#throwing lettuce on the bread like ‘tell me you said no’

[sentientsky]

in the kitchen making lunch and reenacting the final fifteen. as one does

[wilderness-of-thoughts]

Before:

Ignoring.

Silence.

Not paying attention.

This is the best way to show Satoru that what he did was the last straw. After an unfortunate night, your faucet was .... Knotted, and the curtains steamed up. You understand insomnia, but impulsiveness is something completely different. Explaining it is useless, you know that very well. So you just ignored little Gojo who is now standing on the kitchen counter while you was making breakfast. Of course, for him too, you won't starve him. But he has to know that what he did was... Wrong? Stupid?

"It's just a faucet! It dripped at night! Every drop was so loud! Too loud! Hey! Don't ignore me!" Gojo looked angry, like he was mad that you had the nerve to be mad at him. He knew you not since yesterday and it wasn't the first time you simply kept quiet. In normal circumstances it would be enough... to piss you off more so that you would start talking. For some reason he took it as a huge insult when you pretended Gojo didn't exist.

When he was normal size, all he had to do was throw an ice cube down your collar, grab your nose, tickle you, poke you in the side, pinch the fat on your hip, or slap you on the buttocks. You would immediately turn red, look at him with rage and scream. Then all he had to do was pat you on the head and possibly buy back what he had destroyed. This script, perfectly designed by him, has always worked. But now?

"I'll buy you a faucet! Fuck! I'll buy you a phone! Now it's just things! They break down!" He shouted while writing the tail. You looked at him with pity and sat down at the table with your plate in hands. He noticed that there was a doll table and a pink Barbie chair on the counter. On it, on the smallest saucer, breakfast was waiting for him. He immediately teleported and grabbed the food.

The advantage of being small was that all the dishes were huge. The slice of bread with lettuce, ham and cheese was huge even though you cut it into several pieces to fit. And he was hungry. You ate your breakfast in silence, staring at a vaguely defined point with an impassive expression on your face. And he stared at you, chewing his food in his mouth. He loved how you ate. But not this time. You didn't have that twinkle in your eye. You were really angry.

"You have to do something" you said after finishing your meal, holding a cup of coffee in your hand.

"I told you I'd buy you-"

"That's not what I'm talking about. I'm still angry and I'm only speaking out because there are things to do." Your voice was cold, devoid of emotion. He hated that tone. "I'll take your phone and you call Shoko. Tell her you've got chickenpox and need to get off work."

"What about RTC? Your plan forgot about that." he replied just as coldly, wanting you to feel the same way he did. It didn't work.

"you are a good actor. Be panicked and scared. You can't concentrate on RTC"

"Me? Should I feign fear? Panic? That one gray brain cell in your head really doesn't know what it's thinking. I'm Satoru Gojo, remember? I'm supposed to be afraid of some childhood disease that..."

"Imagine, Mr. Alpha and Omega, that this particular disease is something that a narcissist like you doesn't want to have." You interrupted him, leaning over slightly. Gojo frowned and looked at you questioningly. You tapped your mug with your finger so that his face was reflected in the surface of your coffee. Gojo looked at himself in surprise. With all his determination and impartiality, his beauty did not suffer. Gojo would fuck a mirror if he could. "Now imagine that your pretty face is covered in white spots. Some larger, some smaller. Some burst and a white sticky goo similar to pus flows out of them. They itch, they hurt, but you know you can't touch them because if you touch them, you will spread the disease further throughout your skin and body, and when the pimple heals, your flawless face will have small scars." you spoke calmly, like a narrator, you saw how with each of your words the eyes of the strongest sorcerer opened wider with terror. "Pimples spread anyway because you're wearing clothes, you have to be careful because all it takes is for your foot to rub against something and you'll scratch one of them. Scars, all over body. Pimples all over body that you can't touch. They itch more and more. The ones you don't touch turn into white nasty scabs. But you can't touch them either because there's white goo underneath them. And that's not all, the smell is awful, you stink, you sweat, you have a fever, your whole body burns, and you have snot running from your nose. Should I continue?"

"...no... No, don't say anything. Such a disease doesn't really exist? Right? Are you winding me up now?"

"if you don't believe me just google it." You replied taking the cup to take a sip of coffee. You smiled slyly as you saw Gojo unlock his phone and check the graphics. You knew that Google would only give him extreme cases, so you waited patiently, watching Gojo carefully. His ears were tucked under, his cat tail quivering as he looked at the pictures, his pale skin turning even paler. Satoru Gojo could already see in his mind's eye how his perfect face and divine body were covered with nasty pimples. When he looked at you, breathing rapidly through his nose, you knew your idea wasn't so stupid after all. "Enough?"

Gojo didn't answer. With trembling hands, he searched for Ieri in his contacts and pressed the receiver. The sight of a terrified Satoru was something that was only reserved for you. You would take a picture of him if you had a camera.

"Ieri! I AM UGLY!" He shouted with despair in his voice.

"Uh Gojo? What are you talking about?" The woman was clearly confused and surprised. You would be too if Gojo greeted you like that first thing in the morning.

"I'VE BEEN CURSED! THE UNIVERSE HATES ME! I'M UGLY!"

"Relax Mrs. Shoko, Gojo only caught the chickenpox," you said with a cordial tone of voice.

"Y/n? Are you with him now? What do you mean, chickenpox?"

"WHO WILL LOVE ME NOW?!" In the background you could hear Gojo's wails of despair.

You answered Shoko what you had planned. After the mission at the temple, Gojo went to the store to buy some ice cream, and there was a trip of children. Anyone who knows Gojo also knows how crazy the man is about sweets. It probably took just a moment for him to get infected, and since he never got sick...

"Unbelievable." The woman was both surprised and amused by the situation. "Maybe I'll come and check-"

"NO! YOU CAN'T COME! I FORBID IT! I WILL NOT OPEN THE DOOR FOR YOU" the poor guy forgot that he is with you.

"But Satoru...-"

"NO! No one can see me like this. My holy face has been tainted. I look worse than a curse's ass. DON'T COME!" He was shouting into the receiver, constantly putting his hands to his face and then taking them away. He really got into the role.

"Okay. I'll write you a sick note and a prescription for some ointment. Y/n, can you handle him? Are you going to babysit him while he's sick?" Shoko asked, you hear the lighter.

"I've been doing this most of my life." You replied immodestly with amusement. "I'll be at your place in an hour for the papers. Thank you Shoko for your help. In this state Gojo would never be excused from the house. You know he's so panicked that all his cursed energy can't focus? There's no barrier or anything. He can't even focus on the RTC." You received it in passing, as if by accident.

"Tempt me even more to make me come." She replied, laughing quietly.

"I'M UGLY!" Gojo squealed in the background.

∆∆∆

Everything went according to your plan. The story seemed so stupidly funny that it was plausible. Especially considering Gojo's narcissism and God complex, no one who knew him had no doubt that he had had a panic attack after catching chickenpox. Even higher-ups, despite their obvious dissatisfaction, sent their wishes for Gojo's recovery. Not very sincerely, but apparently it's the intention that counts, right?

It took you a whole day again. You went to Gojo's apartment to get his things and, to disguise yourself, bought some ointment that Shoko prescribed. Then you went home. Gojo looked closely at his body on mirror, inch by inch. He knew it was a lie, but the thought of something like that happening to him filled him with terror.

You made the bed on the couch again for him and went to your room to go to sleep. This time Gojo didn't wait long before he came to you with the material that was his duvet. He tucked his tail under himself as he lay down next to your pillow. If he really got sick... You would take care of him. He was sure of it. If he looked that awful, you would take care of him. Regardless of the smell and disgust. Because it's your job. Gojo stared at your sleeping face, tomorrow you start the investigation, now you have the ability to move freely. After all, it was good that he called you.

Despite this, you still haven't spoken. He has to figure out a way to get you to talk to him, to start paying attention to him, and not just doing... what you're supposed to do.

But just to be sure, before he focuses on your breathing to get back to sleep, he'll look in the mirror one more time.

Next:

[kai-anderson-whore]

I heard someone needs Colin Zabel suggestions and I GOT YOU. I literally CRAVE Colin fics. Im probably gonna send multiple submissions but this is the first one.

Colin x Reader cuddling up on the couch watching something about hoagies (it’s a sub sandwich if you’re wondering what it is. East Coast dialect 😚) food network on the tv. They both start craving it and decide to make one. But Colin and reader do not agree on meats/cheese/veggies/condiments that should go on to make the “perfect” hoagie. So they have a silly food battle on who could make the best hoagie like they’re on a competitive cooking show. After their both done they try each other’s hoagies and then their own. Colin hates to admit it but reader was right.

This one was short sorry but more Colin fics coming in the next few days 😊

Hoagies (colin zable x reader)

A/n; I don't know what actually goes in a hoagie in other countries so sorry if its not accurate the hoagies you get in Scotland where I'm from consists of chapti bread, Donna meat or chicken tikka, fries with cheese and chilli sauce so that's why I wrote that

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•. .•°˚˚°

It was your usual Friday night laying on your boyfriend's lap on the sofa watching food network on the tv, a thing about hoagies on making you absolutely crave one "Oh I could go one of them tight now with donna kebab meat fries with a load of cheese and chilli sauce" you groaned on colin's lap who looked at you with a chuckle "no thats not a hoagie y/n it has to have deli meat like salami and ham with salad" he protested making you sit up from his lap in shock.

"No it's not trust me my way of a hoagie is the best" you insisted you tried the hoagie you prefer when you and your best friend went on holiday to Scotland and tried one you never looked back learning how to make one of your own, "you thinking what I'm thinking?" Colin asked raising an eyebrow at you, "food battle" you smirked getting off the sofa you and Colin zoomed straight to the kitchen grabbing all the ingredients you needed for your food.

You and Colin now stood at either side of the kitchen island you cooked the fries in the oven, before preparing the meat, Colin was busy telling you he would win whilst preparing his hoagie, "Oh your so going down" he smirked cutting the bread up, "no your going down zable" you smirked back now cooking the donna meat.

"East Coast vs scotland" you laughed throwing a bit of lettuce at Colin who tried to catch it in his mouth but failed miserably, making you laugh your ass off almost falling to the floor, "I can't believe you completely missed that it was almost in" you said in between fits of laughter, "I could have gotten it if you knew how to throw better" Colin teased tossing another piece of lettuce which you caught in your mouth.

It didn't take long for the meat and fries to cook coating it with cheese and salad with chilli sauce you took your knife cutting the food in half for you and Colin and he did the same with his one, "be prepared for your taste buds to have a orgasm" you stated giving colin his half.

Colin gave you his half of the hoagie he made you took a bite you had to admit it was good but you still stood by the fact that your one was better, you watched as Colin took a hesitant bite of your hoagie chewing the food his eyes almost popping out of his head a moan of delight let his lips.

"This is really good wow okay you were right it is like the best thing ever" he mumbled his mouth full of food,"Colin don't talk with your mouth full but yes I told you so" you laughed about to take your half of the hoagie you made, "Hey what are you doing?" Colin asked looking a bit disappointed that you took the rest of the hoagie.

"I'm taking my half col" you chuckled taking another bite of the hoagie, soon enough you and Colin were full laying back on the sofa cuddled up almost falling asleep from being too full, "I don't think I can watch anything about food tonight" Colin chuckled his eyes closed with you laying on his chest, legs tangled together as the tv still played food network.

"Me neither I could sleep for a hundred years right now" you mumbled almost drifting into slumber neither of you wanted to get up too comfortable on the sofa, "that doesn't sound too bad right now" Colin yawned holding you closer to him drifting off to sleep.

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Magnolio, part One

Rating: SFW Length: 1583 Pairing: Cursed Male Werewolf x GN Reader

A commission for my dearest friend, Ana.

xxx

You don’t know what it is about the old mirror in the antique shop that calls to you. It’s squat and ugly, and its silver frame is so tarnished that the designs are all but unrecognisable. Still, you watch anxiously as the cashier wraps it in recycled newspaper, and you buckle its seat belt in the car beside you on the ride home. Once there, you break out the supplies you usually use to help your grandmother polish her silver cutlery, and with a bit of patience and a lot of elbow grease late into the evening, you manage to buff off the patina and reveal the intricate designs that had been lost to age.

Wolves and flowers. What a strange and beautiful combination.

You make yourself a sandwich for dinner and pick away at it as you admire the new polish of the mirror, but something shifting in the reflection makes you frown and turn around to inspect your surroundings. What had just moved? Finding nothing, you look back into the mirror, only to find the face of a man staring back at you. You scream and flinch hard enough to throw your sandwich into the ceiling fan above you, its contents flying around the room as it hits the blades.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me,” you hear a trembling voice say, and you scream again when you realise that it’s coming from the mirror. “Stop screaming! It’s only me!”

“Who the hell is ‘me’?” you squeak, voice shrill from hysteria. You’re probably knocked out somewhere. Maybe you’ve fallen down the stairs and got a hard whack to your head. It is the only reasonable explanation for why there is suddenly a man testing the barrier of glass between you and the mirror.

The mirror.

The mirror itself is now reflecting a room that is completely unrecognisable to you, panelled with rich mahogany and decorated in a very austere style. The man in the mirror is possibly in his 30’s, with long, black hair and deep brown eyes. His light brown skin is exposed at the throat and collar by a white shirt that froths lace at the cuffs of the sleeves and cinches in at the waist with the high waistline of his dark breeches, but that is as far as you can see in the view of the mirror. The man in the mirror peers curiously around your living area, frowning his bemusement.

“Am I in your home?” he asks, and he doesn’t wait for you to reply before going on. “Thank God. I was so sick of looking at the back of a cloth. I’m Magnolio. You are?”

“Dreaming,” you murmur, watching Magnolio as though he were a sideshow attraction. “I’m dreaming. I must be.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on it,” Magnolio demurs. “I’m sure your dreams are more exciting than an old man in a mirror. What a charming carpet. Is it new?”

“Uh, thrifted,” you say, startling as a slice of tomato unsticks from the ceiling and plops down by your shoe. Now that you took in the scene, you had some cleaning up to do. There was mayo on the ceiling fan, and bread stuck to the window. Swearing, you begin to gather the remains of your poor sandwich. Even if this is a dream, you aren’t going to leave a future dream-you with a mess to clean up.

“You missed a bit of green,” says Magnolio, pointing out a piece of lettuce stuck to the leg of a chair.

“Thanks,” you mutter, eyeing the man as you add the leafy green to your sad little pile in your hands. Closer up, you can see a pale scar beneath one of his eyes, ragged and poorly healed at the time of injury. You have never been one for dreams, and this one is taking the cake. “Magnolio, you said?”

“Yes,” he sighs, sounding dejected. “Surname Alinari, if that means anything at all these days.”

It doesn’t. Not to you, anyway. Still, you sigh and sit down in front of the mirror after disposing of the sandwich and washing your hands, staring up into Magnolio’s face. “So, what are you?”

“How rude. I’m Italian!”

“No, you idiot. Why are you in the mirror?”

“Oh,” says Magnolio, the wind that had momentarily entered his sails disappearing. “Would you believe I was cursed?”

“I think I can make allowances for strange stories if they’re told to me by a ghost in a mirror.”

“I’m no ghost!” Magnolio scowls. “I’m very much alive. I’m just stuck in this… other world.”

“So this isn’t just a two way mirror? Like a walkie-talkie?”

“A walkie-whatie?”

“Never mind,” you say, shaking your head. “What I’m seeing behind you isn’t on earth?”

“I think it might be,” Magnolio replies, caught off guard by the question. “It certainly behaves the way the regular world does, except that something like a barrier won’t let me past the gardens.”

“Huh. That sucks.”

Magnolio nods uncertainly at your slang, frowning down at you. “I’m surprised that you’re taking this so well. Most people try to break the mirror by now.”

“How many people have you met?”

“A few. I’ve been trapped in here for over a hundred years. I lost track.”

“You don’t look like you’re over a hundred.”

“Well, it appears that I remain the age at which I was trapped, so far as I can tell. I can’t die while I’m here. I’ve tried.”

Silence falls between you. Both of you shift uncomfortably at Magnolio’s admission, until you finally sigh and decide enough is enough. “Do you want a tour? Even if this is a dream, it’s only polite.”

Magnolio laughs softly, nodding in a way that made his long hair fall into his eyes. “I’d like that, I think.”

After assuring you that the mirror can’t be broken, you heave Magnolio and his mirror all through your house, and what you plan on being a basic tour turns into an in-depth explanation of your indoor plumbing and electricity. You learn that he was from a small village in Sicily in the early 1800’s, so you figure you have your work cut out for you when it comes to catching him up on the times, but Magnolio stops you before you can get mired in the details.

“I’m caught up on history,” he tells you, and he shifts his own mirror to show you a wall of books in the panelled room. “He made sure to give me things to do, in case he didn’t get back in time to undo the spell.”

“Who?” you ask, and Magnolio’s face falls.

“My late husband,” he says, absently fiddling with a pendant at his chest. “He sealed me in this mirror when the villagers came for me. He was meant to free me before the night was out, but the villagers killed him. They couldn’t break the mirror or get to me, so they buried it with him instead. Then his grave was robbed and I was taken to France, and then to Austria, and finally I ended up here.”

“Jesus,” you mutter, ruffling your own hair. “That’s heavy. How do I get you out of this mirror, then?”

Magnolio perks up, hand stilling at his breast. “You would free me?”

You shrug. “I mean, I guess. It would be pretty shitty of me to buy your mirror, learn about you, and decide you’re someone else’s problem.”

“Oh,” Magnolio sighs, smiling brilliantly in a way that makes his eyes crinkle. “I would be forever indebted to you. You must kiss me under the light of the moon. Then I will be free.”

You heave a beleaguered breath. “I hope my neighbours don’t see this,” you grumble as you haul his mirror outside, looking around for strangers as though you were smuggling black tar over the border. When you confirm that you are, in fact, alone, you sigh and twitch towards Magnolio’s mirror. “Well. Pucker up, Mags.”

Magnolio frowns. “‘Mags’?”

“Just kiss me, man,” you plead, pressing your lips against the mirror’s surface.

Startled into movement, Magnolio closes the distance between you, planting his lips over yours through the mirror. For a moment, your lips feel warm, and your heart beats wildly in your chest at the thought of watching a man emerge from his centuries-long entrapment.

But nothing happens.

“Uh.”

“Oh,” says Magnolio, deflating like a sad-looking balloon after a child’s birthday party. “That was supposed to work.”

“Is it because it’s not ‘true love’s kiss’ or whatever?” you ask, using your sleeve to wipe away the smudge left behind by your lips.

“I don’t know,” Magnolio replies, and to your horror, his voice sounds thick with tears. As you watch, he sniffles and a tear slips free from his thick lashes, running down his face and onto his shirt. It is quickly followed by many more, and you realise that the mirror doesn’t have to be broken for this poor man to shatter.

“Hey, hey,” you say, breathless as you carry the mirror back inside. “Maybe it’s just because it’s not the full moon. We’ll try again in a week or two—whenever it is. Alright?”

“Alright,” Magnolio burbles, using his sleeves to wipe at his face even as more tears slide down his flushed cheeks. “We’ll try again. I have your word?”

“You have my word,” you say, and thank your lucky stars that you’ll be waking from this dream sooner rather than later.

[miss-dr-reid]

Another Gubler Story... #3

Not too long later, we were on our way. The radio playing softly, provided background noise for our conversations. We spoke about our days of work, and I filled him in about how brutal customers can be sometimes.

"I'm sorry you had a bad day at work." he pouted, tapping his hand on my thigh before resting his elbow ion the center console, continuing to drive with one hand.

"It's okay! George brought doughnuts and then you called, and now here we are!" I cheered.

"Is George your secret boyfriend?" Matthew joked, bumping me with his hand, a smile across his lips.

And while, I wanted to answer, I knew there was no point, instead changing the subject. We ended up talking about old friends, family and childhood memories. Matthew was so easy to talk to. He was always listening to every word I spoke.

We finally arrived, pulling into the car park of a park/playground. and Matthew selected a park closer to the playground. I reached for my door handle, but Matthew's hand on my shoulder caught my attention. I looked over at him, and he shook his head at me, climbing out and opening the back door. He pulled out something, it looked like a picnic basket, stood back and closed both doors. He made his way around to my door, opening for it and standing back allowing me to get out.

Shutting the door and linking his arm with mine, we made our way over to an open area of grass where Matthew unlinked our arms. he put the basket on the ground, opening it and pulling out a blanket, spreading it over the ground. He sat down on the blanket, bringing the basket onto the end of it and looked up at me.

His eyes glistened behind his glasses which were lit up by some light posts surrounding the playground. The Spring breeze was soft, fresh and fragrant, blowing the loose curls of Matthew's hair. I took Matthew's hand as he held it out to me, helping me to the ground. The blanket was cool from the slowly dampening ground. The sun was almost setting, oranges and purples filling the sky. I sat down on a lean, sitting almost on my hip, facing Matthew who mirrored me.

He leaned over to the basket, where he pulled out a bottle of bubbly white and two glasses. Placing the glasses between us, he opened the bottle and poured some wine in each glass. He put the lid back on the bottle, laying it on the ground against the basket.

"To new beginnings and fun risks!" He toasted, lifting his glass up in the air. I returned the gesture, clinking our glasses together.

We each took sips of our drinks before placing them down onto the blanket in front of us. He went back for the basket, shifting himself into his knees. He pulled out a loaf of bread, setting it next to the bottle of wine. He then started pulling out small containers, placing them around the loaf of bread.

I sat up fully, curious to see what he was doing. I lifted one container, inspecting it to see what was inside, surprised to find sliced tomato. He continued to pull out a few other small containers and finally a plastic packet, which he handed to me seeing how intrigued I had become. A packet of sliced ham is what he gave me. I put it all together, seeing all the ingredients laid out and figured we'd be making our own sandwiches.

"I didn't know what you liked, so, I picked something that you could make your own!" Matthew said, finally sitting back, gesturing over the spread. He handed me a plastic plate, holding onto when I tried to take it. I looked up into his eyes, wondering why he didn't let go. He smiled at me softly as his eyes wandered my face before finally letting go.

"Help yourself and let me know if there's anything missing." He pointed to the food.

"Thank you, Matthew." I grinned before turning to the food. I laid my plate down, reaching for the bread, my eyes scanning over the now open containers, seeing what options I had.

On one slice of bread, I layered, ham, cucumber, lettuce, tomato and finally another slice of ham before another slice of bread.

I sat back, allowing Matthew to make his own. I watched him make his sandwich as I had felt him doing to me. He glanced back a few times, at my sandwich before adding another topping. I noted that he was copying the layers of my sandwich.

"Why?" I asked, cocking my head to the side slightly.

"Why what? Why the same layers? You looked like you knew what you were doing. I trust you." He said, answering his own question. The reply took me by surprise as he added the last slice of bread. He lifted his plate and sat back, facing me with his legs crossed. I laughed as he sat his plate in my lap, copying me.

I picked up my sandwich, securing the back of it. I took a big bite, bigger than I had intended, the smell of the salads caused me to realise how hungry I actually was. I hummed a moan at the flavour, and Matthew did, too. I could tell that he was genuinely enjoying the sandwich, and not just copying me anymore, the expression on his face as his eyes rolled back were all tell tale signs. We sat there, not saying a word, only eating our sandwiches. Small moans and the occasional sounds of chewing filling the air between us.

The sun setting, caused the whole scene to become even more romantic as the moon gently lit up our figures and glistened on the dewy ground. We both finished eating and Matthew collected our plates, stacking them to the side as he packed up the containers, putting them away into the basket, setting the stacked plates on top. He took my now empty glass and set it next to the wine bottle along with his own. He turned around, looking at me and stood up.

"Come." the word simple, effective, but gentle. His hands were pointed out toward me and I took them. My own hands becoming nearly entirely enveloped inside his.

His arms draped over my shoulders, his hands resting on my lower back, pulling me flush against him. My head resting on his chest, his heart beating in my ear. My own arms wrapped around his waist, my hands reaching as far around to the opposite sides as possible. I felt his chin rest on my head for a moment. He lifted his chine off, replacing it with a kiss, his heartbeat in my ear speeding up as he did so. I gave him a squeeze in response, the smile on my face growing bigger.

His arms lifted from me, his hands grabbing my shoulders as he pulled me back slightly. I looked up into his eyes, his glasses has fallen down slightly so I pushed them back up, allowing my fingers to trail gently over his lips and jaw before returning it back to it's spot around his waist. We stood there in silence for a moment, staring into each others eyes, smiling at each other.

Matthew finally pulled away, the warmth of hi body being replace by the cool night air and goosebumps formed over my skin. He had caught one of my hands in the midst of pulling away, leading me over to the playground. We walked to the swing set, where he released my hand and sat on one of the swings, an empty one next to him. I followed his actions, sitting on the free one, seeing how happy he was, swinging with anticipation.

We both started swinging, keeping in time for a bit until Matthew decided to go higher. I took that as a challenge, and tried to go even higher. Eventually, we were both swinging so high, the chains slacked as we reached our peak height before we were caught with a jolt at the bottom. We were both laughing from just how silly we were being, and soon I started to slow myself. I stopped swinging my legs and soon the swing calmed. I jumped off the swing, landing in on the barks chunks with a small 'crunch', I posed while saying "Ta-Da!".

I turned around to look at Matthew, who was mid-air jumping from his own swing. I started clapping, doing small jumps in excitement. My eyes closed for a brief moment, Matthew taking this opportunity to run to me. His footsteps quick, reaching me before I knew what was going on. My heart leapt from my chest as I was lifted into the air, holding on for dear life for a moment, my eyes squeezed shut, until Matthew said,

"You're beautiful." The words took me by surprise. I looked down at him from my place in his arms, the biggest goofiest smile on his lips.

"You are!" I replied, booping his nose with me own, pulling back to look at him. My face turned hot from the feelings rushing around inside me, butterflies in my stomach.

We were caught in that moment, staring into each others eyes. I couldn't help it when my eyes wandered onto his lips, my face being drawn towards his. Matthew had been glancing at my lips, too, licking his own lips once before his own face was drifting forward. With one final look at each other's lips we-

*FLASH*

We snapped away from each other, looking in the direction the flash had come from. Soon, there was another and Matthew put me down, telling me to stay put. He headed in the direction of the small group of trees where the flash had come from. The person who was hiding there ran off before Matthew had the chance to say anything and he headed back to me.

Reaching me, he cupped my face in his hands, looking deep into my eyes,

"Let's get out of here." was all he said. The words simple, but effective and we headed back to the picnic.

We packed up the rest of the picnic and I folded the blanket as neatly as possible. Matthew carried the basket and we walked to the car. We got in, throwing the stuff we were carrying into the back. The car started and Matthew drove out of the carpark without saying a word.

"Where are we going?" I asked him, breaking the silence.

"To my place." he said, and kept driving, his eyes on the road.

<3

[igotbulletproof-insomnia]

Adopting Bangtan 08

01 previous

Supermarket Sweep

You were never going grocery shopping with seven kids ever again in your life.

The chaos. The absolute chaos was something that you somehow never expected. You actually thought that shopping with all seven kids would be the most efficient way to accomplish the task. Sit Kookie in the cart and let him “help” you by picking out the area to shop and hold the bags while you pick the vegetables. Send Yoongi and Namjoon to buy the snacks because they were the most sensible of all of the children and wouldn't have you spending way more money than necessary. Let Taehyung and Jimin retrieve the bread and the milk. Let Seokjin pick the meat because he was surprisingly talented at the job. And then everyone was supposed to meet you back at the shopping cart, still located in produce, so that you could pay and you all could go home. It should have taken thirty minutes, tops.

Instead, you found yourself chasing Taehyung around the store while Jimin kept an eye on Jungkook and you really, really hoped that he didn’t grab the most expensive apples on display, but you have the feeling that he would — because of course, he would. Prices didn’t seem to exist to any of the younger kids.

Instead, Jin was throwing a fit because all of the meats on display were apparently complete rubbish and he refused to let you spend money on anything but the most expensive cuts of beef so you “just have to” make another stop at the actual butcher’s shop. Granted, if Jimin spent all of your money on asparagus, your family would be eating vegetarian this week.

Instead, as soon as you managed to grab Taehyung, who apparently just wanted to replace Jungkook as your shopping partner, Namjoon appeared with a reasonable request for more variety in tea for the house. Which opened up a whole new can of worms as Taehyung realized he can ask for things too. This had him running back to Jimin and the shopping cart with a grin on his face, demanding that they find the snack aisle because you were going to buy them extra snacks if they asked, and Jimin’s face lit up with a smile so bright that dammit, it was going to be hard to explain what a budget was and why it wasn’t a good idea to exceed it.

(and yeah, you checked. Jimin grabbed the most expensive radish and lettuce he could find, and you were going to have to break out the vegetarian cookbook.)

(except for the bananas. It seemed Jungkook picked up the bananas)

Thankfully, Yoongi — lovely, beautiful, blessed Yoongi — had been returning to the shopping cart with his arms full of a variety of snacks, all low in price but high in popularity at home. He took one look at the chaos of whining and fussing children, rolled his eyes heavenwards, and took control.

“You get one.”

His tone left no room for argument; even you stood straight and stopped making a scene. Yoongi led the group back to the snack aisle and replaced everything he picked and let the others run wild. Together, you watched the others pick out snacks and place them, one by one, into the shopping cart.

“... They’re going to blow the snack budget like this,” you commented idly.

“I know.”

“That’s why you put the rest back, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And these snacks aren’t going to last as long as they usually do, will they?”

“Not at all.”

“Thank goodness you’re so smart,” you ruffled his hair. “This is why I keep you around.”

“You keep me around because you don’t want me living by myself and I save you from going broke.” Yoongi’s tone was as matter of fact as ever and you couldn’t help but grin.

“Like I said, smart kid.”

Yoongi grinned back. You liked the fact that these kids didn’t take you too seriously. You had a good balance of deference, respect, and playfulness with all of them, even if you weren’t sure who actually ran the household most of the time. “Go pick you something, Yoon. You don’t have anything for yourself.”

“You can’t afford what I want.”

“I probably can’t afford what anyone wants, they aren’t paying attention to the prices.” And indeed, Taehyung and Jimin, your babies with the most expensive tastes, were debating the merits of two snacks that were way outside of the price range you would normally consider. But again, Jimin’s smile was so broad that you were reluctant to tell him no and watch that fearful, nervous look fall back into place. You would talk to him about budgets and restrictions another time. “I’ll make it work, don’t worry about it right now.”

With a grateful smile, Yoongi asked you to grab the snack he wanted, placed just out of his reach on a top shelf. It wasn’t priced too far out of budget, but it was different from the things he normally selected for your busy household of eight. You made a mental note to pay attention to how much Yoongi enjoyed the snack and check the stores for similar ones. The kid did so much and asked for so little, it would be nice to do this one thing for him.

“Wait a moment…” you frowned, counting off. “Where’s Hoseok?” Immediately all of the children quieted down, looking to each other as if to confirm that yes, someone was missing.

“Wasn’t he supposed to go with Jin-hyung?” asked Namjoon.

“No, I thought he was keeping Jimin and Taetae company?”

“Oh my God, you lost Hoseok.” That accusing tone came from Taehyung, and you watched Jimin’s face go from lightweight confused to completely devastated. You hated it, had suspicion that he was wondering if you would eventually do the same thing to him, if you would get bored or disappointed or angry and cast him off, lose him in a store or at a park like Hoseok explained happened to him, like all of Jimin’s previous parents did to him.

“Okay, boys,” you shouted, uncaring of the stares you attracted. The boys startled, but gave you their full attention, which was one hundred percent more than you’d had the entire grocery trip. You continued to speak firmly, and could tell the show of authority did more to calm their panic than the shouting. You decided that they needed to focus on something other than their lost brother. “This is what we’re going to do: Namjoon, you’re going to take Taetae and Jimin and get the bread, milk, and all the dairy stuff like I told you before, okay? Add eggs to that list. Yoongi, go get the paper products. Get the brands we used to get, not the ones we used last time, they’re cheaper and sturdier. Seokjin, we’ll go to the butcher’s if we have the budget when we finish here, but I promised we could have meat for dinner, so take Kookie and find something, okay?” All of the boys nodded at their assignment. “Good. Yoongi, Joonie, find Jin when you’ve got your things. Seokjin, when you’ve finished, wait for me in produce. You all understand? I’m going to go find Hoseok. He probably got distracted and can’t find us.” Hoseok had a habit of doing that. He often got lost among the chaos, because while everyone was being loud and boisterous, Hoseok was often quiet and did the things that went unnoticed. If you assigned dairy, meat, and snacks, then Hoseok probably went off to grab paper towels or rice or something you needed at home but forgot about. You wouldn’t be surprised if he came to the store with the list Yoongi and Jin never felt the need to write.

So the kids separated, worried and mumbling to each other, but occupied with their tasks. They were trusting in your ability, in your promise to locate their missing brother before you all went home. Whether these kids were abandoned by their parents (or maybe ran away from home, Seokjin never discussed why he chose to stay with his former teacher) , you found them and chose to take care of them. It was understandable that they would be worried. Up until now you had probably seemed like some sort of savior to them. Maybe not infallible, and definitely not… whatever it was that made other adults seem parental, but you had taken care of them, kept track of them, and protected them. Losing one of them had probably shaken their hearts.

It didn’t take long before you Hoseok as you predicted, standing in the frozen section, a piece of paper and pen in his hands. He bit his tongue as he read through it, humming to himself and ticking off items. A hand basket sat at his feet, overfilled with supplies.

“I’m pretty sure you should have an actual shopping cart for that,” you told him. Hoseok startled, jumping nearly a foot in the air and shouting in surprise. The petty, upset parent part of you feels satisfied for it, like Hoseok got what he deserved for scaring you the way he did. The more rational part of your brain is just glad that you were right and he hadn’t been kidnapped. Casually, you looked over the basket. “I didn’t even think about checking the spice cabinet. You’re a clever kid.”

“I just wanted to be helpful,” Hoseok replied with a shrug.

“It would have been helpful if you told me where you were going.”

“... I didn’t do that?” Hoseok’s eyes went big and wandered left and right. He seemed to be making himself smaller, pulling his arms close and leaning away from you.

“No, you didn’t.”

“I… oh.”

“We got very scared,” you explained. “We thought you got lost. The other boys were panicking.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I just… everyone else got an assignment and I didn’t, so…”

“So you thought I wouldn’t notice if you disappeared for a bit.” You nodded and ignored Hoseok’s flinch when you crouched down to his level. He wasn’t terribly short, he was actually almost as tall as your shoulder, but it was always easier to have these sorts of talks when you weren’t looming over him. “It’s okay, I’m not mad about you shopping on your own. I’m actually really glad that you took initiative to do something helpful. But you did scare me. I didn’t know what happened to you. I didn’t know if you got lost or ran away or if someone stole you from me. I’m glad I know you well enough to assume you brought your own list, but I was still afraid of being wrong. I really, really don’t know what I would do if you went missing, Hoseok. I haven’t had you for long, but my heart would hurt. I care about you that much, okay? So please, communicate. Tell me when you’re going to wander away, and tell me where you’re going so that I know you are safe.” Hoseok nodded fervently, most likely an effort to convince you he was sincere and wouldn’t disappear on you again. You opened your arms for a hug, You opened your arms for a hug, partially to comfort yourself, but mostly to soothe Hoseok. He looked like he might burst into tears and needed the comfort.

“Okay, good.” You squeezed the kid tight, your hold unrelenting until you felt the kid push away. “Alright, let me see that list of yours.” Together, you and Hoseok went through his list, and you were amazed that he was so thorough. Apparently the kid started taking stock as soon as you mentioned the intent to go to the grocery store earlier in the week. Hoseok noticed that you had a habit of leaving something out and he thought that making a list would be helpful. When you decided that you were going to take all of the kids with you, he decided to just hold on to the list himself.

“From now on, you’re making grocery lists,” you decided as you made your way back to Jin. “Maybe even all of the lists if you’re this organized. What do you think of that?”

Hoseok grinned, obviously proud of himself. “I think that sounds awesome!” He cheered. “Is this like how Yoongi gets to be in charge of the budget and Jin is in charge of the kitchen and Joonie is in charge of all of us?”

“Kind of yes, something like that,” you said. “Because obviously I’ll lose my head otherwise.”

“I’m sure we’ll keep track of your head too if you want.”

“Ah, why are all of my kids so snarky? I don’t deserve this,” you cried, hugging Hoseok more tightly to your waist. “All I do is give them love and a home, and they pay me back in sass.”

“But you love us, right?” Hoseok asked. His voice was a little softer than before, and you saw it for the genuine question that it was, not the joke that it would have been had it come from Jin, Joon, or Yoon.

“Of course,” you told him. “Don’t you doubt that for a second.”

When you went searching for the rest of the kids, you found them standing by Jin with the shopping cart, all lined up on the side of the aisle and eerily quiet. Even Jungkook in the shopping cart was holding his hands in his lap, eyes down cast.

“Do I want to know what happened here?”

“No,” was the resounding answer.

“Okay, good.” You shake off your curiosity. Whether that was because you trusted Seokjin or because you were afraid of the answer, you were undecided. “Hoseok, do you want to delegate tasks? We have a few more things on your list, right?” Hoseok noded, and set about sending his brothers off in pairs to retrieve the remaining items on his checklist. After the two sets had wandered off, Hoseok looked up again.

“Could you…?”

“Seokjinnie, you good by yourself?”

“I’ll have Kookie with me, it will be great.” Jin shrugged and you rolled your eyes.

“We’ll still meet over in produce when you’re finished, okay?”

Jin huffed his frustration at the meat selection. “I think we’re just having fish tonight. Is that fine with you?”

“If it’s okay with your brothers, it’s okay with me.”

“They’ll be fine with it,” Seokjin declared. His tone said he was still very irritated with whatever happened while you were gone.

“Get some cheaper produce when you’re finished, please.”

“Sure thing,” Seokjin agreed absently, wandering further up the aisle.

“Holler if you need me,”

“I will.”

“Just don’t scare everyone when you do.”

“Now you’re just taking away my fun.”

After all of that, you spent another fifteen minutes in the store. The trip to the butcher’s shop was put off for the following night, and you all made the unanimous decision to eat ramen and kimchi for dinner. You were also very loud about never bringing seven kids grocery shopping ever again.

That was, until two weeks later when Jimin’s adorable pout convinced you that they would be on their absolute bestest behavior (spoiler alert: they weren’t).

To find more of my child-bangtan fics, select the "Collecting Strays" tag at the bottom of this page ^_^

[shesclearlya3]

i loved you first. p.2

pairing: Xavier Plympton x Reader

word count: 4,391

warnings: au! in present time, language, a big oops coming

not entirely proof-read. 

*title inspired by joan’s song*

part 1 | part 2 |  part 3 | part 4 | epilogue

One Year Later

"NO ONE, NO ONE, NO ONEEEEEEE, CAN GET IN THE WAY OF WHAT I FEEL FOR YOUUU!"

"YOOOU! YOOOOU!"

You covered your ears as Montana and Brooke screamed sang along to Alicia Keys, while in the kitchen finishing up dinner in their shared apartment. You were recently promoted at work, and they wanted to celebrate with you.

Brooke sniffed, "I miss Ray." she said as she poked at her homemade noodles with a fork.

"It's only been four hours!" Montana interjected, meeting your eyes as the song ended. You smiled softly, taking a long sip from your glass of wine. 

"I know," she said, "He's always gone. I miss him."

"It's too bad the others couldn't join us," Montana said as she stirred something in a pot. "We haven't had the group together in a minute."

You silently bobbed your head as 2006-era Rihanna came on, attempting to keep your mind away from Xavier Plympton.

It's already been a year since you first met his girlfriend, Chloe. You couldn't believe how fast 2019 seemed to go. Now, you were counting down the days you had with him before he moved into his new apartment with her.

When you first heard the news, you assumed he was pulling your leg. You were having a slumber party in the living room, a few drinks in when he accidentally blabbed to you that they were looking for a new place. He admitted he wanted to tell you over dinner the next day, which would probably have gone a little better. Instead, you spent the rest of your Twilight marathon holding back tears and wishing Jacob Black would ride out of town with Chloe on his back and disappear forever. 

But after a good night's sleep, you realized it was selfish of you. You congratulated him and decided that maybe it was time for a fresh start for yourself. Before your promotion, you'd barely make enough to pay the rent all on your own. Brooke and Montana had gladly offered you their empty space, which you wanted to accept. But after your salary doubled, you'd be able to renew your lease for another year.

Even after all this time, it seemed you never really got to know Chloe. She was still friendly, but there was always an uncomfortable aura between the two of you. You had a few things in common with her, which helped make conversation whenever Xavier wasn't around, but it never exceeded that. 

You assumed you were being paranoid when she’d seem to always be looking at you, her eyes observing your every move when you were being your normal self with Xavier. Or how her voice always seemed to become sickly sweet when you’d be minding your own business, hardly remembering they were even there.

"Earth to y/n?"

You glanced up to see Brooke place a large bowl of spaghetti in the middle of the table. Montana was already sitting down, a half-eaten piece of garlic bread in her mouth. 

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked, embarrassed. 

Brooke giggled, "I asked if you were alright. You're quiet tonight - more than usual."

You nodded, helping yourself to her spaghetti as the girls gathered food onto their plates. "I'm sorry. I just keep thinking of Xavier moving out."

The girls nodded understandingly, "You know, the offer is still open," Montana said, smiling at you. Her blonde hair was pinned back, and she looked vibrant as her eyes observed you kindly. "You haven't lived alone in years, it's okay if you're not comfortable with the idea."

You nodded appreciatively, "I know, and thank you both, but... I think it will be good for me," you said, picking up your fork to smash at the bits of lettuce on your plate. The girls watched with amused expressions. "Maybe I'll finally stop moping over him and get myself a boyfriend or a girlfriend, who knows?" you said. 

"I think you should tell him how you feel, y/n," Brooke said simply, drinking her wine as if she was commenting about the weather.

You laughed dryly, "You know Xavier, he'll be pissed I kept it from him this long. We tell each other everything."

"I don't pretend to be an expert on love, y/n, but I say that if he is upset about it, fuck him." Montana shrugged, and you heard the sound of Brooke kicking her under the table. "Ouch! Come on, who wouldn't want to date y/n? He's an idiot for not seeing how she clearly feels about him."

"Xavier is our friend. We all know he can be dense and naive, but it's part of his charm." Brooke defended him before turning her eyes to you. "Why is it that you never made a move?"

The room got quiet as Montana's Spotify playlist came to a stop. You took a few bites of food, pleased that your friends gave you a few seconds to get your thoughts together. That was one of the things you loved about them.

"I guess I was just afraid of ruining what we had," you admitted, smiling a little. "We've known each other since elementary school; all of us, and the only ones who ever progressed into the romantic territory were Brooke and Ray."

Brooke's cheeks flushed, and you knew it wasn't from the wine.

Montana chuckled, a light blush coating her cheeks. "About that..." 

You and Brooke gave her a quizzical look.

"Senior prom..." Montana nodded, "Chet and Me."

Your mouth fell open simultaneously with Brooke, who cackled as Montana blushed a deeper red. You joined in on the laughter as Brooke held her stomach, tears threatening to spill over.

"What is so funny!?" Montana yelled over your laughing, now slightly irritated. "I went with Jimmy Darling, remember!? He got drunk and fell asleep near the food table, so Chet and I decided to skip, and..." she laughed now, refusing to look you in the eye. "It was alright."

"Oh, my God! Why didn't you tell us!?" you said after containing your laughter. Brooke was still giggling, complaining her sides were hurting. 

"It didn't even last long, I think I blocked it out of my memory for a while... but he is packing..." Montana finished.

As you finished up dinner, Brooke refused to delve too deeply into her sex life with Ray. You three finished two bottles of wine and were now lounging in the living room in your pajamas, debating on watching a horror movie or a comedy, and you were already thinking about the snacks. 

After deciding on the original Friday the 13th, the movie was about fifteen minutes in when a message from Xavier flashed on your phone. You glanced at it.

Xavier: Hey, did you leave the front door unlocked?

No, I made sure it was locked like always. Why?

Xavier: I think someone has been in here. Your room is a mess!

You straightened up, glancing towards the girls who were cuddled up, munching on popcorn. Xavier sent you a picture of your room you had just cleaned the night before. A few of your dresser drawers were cracked open, and clothes were peeking through, definitely searched through. Your bed was haphazardly made, and your work clothes were strewn on the floor.

"Oh no," you said, causing Brooke and Montana to look at you.

"What's wrong?" Brooke asked, concerned.

"Xavier thinks someone broke into our apartment!" you said, giving them an alarmed look. 

"Oh shit, let's go!" Montana said, and the three of you wasted no time in driving to your home.

- 

"Well?" Montana demanded as you and Xavier entered the apartment after speaking to the police. 

"They said it looks like someone had a key made. There's no damage to the door, and y/n says it was locked, so..."

"It was, I always double-check. Always..." you said, sitting down in the empty seat next to Brooke, who put a comforting arm around you.

"Who in the hell would have a key made?" Montana asked before she paused. Her eyes looked wild, before finally settling on you and Brooke. You gave her a confused look.

"I don't know. It's not like I have any friends other than you guys." Xavier said sarcastically. The one thing about Xavier is that when he was scared, he was more than likely to be agitated, and it always showed. 

"Did you give one to Chloe?" Montana asked.

"No, I never-..." Xavier paused, throwing a glare in her direction. "What are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything, I'm just eliminating suspects, is all." Montana defended, quirking an eyebrow at Xavier. "y/n, have you given a key to anybody?"

You shook your head, hoping this didn't cause a fight, "No, I have not."

"See?" Montana offered, looking rather smug, "We're just eliminating, that's all."

Xavier glanced at you, and you nodded encouragingly. He seemed to like that, nodding himself and rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, I'm kind of freaked out..."

"That's understandable, Xavier. You don't have to apologize." Brooke said, shooting a small glare at Montana, who hid a smirk. "Do you guys want us to stay?"

"Yeah, if they come back, it's four against them," Montana offered, looking delighted at having the chance to kick some ass.

"No, you ladies can go home," Xavier said, before smiling at you. You felt your heart flutter. "We'll be alright."

After bidding the girls goodnight, Xavier plopped onto the empty cushion next to you. He glanced at you longingly, before saying, "I'm sorry if I scared you." 

You shook your head, "Please, do not apologize. If it were me, I would have called the SWAT team."

Xavier laughed, "I don't doubt that! Seriously though, I'm glad neither of us was home."

You nodded, "But it doesn't change the fact that they were in my room looking for something..."

Xavier frowned now, thinking, "I know... We checked every room, nothing else looked out of place."

"You're right, nothing has been stolen..." you said.

You sat there for about an hour, talking through your day. Xavier gave you his full attention, even when you'd hear his phone vibrating in his pocket every few minutes. He ignored it, asking you questions until you yawned loudly, falling into the back of the couch.

"y/n?" he asked, his voice sounding tired.

"Yes?" you whispered.

"I'm glad you're safe."

2.

You almost forgot about the home invasion completely. Your landlord changed the locks, issuing you a new key. Xavier's stress eased as the week passed, and soon he was back to his old self. 

You didn't think much of it when Chloe started acting oddly friendly towards you, smiling at you or asking you questions about what you were doing whenever you saw each other. You assumed it was because she was bored when Xavier's attention was elsewhere.

The group was finally getting back together, and you found yourself having to face going to Chloe's place for the first time. You dressed for the hot weather, while Montana silently got ready beside you. You wondered if she was alright. She usually was bubbly before a night out. Brooke was just now getting back from her shift, occupying the shower in the other bathroom.

"Do you think this dress is too short?" Montana suddenly asked, turning around in her leopard print, knee-length dressed.

"Nope," you said honestly, "It's the perfect length for your height."

"Aww, thank you, y/n," she said, though her tone didn't match her words. 

You nodded, running the brush through your hair one last time. 

"Are you okay?" you finally asked, looking at her through the mirror.

Montana seemed uncomfortable, and you regretted asking. Montana never liked to be pushed for answers, especially if it regarded something personal. However, she looked at you as if she wanted to tell you, so you patiently waited.

"You know the guy I've been messing around with, Trevor?" she asked.

You nodded, "Yes, why?"

She shuffled in front of the mirror, taking her makeup bag and digging through it quickly. She often did this when she was nervous. Montana started applying mascara, using it as a ploy to avoid looking at you. "Well, I kind of had him do some digging on Chloe Smith."

Your eyes widened as Montana nonchalantly applied her makeup. "You what?"

"You can't get mad!" Montana said, switching the wand to the other eye. "I kept thinking about it, and it doesn't make sense. Like you said the other night, we've all been friends for years. You and Xavier never gave us keys to your apartment. Chloe has been around for only a year. She probably feels left out, and since you live with Xavier, it looked like a red flag to me." she said before observing her work. Montana continued, "So I had Trevor ask his brother to look into her, he's a real estate agent and has access to background checks. So he looked up her name, and he didn't find much, but..."

You egged her on, "But?"

"Long story short, she's a bit of a stalker," Montana said brightly, turning to look at you. "There's a restraining order against her for obsessive stalking."

Your mouth fell open at this, wondering why Montana looked so damn cheerful about this. 

"I know what you're thinking. I think it's great news if Xavier finds out who she really is, then he'll break up with her and be with you."

As much as you wanted to rejoice and praise the Lord above, you knew this was wrong. "Montana, that's not right!"

"Why not?" she pressed, looking through her makeup once again. 

"We don't know if she was the one in my room. Anyone could have a key made-."

"Exactly! She's been with Xavier for this long. If the neighbors saw, they'd think nothing of it. Trevor's brother agreed, he said people have gotten into unavailable apartments by falsifying keys and claiming they live there. It's not that hard to do, as scary as that sounds."

"I don't understand what she could have been looking for," you said, frowning. Your heart rate increased, wondering if Montana was possibly right. 

"I don't know, pictures, a diary, a vibrator?" Montana joked until she saw the look on your face. "y/n?"

Your face paled as you quickly left the bathroom, going to your bedroom, and promptly digging through your dresser. You heard Montana, and now Brooke calling your name as you threw clothes all over the place. Your worst fear was confirmed when you realized your journal was gone.

"y/n!?" Montana asked, stopping in the doorway. Brooke was behind her, dressed and ready to go. She looked concerned. 

"My journal is gone," you choked. 

Montana gasped, placing a hand over her mouth. Her eyes were excited, though. Brooke looked more lost, looking between the both of you with a crinkled face. "y/n? What is going on!?"

"Montana, I think you might be right," you said, looking at her. 

Brooke looked impatient, and you slowly gathered your clothes with shaky hands as Montana filled her in on the possible scandal. Brooke gasped at the appropriate times and quietly asked if they should tell Xavier or not.

"I don't know!" you moaned, sprawling out on your bed. "He's going to be so pissed at us!"

"Not if we catch the bitch red-handed!" Montana interjected, coming to stand in front of you. "Look, y/n, we're all in this together. If it turns out we were wrong, which is a very low possibility, I will personally take responsibility for it."

"I couldn't ask that of you," you said flatly.

"Too bad, I'll do the same," Brooke piped up from behind Montana, smiling at you. "I always thought something was off about her. She won't get away with this."

Montana turned to her, grinning. "Get it, babe."

Brooke blushed and glowed the entire way to Chloe's place as you thought over a plan. 

- 

As you waited for the boys to arrive, you were getting a headache thinking of all the things you wrote in your journal about Xavier. It's probably been well over two months since you wrote in it last. Still, you gushed about your best friend more than once, praising how much you loved him. 

The atmosphere in Chloe's home was warm, and you hated that. Brooke and Montana were helping her in the kitchen while you lounged on a chair to keep up appearances. Brooke had brought you a hard lemonade, which remained untouched as your head got worse by the minute. 

The television was on low; MTV was playing an 80s rewind, and you attempted to distract yourself, focusing on George Michael. You occasionally heard Chloe's voice chime in, and your friends laughing at whatever she said. As much as you hated to admit it, you felt left out.

It wasn't long before there was a series of knocks on the door. You shot up, calling out that you'd get it. You were almost knocked onto the couch when a tall, redhead breezed past you. Chloe swung open the door, squealing at the sight of Ray, Chet, and Xavier holding bottles of alcohol and a bag of snacks. Xavier was barely in the door when Chloe was all over him, causing Ray to roll his eyes and push through.

Chet met your eyes and smiled, and you couldn't help but smile back.

Montana and Brooke came out after hearing the commotion, and for a few minutes, there was loud laughter and talking as everyone began to settle in. Xavier was dressed like he came straight out of a magazine cover, and you clenched your legs together. 

"I'm starving, is the pizza here yet?" Ray asked as he followed the others into the kitchen. You followed hastily, not wanting to watch nor hear the sounds of Chloe and Xavier making out in entrance.

"We just ordered it fifteen minutes ago!" Brooke said, hugging Ray tightly as he kissed her forehead. You smiled, amazed at how in love they were. Montana nudged you, throwing a protective arm over your shoulders as Chet stuffed the alcohol they brought into the fridge. 

"We'll wait until she gets a few in her," Montana mumbled, "Then we'll give her a taste of her own medicine."

You nodded silently, still feeling like it was a bad idea. As much as you loved your friends, you feared this was going to blow up in your faces. Chloe and Xavier squeezed into the crowded kitchen, going for the alcohol as they managed to hang onto each other. 

You followed the others into the living room, taking your original spot on the couch and opening the lemonade Brooke had given you. You beckoned for them to sit next to you, but was aghast when Chloe and Xavier sat next to you, Xavier in the middle. You felt your cheeks get red as Chloe threw her long legs over his lap, her feet just inches from you. The girls gave you an apologetic glance as everyone found a spot on the remaining furniture or on the floor.

The first few hours were spent eating and laughing at all the outrageous stories Ray had from working on the road. After you ate, you felt your headache slowly melting away. Chloe was definitely lightweight as she quickly became more clingy and loud towards Xavier, who seemed to be more interested in what Chet was talking about than her babbling incoherently. 

Ray convinced Chloe to dig out the Wii, and he was fighting with Montana on who got to be the first player. From the corner of your eye, you could see that Xavier was watching you. You fought the urge to look, smiling as Brooke leaned back against your legs, laughing at her boyfriend and best friend arguing over who the best Mario character is.

"Xavieeee, I have a secrettttt..." you heard Chloe whisper a little too loudly, her wide eyes staring at Xavier, who was still looking at you.

"Not now, babe," he brushed her off, before turning his attention on Chet, who asked him a question you couldn't hear.

"I have to pee!" Montana said suddenly, standing up and meeting your eye. 

"Me too!" you said, catching the hint and throwing Chloe's long legs off you. Brooke nodded in support, scooting closer to Ray, who was loading Mario Kart. 

You did your best to appear nonchalant, but you were still nervous as you followed Montana down the hall. Instead of veering right into the bathroom, you crept down the hallway and walked straight into her bedroom. 

It was an ordinary room, white walls, a large bed, a record player with a bin of records underneath. There was a guitar shoved in the corner, and it felt wrong invading her space like this.

"Don't feel bad, y/n," Montana said quietly, looking at you. "She has no respect for you. But we have to hurry!" 

You nodded and quickly began to dig around. You made sure to put everything back in its place and not make too big of a mess. Montana had the same idea, but her actions were more rushed than calculated. You heard Chloe's laughter, along with the others as someone turned on the sound-bar. You could hear an intense game of Mario Kart going on. 

Montana's loud gasp sent chills up your spine. You turned from your spot looking underneath her bed, seeing her holding a box she got from the closet. "What is it, Montana?" you asked.

"I found your diary," she whispered, looking at you.

You realized you forgot to listen to what was going on in the other room. 

Montana quickly grabbed you, forcing the two of you two squeeze in the little closet as Chloe's voice grew closer. Montana held a hand to your mouth as she shut the door, and it became silent as Chloe entered, giggling to herself as she grabbed a jacket from her bed, stumbling back out.

You waited a few minutes before Montana pushed you out, and the two of you stared at each other in disbelief.

"What do we do now!?" you hissed, pointing to the small box Montana still had clutched in her hand. 

"I didn't think this far!" Montana shot back, before opening the lid. Your heart stopped, seeing your journal, along with a small notepad on top. It was no bigger than the palm of your hand, and underneath, it looked like there was a photo of you and Xavier. 

"We can't cause a scene with everyone here!" you said, and Montana nodded in agreement. "We have to go back out there, or they'll think we're up to something."

"I need you to play sick," Montana said, removing the contents and shoving the box on the shelf. "We'll be in deep shit if we're caught. I'm going to sneak this out, and we'll present it to Xavier later,"

"How is he supposed to believe we found it here?" you asked as Montana shoved it under her shirt. "This isn't going to work!"

"y/n, trust me this once, please," she said, before wrapping her arm around you. "Lean into me like you're sick so we can hide the this between us." 

You went along with it, stumbling out and hiding in the bathroom. Montana flushed the toilet, and you ran the water for a few seconds before coming out, back in your position. 

"Guys, y/n isn't feeling well, I'm going to take her home," Montana said, leading you towards the door.

"What's wrong, y/n?" Chet and Ray asked while Xavier stood up, almost knocking Chloe off his lap. She looked disgruntled, shooting you a glare. You pretended you didn't see, scrunching your face up.

"She got sick, I'll stay with her until Xavier gets home," she pushed, attempting to get away as Xavier walked towards the two of you, clearly concerned.

"Hey babe, are you good?" he asked you, and you hid your smile as Chloe frowned at the name.

"I think the alcohol just isn't agreeing with me," you lied, giving him what you hoped was a weak smile. "You don't have to worry about me, Xavier,"

"I'm always worried about you, y/n," he said, frowning at you.

Chloe stood up, coming over and attempting to put her arms around him. Xavier allowed it but didn't reciprocate as she gave you a dirty stare. Montana returned the glare, squeezing your arm, silently begging you not to move.

"She'll be fine, Xavieee!" Chloe said, "Let M-Montana take her home,"

You desperately wanted to tell her to fuck off but refrained. "I'll wait up for you," you assured Xavier. But before you could say anything else, Montana stumbled, forcing the two of you apart. Your journal, along with the photo and notepad, clattered to the hardwood floor.

Your friends watched them clatter to the ground, and you immediately wished lightning would strike you down. 

Chloe blinked before recognition flashed in her eyes. "WERE YOU IN MY ROOM?"

Montana, bless her soul, bent down and scooped it. "Don't act so fucking surprised, you lying sack of-."

"Montana!" Xavier said before he recognized your journal. Chet squeezed his way towards you as Chloe fumed in her spot, the others watching quietly. 

"You went into y/n's room and stole this!" Montana accused, waving the journal in Chloe's face. "You're fucking psychotic!"

"Chloe, is that true?" Xavier asked, giving her a dumbfounded look. 

"Of course not, baby! They're setting me up!" Chloe hiccuped, tears welling up in her eyes as she pointed at you and Montana. "They're lying."

"If they're lying, what is this?" Chet asked, holding up the notepad that Montana left on the ground. Your face paled as you saw your name continuously written in black ink before scribbled with red ink. "And that's not even the most fucked up thing in here!" Chet glared at Chloe and Xavier, "This is fucked up."

"I need you all to leave," Xavier said, "Now!"

Chet was yelling at Chloe and Xavier as the others hurriedly grabbed their things, almost pushing each other out of the apartment. 

"Xavier-," you said, wanting to plead with him to believe you.

"y/n, go!" he said, his eyes hard as Chet carefully pulled you into the hall. The last thing you saw was Xavier's angry expression before the door was slammed in your face. 

taglist: i’m so sorry if i missed anyone, my list accidentally got deleted :( if i missed anyone, please let me know!

 @the-walking-daryl @trichy-knitts @shydragonrider@thefandomzoneisdangerous @lemonwhiskers @jetblackpayne @langdonsvcrd @okoktrinity22 @uwonman @stefanmikaleson1864 @sevenwonderwitch @rubbrninja @iamnotjesha @leatherduncan @imshakingandcryingrn @bratzblitz @goblackcat69 @brookethompsonownsme @bookoffracturedescapes @zodiyack@bitchchatter@guiltyfiend @psychobitchtess  @aangrana  @thexmancometh @wtfcas​ @pleasforhelp​ 

[farklelucas]

omg tell me your minute pet peeves Katie! today i cleared a whole shelf in the flat fridge just from throwing out my flatmate's mouldy cheese/bread/lettuce and i am ready to indulge all the pet peeves leshgo

okay ellie but you have to share yours too <3 also sorry this is so late i was on vacation DKNFNFKL

saying "rip" in a text conversation - i don't know why this one drives me crazy, but it does. especially if i say something about a problem and then they just reply with "ooh rip" ... i......... really really dislike it (also "oof" does the same thing to me like complete rage)

repeating what i said as a way of acknowledgement or agreement. idk if this is too specific but if i say "oh work was good" and someone says "oh work was good work was good" it feels like mocking even if it isn't

walking away when angry instead of having a conversation!! this one is super specific to one person in my life but if you just walk away from me when you get upset im......... exploding.

there was another major one that i used to complain about all the time but for the life of me my brain gave up but trust me there's a ton

[bronsonthurman]

Don’t Underestimate Salad for a Quick, Amazing Meal

It’s summer time, reaching ninety degrees out, and no wants to cook. But some people will have chips for dinner because they are afraid of salad. Maybe they’re afraid they’ll go hungry. Maybe they’re still suspicious of vegetables. Maybe they’re afraid someone will think they’re, gasp, vegan. The horror!

Seriously, did we mention it’s hot out? We’re hot, we’re hungry, and we don’t want to spend afternoon at the lunch table when the beach is calling. We’re throwing together a salad because it’s good, it’s fast, it’s cold, and it’s now. Here’s a few reason why hungry people are missing out if they’re dismissing this humble but powerful meal.

An Easier Sandwich with Less Carbs

A sandwich is often held up as the epitome of a quick, handy, and complete meal. Honestly though, look at a sandwich: it’s just a salad with too much bread. Plus, you’re going to dirty a cutting board, a spreading knife, and a cutting board all before you even put your meal on the plate, probably more if you’re using proper cross-contamination prevention with meats and cheeses. Instead, just throw your ingredients in a big bowl, toss with a fork, and eat. What you say, you like bread? Us too--tear a piece up and throw it in after tossing, fork a piece before each bite. All the parts of a sandwich, with less dishes and a more reasonable serving of carbohydrates. Never forget to wash your hands properly when handling food--it’s harder to overlook when your ingredients are going straight from hand to plate.

No One Said You Can’t Have Carbs

If you’re used to a higher volume of calories, you might be concerned that a salad will soon leave you hangry again. If your experience with veggies is a side salad of iceberg lettuce, that’s understandable. But this is YOUR salad--go ahead and put something filling on it. One upside is you’re not limited to bread, the whole world of crunchy snacks is available. If you were going to eat them instead of a proper meal, you can instantly improve your meal by using them as a salad component. Many common corn or wheat based snacks are much healthier than you might expect, the main concern being less-friendly oils and a possible excess of salt--but check those ingredients, there is a world of difference between Fritos and Doritos, and some snacks are a garbage heap of fillers, sugar, and preservatives.

No One Said You Can’t Have Meat

Meat goes great on salad. Even better, a healthy portion of meat goes great on a salad--meat proportions in America are usually excessive for health or comfort. Keeping the meat modest helps keep you on your feet and on to your favorite activities, instead of sleeping your meal off on the couch.

Your favorite cold cuts will help you keep it easier-than-a-sandwich, or if you are a grill master, you’re in a great position to prepare and slice your favorite cut of beef or pork to properly refrigerate and add to salads over two to three days. The addition of chicken to a caesar is an obvious option, but don’t limit yourself. If you were planning to eat some wings, throw them on some lettuce. Seasoned wings will have all the flavor a few leaves in each bite need and picking up a wing in a bit of lettuce helps keep the seasoning in the bite and off your fingers.

I recall a sandwich customer offended that I would offer him “rabbit food” to go with his beef sandwich; it’s hard to understand how some imagine themselves to be “carnivores” as a diet, including myself as a young man in that category. You don’t want to know how real carnivores such as wolves or tigers get their balanced diet, but suffice to say, meat on the bone is not what they eat first. Trust me, you want your roughage in the form of fresh greens, not the way carnivores get it.

Salads Can Be Crunchy

We’re not just talking about lettuce here either, though greens do provide a nicely crisp bite. Those salty snacks we mentioned earlier bring crunch too. But that’s not all, there are a lot os suitable ingredient when you’re looking to add new textures to your salad. Some people like various cold beans. Corn kernels serve this role too, even outside of a traditional corn salad, though canned corn is not so appealing as freshly cooked. Just adding a cob is also nice, particularly with a unified butter-based dressing

If You’re Bold Enough for Hot Peppers, You'll Love Spicy Greens

If you’ve expressed a love for hot sauce, you should be eating watercress--it’s about the most nutritious thing you can eat, and it’s nicely spicy. This ingredient has somewhat disappeared into the tradition of the cress tea sandwich--don’t be fooled, this is a powerful staple food if you enjoy piquant foods Some paler varieties are less intense; the spiciest stuff announces this right up front if you give it a smell. Arugula-Rocket and mustard greens are also known

Dressings Are Indulgent Wonderland

It’s true some greens can have a bitter initial bite--luckily for us, we can sooth those flavors with dressing. If you’ve ever looked over a shelf of marinates in wonder, you’ve got a whole new world ahead of you. There’s probably a favorite you’ve discovered already, even if you were just trying to get through a salad that was forced on you. But don’t stop there! Where meat condiments tend to lean very heavily on tomato and soy, salad dressing is ahead of curve when it comes to foodie-innovation. Fruits are not as nutritious so much as they are relatively benign; a dressing can bring a little bit of fruit to the meal without replacing a lot of the nutritious content. Increasing variety has blown up the grip oil-vinegar-cream traditionally has had on selection with tahini, poppy seed, flavorful boutique vinegars, or other obvious ingredients back to the bottle. Just look at the ingredients. Sugar is becoming ever more ubiquitous and it can mute strong flavors, for better or worse. The key to a salad is balance--modest indulgence goes a long way to enhance a healthy meal.

Superfoods are Salad Foods

The Center for Disease Control has done an analysis of actual nutritional content per weight to focus attention on “powerhouse” foods, which it scores and publishes as a ranked list. High nutrition content is a crucial thing to consider, as contemporary agriculture has generally reduced nutrient density, making many traditionally nutritious foods less so.

Watercress sets the upper limit at 100 and every food scoring above 60 is a leafy green vegetable. Grapefruit defines the bottom of the CDC’s list with a score of 10. Kale and broccoli might surprise you by falling below 50, but all of the foods included are extremely healthy. Salad staples like spinach, romaine, scallion, cauliflower, carrot, tomato, lemon, strawberry, radish, orange, lime, turnip, and blackberry are all included. With the modest addition of carbohydrates and proteins it is extremely easy to make an extremely healthy salad.

Have the list handy in case your grandmother tells you these ingredients are all just empty calories and water. There are some very outdated notions of what is nutritious floating around.

Leaf Lettuce is Surprisingly Nutritious

One strike against salads is that healthy greens are associated with bitter flavor. Surprise, you throw basic lettuce in to dose your food with nutrients. Red leaf lettuce will be healthier, being more mature, but won’t last as long as green leaf. Romaine and even iceberg lettuce both also make the CDC’s list. So there is no problem finding nutritious greens even if you are looking to keep the flavor mild.

Some Tips for Greater Salad Success

Lettuces don’t keep particularly well--buy lettuce with the intent to eat it within the next three days, tops. If it’s much of a commute to the store you’ll probably want grocery day to start the salad part of your week, then switch to more durable foods in the days leading up to the next shopping. If you do enjoy bitter greens, these tend to keep a little longer. Red leaf lettuce is just riper leaf lettuce, so if you get a mix, eat the red leaf first.

Micro-greens are extremely easy to grow. If you have a window with at least 6 hours of sun it’s easy to place a window planter (inside or outside) and seed it to produce your favorite fresh greens in less than a month. Look online and you’ll find a wide variety of approaches to this, complete with tutorials.

Herbs are greens. Fresh basil, parsley, dill, oregano, cilantro--whatever your tastebuds prefer. Be prepared for more flavor than you’re use to compared to dried spices, especially if your herbs are garden fresh. Note however of the herbs I mentioned, only parsley makes the CDC’s list, but generally the flavor of herbs is so strong you’ll won’t need to replace much volume to get the effect.

With this in mind, there’s never a reason to miss out on a real meal, even when the heat makings cooking a non-option. Next time you reach for the crackers, swivel to the crisper and turn that snack into a nutritious meal.

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter 40

WARNINGS: Profanity

Tagging: @alievans007​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @thorsbathroomchicken​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

Billy Flynn is all smiles when she enters the pub's back room; a broad, pleased grin that stretches from ear to ear and shows off his dazzling white teeth.  In normal circumstances...and in the old days...she would have found him attractive and irresistible; on the shorter end of the scale, but stocky and powerful. Broad shoulders and thick neck, an elaborate tattoo travelling from the left side of his collarbone and reaching his wrist. Auburn hair and sensational green eyes. Had she run into him ten years ago, she would probably would have taken the chance; allowing things to cross that dangerously thin line, even if just for one night.  He's dressed casually, yet still well put together. A pair of well fitting jeans and a white t-shirt that seems to be stretching its limits as it struggles to cover his chest, the fabric tight around his biceps. He'd dressed with purpose; not wanting to look too eager to impress, but certain that he'd still be pleasing to the eye. And he moves to greet her, intending to place a hand on her hip and a kiss to her cheek, but then stopping in his tracks when he realizes they're not alone.  And that confident, pleased grin immediately turns into a scowl.

“I'd think twice about that, mate,” Tyler warns, when he sees the hand that's reaching for his wife.

“Who's this?” Billy address Esme, attempting to laugh off the awkwardness of the situation. “Body guard? Big bastard, ain't he?”

“Actually,” she says. “He's my husband.”

His frown deepens, as does the disappointment and the hostility in his eyes. “Thought you said you were separated.”

“I'm not who you think I am.  My name isn't Meghan Young. And I'm not a reporter from Chicago.  I'm actually from Colorado. And my real name is Esme. Esme Rake. And this is my husband. Tyler.”

That frown turns into a knowing smirk. He recognizes the name. “You're the Australian.”

“Yeah,” Tyler says.  “I guess I am.”

“You're the one that's here to help Michael McMann. You have a hell of a lot of balls showing up here.”

“Balls of steel,” Tyler confirms, flashing a smirk of his own.

“You're a gutsy, fucker. I'll give you that. Thought maybe you'd get the message by now.”

“What message is that?”

“We don't appreciate the likes of you coming here and sniffing around. Trying to cause problems. We have nothing to do with McMann's wife and kids. Guy is just trying to stir up shit and he's using you to do it.  Word travels fast in certain circles. I heard the Buckmans sent some folks to fuck you up,” he gestures towards the various injuries; the black eye and the visible stitches at the top of Tyler's brow.  “What does the other guy look like?”

“The same as the other three. Dead.”

“You realize that fucker's been playing you right? I thought the likes of you would be smarter than that. I've heard the stories, Australian. I've heard all about the damage you can cause. Impressive. A guy like you would actually come in handy around these parts. There's lot of people our organization would like to fuck up. And if you're as good as the stories say you are, you'd fit in nicely around here. And we can pay. A lot more than whoever you're working for now is paying you.”

“Not interested. I'm not a terrorist.”

“Bet you all the hundreds upon hundred of blokes you've fucked up over the years would say differently. I bet they were plenty terrorized by you.  You could have a good life here. The pay would be excellent. Your wife and your kids would have a great life. We'd make sure of it.”

“Like I said,” Tyler remains steadfast.  “I'm not interested. And I'm not here to stick my nose in your business. I'm here because I have something you want. And I'm willing to give it to you. For a price.”

“We don't do that kind of business with your type. You walked into the wrong bar, Australian. You best be walking out of it unless you want me to have some of the boys show you out.”

“I'd like to see your boys try, mate. I've dealt with bigger and better than the likes of you. I don't intimate. I don't get scared. I get even. And if you knew what was good for you, you'd shut the fuck up and listen to what I have to offer.”

“I highly doubt you have anything I'd be interested in. Unless you're offering up your pretty little wife here. I'd be more than willing to take her off your hands. For free.”

A brief smirk causes the corner of Tyler's mouth to twitch,  and he takes a step towards the younger, smaller man.  

“We're not here to cause problems,” Esme attempts to diffuse the situation, physically placing herself between the two men. “We're here to talk.”

“Ditch the husband and we can talk all you want, love. I was expecting you show up alone.”

“That was never going to happen,” Tyler says. “You got played, mate. She walked in here and talked her game and sucked you right in. I bet you didn't see that coming, did you. I bet you looked at her and thought she was just some tiny, weak, vulnerable thing you could take advantage of. She fucked you. And not the good, fun type of fucked either. She was never going to walk in here alone. Over my dead body.”

“That could be arranged,” Billy retorts. “There's a lot of people who wouldn't mind taking their shot. I bet it would pay damn good money to kill the likes of you.  The man. The myth. The legend.”

Tyler gives a derisive snort, then takes another step, once more prompting Esme to take action, planting herself between them once more.

“Okay, both of you need to calm the hell down,” she says. “Check the fucking egos, boys. Now is not the time. We just want to talk, Billy. That's it.”

“About what?”

“We have something....or someone... that you want,”  Tyler informs him.

“We can get you Michael McMann,” Esme says. “But there's some things we want in exchange.”

“What kind of things? We're not in the business of working with outsiders, or granting favours to them.”

“Maybe we could sit down and discuss this,” she suggests. “Because I don't know about the two of you, but there's just a little too much tension in this room and I think everyone needs to take a seat and chill the fuck out.  We need to shit can the hostility and be rational, reasonable adults. Being like this...” she gestures between the two men.  “...is not going to solve anything. Billy, this is not a fight you want to get into. Because if you throw that first punch, you won't get another one in. He will end you. No questions asked. And there won't be a goddamn thing you or your boys can do about it.”

“Is this really the hill you want to die on?”  Tyler asks. “Because if it is, you just say the word, mate,  and I'll make it happen.”

The other man finally relents; nodding slowly as he considers the full impact of the consequences he'd face if he did lash out. And he clears his throat noisily and turns away from them, gesturing towards the table that's already been set for dinner, dishes of cold foots and several different choices of beverages on display.  “Can't let this all go to waste now, can we? Some good food and drink always starts a conversation off on the right foot. Join me. Let's talk. Tell me what it is you have and what you think I want.”

****

No one speaks for several minutes; Billy digging eagerly into the food as his guests sit back, watching and waiting.  The tension still hangs in the air, but not with near the same amount of heaviness and discomfort. Esme has spent the majority of her time using a fork to push food around on her plate; an elaborate salad consisting of various types of lettuce, root vegetables, cranberries and almonds a sweet vinaigrette. She'd felt hungry; needing to get something into her nervous and relatively empty belly. But the second it was on her plate and the sight and the smell hit, any and all appetite and desire went straight out the window. And when Tyler feels her leg begin to shake nervously against his,  he presses a tender, soothing kiss to her temple, then briefly lays a comforting hand on her thigh before getting up to pour her a glass of ice water from the pitcher in the middle of table.

“Are you sure you don't want anything?” Billy address him.  “There's lot to go around. Saoirse is a fantastic cook. One of the best in Belfast. If not the entire country.”

“I'm fine,” Tyler says.

“Something to drink? I've got it all. Anything you could possibly want. You want beer, I got beer. I've got best single malt scotch in all of Ireland. And some pretty good rye and rum.  Pick your poison.”

“I'm fine,” Tyler insists. “I'm not here to break bread with you, mate. This isn't a social visit. So how about we cut the shit and get down to business? I don't want you wasting my time. And I'm sure you don't want me wasting yours.”

“You've been wasting it since you walked in here,” Billy says. “You have a hell of nerve, Australian. Thinking you can just walk in here and make demands. Threaten people.”

“I haven't even gotten started. You want demands? I've got demands. You want threats? Well I have loads of those too. Only difference between you and me is that I follow through on my threats. And call me Australian one more time, and I'll knock your teeth so far down your throat, someone is going to have to go up your ass to remove them.”

Esme noisily clears her throat; sipping at her water as she shifts nervously beside him.

“Strictly business,” Billy smirks. “I've heard that about you. That you don't fuck around. That you like to get in, get your hands dirty, and get the hell out.  And you've fucked a lot of shit up...a lot of people up, if the stories are to be believed. I've heard you have quite the temper. That you're pretty damn savage. Brutal. Merciless.”

“Only if I have to be. And if you keep fucking me around like this, you're going to see just how bad it can get. So about we just get right down to it. No more games. Because I'm not in the mood to be fucked around with.”

“Fair enough,” Billy says. “I like that about you. You don't take anyone's shit.  You call people out on their crap.  I respect that. Like I've already said, you'd be a good addition to the family. We need someone like you to go in and fuck shit up. Someone that can intimidate but won't be intimidated. You sure you're not ready to move on to bigger and better things? Because we'd make it worth your while.”

“I already said I'm not interested. I don't care how good you make things sound or how much you can offer me. You people are the last ones I'd ever get mixed up with. Now do you want McMann or not?”

“We'd already have him if we wanted him.”

“Bullshit. He's gone deep underground, mate.  He knows how to hide. And he knows how to stay hidden. The IRA taught him that. He's out there. And he's got all the IRA's secrets. All the skeletons in the closet. He's just biding his time. He's going to sit back and wait and then when you least expect it, he's going to blow shit up.  You don't have him because you can't find him.  No matter how hard you poke around.”

“And you think you can? Find him?”

“I don't need to find him. I already know where he is. All I have to do is call him and arrange to meet with him. That'll get him out of hiding right quick.”

“You think he'll come running just because you say so?”  Billy smirks. “What makes you think you're so goddamn special?”

“I don't think he'll come running. I know he will.  I just killed four of his men. I just uncovered all his dirty little secrets I know him and his wife are the ones that planned all of this; staging her abduction, taking the kids, trying to pin it all on you and get me here to cause all kinds of shit.  He knows I know all of it. He knows I can blow the whole fucking thing wide open and make things a hell of a lot worse for him.”

“So why don't you?” the other man inquires. “Why don't you make things a hell of a lot worse for him?”

“I'm already in the process of doing that, mate. You're not the only one I'm working with.”

“Let's get this straight...Australian..Rake...we are not working together. We...the IRA...we don't work with outsiders.”

“But you'll want to this time,” Esme speaks up. “You'd be stupid not to.”

Billy smirks. “Love, your really nice to look at, but this is a man's conversation so...”

“Don't fucking talk to her like that,” Tyler's voice is low but menacing. Eyes dark.  Jaw tight.  “Don't ever talk to my wife like that. You don't disrespect her. You don't talk down to her. You don't order her around. Because you try it again, and I will hand you your ass, understand me?”

The other man blinks at the vehemence in his voice, then nods.

“McMann wants me dead,” Tyler says.  “And not just 'cause I figured out his dirty secret and  I fucked up four of his guys.  That just made it worse. He's wanted me dead for a while now.  Someone hired him. To come after me. He was supposed to get the job done in Guatemala three weeks ago but one of my guys found out what he was up to and put a stop to it.”

“Who'd you piss off?” Billy inquires. “Who hired him?”

“Five years ago,  I killed someone that was going to hurt my wife.  This guy's brother found out about and figured he needed payback.”

“You did the right thing though. You were protecting your girl.  Any man would do that. Any real man, anyway.”

“Well the brother doesn't think so. He managed to land a job with the people I work for and dig up all kinds of shit on me. Personal stuff. My wife's name, where we live, my kids' names and where they go to school.”

Billy scowls. “That's one fucking line that should never be crossed. Bringing a woman and kids into things. I've got a kid of my own. A boy.  I'd kill any bastard that so as much looks at him the wrong way. How many do you have? Kids?”

“Four.,” Tyler says. “A little girl, twin boys, and a tenth month old boy. And there's one on the way.  So you can understand even more why I need to protect my family. Why I need to protect my wife.”

“I do.  And congratulations. A baby's always good news that deserves to be celebrated.  So he's after your family? Your kids. McMann?”

“He's concentrating on killing me, but he's sent people after my kids. He sent the Buckmans. Or people associated with them. They've been sending pictures to the house; of my kids, my wife. Letting me know that they'd been watching them and they know where to find them. And they showed up. At my house. So needless to say, I'm a little fucking pissed.”

“Rightfully so,” Billy says. “I'd be ready to kill the bastard too. But the Buckmans? How...?”

“They're working together,” Esme speaks up. “They've been working together from the very beginning. McMann made it seem like the Buckmans were solely responsible. To throw everyone off his scent. But they're both in on it. And they've been using those kids. In the worst possible way. And for that alone they need to be punished. Can you imagine a parent being that sick and twisted? Could you imagine someone doing that to your boy?”

“I'd kill him,” Billy declares. “With no hesitation.  So this was all some big game?” he asks Tyler. “Just to get to you?”

“When he couldn't kill me in Guatemala, he came to Colorado. And he brought this big bullshit story about needing me to find his wife and his kids.  And he's good. Really good. Because I fell for it. He sucked me right in and now look where I am. Stuck in this fucking mess. He thought he'd get me here and I'd cause all kinds of shit with you people and it would be the IRA that would end up killing me and...”

“We thought about,” Billy admits.  “When we found out you were here working with that prick. Then when we heard what you did to his boys the other day, we called it off. Made us think maybe you weren't on his side after all. Now I now you're not. If everything you're telling me is true.”

“I wouldn't bullshit about this, mate. Not when my wife and my kids are involved.  If he'd just come after me, that would have been one thing. But he's sent people to my house. He knows that's what makes me vulnerable; my family. And he knew I'd come here to save a couple kids. That I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't find them and get them the hell out of there. He knows my one, true weakness and he's exploiting the shit out of it.”

“And you'd be willing to just cough him up? Let us have him?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“What you'd be willing to offer me in exchange. I'll give him to you, but I've got some demands. Some things that I want. And I won't hand him over unless you agree to them.”

Billy leans back in his chair, hands clasped behind his neck.  “Well let's hear them, Rake. Let's see if it's worth my time getting involved.”

“I will give you McMann and the Buckmans if you send people to watch over my kids. If you can get a couple or a few guys to keep an eye on things. They're in Nebraska. Safe. With someone I trust. But we both know that's not going to stop these people.  That they're going to track them down and find them, no matter how well they hide. I know how badly the Buckmans have pissed off the IRA.  I know you guys want them just as much as you want McMann. So kill two birds with one stone; protect my kids, and hit the Buckmans where it hurts.”

“And you can get him? McMann? You're sure?”

“No doubt in my mind. He wants me dead. He's tried twice now. Fucked it up both times. What's the saying? Third time's the charm? If I call him and say we need to meet to discuss things, if I tell him I'm about to blow shit up and cause him a world of hurt, he'll show up.”

“And if he brings people with him? You know he won't show up alone. He doesn't have the balls to go toe to toe with you. He knows he'd lose. So he brings a bunch of guys with him and then what? You have to fight your way out of that? You're good, but you're not that good.”

“I wouldn't be going into this alone. I have people that will watch my back and get involved if they need to. But if I can get him there alone, I can handle him myself. I won't kill him. Even though I want to. I'll let you guys do that.”

“And all you want is for us to keep an eye on your kids?”

Tyler nods. “That's all I want. That's all that matters. You keep an eye on my kids while I go and find McMann's.”

Billy sighs, then leans forward to pick up his stein; taking a long sip of his lager.  “You realize I can't make this decision on my own, right? I can't just tell you here and now that we're in on this. There's people above me.  With more power. They're the ones that have to make the decision on whether we want to be part of this or not.”

“I understand that, mate. But you can be the person that goes to them and convinces them that this needs to be done.  Because I know you want to do it. You're a father, just like me. And I know you'd do anything in your power to protect your boy.”

“That I would,” he agrees.

“I've got to get those kids. McMann and his wife are letting this happen. They're behind it. What's going on with those kids is very real and it's fucking twisted and sick and I need to get them the fuck out of there before it gets even worse.  But I can't do that if I need to go home and protect my own.”

“If it was up to me, if I had the final say, I would do it,” Billy admits. “In a heartbeat.  But I'm just one guy. And you need more than just one guy.  I'm going to need some time.  A couple days. Four at the most. To get everyone together that I need to get. Are you kids safe? For the time being?”

“There with someone I trust,” Tyler says.  “And I don't trust many people.”

“I'll contact who I need to contact. But if anything gets worse...if even more shit goes down...and your kids suddenly aren't safe any more, you get a hold of me right away and I'll round up a couple buddies and we'll go there ourselves.  Deal?”

“Deal,” he agrees.

“In the meantime, you keep yourself alive. Maybe even have a little fun at our friend McMann's expense.”

Tyler grins. “I plan to.”

*****

“It wasn't a stereotype,” Esme comments, her voice sleepy. “It really does rain here a lot.”

It's shortly before midnight as they lay in a mess of tangled sheets and sweaty, naked limbs.  The windows open; a stiff breeze fluttered the curtains, the rain strong and steady as it beats against both the cement and the metal of the balcony.  Both are sated and spent; three rounds of intense love making and many orgasms (on her part), his back covered in deep, near bloody fingernail gouges, bite marks on his shoulders and collarbone.  All the frustration and aggression and eventual relief being released in the way they know best.

“Makes my fucking head hurt,” Tyler mumbles as he lays on his left side; his face in her hair, a leg draped over hers, and a hand resting just below her breasts. “All the rain.”

“Well look on the bright side. Pain means something still exists up there between your ears.”

He chuckles, then nips at the nape of her neck.  “Fuck you, Esme.”

“You just did. Three times. What more do you want?”

“I dunno. What's our record? For one night?”

“Five. Five and a half actually. I'd say six but you came before I did the last time and we both know that only counts as half.”

He frowns. “That's some bullshit.”

“I'm sorry, I don't make the rules. It is what it is, Tyler. It does not count as a full number if you get to come first.”

“It counts if I go back and get you off. That makes up for the half point. You can't tell me it doesn't. Why wouldn't it count? It counts.”

“No. It doesn't.  Once you lose that half point, you can't get it back. It doesn't matter how hard you try or if you're successful at it.  It doesn't count. You won't convince me otherwise. So don't argue about this. This is a war you will not win.”

“Who makes these rules? I want to see the instructions for this game. Because we're not playing it the same.”

“Everyone knows that's the rule. Everyone. Just because you're asleep at the wheel...”

“It makes no fucking sense that it doesn't count if I go back and finish things off. Explain to me how it doesn't count. Because it counts.”

“There's a time frame you have to finish things in.”

“Says who?”

“The people who make the rules. For fuck sakes Tyler, get your shit together.”

“But who makes the rules? Who are these people?”

“Women whose husbands have the goddamn bloody nerve to come first, that's who.”

He groans in exasperation. “That's only happened twice in five and a half years and you know it.”

“It doesn't matter. It still happened so you still have to follow the rules.”

“Listen, I went back and got the job done. So it fucking counts and that's the end of it. That makes it six.”

“Ughhh...” she moans dramatically. “...you aren't playing by the rules, Tyler James.”

“Fuck your rules,” he chuckles, and she likes the way the noise rumbles deep within his chest, reverberating against her back. “I don't want to play this game anymore.”

“Well I'm sorry if it upsets your delicate sensibilities but that is the rules. It does not count as a full point unless you go back and finish things off in a certain time frame.”

“What's the time frame?””

“Forty five seconds to a minute. You took one minute and ten seconds. So sorry. It does not count.”

“Now you're just changing the rules to suit what you want. You're not playing fair. At all.”

“Do you want to phone a friend? Like on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? Because your friends are going to say the same thing because they also have to play by the rules.”

“I'll take 'who is being an unreasonable bitch for two hundred, Alex'.”

“That's Jeopardy. Oh my God. How did I ever marry you? Like what was I thinking? You can't follow the rules, you can't keep your pop culture references correct and in order, you leave dirty socks and underwear in front of the hamper instead of putting them in it, you leave the toilet seat up in the middle of the night...”

“You married me for other reasons.”

“Yeah? Like what? Give me three.”

“I'm tall and I can reach the stuff on the high shelves and you don't need to get a step stool.”

“Okay, I'll agree to that one.”

“I don't mind killing the spiders and all the bugs you say are gross.”

“Hmmm...yeah...you can have that.”

“I have a big dick and I know how to use it.”

She sighs dreamily. “Yes. Yes you do. On both counts.  Fine. You win. I'll give you that extra half point. It's six now.”

He grins and presses a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you.”

“Don't ever say I never do anything nice for you. Because if it gets out that I gave you that half point, I will lose my bitchy wife card and I don't want to give it up.”

“You get to keep your bitchy wife card,” he assures her. “I'll keep my annoying, pain the ass husband card.”

“You may be an annoying pain in the ass, but you're my annoying pain in the ass,” she declares, and looks over her shoulder at him, smiling as he pecks her lips.  “No one elses annoying, pain in the ass. Mine.”

“I'm all yours, babe. All yours.”

“Good,” she says with a content sigh, and then places her hand over his, entwining their fingers together.  And she feels the soft tickle of his lashes against the back of her neck as he closes his eyes. “Tyler?”

“Yeah?”

“Please tell me that you're not going alone to meet McMann tomorrow.”

“I already told you, Mark and his guys will be there.”

“Like there, there as in right there, or...”

“Less than a hundred yards away. I'll be wearing a wire; they'll be able to hear everything that's going on. One of them will be acting as a sniper, just in case.”

“I'd feel better if I went with you.”

“What are you going to do that they can't do? They aren't rookies. They know what they're doing. And I'd feel better if you weren't with me.”

“Well that's...rude.”

“I don't mean it like that. If something happens, I don't want you being there. I don't want anything happening to you. Or little bean...” he moves their joined hands down to her stomach. “...I don't want to lose either of you.”

“And I don't want to lose you.  We just found out about the baby. I kind of want him or her to actually meet you.”

“Her,” he says. “It's a her.”

“Yeah? How do you know that?”

“I had a dream the other night. That we had another baby. That it was a girl.”

“Are you just saying that because you know I'm sick of all the testosterone in the house, or...”

“Nope. It's true.  I had a dream that we were in Australia. And we took the kids to the ocean for the first time. And there was another baby. A girl.”

“What did she look like?”

“You. She had your hair and your eyes. And she was tiny. Way smaller than all the rest have been.”

“Hmm...” she runs her thumb along the top of his hand.  “...how did that make you feel?”

“How did what make me feel?”

“Having a girl. Having another daughter.”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “I was fine with it. Why wouldn't I be? It's a baby. That we made together. I don't care if it's a boy or girl.”

“After Millie, you wanted a son,” she points out.

“Well...yeah....every guy wants a son. At least one.  I ended up with three. So I'm fine with a girl. You know it doesn't matter to me. As long and you and the baby are okay, that's all I care about. And that  is exactly why I don't want you coming with me tomorrow. Just in case things do go to shit.  That way neither of you can get hurt.”

“I don't exactly want you getting hurt either.”

“Baby...” he lifts his head from his pillow, then presses his lips against her temple before resting his cheek against hers. “..I'm going to be fine.”

“I thought you were going to be fine three days ago, but...”

“That's different. We didn't know what McMann was up to yet. Now we know and now I have people watching my back. Nothing bad is going to happen to me. I promise.”

“You know how many times in the past five and a half years you've told me nothing bad is going to happen to you and something bad has happened to you?” she challenges.

“So maybe I should use reverse psychologically from now on? Say that something bad is going to happen and then the opposite happens?”

“That's not how this works. That's not how any of this works. But look at you go! Using big words like reverse psychology.”

“You know what, you can be a real bitch sometimes,” he teases, and presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“But you love me.”

“Yes,” he says. “Yes I do.”

She smiles and turns towards him, his hand settling on the small of her back, lips against her forehead.  “I love you, Tyler. So much it hurt sometimes.”

“I don't want it to hurt.”

“It's a good hurt, though. It's not the kind of hurt that comes with a broken heart or anything like that. It's a hurt that reminds me that I'm still alive. That you're still alive.  That we've been through so much together.  Yet we're still here. Still working on things. Every day. We don't give up on it. Or each other.”

“I already told you. I'm in this for the long haul. You can't get rid of me that easy.”

“I don't want to get rid of you,” she says. “Ever.”

“Good,” he grins, and drops a kiss on her head before pulling her even tighter against her. “'Cause I think I'll keep you around.”

“Are you still planning on trading me in for two thirty olds when you turn sixty?”

“No. I've changed it to three twenty year olds,” he teases. “Hey, if you can have your rules, I can have mine.”

“I don't like your rules. Fuck you and your rules.”

“Fuck me, huh? Is that an offer?”

“I don't know. How lucky are you feeling?”

He grins. “I'm feeling like I could beat the number six.”

[mar-bluu]

Hi hi "I'm telling you I'm haunted"? For pairing or persons of your choice? :)

Words: 867 Warnings: swearing

“I’m telling you I’m haunted!” Mush threw his hands up as Elmer sighed at his exclamation.

 “I just wanted to know where the bread was.” Elmer put the plate down on the bench-top as Blink opened the pantry and fished out the bread, handing it to Elmer. “Look! There it is again!” Blink rolled his eyes. 

“He’s been like this all day. I’ve tried everything.” Elmer clicked his tongue as he buttered the slice of bread in front of him. “So what did you do again?”

 “I to-”

“The ghost,” Mush interrupted, quickly cutting Blink off. “stole the last of my salted caramel cheesecake, had like two bites, and then threw the rest out!” Mush folded his arms across his chest in annoyance. “It was gross and like three days out of date! You weren’t here anyway, and even if you were, there is no way in hell I’d let you give yourself food poisoning by eating off cheesecake.” Blink strode from the kitchen and into the lounge room towards Mush. “Look, I said I was sorry,” He waved his hands in front of Mush’s face. “Stop pretending I’m a ghost.” Mush just stared over his shoulder at Elmer, who was slicing cheese. “And I had been looking forward to that cheesecake all day, too. Do you see how rude this ghost is?”

“mm-hmm.” Elmer wrapped up the remaining cheese placing back in the fridge. Mush cocked his head to the side. “Why do I feel like you aren’t paying attention to me?” Blink threw his hands up in exasperation, falling backward onto the couch. “Welcome to my world.” He looked over to Mush. “If you talk to me, I’ll buy you all the cheesecake you can eat.” Mush paused briefly, before scrunching up his face and turning away. “I can’t hear ghosts.” He said definitively. “Now, what do you think of this catastrophe, Elmer?” Elmer shrugged and grabbed the ham. 

 “I dunno, he was hungry, there was cheesecake… Look, I don’t really care.”

 “Don’t care!?” Mush clutched at his heart dramatically. “It’s not even the fact that he had some, but he threw it out!?”

 “It was out of date!” 

 “Anyone know if we have any more lettuce?” Elmer spoke, searching through the fridge, as Mush huffed. “Elmer!” He whined. “Take my haunting seriously!”

 “I don’t believe in ghosts, what do you want me to do?” Elmer rolled his eyes as he picked at the lettuce. “I just want to eat my lunch in peace.”

 “I want suggestions. Should I call the Ghostbusters?” Blink threw a cushion at Mush’s head. 

 “I’m not a ghost, but if I was, you call the Ghostbusters and I’ll throw out every single piece of cheesecake you even look at!” Mush’s jaw dropped, but he continued to ignore his boyfriend.

 “Elmer, the ghost just threatened me!” Elmer placed the other slice of bread onto his sandwich and closed his eyes. “Look,” He sighed for the millionth time. “I’m hungry. I came in here to make a sandwich, not hear you two whinge.” He picked up his plate and walked around the bench. “So when you two are done being idiots and stop acting like a couple of six-year-olds, come talk to me.” And with that, he walked past the lounge room and out into the hallway. Mush stared after him, “Yeah? Well, fuck you and your sandwich!” he called out down the hall. Mush sat back in his chair with a ‘humph!’ throwing his hands out in annoyance. He sat there for a few minutes, stewing in his irritation until someone grabbed his hand. He looked up to see Blink, standing over him, intertwining his fingers with Mush’s. Mush pulled his hand away. “I’m still mad.” He muttered half-heartedly. “And ghosts can’t touch people.” Blink sighed and paused for a few seconds, before looking back up at his boyfriend.

“Could a ghost do this?” he grabbed Mush’s hand again and hauled him to his feet, pulling Mush into his chest. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Mush’s cheek. Then another to his forehead, then to his other cheek, and then to his jawbone. Blink continued peppering Mush’s face with kisses, as Mush fought in vain to keep a smile from carving itself across his face. Then, with one final kiss pressed to the corner of his eye, Mush burst into a fit of giggles. “Okay, okay, I get it!” he chuckled. Blink leaned back, smiling, as Mush buried his face in Blink’s chest. “Does this mean I’m forgiven for throwing out your cheesecake?” Mush laughed.

 “Yeah,” he said, voice muffled by Blink’s body. “I’m un-ghostifying you.”

 “Thanks.” Blink placed another soft kiss on the top of Mush’s head.

 “I’m sorry for ghostifying you in the first place.” Mush said. Blink shrugged.

 “I’m sorry for binning your cheesecake.”

 “’s alright.” Mush replied. “It was kind of gross.” Blink chuckled and pulled his boyfriend toward him, pressing his lips to Mush’s, sharing a long kiss. After a few seconds, the two broke apart, resting their foreheads against each other's breathlessly. They stood there in silence, enjoying each other’s company until Blink spoke up. “Hey Mush?”

 “Hmm?”

 “Please never ghostify me again.” 

 --

Hope this was okay! :3

[kinkstuffig]

Try Guys Sandwich

Keith had nearly finished his assignment for the video was to eat every item from taco bell. Obviously, he didn't eat all of each item, only a bite. Even so, his stomach was bloated and churning. He reeked of sweat, sauce, and beans. When he had signed up to work for Buzzfeed, this was not what he had expected.

At first, Keith had tried to hold in the gaseous emissions. This had resulted in him overheating and getting cramps. When the others realized this was the cause of his discomfort, Zach and Ned assured him that they were good enough friends and mature enough to sit with him in a room while he ate an immense amount of beans. After that, it was smooth sailing with Eugene filming, Zach encouraging Keith, and NEd being on cleanup duty.

Keith swallowed his last bite and burped. “I’m so glad this is over. I feel like I’m going to explode.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat that much,” Zach remarked, gazing at Keith with slight astonishment. 

“Oh, I have.” Keith thought back to those lonely nights in highschool and college but quickly recovered.

“What are we going to do with all this leftover food?” Zach asked, as Ned began wiping down the table. 

“Each of us could take some,” Ned suggested. Zach was ok with this idea until he realized that some of the ingredients would interfere with his medication. Ned remembered that Mexican food made his wife nauseous. Keith was too full to think coherently. They all turned to Eugene.

Throughout the filming, he had been unusually quiet, only commenting when necessary. “I… uh… I’m going vegan for a video. Sorry.” He walked quickly out of the room.

“Did anyone else think that was weird?” Zach asked. Keith moaned and all attention returned to him.

“This was such a bad idea,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. 

“Fuck.” Ned turned to Zach. “I think we maxed him out.” 

Zach bit his lip, worried. “He has to go back to his desk till the end of the work day.” Ned left the room to find Keith some sweatpants.

Zach knew how to help a bit. He’d been with Keith on some of his milder bad nights. Gently he unzipped Keith’s jeans and pulled them off, which was a struggle. Keith’s belly, given more freedom, expanded, until it looked like Keith had swallowed a pumpkin. Pulling the fabric of Keith’s T-shirt up over the globe of his belly. Zach brushed his finger against the taut skin. Keith moaned again, from pain or pleasure he wasn’t sure. Lightly, Zach ran his hands over the bulging belly, massaging out cramps as much as he could. Eventually, his fingers reached the edge of Keith’s boxers. They slid under the waistband, pressing into hairy flesh. 

The door opened and Ned returned with the sweatpants. Zach flushed and stood up quickly but ned hadn’t seen anything. They helped Keith into the sweatpants and then took him to a filming room that was being unused. They laid him down on the couch, hoping his stomach wouldn’t take too long to settle. As they were leaving, Keith winked at Zach, being his true food-drunk self. 

Eugene paced back and forth in the men’s room. Do not throw up, do not throw up, do not throw up. Suddenly, he dove for a toilet, spewing pink tinged  vomit into the white bowl. Arms wrapped around his middle, he hoped nobody would see him. His stomach ached and his throat burned. Fairly sure he was finished, he flushed the toilet and pulled himself to his feet. Rinsing his mouth at the sink, he splashed water on his face. He wasn’t dizzy at all. His swaying reflection laughed at him.

Eugene stepped out of the bathroom and returned to where they had been filming to retrieve the camera. Ned looked up from the tupperware he was packing the leftovers into. “Dude, are you feeling alright? You look really pale.”

“Mmm.” Eugene rubbed his face and reached for the camera before he realized this required and answer. “Totally. Yeah, I’m fine.” Ned remained skeptical but Eugene had already left. 

The Try Guys eventually all returned to their desks. Ned looked fondly at the picture of his wife that he had as his phone’s background. Keith rubbed his stomach, trying to pay attention to the files he was working on and less to the nausea building inside him. Zach watched Keith, while trying to look like he wasn't watching Keith. Eugene took some aspirin. His head was pounding and staring at a screen while he edited footage wasn’t doing him any favors either. 

3 Days Later

Keith, Ned, and Zach had definitely noticed something. Eugene wasn’t known for pouring out his feelings or being sweet and fluffy, but at least he was an extrovert at least 30% of the time. He’d been acting weird lately. He barely spoke to anyone in the office and there were bags under his eyes. He hadn’t eaten lunch with them for at least a week. Even in videos there was a difference, though less detectable.

It was Saturday and the boys were going out for drinks. Eugene arrived at the designated meeting place (Ned’s house) 20 minutes late with messy hair and a few keyboard imprints on his cheek. This was a new low.

Ned sat everyone down around his table. “Eugene, what is going on?” 

Eugene stared blankly for a second. “What?” 

“There’s obviously something wrong, either with you or in your life. We’re your friends. You can tell us anything. Please let us help.” “Honestly, I have no idea what all of you are worried about. I was up late and i fell asleep at my computer. Sorry for not being my usual punctual self. I promise I’m fine.”

Everyone at the table knew, this was bullshit but they also knew that if Eugene didn’t want to tell them, he wasn’t going to tell them.

In a strangely quiet mood,  they all climbed into a taxi that was taking them to a club. Zach told a funny story to get everyone back in the mood and then everything was back to normal. Dancing ensued as soon as they arrived.

Eugene was panicking. He had to act normal. They knew something was up. This was too embarrassing to tell anyone, even his closest friends. The room was really hot. There were too many people. He needed to get outside. Eugene stumbled toward the place where he thought the door was but the room began to spin. Then it went dark

“Oof.” Zach got the breath knocked out of him as Eugene ungracefully collapsed onto him. Zach had followed Eugene, seeing how unsteady he looked. Catching him unconscious was not what he had planned. “Ummm, a little help?” he called. While a strong and wiry man, Zach could not lift Eugene. Keith and Ned found him, more from the path the dancers left around him, than his calling. 

“So there’s definitely something wrong with Eugene,” Zach said, handing the unconscious man to Ned, who picked Eugene up bridal style. The barman showed them to a back room where they draped eugene on some furniture. Slowly his eyes fluttered open. 

“Dude, what the fuck?!!!” Ned was angry. Eugene looked around at the faces above him. They wouldn’t understand. He turned away and closed his eyes again, hoping they would leave. This did not improve Ned’s temper so Zach took him out to try and calm him down. Keith stayed. He put a hand on Eugene’s shoulder. 

“Please,” he whispered. “We just want to help. We really do care.”

Eugene sighed. “I know.” He felt something hot and wet on his cheeks. “I’m just afraid that you will all look at me differently if i tell you.” that was more emotion that he’d shown to anyone in a very long time. Keith struggled to hold back his own tears. He couldn’t understand why someone wouldn’t want the support of their friends in whatever they were going through.

“Can you at least tell me why you think you passed out? We need to make sure you don’t need medical attention.”

Professionalism. This was something that Eugene could do. “It might have something to do with me only eating a toaster waffle today.”

“For breakfast?”

“At all.” 

Keith was incredulous. “How are you so calm about that?”

“Should I not be? It’s become sort of a routine.” 

Keith turned his back and muttered under his breath, trying to stay calm. “I’m going to bring you some sandwiches and you are going to eat them. Do you understand?” Eugene nodded. He was too tired to argue. He would have much rather stayed asleep with his face on the keyboard than gone out anyway. Keith got some sandwiches from the bartender and explained the situation to Ned and Zach. It took awhile to actually get the sandwiches into the room because Keith had to help Zach restrain Ned, who was furious, and keep him from chewing out Eugene.

Eugene took the plate of sandwiches complacently, but didn’t take a bit out of one of them. Instead, he took the top off the top of one, ate the lettuce and tomato, before laying the rest aside. There were 3 sandwiches of average size. Eugene ate all the vegetables and then put the plate down, preparing to leave. Keith stopped him. “You didn’t finish.”

“Vegan, remember?”

“Bread is vegan. Besides, there are eggs in toaster waffles. Now sit down.”

Obediently, Eugene sat, picking at the bread and turkey. He would pinch off a piece, chew it slowly, swallow, wait what seemed like an extremely long time, and repeat. He kept asking, “Can I go now?” 

Keith’s only response was “Finish”. He looked tired and drained, unable to bear seeing his friend like this.the others were let into the room but told to stay quiet. Finally, Eugene finished. He felt massively full and he was sure every person on the other side of the door should be able to see just how round his belly was. He burped uncomfortably. The 3 men stared at him.

“Well, now that I am finished, can i go?” No one tried to stop him so he stood up and left. Ned, Zach, and Keith looked at eachother. What were they going to do with him? They went back out and tried to enjoy themselves, all the while one always staying within catching distance. 

Eugene seemed like he was alright, dancing and flirting like his usual self. He also drank quite a lot. As the night dragged on, his dancing got slower and less vibrant until he stopped, with his arms wrapped around his middle and his head bent down. 

Zach was, again, the closest. “Are you ok?” He asked over the blaring of music.

“I don’t feel very good.” One of Eugene’s hands moved from his middle to be over his mouth. 

“Fuck.” Zach grabbed Eugene. They made it to the men’s room just in time, Zach waiting outside, sure that Eugene would want some privacy. Even so, he could hear the wretching from outside. 

“All done?” Zach asked. Eugene made a non-committal sick person noise so Zach came back in. He found Eugene sitting on the dirty floor with tears streaming down his cheeks once again. Zach knew lt beside him, rubbing his back. 

“I’m sorry,” Eugene whimpered. “I tried so hard.”

“It’s ok,” Zach said, trying to be comforting but also very confused.

“I didn’t mean to make you all so upset. But i couldn’t keep it in. i’m sorry. It’s better this way.”

Zach wasn’t sure how to respond. “This way?”

“Out. it feels better out. Nothing feels right in me.”

Zach put his hand on Eugene’s middle, trying to see if he could ease any paint his friend might be experiencing. Immediately, Eugene tensed his whole body, sucking in his stomach as far as it would go. Then Zach understood. Wrapping his arms around Eugene, he hugged the taller man, throwing him off guard. “Eugene, you’re perfect. All of us love you just the way you are. You don’t have to change or try to look different, even if you think your public will like you more if you do.” He squeezed harder. “It’s not safe. We worry about you.” Zach kissed the back of Eugenes neck. Eugene finally leaned back into Zach’s arms, letting go the flood of tears he’d been repressing. Zach left early with Eugene, texting his friends the important details.

[gosecretscribbles]

Stanuary 2020 Week 2: Secrets

Summary:  To shake off Crampelter, Stan takes Ford to a secret tunnel - which leads to Ford's discovery of Stanley's secret love for romance novels.

TW: Bullying

@stanuary

“He’s catching up!” Ford panted.

“So run faster!”

“He’s on a bike and I have skinny noodle legs!”

“Fair point!”

They raced down the sidewalk, but Ford was tiring fast and Stan could hear Crampelter’s bike screech around the corner behind them.  To the right was a grassy park – a nice wide open space with nowhere to hide – and to the left was Viewpoint Point, a small cliff that jutted out of the sand with a rotted pier crumbling from its tip.  The base was eroded into huge piles of rocks and boulders.  Stan grabbed Ford’s arm and sprinted toward it, kicking up sand in his wake.

“Where are we going?” Ford gasped.

“Where a bike can’t follow us!”

“HEY PINES FREAKS!”

Stan glanced over his shoulder.  Crampelter had stopped his bike and had a BB gun leveled at their backs, a couple of actual rockets attached to the front.

“My rockets!” Ford cried.

“You can have ‘em back!” Crampelter shouted, and he fired.  

He wasn’t aiming to hit them, but it exploded in the sand right behind them and the shockwave knocked them flat.  

“The heck did you load those with?” Stan gasped.

“He’s reloading, he’s reloading!”

Stan cursed, made a split-second decision, then grabbed Ford’s arm and took off toward the cliff.  He heard a shrill whistle and dove right just in time to avoid another rocket.  Then, still gripping Ford’s arm tightly, he started scrambling over the rocks at the base of the cliff.

“Stan!  We need to hide!” Ford wheezed.

Stan didn’t answer, just pulled Ford behind him and slowly backed up.  They were balanced rather precariously over two very large boulders, and their backs were pressed to the wall of the cliff.  Crampelter grinned, reloaded, and fired.  The second the rocket sent up a cover of sand, Stan shoved Ford into a gap between the rocks and dove in after him.  

He landed with a face in his elbow and a knee in his gut.  He grunted and rolled off his brother, both of them breathing hard.  After a minute Stan’s eyes adjusted to the light from the crevice above them.  They were in a small pocket in the cliff, about the size of the Pawn Shop, and there was an opening a few feet away that led down a dark tunnel.  Stan gave his brother a quick glance, but he was holding himself okay and it didn’t look like he’d sprained anything from the fall.

“You okay?” Stan asked.

“I – yeah, yeah.  Where are we?”

“Cave.”

“I can see that,” Ford said, slightly annoyed.  “I meant where –”

“Hey!” Crampelter called overhead.  Immediately Ford fell back behind Stan.  “You stupid losers, did you run away like a couple of cowards?”

Yeah, cuz we don’t wanna get blown up from bad aim, Stan thought sourly.  He motioned for Ford to head for the tunnel.  Ford grimaced but got up quietly and followed, hooking one hand around Stan’s arm and reaching out with the other to feel for the wall.  Stan did the same, leading them slowly forward until Crampelter’s voice faded and they were lost in inky blackness.

“He’s gonna block the entrance, isn’t he,” Ford sighed.

“Nah.  It’s really well hidden.  You didn’t even notice when you were standing right over it.”

“I had a rocket pointed at my face,” he said drily.  “Also, how did you know this was here?”

“Uh…I mean I had to hide somewhere when Pops thought I stole his vinyl collection, right?”

“But how did you – hey!”

“It’s okay!” Stan said quickly.  The tunnel of the wall had suddenly veered away from them, and Stan quickly turned left so they could keep following it.  They’d reached the big cavern, he’d have to be careful where he led Ford from here.  “There. Find the wall?  It’s just a pocket in the cliff.  The tunnel keeps going in about ten feet, Nothing to see here.”

“Ugh.  Hang on, let me get my flashlight.”

“What?  No, wait –”

Too late.  Ford clicked it on.  His jaw dropped and Stan let out a groan.  

This cavern was about the same size as the first, but it held a small cooler, a small electric lantern and stacks and stacks of books.  There were so many it looked like a miniature city.  

Ford looked around, bewildered.  “Where did all these books come from?”

“No idea!” Stan said brightly.  “Welp, guess the place is haunted by a librarian, we better go before we run out of oxygen or it traps us here for all eternity!”

But Ford was already picking up a book.  “This is Ma’s book,” he said slowly.  “She tossed it ages ago.  And that one, and that one – Stan, did you bring all of these down here?”

He cringed.  “N-no! Maybe!  Because they were so horrible I couldn’t let them see the light of day again!”

“There are toffee crumbs in this one on page 57,” Ford said.  “Stan, are you reading romance novels?”

“Don’t tell Pa,” he begged.

“Did you read all of these?!”

“I read them when Ma throws them out.  Don’t tell her either,” Stan said.  “Don’t tell anyone, okay?  They’re just – research!  For getting good at flirting and stuff!  I mean, a mug like mine, I’m gonna have honeys dripping off each arm.  Gotta be prepared, right?  Am I right?”

Ford stared at him.  

Sweat broke over Stan’s face.  “What? What?  Say something already!”

“Romances.”

“Flirt research!”

“With pink covers.”

“They have cowboys!”

“Dozens of them.”

“I –”

“I can’t believe this!” Ford’s face split into a huge grin.  “You’ve secretly been a bookworm too?  This whole time!?”

“Hey, easy with the insults!” Stan protested.

Ford just laughed and punched him in the arm.  “Stan, this is fantastic!  We can hide all our stuff down here instead of in the ship where Crampelter can get it.  We can come down here to read whenever we want!”

“You’re not…grossed out?”

“Are you kidding!?”  Ford swung an arm around Stan’s neck and yanked him down for a noogie.  He had the upper body strength of sea lettuce, but Stan ducked down obligingly and laughed when Ford messed up his hair.  “My brother the bookworm!” Ford shouted happily.  “Bookworm Buddies for life!”

“Get off already,” Stan grumbled, beat red and grinning.  “You’re just obsessed with anything book-shaped, aren’t you. These are actual lady romance novels, you know.”

“Yeah, I know!  How many have you read?  Which ones are your favorites?  You got any supernatural ones?  Oh!  There’s some romance in Dracula, have you read that yet?  Although it’s kind of a slow start.  Oh wait, have you read –”

“Dude, Dracula’s a book?”

“I HAVE SO MUCH TO SHOW YOU!”

Ford grabbed Stan’s hand and started pulling him towards the entrance, but Stan blanched and dug in his heels.

“Whoa, hang on a second!”

“What?  Don’t worry, the librarian banned you but we can still use my library card!  I’ll even pay the fines if you ruin the books again!”

“That was Pete the Seagull’s fault,” Stan said sharply.  “Not my fault he thought the picture of bread on the cover was real.”

“Who cares?  C’mon! You said the tunnel keeps going, right? Let’s go to the library right now!”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Stan yanked his hand away.  “Seriously, Ford, no.”

“Why not?”

“Because Crampelter’s out their with your rockets – nice job keeping track of those, by the way – and I don’t want him or anyone else to catch me carrying books around.  Your books, sure, but not these books.  Imagine what Pops would say.”

Ford winced.  

“Exactly.”

“Well you could have told me,” Ford said indignantly.  “I mean you had a whole secret cave down here and you never told me about it!  How did you even find it in the first place?”

“It’s connected to that chamber where we found the Stan O’ War.  And the only reason I didn’t tell you is because you got really obvious tells.”

“I do not!”

“Dude, your eye is twitching right now.”

“Oh…”

Stan shifted awkwardly.  “It’s fine.  I just…I don’t want anyone else to know I like weird gooey romance stuff.”

Ford cracked a grin.  “Stan, you’re talking to the resident expert on weird.”

“You’re really not grossed out?”

“I’m grossed out that some of these books smell like bad pizza cheese, but that’s about it.  Oh, and you owe me for keeping the cave a secret.”

“I just saved your skinny butt from Crampelter!”

“And!” Ford said, striding towards the exit tunnel.  “We still need to head to the library.  I check out stuff like Dracula all the time, so no one will find it odd, and it has romance and adventure and even a ship, plus we can come back here and read it, assuming no one spots us going in through the main chamber –”

“See if I save you from your own science ever again,” Stan muttered, but he was grinning as he followed his brother down the tunnel.  

AN: You can't look me in the eye after watching "The Inconveniencing" and tell me Stan wouldn't have liked a good romance novel. Especially ones with strong female protagonists and dancing.

For the record, literally anyone can like romance - any kind of romance. Stan's desire to keep it a secret stems from mainstream toxic masculinity and Filbrick, whose solution to bullying is to push Stan to beat up the bully in boxing, and is a pretty good example of teaching toxic masculinity.

Ford doesn't care about that, and neither should you or anyone else. *Yeets toxic gender conformity straight out the window*

[vityacristo]

Grilled Cheese

Para: Grilled Cheese

Who: Vitya Cristo & Monty Prescott @montyprescottjoy

When: June 27th, 2020

Where: Vitya’s apartment

What: Vitya, mid-manic episode, goes grocery shopping for food beyond candy. Monty is waiting, unannounced, in his dorm room. They tip-toe through conversation, yet again, unable to break down each other’s walls. That does not mean boundaries aren’t broken, though...

Triggers: Suicide, Drug use, Abuse, Sexually Explicit

VITYA

Vitya was cursing to himself as he walked to his dorm room. Something processed him that morning, something gripped his gut and it would not go away; Go buy groceries. Vitya never bothered, just eating junk food. he figured, if he wasn't going to live long, why bother taking care of himself? He had no idea how to cook, anyway, so this could be a complete failure. the only guide he had was the 'diet recommendations' his doctor had, buying everything he could find on that list. His wallet was looking thin now. He opened his dorm door, noticing a familiar pair of shoes by it; Monty had let himself in. Vitya didn't mind. It felt... nice coming back to his dorm, knowing someone was there waiting for him. Even if it was Monty, of all people. Now that he thought about it, the voice in his head, telling him to do this, was less his own just telling him to get groceries, but more Monty's voice. 'Eat some real food, asshole' was more appropriate. Knowing the other man was likely in his bedroom, he passed by the kitchen and opened his bedroom door. Unceremoniously, he dropped one of the bags on the bed, the contents of apples, lettuce, and a loaf of bread spilling out.

"Get up. You're teaching me how to cook."

MONTY

Monty had been waiting for Vitya, he was rather surprised when he'd gotten no answer at the door and part of him was worried by that. as far as Monty knew Vitya didn't spend the night with clients so it was concerning to not get an answer this early in the day. It was barely lunchtime. Monty often showed up here without any warning these days and this was the first time there had been non answer. Monty pulled a small tool from his wallet and jimmied the lock, keeping his eyes peeled for anyone who might see him breaking in but luckily the dorms were quiet because it wasn't quite official move in day yet so only returning students were even on campus.

Monty looked around the dorm as he entered quietly, toeing off his shoes so he wouldn't make much noise just incase Vitya was still asleep. Monty found the apartment empty which made his stomach fall in disappointment. He huffed but decided to wait, after all it wasn't like he had anything better to do than hang around with the younger man for the day. Not that he would admit he wanted to spend the day here, just that he had nothing else going on with no classes to keep him out of trouble at the moment when he wasn't working on his research project.

Monty took a peek in the refrigerator and couldn't even find a beer. He grumbled under his breath about Vitya having finished off the last case he'd left here and flopped down on the bed. He let his mind wander as he laid there and was half asleep, face buried in Vitya's pillow when he was shocked from his sleep by the sound of Vitya's footsteps and a bag of groceries hitting his leg.

"The fuck asshole?" He groused, voice thick with sleep and hair sticking up in every direction. "Where the fuck ya been man? What with the bag attack?" He huffed, brow raised suspiciously at the food that had rolled out of the bag.

VITYA

Vitya couldn't help but laugh to the state of Monty. His disheveled hair, the sleepy tone of voice, the huffing and puffing. "I went shopping. I actually paid for something, for once." He stepped to the edge of the bed, leaning over and petting his hair back, kissing his forehead. "Come on, you're going to show me how to make something." Vitya said, standing back up and grabbing the tossed bag and walking outside the bedroom.

"I was able to grab you a bottle, too. I had to smuggle it out, since you Americans have moronic age gates for that, but I still got it," Vitya said, placing the bags on the table and starting to unpack. An array of healthy foods, fruits, grains, meat, as well as a few bags of candy, more due to Vitya's love of sweets and impulse to buy them. "I have no idea what I am doing with all of this, so I hope you at least know something. I'd rather learn from someone in person than a Youtube video," Vitya admitted, reaching into his left boot and pulling out the bottle of bourbon he stole. He set it to the side, for Monty to go at whenever he wanted.

MONTY

Monty hummed softly in appreciation of the gentle forehead kiss that helped bring him back to the land of the living and batted Vitya’s hand away playfully. “So you’re telling me ya didn’t just raid a vending machine damn kid what is this a special occasion?” Monty laughed teasingly. He’d never see this much food in Vitya’s apartment and he couldn’t help but wonder if the younger man was finally taking his own illness seriously by actually trying to live a healthy lifestyle.

“I see! The truth is finally out. The prince of poison himself doesn’t know how to cook. that’s why he lives on a diet of candy!” Monty actually laughed out loud, messing with Vitya and using his childhood nickname against him. “I ain’t exactly master chef ya know. I don’t just eat take out around you, but Nikko did teach me some shit an’ I do have my own famous grilled cheese I can show ya real east an it looks like ya got all the stuff for it. I see ya couldn’t resist ya sweet shit though.” Monty teased as he spied the candy while collecting the ingredients for a good grilled cheese and starting to throw the rest slightly haphazardly into the refrigerator out of habit, not thinking (or more like not allowing himself to think) how helpful he was being by doing it without being asked or forced. “Good call on the bourbon.” Monty moaned eying the label. “Ya got any ice goin in the freezer or do I gotta wait to have a glass of this?”

VITYA

Vitya laughed to himself, shrugging at Monty's question. "Not sure... You're here fairly often, and we always eat, figured I can have something here," Vitya noted, still pulling out various items. He looked at a rather girthy cucumber with a twinkle in his eye. "Thought of you," he joked, setting it on the counter.

Vitya could not control his impulsive laughter, this one making his eyes crinkle, his cheeks turn pink. "Shut up, I was a pampered prick. I never lived somewhere without a personal cook until moving America- Imagine my horror!" he said with both sarcasm as well as self-reflective truth. Feeding himself was hard at first, and that challenge made his diet of candy an easy choice. Nevermind what it did to his emotional state, eating junk all the time. It wasn't the cause of it but it certainly didn't help.

"Well, I am not expecting high cuisine here. You have just... lived more than I have, and if anyone is going to teach me how to be better at this 'feeding yourself' thing, it would be you." There were little butterflies in his stomach as that sentence came out. It was tart to say, sour but sweet. Monty had such a riviting life, of mob hits and gun fights and a brother he would die to protect. To Vitya, it was a far more exciting life than his. His eyes wandered to where Monty was helping him put the groceries away, tossing them inside. Hey, as long as they were edible, he didn't care where they ended up. First step was actually eating them, not organizing them like colors of socks. "Of course I do, Red Bull with vodka demands ice. It's in the freezer," the pointed to the top compartment.

Vitya collected the plastic bags, shoving them under the sink to be used as trashbags later. He grabbed his precious bags of candy and placed them on his desk, having to move some jars of dirty water and ink to give them a spot. He walked back to the kitchen, playfully resting his chin on Monty's shoulder. "So, are you going to make me watch you make the grilled cheese, or are you going to recreate the pottery scene in Ghost?"

MONTY

"Tryin' ta tell me ya sick of take out? Fuckin' sure they can cook more than me, but unless ya highness has a money tree we do need to cut down," Monty cocked his head, and stuck out his tongue in a way that wasn't exactly common with him but he was still a little pliant from sleep in a way that was also unusual so it seemed his guard was down for a change... though it didn't last long as he made his next quip he instantly felt his own insides shatter... "or ya need ta be takin' ya ass ta work more." Monty instantly bit his own lip. There was a time he didn't care about Vitya's job, he understood doing whatever a person needed to do to make money but now the thought of Vitya going out and doing that made him feel sick in a way he didn't understand. Monty turned away feeling himself blush, he never blushed.

Monty only looked back when he saw the cucumber waiving in his peripheral vision and he was finally able to laugh again, to took the produce from Vitya and lewdly imitated the motions of a handjob on the length of it before throwing it into the refrigerator with the rest.

"Fuckin' fine. Grilled cheese it is. It's one-a the first things Nikko showed me, figure if he let me do it you can too, and I throw slices or tomatoes in there so it counts for vegetables or whatever." Monty shrugged off Vitya's comment about having 'lived more'. He didn't find his life something to be proud of something people should be interested in, to him it represented the very worst of his memories and as much as he used his mob connections as a shield; something to terrify others with, it was the thing he was most ashamed of. Monty looked away from Vitya, keeping his eyes downcast as he moved around the kitchen area collecting a glass, ice, and the bottle of bourbon. He took a deep swig before pouring a half glass and topping it with ice. Monty leaned back into Vitya's body when he hooked his chin on a shoulder, he couldn't resist pressing a kiss to the younger mans jaw. "If by that ya mean forgettin' the food and going to the fuckin' I ain't complainin' but if ya wanna eat today ya better gimme a frying pan and the bread and butter." He chuckled.

VITYA

"What, and you aren't? There are only so many fucking times I can eat chinese food, or afford to." Vitya joked again, giving Monty the middle finger at him sticking his tongue out. The playful warmth between them froze like Hell in a blizzard, for a split second, when Monty let slip his addendum. Vitya's jaw locked a moment; it had been a long time. His last 'paycheck' was three days before his hospital visit, nearly two months ago. Vitya never said anything, but he was strapped for cash. "Let me worry about that," he said, in a somber tone. The reality was, Vitya knew nothing else. He had no other practical skills beyond sex, but he was having so much fun with Monty, feeling better than he ever felt, both inside and out- He didn't want to fuck someone else. Vitya had to be rational; he needed cash. And he wasn't going to take it from Monty anymore. So, whoring himself out it is.

The tone met in the middle, lukewarm, as Vitya watched Monty pour his drink, feeling the other man's warmth against him made it so tempting for Vitya to let his hands wander, maybe jerk Monty off from behind, but he resisted, for now. He chuckled, returning the kiss on his jaw with a lick up the shell of Monty's ear, biting the lobe and then letting it go. "Alright, hold on," Vitya said, letting Monty go, searching through the cupboards for a frying pan. he eventually found one, handing it to the other man along with the items he asked for.

"Normally I would take you up on the 'skip food, just fuck' thing, but the last time I ate anything was when you were here last, so I figure I better not skip this time," Vitya admitted. It affirmed one thing; his grocery shopping today had nothing to do with Monty coming to visit. Vitya had no idea he would be there today. He didn't buy it for when Monty was there; he bought it for when he wasn't. For when Vitya was on his own, not caught under Monty's eye, who Vitya knew watched him eat...

"Tell you what; once we're done here, I'll blow you. As long as you want."

MONTY

"Fuck, fine, okay, sendin' Nikko ta LA hurt my wallet an' I'm even more on the outs with pops after refusin' ta do a job for him but I should be gettin' some cash at the end of summer for this project I'm workin' on if I get all the fuckin' math figured out. That or we go Breaking Bad in here an' I start cookin' my own shit." Monty laughed dryly. Humour fizzling out as he mentally took stock of his current savings. Yes his graduate program got him room and board thanks to the scholarship prize but it barely stretched beyond the apartment rental. Textbooks and equipment in his field were not cheep.

"Ya know, ya could think about sellin' some of this." Monty gestured to the art littering the room. He actually did appreciate Vitya's art more than he would ever feel comfortable voicing and the thought of Vitya selling that rather than his body was oddly comforting in a way he couldn't understand never mind explain.

A shiver ran up Monty's spine thanks to the heat of Vitya's breath and the kiss in return. A blush raised in his cheeks and he cleared his throat distractedly, trying to refocus himself on the task at hand.

"Fuck Vitya, it's been two full days." Monty sighed heavily, wanting to punch the other boy for his idiocy but not wanting to expose his concern, already berating himself for the words he'd let slip so he kept the anger in check as best he could as he attempted to butter the bread gently so it wouldn't tear it up.

"Al'ight sounds like a fair exchange," Monty grinned, feeling more relaxed as their easy banter set back in. "Want ya ta swallow it too, look so fuckin' hot when ya swallow it down for me, pretty boy..." Monty couldn't help the words slip out as Vitya's lips caught his eye, reminding him of the image that was Vitya's lips red and puffy...

VITYA

Vitya snapped his fingers at Monty, in a small 'told you' sort of way. Monty was stretching himself, too; all the more reason Vitya needed to get back out there and work. Monty at least had a plan, one that involved his career, uplifting himself. It was admirable. His train of thought was interrupted at Monty's suggestion, eyes rolling over the mounds of art he had made. He grimaced. "Really? It's all depressive ramblings and... I don't know, devil worship? That's a niche market if I ever heard of one." He said. In all honesty, Vitya had no faith in his own work. He only chose it as a major so then he could get into this college; it was either that or be homeless, so Vitya chose college.

Vitya could hear the concern in Monty's voice. Instead of give in, he just smiled and shrugged. "Yeah, well... I'm working on it." he spoke softly, returning Monty's concern with a hopeful optimism. A rare form, in Vitya's case, the emotional vulnerability making his heart pound. "It takes a lot, sometimes, just to get out of bed, so the fact I made it to the store and back? I call that a win," Vitya threw his hands into the air, hoping this conversation would end here. He didn't want to talk about his mental health, or his behavior, right now. He wanted to make food with Monty, and ignore the past two days entirely.

"Mmmn," Vitya teased back, licking his lips when they caught Monty's eye. "Oh, I will, if you..." Vitya leaned to Monty's ear again, sliding his hands down's Monty's arms. "...Slide your cock so far down my throat, it makes my body freeze, and my head go all fuzzy-" He cut himself off, stealing Monty's glass of bourbon a moment and backing away, taking a sip before putting the glass back where it was. "Don't get too distracted, " he teased, motioning to the task at hand. "You need to earn it!"

MONTY

"Hey stop thinkin' so hard over there, ya know I can mock up some financial documents for ya, that's how I cleaned up freshman year, been doin' ma dad's taxes an' shit for years, the man's an ass but we know how ta play the system." Monty laughed, he'd never told anyone but Nikko about this and even then it was only recently, after he started college. Yet he didn't question the way he was opening up to Vitya, it just seemed natural and somehow he knew Vit wouldn't snitch.

"Nah man, crazy old collectors go mad for this shit. An' if tryin' ta sell legitimately doesn't work gettin' ya shit inta an established gallery is a scam I could work easy." Monty winked, letting his mind wander down the road of imagination. Even if scamming was part of his horrid upbringing it was something he often genuinely enjoyed. The thrill got his heart racing. Though that could just be from Vitya's proximity... Monty cleared his throat "Got a knife for cheese or did ya get craft slices?" he asked, concentrating more than necessary on the pan heading up and melting the glob of butter he'd thrown in.

"Did someone fuckin' sneak happy pills in ya mornin' red bull? Ain't seen ya this fuckin' optimistic since the idea of havin' my cock up ya ass" Monty teased, but it was soft, almost kind, pleased to see the younger man in a light he wasn't used to. Having someone to connect with, who understood his pain was one of the best things about Vitya, after fucking of course, but seeing him hopeful did something to Monty he hadn't experienced before except with Nikko... it made him proud. But even deeper than with Nikko it also made warmth stir in his belly.

"Fuck..."Monty groaned shamelessly at Vitya's response, that familiar tingling racing through his body, making his dick twitch in response, his head fell back onto Vitya's shoulder and he pressed his ass back against the taller man's dick instinctively. His body instantly felt cold when Vitya moved away and he had to press his hands hard onto the counter to regain his composure.

VITYA

Vitya shook his head. "Temping, I don't want charity... As nice as your offer is," Vitya added on the end, not wanting to sound ungrateful at Monty's offer. It was kind of him, and Vitya had no idea what to do with that. Vitya had nothing to offer Monty beyond sex, and yet he wasn't asking for anything by offering this to him. At home it was 'Smile for the camera and you get a treat', a concept that Vitya still used to this day with his prostitution.

Vitya laughed for a moment, a air of disbelief on his face. "You would scam my way into a gallery? I went to so many useless galas and balls at art galleries growing up, the people at those were posh and snarky and... gross. You think you can trick that crowd into thinking my depraved, sexual, borderline rancid work is high class?" Vitya reached into a nearby drawer, handing him one of the knives inside. The drawer was disorganized, taking a moment to find it.

"This is just... normal," Vitya said, cryptically, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm low, sometimes really low, for a few weeks and then, boom. Really, really high for a few days. It comes in waves. My professors back home would say I was 'manic'," Vitya explained. He had never gone to a therapist, psychologist, nothing. With his physical health being so poor, he hid all he could about his mental health. But with Monty, away from home, feeling more free than ever... He was able to talk about it. For the first time in his life, someone knew he had a problem.

A tingle of power went down Vitya's spine as he watched Monty fumble before him. It made him feel so strong, like he could take on the world, when he had Monty like this. In the palm of his hand... "Don't let the thought of me circling my tongue on your tip distract you too much. Go on, I want to learn how to make your sandwich..." he teased, grabbing a jelly bean from one of his many, many candy bowls and slowly sliding it onto his tongue.

MONTY

“Ain’t like I’d be the one giving ya money, just a few fake documents ta have the school giving ya what ya need.” Monty shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal to try and scam a huge business like a university. His perception of what constituted ‘a big deal’ was extremely warped thanks to his upbringing. Kindness, selflessness, compassion were things that terrified him as much as if not more than putting a gun to someone’s head and pulling the trigger but fraud was nothing.

Monty shrugged, continuing to work on the food as if it really wasn’t a big ask. “Sounds easy enough, those bougie pricks are easy ta manipulate, they’re like fuckin toddlers always wanting new entertainment and bein possessive little fuckers.” He laughed. “We’d persuade some hot dude who can pull off that mysterious shit ta play the part of you an’ charm his way into those inner circles with a bit of blackmail and the promise of a small cut.” Monty mused, letting his mind run wild planning a con. It had been a while since he’d done anything more than running drugs and the potential had his mind buzzing.

Monty listened closely to Vitya explaining some of what went on in his head. It was similar to how he felt when he was taking drugs regularly, but those feelings were chemically induced highs and lows not his own brain chemistry and he had heard enough from Nikko to know what Vitya was describing wasn’t healthy or normal but he had no idea what to do or say and it terrified him.

He did the only thing he could think of. He put down the knife and turned into Vityas arms and placed a hand on the taller boys neck, his thumb resting on his sharp jawline and kissing him hard. Not sexually and filled with desire but firm and filled with promise even though he had no idea what he was promising.

“Fuck you!” Monty tried to sound threatening at Vitya’s teasing but it came out breathless almost like a whine and he couldn’t even gather his thoughts enough to care how pathetic it sounded.

VITYA

"And I'm telling you, I don't need it," Vitya said again, this time more firmly. "You already have given me enough money, I don't need you goading the university to give it to me, too." He said, hoping this would be the end of it. Knowing Monty, he would bring it up again, butt hat was for another time.

Vitya snapped his head to Monty, a curious, and fake-offended look on his face. "What, you don't think I could pull it off? I've played The Game before, Monty. I've wowed a crowd or two. Mainly at my father's request, but if I can convince money-hungry dogs that I was, indeed, the perfect son with full intent to take over his business, I can con some art hacks into thinking I'm some bougie personality," Vitya glanced at his art again, pursing his lips.

Vitya was shocked at first, at Monty's sudden burst of affection, but didn't refuse it. He kissed back, with a similar fervor, taking Monty's waist with one hand and his hair with the other. He gripped tightly, wanting nothing more than to strip him down, there and then. It was so hard to resist.

"You really want it bad, don't you?" he whispered, the hand on Monty's waist sliding to the obvious bulge in his pants. "Really, really bad," he continued, sliding his hand up and down. Fuck, this is what Vitya needed! That dominating power, that hold on Monty like a vice. He could get drunk from this... "Be a good boy and finish cooking. Then, whatever you want. You'll be a good boy, right?"

MONTY

"Thought I was payin' for a service." Monty raised a brow trying to read Vitya but he didn't press any further no matter how much he wanted to. To be good at illicit activities you needed at least some level of perception and he'd quickly learned when not to push Vitya if he didn't want it to turn into a fight though he was still more in the dark about this guy than he would like.

Monty laughed. "I've got no doubt the littlest prince could pull it off but do ya want all them jerk-offs knowin' ya face? Aren't ya supposed ta be hidin' from Daddy? Figured ya'd be tryin' not ta draw attention to yaself but whatever we'll throw ya ta the dogs if that's what ya want." He rolled his eyes, feeling as though Vitya was only pushing this to prove a point and he didn't feel like fighting. Monty knew all about trying to be the perfect son but his families idea was far different than the Cristo family.

Monty held Vitya tight, the hand not at his neck was wrapped tight around his waist keeping them close. He let his eyes close and leaned their foreheads together in a comforting, intimate gesture once their lips broke apart. To some sex was intimate, but to him these soft gestures were more than he could bare. Usually.

"Always want you," Monty gasped out, losing himself to the feel of Vitya surrounding him. The taller man was taking over all of his senses and the thought of cooking completely left his mind as he tried to thrust his hips forward to find more friction for his fully hard cock. Vitya had power over him like nobody else and all he wanted to do was give himself over willingly and have someone take care of him in every way. Monty shivered with the words ''good boy" and he whined shamelessly. "Y-Yes." He forced out.

VITYA

Vitya looked at Monty with an unblinking stare, a mile long, navigating the words that came out of Monty's mouth. He broke eye contact a moment, licking his lips. "You aren't giving me more money." There. Final. Done.

Vitya shook his head. "Not really hiding anymore. He paid my hospital bills, sends me these medications he wants me on, but aren't FDA approved. He knows where I am. Why he hasn't come after me... I have no idea. I think he knows if I see him again, I will make damn sure he can't find me..." Vitya stopped, his hands balled into fists as he went on. he let the pressure go, breathing his fury out. "Besides, I don't want some rando claiming my work, even if we pay them."

Vitya continued palming Monty's erection, his wrist changing the angle every few strokes, letting Monty practically hump his hand. "Good. Then," Vitya turned Monty back around, but this time, pressed his chest to Monty's back, lightly grinding his own hard cock against his lower back. His hands were on Monty's hips again, but this time, one went up to play with his belt buckle. "You keep going, and the more you do, the more I do," he said. With the pace of a snail, Vitya started pulling at Monty's belt, slowly starting to take it off. He stopped, just before the last of the belt left the metal buckle. "See? Look what being such a good boy got you... So much closer to your reward."

MONTY

Monty rolled his eyes but dropped the subject, seeing it wasn't worth fighting anymore right now.

He took a moment to absorb Vitya's words on the subject of his father trying to process it. "So no Bratva followin' ya around?" Monty tried to tease, shying away from talking about fathers, it was an uncomfortable subject and he tried to block out the memories of the the last time his father had contacted him because his threats were still hanging over his head and he was both scared and glad his father hadn't yet followed up on the threats. "We'll make ya the perfect little Russian gentleman an'  have 'em fawnin' all over ya." Monty chuckled, redirecting his attention to the image of Vitya suited and booted for a fancy party. It was a good image.

All the thoughts of scamming and scheming were driven from his mind as Monty tried his best to move his concentration back to the task at hand. The pan was smoking from the time he had been distracted, usually he was more than capable of preparing the food while the pan warmed but not today. A strangled moan left Monty's throat at the feel of Vitya's hard cock sliding against his ass. He had to clench his fists the stop them shaking from desire before he could turn down the heat on the burner and put together the sandwiches. He layered the cheese and tomato between the bread waiting for the pan to get back to a proper cooking temperature. "More, please...." He whined, trying to buck his hips up to the hands that were so close yet so far. He loved and hated how quickly Vitya could reduce him to begging. Monty Prescott did not beg for anyone. Except for this man.

VITYA

"If they are following me, they are doing a good job keeping themselves hidden," Vitya said, noticing that this was a subject neither of them wanted. Good, this was uncomfortable. Both of them had difficult connects with their fathers, and neither wanted to talk about the details too much. Yet one more thing they could agree on. Vitya smirked and ran his fingers in his hair, rolling his eyes. "You just want me in a suit," he teased.

Vitya watched Monty try so hard to keep it together. He really was doing everything Vitya said, without question. He was trembling, and each little shake made Vitya feel so damn powerful. Vitya kissed and sucked at Monty's neck, watching his hands work. When he whined, Vitya smiled against his skin. He gracefully unbuckled the last of Monty's belt, letting it dangle by the loops. His hands were on Monty's jeans, two fingers sliding up and down the length of his zipper. "Almost there," he whispered, undoing the button and peeling the zipper apart. Vitya's finger's danced over the elastic of his underwear, tracing circles around his confined cock through the thin fabric. "You're doing so well, so close. Such a good boy.”

MONTY

"We could throw a few Cugine on ya see if they find anythin'." Monty mused, though thinking how badly that ended after putting a few young idiots on Sam and it ending with him being robbed and putting him and Nikko on the outs. But it was worth it to protect someone he cared about... wait no he couldn't go that deep... but another thought cut him off as he realised it was too late now...

Monty winked, "Wouldn't say no ta that, bet ya look hot as fuck." He licked his bottom lip teasingly, letting his eyes roam Vitya's lithe body.

Standing there Monty felt completely powerless. Usually it was a feeling he hate more than any other. For his whole life he'd craved complete control because he'd been stuck under his fathers thumb doing things he hated but giving up control to Vitya was freeing. He didn't have to make tough calls and painful decisions because here was someone doing it for him, keeping him safe and steady. He didn't hate this because in the end the things Vitya was making him do were things he wanted to do, he'd just never understood how to ask...

Monty felt completely consumed by Vitya who's body was all over him; fingers, lips, chest, dick. He sloppily threw the two sandwiches into the pan and prodded them with a spatula he'd spotted in the draw Vitya had opened to find a knife so they didn't stick. Monty's body was getting hotter and hotter, every inch of him was tingling with too much not enough as Vitya touched and teased him. "Please man fuckin' touch me" He groaned, letting go of the pan handle and reaching back to fist his hand into Vitya's hair. "Been good, please, more." He keened, wiggling his hips, trying to grind back on Vitya's cock to get him as desperate for more as Monty himself was.

VITYA

Vitya cocked an eyebrow. "No. If I'm in danger, I run. Simple as that. I don't need protecting," Vitya said, in the same tone he uses when he is annoyed. The type of annoyed when someone asks how he is feeling, or if he is taking his meds. It felt like he was being babied, and having wanna-be mobsters keeping an eye on him? No, he'll brave it on his own.

Vitya's heart was pounding. He had this man, who was so loud and strong and independent, around his finger, whimpering and begging for release. He wasn't pushing, either, to get it himself, he was letting Vitya choose when. Vitya sighed on Monty's neck when he grabbed his hair, biting his lip and letting Monty rut against his crotch. The friction of the fabric made it so hard to saw no... But if anything was going to happen, he needed the energy to do so. And that meant eating before getting busy.

Vitya's fingers slid under Monty's waistband, fingers now touching the bare skin of his cock. He was warm, hard, and Vitya could feel Monty quivering. "Shh, shhh," he shushed in Monty's ear, slowly starting to pull his waistband down. "You're almost done, look," Vitya motioned to the food in the pan, cooking away. Vitya's hand coiled around Monty's cock, finally freeing it of it's cloth cage, and with an agonizing slow pace, his hand slid up Monty's shaft. "So hard for me, and waiting so patiently... Can you wait till after I eat? Just a little bit longer, for my mouth on your aching cock?"

The way Monty was shivering had Vitya's head going wild. All the things he wanted to do to the other man became possible realities, and not just his sick, twisted fantasies. And Vitya, being a man of unsound mind, grew a devilish look on his face. "If you wait, like a sweet, good little boy, then I'll fuck you, too," he whispered, his free hand slowly sliding down the back of Monty's jeans.

He made sure to give every opportunity for Monty to stop him, in case this was too far. "Would you like that? Would my good boy wait for my cock in his ass? Will he?..."

MONTY

Monty groaned, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Fine man, whatever." He groused. Vitya was being rather stubborn tonight and as annoying as he found it, he was rather impressed with his determination and pride. Maybe Vitya would find it in himself to apply those trait to his will to live. Monty could only hope.

Monty felt as though he was quite literally losing his mind the way Vitya was teasing him. It was almost painful. He' never felt need this intense before. It was driving him wild. The praise was doing something he had never experienced before and it was maddening yet wonderful. Part of him wanted to snap and make Vitya stop talking to him like he was a kid but a far louder part of his mind was screaming for more and had fire coursing through his veins.

"Feels so good" Monty moaned when Vitya's finally touched his hard cock. It felt so much better than rubbing through his boxers even it was torturously slow. Monty bit his lip, trying his best not to let any more of those pathetic sounds out but it was a fruitless effort when Vitya began talking again. He should have hated it but he couldn't.

The dirty talk was something that should have reminded Monty of Schuyler, because it always had before now and would inevitably lead him to trying to shut the mouth of whoever he was fucking or make them leave all together, even if he did give himself blue-balls in the process. But right now there was no room in his mind for Schuy, he was completely consumed by Vitya.

Monty's body began to sing at the thought of Vitya fucking him. It had been so long since Mont had bottomed and it made him moan deep and loud, so loud that if it wasn't summer break they'd have neighbours banging on the walls to try to quieten them. "Yes, yes, fuck me, I'll do anything, please fuck me." He mewled, pushing his ass back against the hand moving over it. The word my had come from Vitya's mouth and served to make Monty evenmore desperate. The food was completely forgotten to him.

VITYA

“Yeah? Feels good?”Vitya asked, rhetorically. The shake of Monty’s body gave him all the clues he needed, every whimper a sign that Monty was enthralled with all of this. In fact, Vitya was, too. Most clients would pop in, pop out, end of story. Monty was unraveling at his touch, giving Vitya a burning passion in his gut.

Monty’s sudden moan, his cry of desperation, his begging to be fucked; Vitya nearly did it right there. His ass pushing back against him made Vitya growl in his ear, looking down at the hot stove, then back at Monty. “Fuck it,” Vitya said, turning the stove top off and making Monty put the cooking utensils. His hand was on Monty’s cock, stroking at a fast pace to keep his attention, the other hand coming around to hold Monty‘s chest.

“Listen to me. When I let you go, walk to the bedroom and strip. Get on the bed and wait for me. You can touch yourself, finger yourself, but if you come before I am inside you... Well, you’d be a bad boy. And you want to be a good boy, right?” Vitya spoke slowly. Normally he doesn’t get turned on by his own talk, but this was every fantasy he had been having about Monty since he left two days ago!

He stopped his stroking of Monty’s cock, spinning his finger around the head. He have Monty a few seconds before letting him go. Vitya turned his attention to the forgotten sandwich, deciding to leave it for now and grab an apple out of the fridge. The moment he was done with this was the moment he would follow Monty.

FADE TO BLACK

[jeonjagia]

Dancing For Yoongi- Chapter 26 Hell Here We Come

The door bursts open as Suga and I stumble in. "Do you think we lost him?" I pant, hands on my knees trying to catch my breath. "Not sure," Suga pants beside me. I stand up and look out the peep hole of our hotel door. No one is out there. "Suga I think we lost him," I say turning around. Suga stands up and walks towards the couch. "Suga?" "We never loose them Chandry, they just wait us out," he mutters. I'm confused at his sudden change of character. I know he's tired, but he seems angry. "Suga," I ask walking over to him, coming to stop at his spread knees, "why are you mad?" He looks up at me. His gaze softens when he makes eye contact. "I'm sorry. I just wanted a break of where I don't have to go into alert mood," he explains. I nod. It must be hard for him. "Would you like something to eat?" I question. "Yes, I would. That run burned all the food I ate at breakfast." A knock sounds at the door making us both jump. Suga stands up in a flash and stands in front of me. "Hide behind the couch," he orders pulling a gun from his waist. He had a gun on him? I crouch behind the edge of the couch and listen carefully. Suga pauses at the peep hole then throws the door open, grabbing the stranger outside pulling him in, then shuts the door loudly. "What the hell?!" Suga yells at Jungkook. "What?!" Jungkook yell's back rubbing his arm. "You scared the shit out of me!" Suga yells walking back into the living room. "You can come out Chandry, it's just Jungkook," "Just Jungkook," Jungkook mutters following Suga into the room. Suga plots down onto the couch, but Jungkook stays standing. I stand from my crouch and Jungkook and I make eye contact. "What are you doing here?" I ask heading toward the kitchen to make Suga some food. Jungkook follows, sugas eyes glued to his back. I pull down a plate to make Suga a sandwich. "How's married life?" Jungkook asks coming around the kitchen island. "Why do you care?" I mutter inching away from him. "Because I want to know if his sex is better than mine," Jungkook states. My eyes widen at his statement. "You are such a narcissistic asshole Jungkook," I mutter to him as I layer mayonnaise on the bread. "Well," Jungkook continues, grabbing a piece of meat and putting it his mouth, "is it?" Taking my knife, I point it at him. "Don't continue with that conversation." He looks from the knife pointed at his nose to me, then back at me. In one swift motion, he grabs the knife from me, sweeps himself around me, and places it against my throat. Caught. "Now, we've been here before, have we not?" He whispers in my ear. I shiver in his arms. "Sooner or later, Suga's gonna mess up and you will leave him for me." He takes the knife away and I push out of his embrace. "Over my dead body," I mutter, grabbing the lettuce and tomato in the refrigerator. Jungkook steps toward me. "I can make that happen," I look up at him holding the knife. He knows not to try anything while Sugas in the room. "Get out," I threaten glaring at him. He looks at me a second longer before stabbing the knife into the cutting board. It shakes from the impact. The click of the door signaling his leave. I shiver. Jungkook knows how to get under my skin.

I finish the sandwich and head out to the living room where Suga sits. i hand him the plate and he takes it. "what did Jungkook have to say?" he asks taking a bite of the food. i sit down next to him as he scrolls through the TV.

"He didn't have to say anything." I reply, not giving thought to my answer. Suga freezes. Sitting up, he puts the plate down on the coffee table in front of us. Turning to me he says, "what did he do then?" Suga enunciates. I look into his eyes.

"He, threatened me," I reply picking at my finger nails. Suga sighs. "What did he do then?"

"Jungkook said that eventually you will mess up and I will cone back to him in the end."

"Chandry," Suga asks.

"Yea?"

"Do you love me?" he says looking down at his frayed pants. I freeze. Do I? I ask myself.

"I-Im not sure Suga," I reply.

"Why did you marry me?"

"Because-," I freeze not wanting to complete the sentence. Suga sighs. "Because it was an escape from Jungkook." he finishes. Yes. It was. That's the only reason I married Suga, is because he can protect me from Jungkook's wrath. I let it sink in. the silence is unbearable.

"chandry?"

"yes?" i reply, knowing I've hurt Suga. i watch as he slips his wedding ring off of his finger and play with it. tears well up. i never meant to hurt him.

"here, have this back," he says handing me his ring. a tear falls. "I'll have our marriage anulled in the morning."

"Suga," I cry, but he stands up and walks toward the room.

i sit in the room, holding sugas ring in my fingers. what have i done to him? standing up, i pull my shoes back on and open the door.

"chandry dont go out there!!" i hear suga yell as he scrambles from the bed. i close the door and hurridly walk down the hallway. i hear a door open and assume it is from sugas room. jungkook suddenly steps in front of me. i stop in my tracks. eyes wide, i turn and see the man from before walking toward me, gun in hand.

"you can either come with me or go with him and be killed," Jungkook says lowly. blinking i weirgh my options. the outcome will probably be worse either way. i back up into jungkook who grabs me around the waist and pulls me into his room. closing the door just in time to cut the man off.

Jungkook looks out the peep hole. "he wont try anything now," he mutters. I stand frozen to the spot. i should have stayed with Suga. I yell silently at myself.

"so," Jungkook's says coming off of the door turning to me. I back up. He squints at my action. "Did you finally tell Suga?" he says picking at his nails.

"none of your business." I reply quietly. He looks up at me darkly before stepping towards me.

"None of my what?" he asks backing me into a wall. i look away from him. It's like the Fire Building all over again.

"I'm sorry," I whisper blinking tears away. He backs up.

"Thats what I thought,"  he speaks before walking into the small living room. The room is dark and the shadows soon swallow his figure.

"You might as well make yourself comfortable, he's not going away anytime soon, and now you're mine again seeing as you left Suga and chose to come with me. So Hell here we come,"

[artofaboythatoncewas]

Romantic Composers 1

Aries: Amy Beach. Instigation is such an amazing concept: there can be absolutely no why behind any of your actions. For instance, I could pick up this turd out of my toilet and throw it against the bathroom wall. «Yes, but will you? Heaven knows you can’t commit.» Ah, you see, that’s the point: I don’t have to commit. The mere thought of it is already changing the circumstances we reside in. «I can agree: I went from thinking your weird to thinking you’re incredibly weird: The turd-slinger lifestyle took a hold of you.» Mór, I’ll toss as much shit as I desire. […]  <The setting shifts towards a misty field, where there is a howling wind blowing the red fumes of a nearby cauldron. They lead back to a druid’s cave, known as such because there’s a sign that says there’s a druid in it.> «Ha ha ha! What lies instore for our duo? I sense irrational actions and grievous misfortune.» <A stereotypically timed lighting strike occurs in the background.> […]  «Réa, what’s up with you? You’re looking out at nothing with your hands on the toilet seat.» …Fucking hell, I think I sensed something devilish among here. <Réamonn takes their other hand out of the toilet, still soaked from the toilet water. Mór grabs their hand and shoves it back into the toilet bowl with an angry expression.> «What? No. If you’re gonna be here, you should commit to the bit!» <An argumentative feud erupts between the two.> Aye, you fucking cunt! I know when to stop, and you’re the one taking this too far. «Not to be a joker, but you’re far too deep in the shite to quit now.» […] <We return back to the mist of the druid’s cave, and here we can see him cackling at the recent misfortune he brewed.> «Ha ha ha! I’m the mastermind behind all of the world’s divisive pitifulness! So much that I killed my previous assistant over scratching my rings!» <The druid’s crow squawks at him, because druid’s have birds now.> «Right, I know that’s a horrible tale, but nobody’s around to hear it!» […] <We cut back to Réamonn and Mór fighting.> «What’s gotten into you?» That’s, argh, what I’m, humph, trying to f-figure out! <Toilet water begins to splash all over the room.> «Right, next thing you’re gonna tell me that you decided that you’re the plumber.» <So, the two mess around in the bathroom for what seems like an hour until Réa’s mum comes in to yell at both of them.> «What the fuck are the both of you doing? I’ve been trying to take a shower in the other bathroom this whole time, and the only thing that’s been running is water colder than the farmer’s bog in November!»

Gemini: Louis Gottschalk. I smell someone, someone fishy here. It smells like someone here has a recent history of being too comfortable with colonialist apologia for French actions. Hmm, who is this person? I guess we’ll never know: We may never be able to find the baguette. Mmm, I can just smell the sweet, delectable French bread from here. Mmm, mmm, mmm… <Heavy sniffing starts to occur, with it rampantly becoming more violent.>  Damn, it just smells SO GOOD. The French did nothing wrong except make these beignets way too damn mouth-watering: Mmm, mmm, mmm. Damn, I’d love me some of them right now to fill up my gullet. I just can’t control myself around that sweet French bread: I haven’t harmed anyone yet, but if they got in the way of my French bread, you’d have no idea what I’d do to get it. MMM, MMM, MMM. That French bread just makes me wanna <scronch>, and then <freerf>, and then <sus>. Mmm, mmm, mmm, I can smell it from here: It tastes so good; I need it in my tummy immediately. I never had a full piece of French bread before. FREERF, YEERF, SLUUURP, GADORF, MEONG, PADOOK, GURK LURP, SCHLIPPITY SCHLURP, PUHTAW, OOKARH, MEONG, DING DONG, KALOOKA, NOISOME, MMM. I love bread a lot, more than I loved my own family: My own family was turned into bead and sliced up by this maniac who loved pizza as much as I loved bread. I am a yeast of my own parts, I denounce my citizenship and move to France, I am now the one sane person left in this world. GAJOINK, BREKKIE, LOLISH, NAMBODE, ANGKOR WATT, MIRANDA WARNING, ZOOMIES, BOOMIES. I love bread. […] As you know, I’m quite the fan of bread, and I have a loaf of it right now. I think it’s time to "dive right in" as they say. [,] PUHTAW, that was awful! I took may too much bread in my mouth, but that was my favorite onomatopoeia to describe how this bread came out of my mouth. TIGERS JAW, SHOSPEL COLUPIS, SWOOCE, FUNNY BREAD, BREAD FUNNY, WOO, YAY, HURRAY FOR BREAD. ’Cause if you don’t <freerf>, then you can’t <swooce>, so how are you gonna <sus> or <jodge>? It just doesn’t make <se-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ns.> Hamburger: You make a hamburger with bread. Can’t have a hamburger with no bread! MMM, MMM, MMM, I love hamburgers. <jodge.>  […] But seriously, we all know that defending empires is bad? I don’t care if that empire gives you as much bread as you want, you’re still a slave and only through that empire can you get measly bread: Not the fulfilling kind of bread, the crumbs of the crumbs.

Scorpio: Giuseppe Verdi. <We’re greeted to a bustling city scene, there are many people on the street: Some wacky, some not so wacky. Here, we see Juyeon walking with her mom to the local market because she’s short of cabbage.> Mom, why are we here? «Your father always eats an absurd amount of cabbage, sweetie. And he gets very grumpy and resistant to doing chores when he doesn’t have it, so that’s why we’re here.» <Juyeon never believed that story; she never saw her dad eat a single piece of lettuce before.> Okay <she says in a very unsatisfied voice. All the while, the bustling of the urbanity dominates the atmosphere. Somehow, in the midst of this crowd, Juyeon’s ears pick up on a particular voice.> «I’m a lost adventurer, looking for the rest of my forgotten crew! Who wants to volunteer to be the child character in the middle of an adventure group that has to travel through hell and back? We’re looking for any psychic children to help aid us on our journey.» <The lost adventurer kept yelling this ad from the cat-corner, and in the midst of those words, the term "psychic children" caught Juyeon’s ear.> Say, mister! <Juyeon notices her mom eyeing cabbage, and takes this opportunity to investigate something her mom would normally disagree with. Hesitantly, the adventurer noticed Juyeon wobbling towards them.> You said something about psychic children, mister? «Why, yes! You must know that, prior to this, I was part of a band of four with the guts like me: We travelled many lands many dimensions even. We were all so young and filled with a look of wonder towards all we did.» Lots of kids have done what you said, but you’re trying to say there was something special about yours? Also, this must’ve been a long time ago ’cause you look like you’re my mom’s age. [,] «What you never knew is that we were all blessed with psychic powers… Long story short: They ended up being a burden to ourselves after our journey was done, and we tore each other apart spiritually.»  [,] All of that sounds cool, but I feel like it’s a bit too, uh…  «Hamfisted?» It has nothing to do with ham, but I kinda get the "fist" part. [,] It’s a bit… «Ominous?» Isn’t that like, a fruit? I don’t get it is what I’m saying. Where does the psychic stuff come from? Why did you end up here out of all places? Why did you grow out of it? Like, ugh, I don’t know… I thought this would be cool, but now I’m not sure. [,] «Hmm, I can tell, whenever you came into my line-of-sight, that there was something whimsical about you: A part of you that has yet to transcend into regression with age. You’re asking where the psychic energy comes from not out of cynicism but curiosity… I might as well demonstrate to you where it comes from.» <The lost adventurer points their fingers up into the air, channels an energy, and a bolt of technicolor light courses through it from above. As soon as Juyeon would be able to understand the demonstration, her mother angrily grabs her and pulls her back into the market.> «Don’t run off like that!»

Capricorn: Hector Berlioz. <There’s a grand trunk that spikes out from the rest of the wetlands: It towers over all the other ghostly trees. It seems to represent a glimpse into the future: One emphasized by its continued existence over the temporariness of the other woods around it.> «Are those wetlands, Mr. Robichaux?» You know, I like to say there’s no dumb questions, but that’s a dumb question: We are miles away from any wetlands. <The shuttle-bus hops up a bit as it goes over a bit of uneven road, causing Ikto to lose their hold on the window.> «I don’t know, it looks pretty swampy to me.» All swamps are wetlands, but not all wetlands are swamps. You learned this in third-grade science, c’mon now. <The shuttle-bus full of the band kids rolls over yet another snag in the road, causing turbulence that allows a mic-stand in the back to fall over.> Oof, that sounded like it was expensive: Good thing it’s not coming out of my paycheck and I can still afford ravioli. <As soon as that sound was created, the neglected oak remarked about earlier had water vapor gravitating towards it, an unusual sign in nature for sure. We cut back to Vinnie attempting to fill out a crossword puzzle about sewing terms: Something far out of his purview and a task made only more difficult by the rocking of the bus.> Itko, er, <Vinnie forgets the real name of the student.> Do you know what they call the machine involved in all yarn production processes? «That’s called a spinneret, Mr. Robichaux.» Is that spelled with two Ts and an E? Because that doesn’t fit in the boxes given. «There’s only one T with no extra E at the end.» Ah, perfect. <The water vapor condenses more and more around the grand trunk to the point where, despite the bus being two miles away from it, has already spawned storm clouds around its natural base. We cut back to Vinnie filling out #9 on the crossword puzzle.> «Nobody told us it was gonna rain outside today. Look, there’s already grey clouds in the sky!» <That could be heard from another student in the back of the bus: Vinnie either didn’t hear this or he willfully ignored it. He begins to whisper angrily to himself:> What kinda question is that: "Disengages all but the bobbin weaver?" Like I’m supposed to know any of this! <The collected water formed around the tree stump brings upon a ferocious storm: One with a name and a vengeance. Immediately, the storm moved at unreal speeds towards the bus. «It’s really windy right now!» How do you know that? Is it because you’re sticking your hands out the window, like you shouldn’t be doing‽ «I wasn’t sticking any of my limbs out the window!» Yeah, right. <Audible thunder edges closer to the bus, prompting the bus-driver, Elm, to push harder on the pedal. Ikto speaks up again.> «Mr. Robichaux, I’m scared of that tree.» Relax, it’s only the sign of a story before heading onto the highway: It means nothing and it’s distracting you. <A beam of concentrated lighting zooms past Vinnie’s window, likely a missed shot from the vengeful oak. Vinnie is too busy focusing on the puzzle to even notice.> Why are you all being so loud?