Coffee? Juice? Sandwich. Wait, I'll get some for you." She offered to avoid the awkward silence and distract herself from his lewd stares. She rushed to her room and wore her night robe to cover her body before she went to the kitchen to prepare a glass of iced tea.

She nervously served the beverage to him. His eyebrows furrowed, he scoffed not saying any word. CL was intrigued by his response.

After taking a gulp of his drink, he strode towards her and played with her hair.

"Why did you put on this?" He referred to her robe.

She took a step away from him and chuckled anxiously, "I, it was cold. I felt cold." She stammered.

He didn't have much emotion on his face, she struggled to figure out his real mood but all she knows is that she's uncomfortable having him around.

"Are you scared?" He asked. "No. Why would I be?" She swiftly replied, regretting how it made her look so nervous. (continue reading on ao3)

[djstereotype]

So... a few ppl have recently asked me to give suggestions/share the music from my Dj expertise 😜, so I figured I'd just copy all the homies on it. Imma list Old school vs. New school (some things maybe mispelled, sorry)

In terms of newer school artists/albums that I keep on heavy rotation:

Solange- A Seat At The Table

Kendrick Lamar - Damn

Sza- Ctrl

Childish Gambino- Awaken My Love

Chloe x Halle - The Kids Are Alright

Kali Uchis - Isolation

Esperanza Spalding - Emily Ds Evolution

Jay Z - 444

Kendrick Lamar - To Pimp A Butterfly

J Cole - 2014 Forrest Hill Drive

Ibeyi - Ash

Diggs Dukes - Offering For Anxious

Lizzo - Coconut Oil (also like her new singles truth hurts and fitness)

Rihanna - Anti

Beyonce - Beyonce

Princess Nokia - 1992 Deluxe (especially love songs ABC's of New York, Brujas, Saggy Denim, Tomboy, and Green Line)

Lion Babe - Treat Me Like Fire (also really love their newer singles "Rockets" and "Honey Dew")

(For a turn up/kiki) Cardi B - Invasion Of Privacy

I really like Drakes new song "Nice For What"... also the album "Views" has bops on it

Frank Ocean - Channel Orange

The Internet - Ego Trip

Tyler The Creator - Flower Boy

Jidenna - Bambi and Boomerang

Erykah Badu - But You Caint Use My Phone

King - We Are King

Kelela - Take Me Apart

Thirdstory - Still In Love With you (they also have amazing youtube covers)

Pentatonix - Amazing youtube covers, Bohemian Rhapsody, Daft Punk Medley, Valentine, Fools Rush In are my faves

Old School mainstays

Stevie Wonder - Innervisions, Hotter Than July, Talking Book, Music Of My Mind

Chaka Khan - Whatcha Gonna Do For Me, Naughty, Greatest Hits

Rufus feat Chaka Khan - Greatest Hits

Donna Summer - Love To Love You, Bad Girls, On The Radio, Seasons Of Love

Chic - Dance Dance Dance

Brothers Johnson - Greatest Hits

Marvin Gaye - I Want You, In Our Lifetime, Greatest Hits

Diana Ross - Diana, The Boss

Jacksons - Dancing Machine, Blame It On The Boogie

Michael Jackson - Off The Wall

Roy Ayers - Everybody Loves The Sunshine

Fela Kuti - Zombie

Rick James - Greatest Hits

Arthur Russel - Loose Joints

Gil Scott Herron - Bridges

Grace Jones - Muse

Isaac Hayes - Juicy Fruit

Frankie Beverly & Maze - Joy & Pain

Heatwave - Central Heating

George Benson - Give Me The Night

Isley Brothers - Greatest Hits

Marlena Shaw - Who Is This Bitch Anyway

Sade - Diamond Life, Love Is Stronger Than Pride, Greatest Hits

Studio 54 Soundtrack

The Wiz Soundtrack

Natalie Cole - Greatest Hits

Mariah Carey - Butterfly, Daydream, Emancipation of Mimi

Erykah Badu - Mamas Gun, New Amerykah Pt. 1 and 2

Brandy - Brandy

Beyonce - Dangerously In Love, Bday

Smashing Pumpkins - Ava Adore, Meloncholy

No Doubt - Tragic Kingdom, Return Of Saturn

Madonna - Bedtime Stories, Music

Outkast - Aquimeni, Speaker Boxx/Love Below

Aaliyah - Aaliyah

Lenny Kravitz - 5

Joni Mitchell - Hissing Of Summer Lawns

Alanis Morrisette Mtv Unplugged

Jay Z Mtv Unplugged

Basement Jaxx - Crazy Itch Radio

Waiting To Exhale soundtrack

Janet Jackson - Janet., Design Of A Decade, Velvet Rope

The 5th Dimension Greatest Hits

Fleetwood Mac - Greatest Hits

The Diary of Alicia Keys

Amerie - Why Don't We Fall In Love, Touch

[awkwardsgames]

Falling Part 3

I’ve been having a blast writing these and love, love, love all the positive comments! It truly has been incredible. I hope that Part 3 meets all your expectations with the past two. Thank you again!

Background Soundtrack: “The Stranger” by Lord Huron (but honestly the whole album, “Lonesome Dreams”.

                               __________________________________

I don’t know how long I sat there staring at her. All I knew is that I couldn’t look away.

Her eyes. Her lips. Her hair.

I forced myself to look away. Staring down at my notebook, I started drawing random spirals all over the page. Looking up every so often to look at the professor. Pretending like I was processing anything he was saying. He might as well be the teacher from Charlie Brown because I couldn’t tell you a word that was coming out of his mouth. All I knew was there was a blonde devil sitting in the same room as me. I managed to keep looking everywhere, but to my right.

God, why I couldn’t I just fall in love with someone stable. Someone low key and, you know, doesn’t have the reputation of being an alpha bitch… and apparently living up to that title.

I heard rustling around me and realized that class was over. I avoided any eye contact as I went to put my stuff back into my backpack. Focused on the zipper like I’ve never focused on it before. I did a glance to see if she was gone. I slightly choked on my spit… nope. Then it dawned on me…

Exhaling, I muttered, “well shit,” it was at the moment I realized if she didn’t move, I would have to walk past her to get to the stairs to leave. Shit, shit, shit, shit. All of a sudden I felt a sense of panic. I was the mouse in the maze, looking for the cheese. Except the cheese is exactly what I don’t want to find. I looked around, coming up with some sort of game plan. Whatever happened to fire safety? Shouldn’t there be more than ONE set of stairs? I could just picture her self- satisfied smirk when she sees that I have to walk past her. That thought made my face feel hot when I realized that that actually pissed me off. So I did what every rational person would do… I climbed and clambered over the chairs. Carefully, making my way down a couple of rows. Finally, feeling satisfied with the distance, I walked down the row and down the stairs.

Ha. Becca. You didn’t win and you certainly didn’t get what you want. I furrowed my brow, what did she want and why does it feel like I’ll never win?

Readjusting the straps on my backpack and wiping the unattractive sweat on my face from my hurdle excursion, I let my eyes readjust to my surroundings. The campus was now full on busy. People laughing with each other, talking on their phones or just briskly walking to their next destination. I could hear the wheels of skateboards, heels clicking, gum popping and the small dings from people on their bikes weaving through. It was a nice day out, it really was, and the campus looked beautiful. As I took a moment to take it all in, letting my mind wander and relax. I felt a tap on my shoulder. My body went rigid.

Happy moment over. Groaning under my breath and trying to ease the pace of my heart rate, I reluctantly looked over my shoulder. I let out the biggest breath with complete relief. It was just Zig. I looked around quickly to make note of anyone else… let’s be real,  we all know, a certain somebody else. I felt a hand waving in front me, “yo, MC, you in there?” I shook the thoughts in my head away and looked back at him. “Sorry, just lost in thought.” He had a slight frown as he studied me, and then draped his arm over my shoulders, “walk with me.” With that, he started walking, and that meant apparently so was I.

He ended up leading us to a picnic table that set slightly away from the rest. We sat across from each other. There was silence… more silence… and even more. I started tapping my fingers on the table, glancing at him every so often and then looking around. This was getting incredibly awkward and my butt was starting to go numb from sitting on the bench.

I cleared my throat, and readjusted in my seat to try and get it to wake up, “so… what’s up?” I tried to be as nonchalant as possible. He laughed slightly, but looked right at me, “you know we’re all worried about you. Talking to the group, they told me that they rarely see you. Of course, I never get to see you. I know you don’t want to tell anyone what’s wrong, but, MC, you’re my bud. You’ve helped me deal with shit, even though they were things I am definitely not proud of.” He reached out and put a hand gently over my fidgety one. “Please, let me just be there for you. I get not wanting to share, but it’s me we’re talking about. Hell knows, I am definitely not one to judge.”

I looked at him, looked straight into his eyes. They were kind, but firm. His jaw was set as he looked at me. Well hell… I took a deep breath, as if I were going to be diving into water and blew it all out through my lips up to where my hair slightly moved from the disturbance.

“Okay, okay, but this stays between you and me. I mean it, it does not leave this table.” He laughed a little and zipped his lips shut and for emphasis, threw away the key. One last deep breath, I unraveled everything. Where it all started with Becca, a single night, that turned into another night, into another. Eventually, it became more than something physical. I told him how she opened up to me, how Becca would actually talk and laugh with me.

I dropped my head onto the table. “Zig, she was so different when it was just us. Then she has to go pull all this shit,” I waved my hand in the air, gesturing to whatever was around me. My head still facedown on the table. I dropped my hand, head down on the table and waited for a response.

Silence.

I looked up, not sure if I’d actually see anyone sitting across from me. To my disbelief I was greeted with a funny smirk on Zig’s lips. Lifting my head fully, “what? Why are you looking at me like that?” I started to pick at the wood slivers of the picnic table. Then, without warning, a burst of laughter came out of his mouth. I stared at him, my mouth hanging open. “Seriously, what is so funny?”

After taking a couple of breaths to stop his laughter, he looked at me amused, “MC, it’s been obvious for some time that you two have had some sort of connection. I just didn’t know that this whole time, you’ve well… that you’ve actually have acted on it.” I looked at him wide eyed, trying to process what he just told me. I felt the blood drain from my face, “if you know, d-do you think the others do to?” I swallowed hard as he thought about it. “Mm, I don’t think so.” Putting both elbows on the table, I rested my chin in my hands. “What do I do? I am so upset with her, but, god, every time I think about her… I can’t shake all the other feelings inside of me. I just get frustrated with myself.”

He looked at me somberly, “you have every right to be upset, but it’s okay to still love her. You can’t just forget all those feelings and act like nothing ever happened.” I sighed loudly, more frustrated, but feeling a slight relief to be able to talk with someone. “Look, I’m far from an expert in the love department, but I do know that you are an incredible person. You’ve been an amazing friend and far more supportive than any of my other friends have ever been. I can’t make the decisions for you, as to what you want to do with this secret relationship, but I can be there for you.” I felt my eyes start to well up as his words sunk in. “Whoa, whoa, MC, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Zig looked mortified. Shaking my head, “no, it’s okay, these tears are actually happy tears.” I wiped the stray tears that fell down my cheeks.

Zig looked down at his phone, “oh shit, I’ve got class in ten minutes and can’t miss it. I’m so sorry to leave you like this.” I held my hand up to stop him from talking, “stop, go to class, you are not leaving me like anything. In fact, I actually feel slightly better. Now that someone knows, it’s taken a bit of weight off my shoulders.” We both stood up and he came around the table and gave me a hug. It was a hug that I absolutely needed and in that moment, could feel myself genuinely smile. “Now go, have fun in class… learn something and try to make some friends, will you.” He grabbed his backpack and laughed, “yes mom, I’ll make sure to find some kids to play with at recess.” With that he laughed and hurriedly walked away.

I sat at the edge of the bench, reveling in the moment of peace I had in my heart. I felt a slight bound of confidence. I grabbed my backpack, squared my shoulders, and headed to the one place I knew I needed to be. I kept repeating the conversation I had with Zig, trying to keep my confidence up and keep my tears in check. With a brisk pace, I headed to the sorority house. It was time to talk with one heartbroken blonde.

[dq108]

you’ve got a daddy to find

HELLO. I’m back. Over the holidays I went back to my proverbial womb of [Hometown], Indiana. No, I wasn’t born there, but when people ask me where I’m from, I usually say “[Hometown], Indiana,” and when they passive-aggressively ask where I’m really from, I tell them, “[Hometown], Indiana,” because that is where I spent all of junior high and high school, which is where you are your most obnoxious teenage self and thus is basically where you are from. 

I went back to the first post on this Tumblr and was pleasantly surprised to find that I did not lie about my prior gaming experience. Sometimes I tell people that I have never played a video game which is not true! Instead this time I just did a little literary quibble by saying the Nintendo Switch is my first gaming console (other than a PC). “What is a literary quibble?” you might ask. It’s like when Macduff is able to kill Macbeth because his mom had a C-section.

So, yes, I have played video games, a sampling of which is pictured above. I guess in junior high my mom signed us/me up for a software of the month club, through which I got a smattering of educational software, gaming software, and educational gaming software, like this one ‘game’ where you traverse down the Amazon River and learn about frogs (not pictured). It turns out that when you don’t own a gaming console, your “first” video games are kind of bad and weird, actually? (Besides Rockett. Rockett remains amazing, and I still love the ending song of Rockett’s Tricky Decision. Purple Moon never got the love it deserved.) Turns out that Shogo: Mobile Armor Division was, despite its name, not made by a Japanese company but instead a studio called Monolith Productions, which was known for a few games that I personally have never heard of before it was bought up by Warner Bros. I don’t remember most of the gameplay because 1) I died multiple times in the very first mission which is supposed to be a hands-on tutorial and 2) my dad had the computer contrast and brightness turned down so low that I was never able to discern where I was going in the next level, so I just wandered around aimlessly like a chump until I got killed again. I watched some gameplay videos on YouTube to write this blurb and in my infinite wisdom now it’s obvious the things it was trying to copy from, like, Metal Gear Solid, but worse. Much worse. It does still have a bitching soundtrack for 1998 though. 

My point is, if I had played maybe a classic platformer or a Zelda game when I was younger, I may have learned that it’s normal for beginners to die multiple times when they try out a new game, especially if they don’t really play games. (I mean, maybe not in the first reconnaissance mission part of Shogo. That’s definitely a newbie move.) But because I never learned that lesson, I just quit. Which is dumb, because it turns out that Shogo had a weird critical hit system and was hard even for people who actually played games to play without dying!

Anyway, when I say I am bad at video games, I don’t mean it like when a pretty girl at a bar tells you they’re bad at ping pong but then you play her and she beats you 11-2. Most people are bad at one video game or they are not as good at video games as other people who are really really good at video games. I am bad at video games in ways that you are not supposed to be bad at video games. 

Like, take one point in the Downtown Heliodor level. You meet a man who tells you to climb to the building roof, the idea being that you can use a rope strung between certain buildings to sneak into the Royal Square. The thing is, there are two ropes. And I only got the first one, and I spent probably 15 minutes running up buildings and jumping off rooftops before I finally LOOKED DOWN and saw the second one almost at my feet. 

Suffice to say it was this experience that made me want to blog about playing Dragon Quest XI.

Movement is a tricky thing in video games when you are bad at video games. Sometimes, it is not my fault. Like my (very bad video game) horse, that I haven’t named yet. Look at this. Horses are not supposed to stand like this. My god, why is it standing like that? What are its front hooves even standing on? Look at Haruhi gaze upon it in horror. Me too, Haruhi. Me too. 

After we get Erik’s glowy orb thing back from two gryphon siblings who are guarding a vault, we head off to Hotto. I kind of forget why and I’m sure it’s not really that important. Hotto is a hot springs resort town, and the first thing that happens when you get to Hotto is that someone implies my boyfriend Erik is stinky (rude!!) and he is whisked off to take a bath. Obviously my first instinct is to make Haruhi follow after him, but this is a video game and more specifically it is Dragon Quest so instead I first do a lot of wandering. 

Very, very bad wandering. Physically inept wandering. 

I don’t know what to say about this. I fall off that ledge like, three separate times. In trying a tricky move where I just swing the camera around to make sure there’s nothing at the end of the porch I need to break, I forget my bearings and fall off. At one point I lose control of which button I am supposed to be hitting so I just jump around like a drunk grasshopper and Haruhi even makes an exhalation like he’s disgusted at me. At the end, Haruhi just gives up and stands with his back towards me because he doesn’t even want to talk to me. Okay, I get it. I’m sorry.

 Eventually I am sure I have gathered all the loot and broken pots I’m supposed to and I make it to the baths.

<img src=“https://imgur.com/kcJLwJB”>

Erik has literally been waiting in (real time) hours for me to join in him. In the bath. I really appreciate this dedication but, like, HOURS. That cannot be good for his skin. Also I have been in Japanese baths like this before and I’m pretty sure we’re both supposed to be naked. But I’m extremely touched and I savor the cut scene that allows me to just chill here, entirely clothed, with my bud. In between this post and the last post I read some wiki entries and I guess Erik is supposed to have a mid-Atlantic accent? For those of you who haven’t watched the Wired dialect coach videos obsessively, that’s the kind of accent that Katharine Hepburn used in old movies. I guess that’s sexy?? But a strange acting choice all the same.

Anyway Erik literally flirts with me through this scene which I did not film because I thought I was hallucinating how extremely, like, flirtatious this scene was?? I tell Erik I’ve been scoping out the town and when I refuse to tell him what I saw he teases me, “I can see by your face there’s something you want to tell me.” IS THERE? IS THERE?? IS THERE SOMETHING HARUHI WANTS TO TELL HIM?? 

But then it turns out Haruhi is just talking about how we met Veronica looking for her sister outside of a bar. Erik makes some ominous comments about kid sisters before our extremely tender moment is interrupted by a GIRL’S VOICE LOOKING FOR HER DAD. It’s not Veronica, thankfully, just some RANDOM LITTLE GIRL IN THE MALE SIDE OF THE BATH. So that’s why we’re not allowed to be naked for this scene.

Erik and Haruhi are much nicer to this kid than I would be, and decide that she must be the kid sister Veronica is looking for and that we should return her to Veronica. There is a really bizarre sequence where one of the villagers offers you a taste of the sensual pleasure of a “puff-puff” which I think is just marijuana but literally who knows. Afterwards you can barge into the women’s side of the bath and if you do that you get an achievement.

This game is messed up.

I forgot to mention two things which is that everyone in Hotto speaks in haiku syllables and also you do most of your wandering in the bathhouse itself alone. You’re not rejoined by Erik until you actually leave the bathhouse, and then meet up with Veronica, who is exTREMELy English and tells you that 1) Connie is NOT her sister and 2) “You’ve got a daddy to find!”

Connie’s dad is boozing in a bar, and I really don’t think we should have returned her to him, but whatever. Meanwhile we agree to help Veronica find her sister Serena, who is for [mumble] reasons at [mumble] some place westward. Do you know Veronica gives you an option to say no to finding Serena? I’m kind of curious what would happen to the game if you told her no. Can I just stay here forever with Erik raising Connie? 

Guess we’ll never find out. 

[a-smilethat-explodes]

Chapter 15-Tease

I left Red Rooster on my break with a sigh. Thank goodness I was working a short shift tonight and was getting off at 7. At first I had been pissed when I had seen the four hour shift but after the day I'd had, I was glad. I stood on the curb, hands in my hooded sweatshirt pocket, and stared out across the parking lot at Target. Maybe I should call Cassie-

"Erik." Cassie said as she walked up to me. I jumped back in surprise, in even more surprise since I had just been thinking about her. "I was about to come in and see if you were going on break soon," she told me with a small smile.

"Yeah, I'm about to get something to eat." I replied quietly.

"I'll go with?" she offered.

"Sure." I replied. We set off across the parking lot to the Taco Bell.

"You're quiet," she commented as we walked.

"It's been a long day." I replied with a sigh.

"What made it so long?" she prodded me.

"Stuff." I replied vaguely, not really in the sharing mood. I felt her studying me as we walked. "What?" I asked her.

"You're usually not so monosyllabic," she told me earnestly as we walked.

"I've had a long day, Cassie." I replied, really not feeling like telling her what had happened. "So let's just drop it, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed quietly, hurt in her voice. I sighed through gritted teeth and then opened the door for her at Taco Bell. I saw her perk up a little a smile at me as she entered the building. I followed her in, set on making it up to her about my rude responses.

Later that night, I walked into the apartment cautiously. I half expected Ben to run out and tackle me or to be waiting for me but instead…

…my eyes fell on Jake, who was sitting quietly at the kitchen table, arms folded.

Now I know Jake, I've known Jake for almost as long as I've known Cassie. So I know that when he gets quiet… that's when he's angry. "He went to his parents' house for the night," he announced flatly, not looking at me. He then took a sip of the beer in front of him.

"Oh." I shut the door and locked it.

"Look I'm not your mom." Jake got up, beer in hand. "But what the hell happened this morning?"

"Nothing." I replied, putting my hands up in surrender and then added honestly, "Christine got smashed last night, threw up all over the place, she passed out, and I took care of her." I felt my face darken. "And if Ben actually listened to that excuse, he wouldn't have had to storm off like a childish baby to his parents."

Jake eyed me for a moment and then relaxed a tiny bit. "Yeah he wouldn't listen to us either," he mumbled, digging a hand into his messy blond hair. I saw Adam enter the kitchen out of the corner of my eye. "By the way, my mom's on her way over." Adam turned right back around and left the room.

"What?" I demanded.

"She said she'd stop by to give me some mail that accidentally got sent to the house instead of forwarded to the apartment," he replied, voice still quiet. I knew he was still pissed at me.

"Better stop drinking the beer, dumb ass." I shot back, looking around the clean apartment. "At least you cleaned up," there was a smart knock at the door. Only Jake's mom knocked like that. I walked over to the door and opened it.

"I told you, don't pull your sister's hair!" Mrs. Carlson was in the middle of scolding at one of Jake's many brothers and sisters as she held Aidan.

Aidan's face lit up at the sight of me. "Gee!" he squealed, reaching out to me.

That got Mrs. C's attention. Her face lit up as well. "Erik!" she exclaimed and then crushed me to her chest in a hug. "Hi sweetie! How are you?" she asked as Aidan jammed his fingers in my ear.

"I'm fine, Mrs. C." I smiled back as all the mini Carlsons with the exception of Julia, who wasn't present, circled around me, as they told me various things about their lives.

"That's enough kids, go play X Box." Mrs. C finally stopped the madness and sedated them as usual with the TV. "Want to go see Erik?" she asked Aidan, who was reaching for me. I held out my arms and she handed him off. Aidan celebrated by trying to jam his fingers up my nose.

She then turned her attention to Jake, whose beer had mysteriously disappeared. "Here's your mail, Jacob," she took it out of her purse as she advanced quickly over to him.

"Thanks Mom," he replied quietly as he took it.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked him sharply. "You seem depressed."

"It's been a long day," he replied glancing at me for the briefest of a moment.

Of course Mrs. C caught it. She looked between the two of us. "Something happen?" she asked us sternly.

"It's fine, Mrs. C." I replied, taking Aidan's finger out of my ear patiently.

"Nothing to worry about." Jake added unconvincingly.

She looked like she was about to say more when there was another knock at the door. Jake and I shared a frown. I opened the door to find Christine standing there. "Hi," she said quietly, looking at me and then, surprised, at Aidan.

"Hey." I replied, surprised.

"Can I come in?" she asked me quietly.

"Yeah." I replied automatically, opening the door further.

She looked at me and then looked at Mrs. Carlson, who looked curious, and Jake, who looked less then pleased to see her. "Hi," she said quietly with a little wave. "Hey Jake."

"Hey," he replied flatly.

"I'm Jacob's mother, Mrs. Carlson." Mrs. C announced, holding out her hand.

"I'm Christine," she replied, shaking Mrs. C's hand. "Nice to meet you."

She turned her attention back to Jake and then announced critically, "You're too skinny."

"Mom…" Jake exhaled sharply.

"Don't you Mom me, I don't need an anorexic son!" she shot back, pinching at his stomach.

"Who's this?" Christine asked me as she smiled at Aidan, who was sucking on his fingers as he stared at her apprehensively.

"This is Jake's brother Aidan." I replied, shifting Aidan higher on my hip. At his name, Aidan looked at me as he took his fingers out of his mouth, grinned, and then tried to jam one finger up my nose. "He's a bit of a monster." I said dryly, pushing Aidan's hand away from my face.

She laughed. "I can see that."

"You're not eating enough." Mrs. C was still going on. "What are you eating? Do you have any food?" she asked as she headed over to the fridge. I winced at the thought of all the beer in plain sight in there.

"Mom-" Jake began quickly, obviously thinking the same, but she was already opening the door.

She looked at the beer and then shut the door very quietly, turning around. I saw her fists tighten as she glared at Jake. "JACOB CHRISTOPHER CARLSON!" she exploded.

"Time to get out of here." I whispered to Christine. "Brittany, take Aidan." I said to Jake's second oldest sister under Mrs. C's tirade. She took him and then grabbed Christine's arm, muttering, "My room." We walked over to my room as Mrs. Carlson grabbed a magazine off the counter and hit Jake on the arm with it as she shouted at him. I held the door open for her and then followed her in, closing the door to the shouting.

"Wow." Christine said quietly as we stood in the room. Mrs. C had only been muffled, not silenced, by the door.

I put my hands in the pockets of my black dress pants and then realized I was still in my clothes from work. "Do you mind if I change really fast?" I asked her.

"Uh… no, go ahead," she replied, surprised. "I'll turn around," she turned around, facing the door.

"Okay." I shrugged as I peeled off my polo shirt and grabbed a white sweatshirt and jeans off the floor. "Okay." I said again once I was dressed.

"Better?" she asked as she turned around.

"Yeah." I agreed. We smiled a little at each other. I walked over to my stereo, turning on my stereo so that we wouldn't have the soundtrack of Jake getting his ass lectured in the background. I had left my stereo on pause… it was my Maroon 5 CD. I'd left it at the very end of Sunday Morning. I shrugged and then turned around, jamming my hands in my pockets again. "So…" I prompted her softly.

She looked down at the floor as Secret came on. "I broke up with Ben," she told me quietly and then looked up at me slowly. "This afternoon…" she wrung her hands. "I stopped by while you were at work and broke it off."

I was quiet for a moment. "How'd he take it?" I prodded, fiddling with my cell phone in my pocket, scratching the back of my leg with my other foot.

She sighed. "He slammed the door in my face."

"He didn't even let you in?" I asked. She gave me a look. "Never mind." I mumbled. This was Ben we were talking about. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly before telling her, "Well he's at his parents' house tonight."

She nodded slowly, watching me. "I didn't come to talk to him," she finally said quietly. "Adam told me that you got off work at seven, so…" she trailed off and scratched the back of her neck with a shrug.

"Why did you really come here?" I prompted her quietly.

She bit her lip and then replied softly, "Because of our conversation this afternoon in your car."

"What about it?" I wanted her to say it.

"You said that… that you couldn't be the other guy in the relationship. But there isn't a relationship now," she replied with a shrug. "Well…" she took a few steps forward, coming halfway closer. "I want there to be one though," she looked up at me.

I felt my fingers curl around my cell phone in my pocket as I looked down at her. She came closer so that we were now toe to toe, her face directly below mine. If I lowered my head… I wanted to kiss her bad.

And at that exact moment, Ana's voice crept into my head. "She's attracted to you and yet dates your roommate… she goes back to him less then two hours after a fight… she's willing to cheat on her boyfriend with his roommate of all people…"

Christine wasn't a bitch like Ana said. But… we couldn't do this. This couldn't work. "We can't do this." I whispered down to her.

"Why?" she asked, stepping back.

"I know I don't know you but I want you… so bad." Maroon 5 sang behind me. This was true. "Everyone has a secret, can they keep it?"

Good question.

"You liked me but you dated Ben. You went back to him not even two hours after a fight. You were willing to cheat on him with me." I pointed out very quietly.

I saw her face tighten as she struggled to control her temper. "I think it's possible to like two people at the same time," she told me tersely. "I forgive easily. And we were basically broken up the moment he found me with you this morning. So excuse me for coming like a heartless bitch hoe, but those are the reasons for my behavior," she sighed hard and looked up at me. "I like you, Erik! And you like me! What are you waiting for?"

"We drive each other crazy…" I shook my head slowly.

She shook her head as well. "Love should conquer all, right?" she asked me dryly.

"Romantic." I shot back.

"Cynic," she retorted.

"But… all you've been lately is-" I began.

"I know. I've come off like a heartless bitch hoe," she interrupted. "But you've caught me at horribly bad moments. And…" she paused before adding slowly, "…while I may not have been acted the way most people my age would have, you have to cut me some slack," she begged me. "I don't handle pressure, stress, or dramatic situations well."

"You can say that again." I mumbled.

She smirked and then slowly came closer. "If I drive you crazy so much then this shouldn't affect you," she said softly, coming toe to toe with me.

"Christine…" I warned quietly as her perfume filled my nose, looking into her dark green eyes which blinked innocently back up at me.

"Close your eyes," she ordered quietly.

"Why?" I asked suspiciously.

"I promise I won't kiss you," she replied quietly. "Just close your eyes."

Oh hell. I was done.

I closed my eyes, half expecting her to kiss me anyway.

I felt the air shift as she moved closer; bringing a fresh wave of whatever amazing perfume she wore with her. She ran a hand across my jaw and ran it back into my hair. She wrapped her free arm around my waist, pressing her short frame along my body.

To say that I wanted to push her away was like saying a thirsty man wanted to push away water. My arms wrapped around her on their own accord but I dutifully kept my eyes closed, breathing slightly ragged at how close she was and how fast my pulse was going.

I felt her body shift up; she must have been standing on her tip toes. She was only 5'4 or so and I was just over six feet so she had a long way to go. She was going to kiss me now but there was no way in hell I was going to stop her. I wanted the kiss now, needed it… I waited.

I felt her lips hovering, almost directly below mine. Our breath mingled in the tension filled air. I wanted to slide my hands up her back to cup her face and kiss her… but waited instead to see if she would remain true to her word.

She ran her nails through my hair. My scalp prickled as I sucked in my breath. I felt our lips brush, feather light… when suddenly she moved away and then whispered in my ear, "I promised no kissing on the lips," then laid a soft, sweet kiss right next to my ear before pulling away.

I stared at her, breath ragged, as she walked to the door, sashaying her hips calmly.

Why that little tease.