#trying to get sober and good friends for you future me fucker

[ghostickle]

I want good friends and a proper social circle but 1 no clue how to do that never had that before and 2 god it takes so much time and energy to get to that point with people and to find cool people I just want to already Have that yk

[joyfulhopelox]

"I've never cried over a broken dryer before"- "and you better not start now"

gif not mine cr. belongs to owner

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: got nothing to say for myself really, just listened to a song, the idea hit me and i haven't written anything non science related in a decade so i gave it another go....that being said i realised i am awful at emotions lol. Side note i am from the UK so if some things seem off i apologise

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (College!AU/ University!AU)

Warnings: ? mentions of skin? terrible fluff and flirting attempts

Word count: idk, it would not stop ~4k

A bop. A bop and some alcohol. That is all you needed after a long tiring week of studying for finals and cramming for your practical assessments. This week had been the last week of exam season and you were more than grateful that it had ended. You did not particularly care about how you’ve done on the assessments. That was not your present self’s problem, that was something for future you to worry about. Presently you just wanted to take a nap and head out with your girlfriends on a night out to just dance and drink all the stress away.

You weren’t a drinker, not by a long shot. You barely touched alcohol once or twice a month, and that happened mainly when you would have a get together with your friends. It was hard not to get sucked in when everything around you was so loud and chaotic it made you want to be part of the chaos not just an observer. You’ve done the whole ‘being sober whilst your friends got drunk’ and you swore to yourself it would never happen again. Funny how nights out looked disgusting and cliche when you were actually awake to witness them. From the group who ended up dancing on the tables, to the group who dispersed to hunt for one night stands, to the group who decided to pass out at the bar or in the toilets and then you, the sober one left to pick everyone up and send them back home safely and make sure than no one got into a fight. You sometimes wondered how the hell you got home alright when you ended up actually drinking on these nights out as none of your friends seemed willing to stay sober and watch over you. For once, you were not going to question your luck and just roll with it.

Before you settled for a nap though you knew you had to go downstairs to do your washing. Being a student during exam season meant you were surviving on microwavable food, lots of caffeine, sugar in all sorts of forms and that your tiny dorm room looked as if a hurricane has passed through it with dirty clothes all over the place and bedding that has been left unwashed for at least 2 weeks. You felt disgusting and unfortunately the neat freak in you kicked in, unsuppressed anymore by your pre-exam anxiety. With a sigh you started undoing your bedsheets and stashing them in a basket along with other bits and pieces of clothes. Making sure that you got your laundry detergent and your key card you started lugging the basket out of your room praying to the Gods that the lift was not broken.

Living on the 8th floor had its perks, but not when you were in a sleep deprived hurry. All you could do is check the numbers going down to the lower ground hoping that the lift would not stop at any other floor. But of course your luck would run out, on 3rd floor the lift slowed down and stopped, making you release an angry huff. ‘Of course it would’ you muttered to yourself as the doors opened only to reveal a tall men impatiently tapping his foot. Huffing he too got into the elevator making you aware of his stature. He may have not been as tall as some of the men you’ve seen but he was clearly working out as his muscles made him look way broader than his stature permitted. A gym rat, you rolled your eyes and tried to move the laundry bag and yourself into the corner, the space feeling too cramped for your liking. The dragging sound of the bag made the person turn around and give you a curious glance which you dismissed quickly. You weren’t interested in conversing with strangers on a normal basis let alone a gym rat. Nothing against them, you just had nothing in common and your tired brain did not want to make up a polite small talk.

‘Lower ground?’ the person asked you, surprisingly the voice was soft and clear, something you had not expected of him. It made you glance at him, ‘yeah’ you nodded after composing yourself. The person nodded making their long bangs fall into their eyes which prompted the next two surprises for you; in an attempt to settle his bangs out of his face he not only revealed a muscular defined arm which you’d have to admit was kind of attractive- you’d have to be blind not to notice, but also an array of random tattoos all over his arm and hand. The other surprise hit you a moment later after you realised you’ve been staring at him for a second too long and you sniffed and turned your face away. The smell of alcohol was coming off of him strongly as if he’s been drinking for a few days straight and his pores exuded it. It took you all you had to not cough. Frat boy, gym rat- this guy was ticking all the ‘no no’ boxes and so regardless of how good looking he was he did not deserve second thoughts.

Your prayers being answered, you reached lower ground quicker than expected and you prepared yourself to rush out of the lift. However, the clothes basket was heavier than you’d thought so instead of a swift exit like you’ve planned, you closely resembled Santa dragging his toy sack.

‘Would you like some help with that?’ the guy who’d turned around and observed you amusedly as you struggled extended a hand in your direction. You huffed and dropped the basket on the floor and couldn’t help but notice the basket he held in one hand and how the effort made his muscles and veiny arms that much more noticeable. Hot.

‘’S all good thanks’ however, you were not going to accept his help. You just wanted to get these damn clothes in the wash so you could go and nap away the remainder of your post exam stress. The guy held your gaze for a second too long before he raised an eyebrow and looked unconvincingly at your basket and your face, which was red by now you’d presume. Then shrugging he carried on walking towards the laundry room getting further and further out of your view, and you could have sworn there was an extra spring in his step. That fucker.

After monumental efforts you managed to drag everything to the laundry room only to notice that it had been left propped open by an empty bottle. Entering with difficulty you made your way to the closest washer available and dropped the laundry basket on the floor with a relieved sigh. Bending down to start putting your clothes in, you could definitely hear a snicker behind you. Whas that….? Of course it was, you were the only two souls in there. Everyone else was probably either enjoying some much needed sleep or partying the evening away already. Deciding to ignore him you continued to pile your clothes into the machine and soon enough you got distracted so much so that you did not realise you had started humming.

‘Nice voice you got there, but do both of us a favour, leave it for when you’re on your own will you?’ another snicker from behind. Flustered you whipped around, ‘what?’ his gaze on you held a smouldering effect making you feel as if you were pinned down by just its sheer force. His dark eyes, whilst amused, were also narrowed on your form as if commanding you to listen to what he was saying. Your breath hitched and as much as you’d tried to shrug off the feeling and the temptation to not listen to him and turn around, you found yourself unable to. Trying to hold his gaze your eyes wavered for a split second when the tip of his tongue peeked out from between his lips to wet the lower one. A gesture so fleeting, done as if by habit, but paired with the intense gaze it had your throat constrict and your instincts had been to follow his moves, your own tongue coming out to lick your own suddenly dry lips.

Had you intended to do this to toy with him? No. Has it worked? Judging by the way his eyes travelled slowly and purposefully down your face towards your lips, you could swear it has. Refusing to give him more vulnerability than that you turned around with tremendous efforts and continued pilling clothes into the washer completely missing the way he stared at your ass that was now on display. Biting his lip he gave you another once over before returning to his own washing.

You couldn’t help to glance his way every time you would turn around to pick up more clothes out of the basket. He was sporting a concentrated face, his lower lip caught between his teeth, his broad shoulders and the way his arm muscles were defined by the effort were making you breathless. However, what made your head spin and your heart to skip too many beats for it to be healthy was what happened next. You blame your bad luck - or good luck- for glancing at him only to catch him grab his shirt and give it a tentative sniff and a shrug. So he knew he reeked, but your snicker turned into a hiccup as soon as he had grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

Normally a situation like this wouldn’t phase you, you have seen plenty of men naked. But this one, this one was a special one. His bunny like features, defined nose bridge, jawline and floppy but rugged hair were a complete contrast to his defined jawline and...oh lord….were those six or eight abs??

‘What in the name of abs are you doing?’ sputtering you turned to fully face him. What a mistake. He did the same so now you had a full frontal view, first row, VIP seat to his naked upper body. That was definitely a six abs package. Shrugging, which by lord made everything tense up in ways you did not need to see, he threw the longsleeve into the wash and slammed it shut. All that did not take more than 5 seconds but to you, it seemed like a slowed down eternity in which your eyes got a good view of a muscular anatomy.

‘What, it’s dirty and i’m doing my washing?’ he stated as if it was plain as day and absolutely normal to get naked in the laundry room.’In the name of abs? Should i be calling you a peeping Tom?’ A slow forming smirk that made him look dangerously mischievous made its way onto his face.

‘Pffft, what? I said in the name of gods, what are you on about? Why would I be looking at you, whilst you think it’s perfectly fine to strip in a public place??’ he laughed at your clear distress but chose to not to mention your choice of words. ‘Hardly public is it? There’s just you and i in here’ he rebutted whilst turning around to scan his laundry card onto the machine and pressed start. You scoffed indignantly, ‘what am i chopped liver? I’m not goddamn blind’ you mumbled, not for his ears but instead chose to say out loud, ‘what about the poor souls who will see you in the lift back up? Is that not a public place?’

Unbeknownst to you he had clearly heard your previous statement, his smirk once again widening, so you had actually been looking. Good. Clearing his throat he put on as much of a serious face as he could ‘I think it’s unfair to call them poor, this is not cheap accommodation, if they live here it is clear that they are anything but poor’ he knew what you’d meant by poor, but just the annoyed tick in your eyebrow that appeared at his statement was worth it. Choosing to stay silent instead of taking the bait, you returned to your laundry. Only to curse out loud- you had finished it and upon scouring your belongings haphazardly you realised your card was missing. Vaguely remembering you had only taken your room card you groaned, this was not how you’d intended to spend your afternoon before the party.

Without a second’s notice, a tattooed hand with a card appeared before your eyes and the washing machine burst to life. Indignantly you whipped your head around to look at the owner of said hand, ‘what are you doing?’ only to come face to face with the end of a defined collarbone and jawline. And by all that is saintfully just, the line of his throat was just as attractive as the whole of the man. Being this close to him rendered you absolutely useless, jumbled thoughts ranging from ‘i need to pay him back’ to ‘what is he even doing’ to settle in the end to a single thought which you also voiced out loud without even thinking. ‘Your moles are pretty’. You had managed to get past the expanse of his neck to the outline of his lower lip when you noticed his mole, and to your defense- it was cute, but with the whole package, cute is the last word you had in mind. More like- it added a completeness that you would not think he needed but there it was.

He swallowed thickly, enjoying for a second too long the glazed look you had on your face as you said that. ‘And you have nice eyes’ he retaliates even though this is the first time he’s had a closeup look at them. Bright and sparkly, unknown to the both of you, a mirror of each other’s. Sparkly with a promise of something. Something which would have to wait for….if you had your way, forever, if he had his way- a second. You finally willed your legs to step aside and away from the unclothed man.

‘Uh-thanks’ you never stutter, but something about the heavy and thick air around makes it hard to take controlled breaths. ‘For the washing i mean’ you correct yourself. You will never admit to him out loud that him complimenting your eyes made your heart stumble and your brain freeze. You turned around to escape the situation, completely missing the amused expression on the man’s face. ‘You are welcome’ he extends his hand out walking to your side not missing the way you try to put some distance in between the two of you.

‘I’m Jungkook’ he smiles, a complete 180 from his appearance, his smile was warm and genuine, the type of smile that is reflected not only in his eyes but his whole face. His nose scrunches up too cutely, you think to yourself. He somehow resembles a bunny? Mustering up all the courage and bravery your heart still had, you grasp his hand. Hm, soft, odd for a gym head. You knew what he was asking for, but you would not give it to him. As cute as he is, you still tried to tell yourself you were unimpressed. ‘And i’m a poor soul who lives in this block of flats’ you mutter ‘i will pay you back for the washing’.

As soon as you reached your tiny cramped room and settled down for that nap you’ve been craving, you could not help but replay the last words he said to you, sounding way too smug for his own good. ‘Is that you telling me to put a shirt on for your sake?’

[jj-babebank]

Camp Willowdale / JJ Maybank AU / PART 3

Synopsis: Camp Willowdale is buzzing with new campers. It’s Caroline Windsor’s first year as a camp counsellor after attending the camp as a camper for ten years. Little does she know that this year Willowdale Lake is going to be a little different from what she is used to it being…

Warnings: future chapters may include curse words, mentions of drugs, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sexual activities, mentions of death.

Pairings: JJ Maybank x fem OC

Part 1 ; Part 2

Part 3 -

Music was blasting in the boys’ cabin and John B made sure to keep the lights dimmed to a maximum, adding to what he referred to as ‘the groovy ambiance’. Caroline and Sarah entered the cabin, leading the way for all of their fellow girl counselors. Word spread faster than a wildfire around the Wildcat Lodge and now everyone was attending what was meant to be a welcoming party for just the boys. Caroline leaned against the ladder of one of the bunk beds and crossed her arms as her and Sarah waited in anticipation for their grand scheme to play out.

“Caroline, Sarah!” John B’s voice alerted them as he snuck up between them, hooking an arm around both their shoulders, “Right on time for the big surprise!” he said, walking dramatically towards what the girls already knew to be his luggage. He turned the music down on his way there, “Alright everybody, listen up!” he said, stopping by his bed, gathering everyone’s attention, “I’m sure to most of us, if not all of us – camp Willowdale is a token of light, a beacon of faith, an ode to nostalgia, if you will,” he spoke dramatically, waving his hands around, making Caroline and Sarah chuckle, “Which is why we have all gathered here tonight, and for that reason, I have done my due diligence and prepared a special surprise for all of us. Girls and boys, allow me to introduce to you,” his hands went to unzip the bag, “Ton-” his eyes widened in horror as he unzipped the bag, revealing it to be totally empty, except for his scarce clothes and the limp body of what appeared to be a dead owl at the bottom.

Everyone around him seemed either disappointed or confused as he frantically ran around the room, looking for his alcohol stash. Caroline and Sarah, however, gasped at the sight before them.

“Shit,” muttered Sarah, “What the hell is that? When I said I was hoping there wouldn’t be animals in there I didn’t think there’d actually be animals in there…”

Caroline shook her head, “Screw what it is! The real question is – who put it there?”

The girls were so focused on their conversation they barely noticed JJ showing up, “You girls know anything about this?” he said, making both of them jump.

“JJ!” Caroline said, trying to mask all sense of worry in her voice, “How could we possibly know anything about this?”

“We did it,” said Sarah quickly, “We stole the alcohol, but we swear to God we have no idea who put that pigeon in there!”

“Sarah!” hissed Caroline, only making Sarah shrug.

“What?” the girl said, “If there’s some psycho playing tricks on us, we might as well have a guy on our side!”

JJ raised an eyebrow, a small smile spreading on his face, “You’re telling me you two are behind this?”, he said, looking at Caroline impressed, “Gee, Carrie, didn’t picture you to be the bad type,”

Caroline’s cheeks heated up immediately as Sarah rolled her eyes and turned to look at JJ, “Earth to Maybank, are you listening to me? We only stole the booze, we didn’t put that in there!”

“Relax, girls,” said JJ, “Knowing John B, that little fucker probably sat dead at the bottom of his bag for a while before you even got to the alcohol,”

Caroline and Sarah both scrunched their noses in disgust, however what JJ was saying did make sense.

“You’re probably right,” sighed Caroline, “Booze is in our storage room, me and Sarah will go fetch it now,” she said, pulling Sarah out of the cabin.

“Are you crazy?” Sarah hissed at her, “Do you really want to give them all that alcohol back? Jesus, Carrie, how the hell do you expect me to last all summer sober? It’s bad enough I have to bunk with Madison Hague…”

“Relax, Sarah, I’m sure there’s gonna be a handful of teenagers with secret stashes of alcohol just waiting to be confiscated,”

Sarah sighed in relief, “You’re totally right, C,” she said, shaking her head as they walked the few steps up to their cabin’s door, “We’re just gonna rob our teens! What could possibly go wrong?”

As she said that and pressed onto the door handle, an ear-piercing scream echoed through the forest, making the hairs on the back of her arm stand.

“What was that?!” she quickly turned to Caroline, who was just as frozen as she was. Counselors started coming out of the boys’ cabin, the music dying down again suddenly. JJ and John B quickly made their way towards the girls, both visibly concerned.

“Are you alright?” said JJ.

Caroline nodded, crossing her arms, “I am, but whoever’s in there doesn’t sound like they are,” she said, tilting her head in the direction of the thick forest from where the scream came.

By this point, Pricilla and the rest of the head staff appeared from the staff lodge, all looking slightly tipsy as they paced through the path to the counselors’ cabins.

“What in the world is going on here?” Pricilla said, trying not to slur her words.

“Sounds like we should be asking you the same thing,” John B muttered under his breath, earning a chuckle from JJ.

“Our guess is as good as yours, Miss P,” explained Topper, shrugging, “We were all hanging out in there when we heard the scream and came out,”

“Well whose was it?” enquired Pricilla, looking slightly annoyed that her night had to be cut short for these teenagers’ shenanigans. When no one could give her an answer, she rolled her eyes and waved them over, “Come on then, off to Wildcat Lodge. We’re gonna have to do a count,”

Once everyone was gathered in the lodge, Pricilla waited for Mrs. Darbyshire, who also seemed a bit too drunk to be taking any of this seriously, to bring her a list of all the counselors’ names.

“Alright,” she said once the list was in her hands, “I’m gonna do a name call. Once we figure out who’s missing, you’re gonna go into that forest and look for them.” This earned her a bunch of annoyed comments and groans, making Pricilla snap back, “Don’t give me that shit, you lost ‘em, now you gotta find ‘em.”

“This is bullshit,” Caroline crossed her arms, “We’re literally minors, what are they gonna do?”

“They’re gonna finish their party,” interjected JJ.

Caroline shook her head in annoyance as Pricilla started reading out everyone’s names one by one.

“Jenna Kinley?”

“Here!”

“Kelce Johnson?”

“Here.”

“Barry Smith?”

“S’up.”

“Madison Hague?”

No answer.

This made Pricilla stand up straighter, looking around the pool of counselors in front of her, “Madison are you here?” when there was no reply yet again, she sighed loudly, “Has anyone seen Madison?”

“Last time I saw her, she said she was going to the girls’ cabin to pick up a jacket,” chimed in Topper.

“Oh, for the love of-” Pricilla groaned loudly, “This better not be a stupid prank, or I swear!”

“I should’ve just given her one of my jackets…” muttered Topper, “Now I feel kinda guilty,”

“Hey, it’s alright,” said Caroline, tapping him on the shoulder, “I’m sure she only saw a bug or something,”

“I trust you’ll all disperse and look for your friend now,” said Pricilla, “In the meantime, us adults will be supervising the Wildcat Lodge,”

“Supervising from what?” asked JJ confused.

“In case… Madison comes back here, of course!” Pricilla quickly lied, “Now off you go, Maybank, you ask way too many questions!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This is ridiculous,” moaned Sarah after bouncing down the stairs of the girls’ cabin with a bag on her arm, “As if this summer couldn’t get any worse,”

“Pipe it, princess,” bit back JJ, “If you didn’t insist on stopping by the cabin before we went into the woods, maybe we’d have called it a night by now.”

“Don’t big yourself too much, Maybank,” she said, leading their pack into the trees and looking around to see whether the coast was clear, “You see, while you were moping around outside, I picked up some provisions,” she said, a devilish smirk spreading on her face as she pulled out a bottle of whiskey from her bag.

Caroline’s jaw nearly broke off, “Sarah, are you serious?”

Sarah only shrugged, “What? I told you I’m not gonna make it through tonight sober, besides, if I’m gonna be looking for the bitch I was hoping wouldn’t be here in the first place, I’d rather be shit-faced when I find her,”

Caroline rolled her eyes, snatching the bottle from Sarah’s hands, “Yeah, well, if I’m going to be looking for the bitch with you, I’d rather be shit-faced too,” she said, taking a rather large swig of the alcohol and hissing at the taste.

“Sweet,” said JJ, picking the bottle up from Caroline, “This is better than the party,”

John B agreed as he got hold of the bottle last.

The group walked through the forest, flashlights in hand, taking the whiskey bottle in turns and laughing as they went. John B had argued that if Sarah could pick something from her cabin, then he could pick his speaker from his, and so the four of them found themselves nearing the clearance by the lake, drunk and singing along to some cheesy song that was currently playing loud enough for only them to hear.

“It’s a good thing Pricilla wanted us here a day early,” slurred John B slightly, “Now you girls have set up the bonfire area and we can chill there,”

Sarah rolled her eyes, “Yeah, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

John B raised an eyebrow and turned to Caroline, “What’s she talking about?”

Just as Caroline was about to answer, they reached the bonfire area, which much to her dismay – had been totally wrecked, once again.

“This,” she said, anger quickly replacing the previous buzz she was feeling from the alcohol.

“Whoa, who did this?” said JJ, flashing his flashlight in the direction of the discarded logs and pillows.

“What do you mean who did this?” snapped Sarah, “Why’d you think we stole your alcohol?”

“Sarah, we didn’t do this,” John B shook his head.

Sarah stopped dead in her tracks, her face becoming slightly worried “What do you mean you didn’t do this? Then who did?”

“Guys,” Caroline chimed in from across the bonfire area, where the fire was supposed to be lit the following night, “Come check this out,”

The three teens made their way towards Caroline who was flashing her light at one of the rocks at the base of the fire pit. There was something written on it with a gooey substance the origin of which none of them wanted to question.

“I don’t know who did it, but whoever it was,” said Caroline, stepping back from the rock so that her friends could see what was written more clearly on it, “Probably did this, too.”

And there on the rock, written with what looked an awfully lot like blood, were plastered four words:

Come and find me

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 4 here x

A/N: Finally something is happening haha I hope you're enjoying so far, let me know what you think and if you want to be added to the taglist, please notify me! Story is about to get juicy from now on hehehe

Link to masterlist here. xxxx

taglist: @k-k0129

[everlarkficexchange]

Clubbing 101

Written by @alliswell21

Prompt 144: She has a night of fun before the start of the semester. She meets this guy, they hit it off that they sleep together. But when she shows up to her class the next day, she sees the guy again. But he’s her professor and he’s way older than she originally thought. #olderPeeta [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Rating: Explicit. NSFW. 

Tags and Warnings: Canon Divergence; College!AU; Age gap, older man/younger woman; The opposite to slow burn? Smut; Unprotected sex; technically impaired consent since alcohol, but their both into each other while sober too 🤷🏻‍♀️; Ethical dilemmas; Teacher/Student relationship (sort of); One Shot, with an ambiguous open ending? Almost 10K words. Unbetaed. 

Notes: Thank you to the moderators once more for putting up with us, procrastinating writers. You gals are saints! Thank you to @animekpopxx for her amazing prompts that never fail to snag my attention and give me the best ideas ever! You rock! I projected this story to be a smutty short thing, but it sprouted words and a background out of nowhere and I had to forced myself to stop adding to it, to get back to my other submissions waiting in my docs. Hopefully, it’s a good read for the ones who take the chance with it. 

Thank you all! 

KPKPKPKPKP

It starts with a harmless ranting. 

“I’m not outgoing, or fun. I’m not even ‘cool’… hell, I don’t care what my sister says, I’m too old for this place!” I tell the handsome, bearded, guy sitting in the barstool next to me, “She’s a med student, you know, but she insists that partying is part of the college experience, especially when one’s career is so demanding… plus, is the last weekend of summer break, which apparently means you’re contractually obligated to party extra hard,” I roll my eyes, “I never saw the appeal personally, but I let her drag me out here so I can keep an eye on her. Is not like I’m gonna let her piss away her future for a night of clubbing,” I scoff, taking a long pull of my beer.

The guy chuckles, but I’m not done just yet. 

I slam down my bottle and continue listing my grievances, “The thing that grinds my gears, is that she begged for a ‘girls’ night out’, and instead of drinking with me and people watch, she goes off with the first fucker that asks her to dance! I mean… did it ever occur to her, I may want to dance with her on OUR girls’ night out?!” I scowl and gulp another mouthful of beer, “then, to add insult to injury, thirty minutes later I get a text from her, saying to go on home without her ‘cause she found a ride, followed by that cursed eggplant emoji, like I needed an illustration of what kind of ride she’s getting,” I mock gag, rearranging the strap of my tiny purse across my chest. 

 “I guess she’s young, and beautiful, and does work very hard, but if you invite me to go clubbing with you, don’t abandon me within the first 15 minutes of arriving!”

My companion winces before sipping his drink, and smiling ruefully, “That’s harsh… sorry you’re having a shitty night,”

“Meh… little sisters, right?!” I shrug. 

The guy smiles crookedly at me, and I find myself enjoying his smile, “I wouldn’t know about that. I’m the baby of three brothers, and the only thing I got away with was learning how to wrestle and spring awesome comebacks on the fly… the brutes kept me on my toes,” he chuckles. 

“Three boys? Sounds chaotic. Your poor mother!” 

“Yeah… life’s chaotic.” He averts his eyes for a second, his smile goes away. I’m afraid I’ve said something wrong, but he suddenly looks back at me, and confesses, “I’m not into clubbing either.” His eyes sparkle, despite the awful, dim, blue lights bathing the place. 

I smile, “Look at us wallflowers, bonding over drinks and sibling shenanigans,” we clink our drinks together and sip. I’m chatty and relaxed, so unlike myself; I guess the two beers I’ve had are starting to get to me. “I’m Katniss, by the way.”

“That’s pretty,” he says, shyly; makes my chest warm up. “Nice to meet you, Katniss. I’m Peeta.”

I arch my eyebrows, “Peter?” I repeat, because I’m pretty sure I miss-heard him over the obnoxiously loud music. 

The guy shakes his head, “Pee-ta… like the bread?” He chuckles. Then adds, “Family name. Everyone on my dad’s side are bakers.” 

I snort-laugh, “Punny!” I say, taking another sip. Yup, beer’s getting to me, I’m not this cleverly funny. “My dad was into survivalism and botany… I’m named after a plant also known as Duck Potato, so I win the weird name competition!” 

“Hey, it’s something else to bond over,”

“Cheers to that!” We clink our drinks again, and partake in our booze. 

He orders another whiskey neat when he’s out… sounds both snooty and distinguished at the same time. Goes well with his put together image, though: nicely trimmed beard, nicely combed hair, nice polo shirt with what I believe is a tiny loaf of bread embroidered on the chest, and dark-wash jeans… I think. It’s hard to tell under the black lights of the club. 

He offers to get me another drink, and I order an appletini.

“J.D. from Scrubs always drank one,” I explain, swirling the coctel in my hand, “I’ve always been curious to try, but didn’t wanna spend my own money experimenting on a drink I could potentially hate.” 

“Makes sense,” Peeta says, “So… what’s the verdict?” 

“Is pretty good, actually. But I think I’ll stick with my Miller Light,” 

Peeta nods, “I honestly don’t enjoy alcohol that much.”

I giggle. “Then, what brings you to this fine establishment tonight, sir, if you’re not much for clubbing, or drinking?” I watch him out of the corner of my eye. 

I like that when he smiles, his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“I lost a bet against a colleague.”

“Oh,” I’m suddenly self conscious and a little uncomfortable. I give the guy a scrutinizing look, and ask suspiciously, “what was the punishment exactly?” 

The man rolls his eyes. “I have to spend one whole hour in the club, without criticizing anything, like the bitter old man I am,” he grins, “My friend’s words. Not mine!” He raises both hands, claiming innocence. 

I laugh at the face he pulls, “Well, you’ve just defaulted on that punishment,”

“How so?” He beams. 

“With the look in your face! It spoke volumes!” 

“Am I that transparent?” 

“You read like a preschooler’s board book, pal!” 

We both laugh, I drink my beer, and he throws back his whiskey neat. 

“So…” he makes a show of looking at his watch, “I still have 33 minutes to kill before I’m allowed to run out of this place… I know I’m not a Med student, co-Ed, sister of yours, but… would you, um, like to dance with me?” He sounds adorably hopeful. 

I glance at the man sideways, toying with my bottle. 

He smirks, mischievously, “I promise, spirits make me more coordinated on the dance floor. I become this amazing dancer when I have a couple of drinks on… or so my brain believes. I probably look like an idiot, but I’m too goofy to know the difference. You’re welcome to be the judge it for yourself,”

I take my sweet time finishing the last dregs of my beer, and wrinkle my nose, “You sure you wanna dance to this shit, kids call music nowadays?” I smirk, pointing a finger up, motioning wide circles into the ether. 

Peeta gives a full belly laugh.

I really do like his laugh! 

“Isn’t it our only choice?” He ventures. 

Not if you follow me home, my thirsty brain supplies; my lips on the other hand, just let through a hint of a smile, because I’m buzzed, but not drunk enough to proposition a total stranger. I’ve never been one to sleep around anyway.

“Okay,” I say, too enthused. “As long as we both agree that this isn’t music,”

“Oh no, this just barely passes as noise!” Peeta agrees readily. 

He guides me to the packed dance floor, and we start moving to the booming, deafening tunes playing overhead. 

I’m not sure if one could call this dancing. Everywhere I look people are writhing against each other, like a pack of zombies without grace or rhyme. 

I’m not sure Peeta will get an accurate assessment of his dancing skills, compared to what I’m seeing, he’ll probably look like a professional; plus, it’s too dark and busy in here to really appreciate anything, really, but after a few minutes of just shifting in place, robotically, I snatch two bottle beers from a waitress walking by, offering one to my partner, hoping that’s enough to get us loosen up. The waitress stares at me until I rummage on my crossbody mini purse and toss a crumple ten on her tray. 

The liquid boost works. Before I know it, I’m grinding my hips against his. Peeta’s just the right height for his thigh to fit between my legs and brush against my front. I get tired of undulating my arms in the air, so I drop them around his shoulders, and feel just how firm and broad he is under my touch. 

Our chests are tightly pressed together, and I’m at the right angle to just stare at his plush-looking lips. I turn around before I do something brash, like kiss him in the mouth. Peeta doesn’t question it, he just places his hands on my hips, and starts moving to the music’s beat. 

I bring the beer to my lips, but the bottle’s empty… oops! It doesn’t matter, I’m having the time of my life! 

Peeta’s swaying guides me. I basically drape my back over his front, and bump my ass into his groin. I feel the hint of a bulge there, and press my rear into it  again, just to confirm if I felt what I hope I felt. 

Peeta’s fingers tighten on my hip, emboldening me to keep going until I’m practically twerking into him, and his slight bulge morphs into a full blown hard-on. 

I twist in his arms to face him, my lust idled brain barely thinking rationally, “Are your 33 minutes done yet?” I yell into his ear, so he can hear me over the noise. 

He doesn’t even look at his watch, “To hell with time! I‘ll stay here all night, if you want me to,” He answers loudly. 

“Come on, then!” I push off his chest, and snatch up his hand before he can reply. 

Leaving the dance floor is surprisingly easily, considering the crowd bouncing in place together. 

I make no conscious plan on where we’re going; I’m arguably familiar with the layout of this place from my many visits since Prim turned 21; I’m only mildly surprised when we navigate across the club, all the way to the restrooms. It’s like my clit is making all the decisions tonight… good for it! 

There’s a line of disgruntled women waiting to get inside the Ladies Room, but the Men’s Room is available, and Peeta lets me guide him into it, like one of those pull toys children have. 

“It stinks in here,” I comment blandly, but make a beeline for the last stall with a door. 

There’s one guy at the urinal, but he doesn’t even look up from his pants, so I just shrug it off and yank Peeta into the stall with me. 

The space is tight, but once inside the stall, I push Peeta into the door, and attack his mouth. 

He makes a startled noise at the back of his throat, but his hands and arms immediately press me into his body more fully. My own hands trek down to his belt, where I fiddle with the buckle until it’s undone, and I can access his pants’ button and fly. 

He hisses when my fingers graze his warm erection, and bucks into my knuckles. I’m in the process of sticking my hand inside his boxers, when Peeta growls, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, and letting it go with a wet pop.

“Switch places,” he pants against my mouth, and hoists me up, until my back hits the door and his hands grab my hips possessively, jutting my pelvis forward, “I’m hungry, would you mind if I eat you out?” 

“Okay,” I gasp.

Thank you for forcing me to wear your tiny, clubbing dress, Prim! 

“You’ll allow it?” He asks, incredulous, rubbing circles on my hips with his thumbs. 

“Yes… I’ll allow it!”

His smile is sexy, his stare is hypnotic. Damned my drunken ass! I can’t believe I’m willing to do this in a smelly bathroom stall!

Peeta sits on the toilet and licks his lips while staring up at me. His hands disappear under the stretchy material of my skirt, bumping my purse out of his way. He skims his fingers under the elastic of my panties, and I bite my lip, nodding eagerly.

Slowly, Peeta slides my underwear down my legs, the tips of his fingers follow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced!

Once he brings my panties to my knees, his hands rush back up my thighs, pushing the flimsy skirt around my waist. My underwear drops to my ankles on their own. 

Peeta’s level eye with my crotch, and I squirm restlessly. “Beautiful… absolutely soaked,” he whispers in a daze, he inhales pulling me closer, “You smell divine!” He descends, nose first, into the thatch of dark curls between my thighs, making me moan. He ruts his face against me, and suddenly drops to his knees, grabbing my calf to pull my leg up. 

But the movement gets prevented by my stupid underwear, tangled in my ankles. Without missing a beat, I toe my panties off, so Peeta can maneuver my body however he wants. 

He drapes my leg over his shoulder, opening me up to his ravenous mouth. He grunts, burying his face into my core, and finally, FINALLY, his tongue swipes between my folds.

“Fuck!” I squeak. 

My hands fly to tangle into his soft, perfectly coiffed hair. I nearly smother him, holding his face to my pussy, but he’s doing wicked things to me with his tongue: lapping, sucking, and nipping at my labia; drawing number eight figures around my clit with the tip of his tongue, to then sinking it deep inside my core. I can’t stop bucking into his mouth over and over.

When was the last time I was given head? Fuck if I know! Darius probably, he was decent, but didn’t do it often. And Thom was so boring at it, I actually preferred he didn’t do it. But this guy is amazing! A real expert in the matter! 

“I’m so close! Please… I’m so close,” I wail like a cat in heat, writhing against the door. 

Peeta looks up, and despite the horrendous lighting in the room, I realize he’s got the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen… too bad I can’t hold his gaze too long, because he starts rubbing my clit with his thumb, while fucking my hole with his tongue, and is all I can do not shout and scalp him in my delirium.

He doesn’t stop drinking my juices while I convulse above him. On the contrary, he retrieves his thumb, but keeps his mouth busy, lapping away all the slick I give him.

It’s too much.

I tug on his hair to pull him off of my sensitive privates. 

Peeta takes one last lick with the flat of his tongue and looks up at me, smiling wolfishly, “Was that good?” His beard’s dripping with me, he wipes some of it off on his sleeve. 

I snort, unsexy and definitely rude. “You made me cum so hard I saw stars… yeah, it was good. Better than good, really!” I smile down at him, and try to pull him off from the floor. 

All the gel holding his curls in place is gone now, rubbed off on my palms. His hair is sticking up on the top and towards the back of his head. I reach up to try and smooth it back, “I’m sorry, I seem to have made a mess of your hair,” I giggle. It’s adorable, but I feel bad that I ruined it. 

“You can mess my hair any time you want, Katniss.” He says, almost shyly, he places his hands on my waist, over the bunched up dress. 

It’s a big turn on to me, how his words are so flirty, but he delivers them so sweetly and awed. Is unexpected and endearing… which is odd, because I don’t usually find people endearing at all!

We both chuckle. 

He licks his lips, and I feel heat pool in my lower belly again. 

“Come’ere!” I wrap my hand around his nape, and pull his lips to mine. 

He responds immediately, licking the seam of my mouth. I suck on his tongue when he slides it against mine. 

He moans. 

“Fuck me, Peeta,” I rasp into the kiss, palming his dick through his jeans. 

He groans, “Are you sure?” He barely holds back another groan when I squeeze his clothed erection.

“Cock. In me. Now!” I command through gritted teeth, trying to pull his cock out of his pants with one hand, while taking his hand, and splaying it on my boob. 

“Okay… shit… this is… surreal! This has never happened to me before!” He kneads my tit, gently.

I’m not sure I was supposed to hear that, so I pretend I didn’t and turn, facing the door to wiggle my ass, in an attempt to convince him. 

Peeta makes a noise in his throat, quickly followed by the sound of shifting clothes, and a metallic thump from his belt buckle hitting the toilet. 

I whine when Peeta’s warm, heavy cock caressed my bare ass cheek. “Please don’t tease me,” I beg.

“Fuck, Katniss… do you really want this?”

“Yes, Peeta… put your cock inside my cunt, and fuck me all the way to next week! Now!” 

His warm body cocoons mine, “Anything you want, sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear, and I feel the blunt head of his cock parting my folds, coating himself with my natural lubricants.

He finds my entrance, pushing inside just the tip. He gasps, “Fuck!” One big hand wraps around my hip to keep me steady, bracing his other arm on the door, above my head. 

“Peeta… Please!” I wiggle my ass, making him sink another inch deep. 

“Hold still,” He hisses, “I’m trying to hold back… not ramming in too roughly… embarrassing myself, cumming too fast,” His hot breath warms my nape. “You feel like heaven!” He growls, tightening his hold on me. 

I’m torn, wishing he’d drill into me without mercy already, while another part of me is grateful he’s trying to stay under control… I don’t know which I want more… 

When was the last time I had sex? 

As if reading my thoughts, Peeta shares haltingly, “It’s been such a long time for me. I want it to last, but I’m

Not sure if I can,” 

I don’t have time to second guess myself, because Peeta’s moving, and he’s massive! 

“Don’t hold back!” I bleat, “I want it rough… I want it fast!” I gasp, clenching down on him. I paw at the door for purchase, trying not to face-plant on the cold, hard surface, while Peeta’s fat prick stretches me to the brink of pain! I can’t stay put for him any longer; I buck into him.

“I said to hold still!” He slaps my ass, hard. It stings, but it’s a welcomed feeling. 

I moan and melt, finally relaxing enough for him to penetrate me all the way to the hilt. He stays there a moment, breathing harshly into my neck, squeezing my hip on and off. 

“You’re so tight. So warm. So wet, Katniss.” He nuzzles my ear, “I’m gonna move now, I apologize beforehand in case this ends too soon for you…” He drags himself slowly out of me, just to plunge right back in with a swift, hard thrust. 

I squeak; he grunts.. 

Peeta holds me by the waist,  “You’re so pretty and sexy, Katniss. I can’t decide if you’re real, or the most vivid wet dream I’ve ever had…” he’s fucking me like a jackrabbit in rut.

I’m speechless, vaguely wondering if I didn’t dream him instead?

His cock head hits a spot deep inside me I’ve never reached before. I start babbling nonsense— mostly praising his cock and his strength— I don’t really know what I’m saying, but he seems to be enjoying it thoroughly by the increase in his speed and the volume of his grunts. 

I’m joisted up and down his shaft like a rag doll; I wish I’d thought of hanging my stupid little purse somewhere before we started, because now it’s bumping on my thighs, distracting me from the great ducking I’m getting; it’s no matter… I can feel my orgasm building in my belly.

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart… I want you to cum too,” He nibbles on my earlobe. 

“Yes, Peeta! Please make me cum, I’m so close!”

One of his hands slides around my waist to play with my clit, while his other tweaks my nipples over my dress and bra. That, added to the sensation of my g-spot being prodded repeatedly, sends me spinning over the edge.

I must’ve screamed or something, because he clamps his hand over my mouth, and then he’s grunting, digging his forehead between my shoulder blades, and pulling me back against his unyielding body. 

“Fuck…” he gasps and shivers behind me. I feel his dick pulsing, his rhythm faltering, and then he goes still. 

Peeta sags a little, wedging his shoulder into the door to keep from falling. I’m surprised he still has the strength to hold me up too; I have to be dead weight at this point, since my legs feel like overcooked noodles and my arms gave out a minute ago.

We both try to catch our breaths, too spent and weak for much more, at least for a few minutes.

Peeta stirs. “Are you okay?” He breathes out, ruffling the loose wisps of my hair with his breath. 

I chuckle, leaning my sweaty temple on the cool door. “I can’t feel my toes… which is excellent!”

“Good,” he sighs. 

Three heart beats later, he straightens up and pulls out of me. An indecent amount of spend flows down my legs as soon as his cock dislodges from my pussy, but Peeta shoves something soft between my thighs quickly, before I have time to freak out about the mess.

I look down mildly curious, staring at an embroidery of a tiny loaf of bread. Vaguely, I wonder if that’s his uniform? He said he was a baker, right? At least he’s named after bread or something. I giggle. “Is this your shirt?” I ask, widening my stance to gracelessly wipe myself clean. 

“Yeah,” 

“Thank you,” I say, dazedly, turning sideways to smile at him gratefully. 

He’s wearing a simple, white, cotton t-shirt when I return the polo to him, now spoiled with cum and slick. I’m caught off guard by how broad shoulder he is, and by how nice he smells… cinnamon and sweat. Weird combination, but pleasant. I wonder if he baked any bread today? 

“Um… would you… would you like to put these back on?” He asks awkwardly, leaning down to pick up my discarded panties from besides the foot of the toilet bowl.

I wrinkle my nose, “Not really,” I mumble. “Who knows when was the last time that floor got cleaned. Gross.” 

Peeta smiles and shakes his head, “Here,” he grabs his polo, covered in our juices, and wraps my underwear in it. “Now it’s hidden.”

My body is finally catching up with the advanced hour, the beers and the two amazing orgasms. I’m starting to feel sore everywhere, and my eyelids are getting heavy. “Wow… think I’m officially all partied out,” I chuckle weakly.

“Ditto,” Peeta agrees, his smile is shy. “So… there’s this little dinner about two blocks from here,” he starts, eyes downcast; the space seems to shrink around us, now that the frenzy of our physical activities is done with. “Would you like to grab a pancake or som—“

My phone rings, startling us both into silence. I frown, but scramble to find it in my purse, to check who could be calling me… apparently at 2 a.m.!

My frown deepens. Prim’s smiling face flashes on the screen. She was supposed to be getting some herself! “It’s my sister,” I whisper, tamping down my rising panic. I don’t ask if it’s okay to answer, I just do it. “Prim?” 

“Where the hell are you?!” I have to pull the phone off, or risk eardrum rupture by my sister’s screeching. “I’ve been texting and calling you! I’ve been worried sick!”

I scowl at the wall, confused and little annoyed, “Prim… Prim, are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come get you somewhere?” I try to ask.

“What?! No. I’m home! But you aren’t, and I’ve been scared shitless trying to find you!”

I give Peeta an apologetic grimace, and blindly feel around for the lock to get out of the stall. “Um… why are you home so early? Last time I heard from you, you were getting a ride,” I’m trying to sound unaffected; It’s all I can think to say in my mortification.

“Never mind that! Why aren’t you home already? I thought you had to work in the morning and then go to sch—” 

While Prim rages at me, I place a hand on the phone and turn to Peeta, still in the stall, awkwardly facing the wall, I assume to grant me some privacy. I’m sure he can hear my sister’s frantic chastisement from where he’s standing. “I’m sorry… you’d think I was a teenager instead of a grown ass adult,” I roll my eyes.

Peeta waves me off good naturedly. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for keeping you so late,”

I’m about to say something else, but Prim yells loudly, something about calling the police and checking the hospitals for me, which truly prompts a reaction from me, “Calm down! I’m still at the club, exactly where you left me!” I cover the phone with my palm again, and turn to him. “I’m… I’m gonna go? Before she threatens to send the marines in,” I try to joke, but our situation takes all the levity out of it, and my attempt dies off, lamely. 

Peeta nods, smiling softly; somehow I can tell it’s not genuine. 

“Little sisters, right?” I offer halfheartedly, twisting my lips. 

“Can I… walk you out at least?” He asks quietly; Prim hasn’t stopped nagging this whole time. 

“I… it’s not necessary, but thank you…” 

Peeta nods again, looking disappointed. 

I don’t get to tell him a proper goodbye, because two dude-bros come in the bathroom, letting the noise from the club filter in; one of the idiots elbows the other, and both start making some lewd comments about me, but Peeta steps in, eyes wild with anger, and tells the guys to knock it off. Prim hears the whole thing of course, and goes nuts herself asking what’s going on?

Peeta looks at me, and motions his head towards the door. 

Message received, I step outside the bathroom and book it out of the club, “I’ll be home in a bit. I’m gonna call and Uber,”

“Call me as soon as you’re in it!” Prim demands.

“Fine! Now stop nagging me, will you?!”

I don’t realize I never looked back at Peeta to wave my goodbyes until I’m in the car, heading home. Regret truly is a bitch. I can’t help feeling like I just lost something important, but I have no idea what it is. 

>>—————> * <————<<

It’s been a very long Monday. I’m mainly running on caffeine at the moment, and can’t wait to get home and pass out in my fluffy bed, to see if I can catch up on last nights lost hours of sleep. 

I enter my last class of the day and find a seat in the middle of the third row. I pull my laptop, a writing pad and my mechanical pencil out of my bag, and watch as my classmates start filtering in one by one, greeting each other and finding their places, lazily. 

I’m the oldest student in this class, which is not surprising. I’ve only just come back from my extended— 5 year— sabbatical; and did it only after I was completely sure I could handle my workload and the financial strain of both me and Prim going to college at the same time, without giving myself an early grave. 

It’s been hard, but I’m glad I came back to finish my schooling, I only need a handful of credits to graduate, which is great!

I check my watch. We still have a few minutes to kill before class starts. The professor— Dr. Mellark, according to the copy of my schedule— is not here yet, so I pull up the banking app on my phone to give it another glance. The balance is still the same as the last two times I’ve seen it, but it doesn’t hurt to be extra careful when one is on a tight budget. I scheduled payments for the power, gas and rent to go out in the next few days, and I want to make sure there’s enough money in the bank to cover them. We’re looking fine for the month, financially speaking. 

The door to the classroom swishes open, and I start signing off my app.

“Good afternoon ladies and germs; I’m doctor Mellark, and provided you’re in this room for an English class, I’ll like to welcome you to the amazing world of Classic Literature!” Says a deep, male voice I find oddly familiar. “By the way, don’t any of you dare to disagree with me on the awesomeness of classic lit… I’m a doctor, I know what I’m talking about… unless you ask me about medicine, then please be free to disregard everything I say, because I’m not ‘that’ kind of doctor!” 

A murmure of little chuckles fills the room; even I smile, silencing my phone and putting it away, before looking up at the professor.

I choke on a strangled gasp when I finally set eyes on the man I assume is the teacher, dumping a worn, leather, messenger bag on the desk near the podium. He’s the last person I would’ve expected to have as a professor.  

Oblivious to my predicament, Doctor Mellark— or as I know him: Peeta!— keeps introducing himself. 

“I’ve been teaching this course for 14th years, but I’m always pleasantly surprised to hear the different points of views my students bring to our discussions on the classics we study, which in a nutshell, is the beauty of this class.” He pulls a ream of paper out of his bag, and gives it to a student in the front, “Please take a syllabus, and pass the rest to the next person, and so on… thank you!” 

My face is burning. I think I’m gonna faint. 

“But enough about me,” his voice booms, making my whole body shiver. “I don’t normally do roll calls or care about attendance, as long as you’re not missing assignments, and are here during discussions, so this is the first and last time I’ll be reading this list,” he rises a piece of paper above his head, I surmise has the students names on it, and he instructs, before reading, “I’ll call your names, and you’ll introduce yourself, briefly, that way we can all get acquainted with each other, yes?” 

Ugh! 

He can scratch my name off that list right now! We’re more than acquainted with each other.

Bile rises to my throat. An intrusive, bitter thought pesters me: how many of his students has he gotten ‘that’ familiar with? 

But the thought dies off quickly. An even worse, more worrisome thought springs front and center in my mind: Did we use protection?!

Panic rises in my chest, a nervous queasiness settles in my belly; a distant memory of warm goo sliding down my legs comes to mind… Oh shit! 

Oh shit, oh shit! We didn’t use a freaking condom? Who does that?! 

Oh shit! 

Would a Plan B still be effective right now? It’s been less than 24 hours… 

Peeta’s reading names. People stand from their seats and talk about themselves. I haven’t heard one word they’ve said, but I’ve been watching how some of the female students bat their eyelashes and speak all breathily, smiling coyly at him… Peeta seems oblivious to the flirting, but I still feel a cocktail of unpleasant feelings in the pit of my stomach. 

I realize, I’m jealous!

My ass is frozen in my sit, I’m not even breathing. I don’t think Peeta’s seen me yet, but… what will he do or say once my name comes up? I send a quick prayer to heaven, he won’t recognize me since I look nothing like I did last night at the club, with my hair down and my face all made-up. Right now and plain ol’ me… the rub is gonna be my name. Darn my dad and his awful naming whims! 

Soon enough, he reads a name that makes him stutter, “Kat…Katniss? Everdeen?” He does a double take, “Katniss Everdeen…” his eyes are the size of saucers when he scans the lecture hall, swiftly. When he finds me, he looks back down at his paper, and says the name out loud again, unsure, “Katniss Everdeen?” Like he doesn’t believe what he’s reading. 

I stand up woodenly, my voice cracks a little, “I’m—I’m Katniss Everdeen… hi!” 

I’m about to drop back into my chair, but Peeta kinda mumbles, “You know, Arrowhead, or Katniss is a water plant? The root is edible… like a swamp potato?”

There are quiet little giggles all over the place. 

Peeta clears his throat, his eyes flit away; his face’s blank of emotion, but his cheeks seem pinker than a second earlier, “I just read that online, believe it or not. Interesting facts about local flora, people. Reading is knowledge, but so is learning from one another… what can you tell us about yourself, Miss Everdeen, besides that you have a very unique first name?”

“I…” I harrumph, avoiding eye contact with Peeta at all costs, “I’m a part time student. Majoring in Botany. I took this class to fulfill my last English credits requirement for graduation. I do love books and classic literature, in particular.” 

“Thank you… Miss Everdeen,” he rasps. 

I sit down, clumsily, hoping this horrible, horrible moment is just a nightmare and that I’ll wake up any second now, drooling on my desk, with indentations of my notepad on my cheek, because anything would be less embarrassing than what I’m going through at this point.

Mercifully, Peeta calls a different name, and then another, and then another. I don’t look up from my notepad once.

Peeta for his part, sounds stiff and monotonous— or so I’d like to think— no more jokes or clever sayings. Maybe he’s not as affected as I am about this ordeal, and I’m just making it a bigger deal than it really is? Maybe he does have experience sleeping with students— I mean, it’s not unheard off, right?— Not that either of us had any idea we were engaging in a teacher-student affair last night… 

Although, calling it an affair is generous; it was a measly one night stand. A chance encounter. Two people letting off steam before a busy week ahead. 

I’m getting increasingly angry with all this thinking… and the class seems to drag on. It feels like an eternity, and my mind keeps churning up all kinds of questions: Why would he not say he was a teacher at this particular college? Did he lie about being a baker? Is his name even Peeta? 

I scoffed at the thought.

To my horror, I hear him ask, “Anything to say, Miss Everdeen?” 

Looking up at him requires a great deal of bravery and self admonishment, but I do my best and face him— he’s wearing glasses now, which makes my belly tightened for inexplicable reasons— “No, Doctor Mellark, nothing of consequence anyway,” I retort as venemosly as possible, without alerting anyone else there’s something weird going on between me and the professor. 

Peeta grimaces slightly. Then looks away, “Very well, as I was saying, we will start with the basics: The Iliad and Moby Dick, since those are High school level works, I expect your reports to be sufficiently well researched, and your personal ideas on the text somewhat fleshed out. It doesn’t have to be in-depth. I’m just looking to determine everyone’s style and needs for the semester ahead…” he continues his spiel, and I feel free to go back to my stewing and my musings. 

Before I know it, Peeta’s dismissing the class, wishing everyone a good rest of their evening. 

I jump into action, packing my stuff with my head bowed, but then I hear him again.

“Miss Everdeen, a private word, please?” It’s much too quiet to have been said from his podium. I still startled when I look up and find him standing right against the first row of desks, directly in front of me. 

His face is not quite stern, but he’s definitely less smiley than when we met. 

I force down a gasp, because under the better lighting of the lecture hall, and close up, I can see a plethora of details I missed at the club; like the arresting blue of his eyes, the slight reddish of his neatly trimmed beard, peppered with silver whiskers all over, while his perfectly combed hair is almost all silver on the temples, and ashy blonde on the top. His shoulders are even broader than I remember. 

He’s overall stockier than I originally thought, and just a smidge shorter, which is fine, he’s still the most handsome man I’ve ever met, and I wouldn’t mind climbing him like a tree—

I shake my head off the intrusive, lecheros thoughts. I’m literally lusting after my teacher, for goodness sakes! This is beyond a silly schoolgirl crush!

Peeta arches one dark blonde eyebrow at me, expectantly. 

I nod curtly, because my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and gesture for him to lead the way.

I shove my laptop into my bag, and hastily shoulder the straps, hugging my writing pad to my chest, following my professor like a chastened little girl. 

My stupid eyes find his ass, and I blink twice, at the exquisite sight in front of me. I groan internally. 

He grabs his own bag, takes off his spectacles and slides them into his shirt pocket. 

How old is this man?! He said he’s been teaching this class for 14 years, when do professors start their teaching careers? How did I never see him before now roaming campus? Is his age the reason he ate pussy like a master? 

I shake my head, cursing my horny brain. 

Peeta opens a door I have no idea how we came across, and then stands aside, gesturing for me to go in first. 

I duck my head and step into a warmly decorated office, with a small desk and two chairs in the middle of the room. Bookshelves full of tomes line the office. A handful of pictures and framed diplomas hang from the only available wall space in the room, but I don’t get to study them before he catches my undivided attention. 

“Let me start by apologizing,” Peeta stars, closing the door behind himself, “I assure you, it wasn’t my intention to cause you any stress, or embarrassment out there.” He pauses, “Would you like to sit?” He offers, wincing. He doesn’t wait and steps around me, to pace on the other side of his desk, “I… um, never been in this position before,” he scowls, “I’m not sure what assurances I can offer at the moment, except, that I will start the process to recuse myself from this class immediately, to not interfere with your academic—“

“Recuse yourself?” I cut him off, “what do you mean?” 

Peeta squirms a little, and sits down heavily on his chair. My bag slides off my shoulder, and I just dump it in the empty chair I was offered a moment ago. 

“Well, Miss Everdeen, it’s the right thing to do, given our circumstances. We’ve breached the appropriate boundaries of our pupil and teacher positions, and staying in the same class together will put you at a disadvantage… is a power imbalance situation, that calls for action.”

“Can you stop calling me ‘Miss Everdeen’? It’s weird…”

“I’m just trying to maintain an acceptable level of decorum between us,” he says sheepishly. 

“That ship has already sailed,” I say tiredly.

“Perhaps, but it’s my responsibility to still try,” he rubs his forehead. “Anyway, I’ll call my department and see what is next. Stepping down myself is the only fair solution I see so far… it would be terribly unfair to ask you to switch classes. Simply disrespectful, but we both can agree this uncomfortable situation needs to be nipped in the bud, for both our sakes, Miss Everdeen.”

���This is bullshit!” I snap, “What happened in that club, isn’t that terrible of a problem! What we really need to do is stop acting so stiffly and guilty. By the way, you sound like a walking thesaurus!” I accuse, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he called my name at the lecture hall. “Stop it!” 

Peeta inhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Miss Everdeen, our actions last night may have been honest, and even innocent in nature, but they still carry consequences… unexpected ones, especially in light of the facts. And the facts are, that it would be unethical for me to remain in a position of authority over you. In any case… if you feel the need to report me to the school administration, for… harassment or inappropriate behavior or anything else, I won’t dispute any claims. I promise to distance myself from you and give you space so you can continue with your education without interference, in a safe environment.”

I grunt, “I’m not going to report you, because you didn’t do anything wrong. Sure, I thought you were a baker… I mean your story about your name, and that little loaf of bread embroidered into your shirt, I thought it was your uniform,” I shrug one shoulder. 

“Sorry about that… I never meant to mislead you,” he says bashful. 

I ignore him, “Either way, I was the one pulling you into that bathroom. I threw myself at you. I begged you to do things to me, and you just granted me my wishes…” like a sexy gentleman, “The sex is on me. I’m 26 years old, I’m not some bumbling teenager who hasn’t learned to take responsibility for her actions, so, please… stop trying to shield me, or protect me, or whatever it is you’re doing,” my arms flap around in frustration. I finally push my bag off the chair, and sink into it. “Look, Peeta—“

“Professor…” he corrects, frowning a little.

I roll my eyes, if he knew he’s just making it sound kinkier than it already is, he wouldn’t be so adamant about the freaking titles. 

“Fine… Doctor Mellark,” I enunciate, pettily. “I specifically chose your class as my last English elective for two reasons. One: it’s exactly the amount of credits I need to graduate at the end of the semester. And two: it fits my schedule to a T, which is important, since I do have a full time job when I’m not a college student. So, I’m sure we can both be adults about this unfortunate situation, and simply forge on. There’s no need for you to recuse from teaching this class, and I have absolutely no intention of switching. We both can wear our big people britches, and pretend last night was a… what did you call it?” I wave my hands, as if the answer will materialize from thin air, “A vivid wet dream? And leave it at that!”

Peeta glares at me, looking aggravated for the first time since I met him. “It’ll be unethical to continue like everything is normal, Miss Everdeen.” Peeta argues, stubbornly. 

“Nobody has to know about last night,” I say, exasperated, then a horrifying thought flashes in my mind, “Unless you bragged about it already!”

“No!” He straightens in his chair, looking offended, “I would never do something so vile,” He looks indignant, “plus, the fact still remains that something did happen last night, and I know about it! I can’t, in good faith, be your teacher.”

“Are you planning on showing me favoritism because you know what my pussy tastes like, Peeta?” I deadpan, “Or are you gonna blackmail me into doing it again?” 

“Stop calling me Peeta!” He growls through his teeth, his very thick fingers clenching into fists on his armrests. 

I blink at his reaction owlishly, realizing I’m truly pushing it this time. 

“I’ve always prided myself on keeping my nose clean. Being a decent man and tutor. Never in 17 years of teaching have I slept with a co-ed, let alone a student in my own class.” He breathes deeply, then pins me to my chair, with those arresting blue eyes of his, burning with controlled anger, “I would never extort you or anyone for sexual favors, Katniss. While I don’t really want to lose my tenure or face other disciplinary actions from the school authorities, the one thing I truly don’t want to damage are my personal standards, and my self image.

“Katniss, I’m already biased when it comes to you. Being your professor won’t be exactly fair to anyone. I’m not saying I would give you A’s willy-nilly, nor that I would grade your papers any differently than I’d do your peers or that I’d be less critical of your work,” 

“That’s reassuring,” I roll my eyes. “You’re telling me that if I bring you a shit essay, you might not be persuaded to let me redo it?” 

He sighs, “I don’t know…” he scratches the back of his neck, “I’ll most likely hover over your desk a disproportionate amount of time compared to your classmates. There’s also a chance I’ll call on your name more often than the rest of them?”

“I still don’t hear one unscrupulous, wrong reason, why you can’t do your job, and teach this class.”

We sit there, staring at each other, at an impasse. 

“Why are you so set on keeping me in that room, Miss Everdeen?” He asks, softly. 

Finally, I relent, relaxing my tense shoulders, and exhaling tiredly. I raise my hands in defeat. “I don’t know, Peeta. Because I want to protect you, the same way you’re trying to protect me. But… recuse yourself if you have to. I still believe you’re a better man than your urges.” 

Peeta relaxes in his chair too, “Thank you, Katniss.You didn’t have to say that, specially because you don’t know me. It still means a lot.”

I chew the inside of my lip, calculating stuff in my head. “You’re right, I don’t know you, but I consider myself an okay judge of character.” He opened this door, it’s time for me to walk through it, “Can I ask you some stuff?” I ask innocently.

Peeta arches his eyebrows. “Shoot,” he says. 

“How old are you?” 

“45. I’m sorry. I knew you were young last night… I just didn’t quite grasp just how young,” his eyes shift downwards, sheepish and uncomfortable. 

“I’m an adult. I’ve been the head of my family for years. At this point, age is irrelevant for me.” I state, dismissively.

“What about your family?” He asks, tilting his head sideways.

It takes me a minute to answer. I cross my arms over my stomach, and exhale, “It’s been only Primrose and I for five years now. My mother had cancer. My father passed when I was eleven.” I rock in my chair, slightly, “That’s why my sister was being such a clingy bitch last night. She can’t bear to lose anyone else. Neither can I for that matter.”

Peeta leans forward on his desk. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Katniss.”

I sit back, feeling like a huge weight just got lifted off my shoulders. “It’s okay, really. I’m back in school, about to finish my last semester, Prim is doing great in university, the only debt we have right now is Prim’s car and my Target card… we are actually okay,” I smile, meekly at him. 

“That’s… that’s good, Katniss. Admirable, really.”

“Peeta?” I start cautiously, “Would you really remove yourself from the class because of me?” 

He looks me right in the eye, sincerity emanating fro his eyes. “Absolutely. Without hesitation. As soon as you leave, I’ll email my Head of Department, explaining my situation. Don’t worry, I won’t mention any names or details—“

I shake my head, vehemently. 

Peeta squints, studying me cautiously, measuring me. 

“Please… stay with me…” 

Something in my tone catches his attention, and he eyes me curiously. “I’ve already told you why I can’t,” he says, almost soothingly. 

I stand up. Go around my chair, and drop back down into it. I start shaking my leg nervously. “I had this feeling in my gut since last night. Like I lost something precious, I just couldn’t put a finger on it… I still can’t, to be honest. All I know, in my loins, is that I can’t let you step down from your position, and I sure as hell won’t walk away on you without figuring out what this…” I wiggle my fingers, pointing to the mouth of my stomach, “feeling is about.”

He stares at me. 

I stand up again, and this time I just pace, to the wall with the pictures, and stare at a bunch of faces, too similar to Peeta’s not to be related to him somehow. 

“I know I’m not making sense, but I just needed to say that.”

He watches me for a long beat, weighing his options no doubt, before answering, “I can’t be your teacher, Katniss…” he sighs, and rubs his forehead, “because I’m afraid seeing you every week, without being able to touch you will be absolute torture.”

“Really?” I bite my lip, giving him an open once over, not feeling one iota self conscious about. “How come?” 

Peeta huffs, avoiding my eyes. “I’d be wondering what your breasts look like the whole time.” He confesses, flatly. “I didn’t get a chance to see them last night, and it kept me awake an indecent amount of time.” He twists his lips, “I’m gonna be pinning the whole semester, whether you’re in the classroom or not, craving the taste of your juices in my tongue, and worse of all, I’ll probably embarrass myself, giving me involuntary hard on’s just fantasizing about you.”

I practically prowl towards him. “You poor thing,” I coo, pouting. “Would you go home to masturbate on the soiled pair of panties I left behind on that dirty, bathroom floor?” I ask… more like, purr, really. 

Peeta chuffs out an incredulous laugh, covering his face with both hands. He grunts, “Aw, fuck! That sounds so… it’s probably exactly what could happen. I’d try to stay professional in the classroom, but in the privacy of my home…” he chuckles weakly, shaking his head.

“What kind of fantasies are we entertaining here?” I ask, invested, and sit on the corner of his desk. 

Peeta thins out his mouth, “Katniss… that’s a slippery slope you’re trying to climb,” he warns.

“Humor me?” I cajole. 

He takes a stuttering breath. “I’ll bring you into this office, same way I did today, except I’ll rip your clothes off, throw you on the desk and take you hard and fast. From behind.” 

I can’t stop a small sound at the back of my throat, nor the need to rub my thighs together. 

I clear my throat, “I expect you’d want to fuck me on every surface in this office?”

Peeta pulls on the collar of his shirt, his face turning crimson, “And probably the lecture hall as well,” he adds conversationally. 

I nod, scooting closer to where he sits. “I’m curious too you know. I didn’t get to see ‘any’ part of you naked. But my muscles still are deliciously sore from last night. A girl has to wonder… just how big a dick has to be to cause so much wreckage?” 

It doesn’t take much effort at all to work him up. Peeta’s pants are tented in what looks like the most uncomfortable erection ever; he shifts in his chair to try and hide the effect my words have on him, yet, his hands remain folded on his lap, white knuckled with the effort of keeping himself in check. He’s really committed not to touch me while I’m still his student, but he rasps a question, full of concern. 

“Did I hurt you?” His eyes search me, earnestly. “I’m sorry I was too rough, really,”

My heart gives a little somersault. “No, Peeta. You were pure perfection. I loved how you handled me.”

His lips twitch, and I’m amazed at how expressive his face is, even partially hidden under his near facial hair. “You said you were hungry last night before you got on your knees…” I murmur, “I think, next time I’ll return the favor,”

“Next time?”

I slide closer to him, but we both keep our hands to ourselves.

I lick my lips, resisting the urge to drop on my knees between his legs and gobble up his cock. I didn’t lie about wanting to see him in all his naked glory, but I can show the same level of restraint he does; I respect him for trying to keep a moral and ethical compass.

I smirk at him, slyly. “Are you sure you wanna abandon your post as my professor, now that my education is on the balance? We can wait a handful of months, Doctor Mellark… I promise not to tease you,” With that, I mean, I promise not to aggravate what could potentially be the worst case of blue balls in the history of slow burns.

Peeta hisses a mirthless chuckle, “You’re too much of a temptation, even if you don’t actively try teasing me, Katniss,”

I start playing with the end of my braided, dark hair. “You know what I’m most really looking forward to, from when I’m no longer your student?” I pose, shyly, “Going to that dinner you mentioned last night.” I shrug one shoulder. “I’ll let you buy me a stack of pancakes to celebrate my graduation. I’ll probably introduce you to my sister, Primrose… and we’d go from there… if you wanted to…”

Peeta smiles, disarmingly. “I’d love that too, Miss Everdeen.” He says quietly.

I let go of my braid, and hug myself, “Stay in the class?” I practically beg one last time. “We can do it, I know we can. We can have a platonic, completely innocent teacher-student relationship until I’m done with college,”

Peeta shakes his head. “We’ll see after I talk to my head of department. Who knows, maybe all the schedules are already locked in place, and I have no other choice but to stay put. There’s no guarantee a replacement is available for me.”

“We’ll make it work!” I say enthusiastically. 

“Maybe…” he sighs, not entirely convinced. 

I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time. Time is running out, I gotta get to the pharmacy before my window of opportunity closes. 

“Hey, Peeta… um, invasive, weird question?” 

I wait for him to nod.

“Have you by any chance, have gotten a vasectomy at any point?” 

“Mmm no, never had. Why?”

Aw shit! 

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Hopefully no reason.” I say quickly, too nonchalant for my own good, and he catches on it, I can see the gears turning in his brain, “Okay,” I make a big show of yawning and stretching my arms, “I have to run some errands before going home and crashing for the night.”

Peeta cringes, “Are you… okay? Really, okay? You said you were sore?” His eyes rove over my face full of concern. 

“I’m fine,” I smile, “nothing a long soaking in Epsom salts can’t cure.”

“Okay,” he says, unsure. “I don’t want to overstep any worse than I already have, but… I’ve been anxious, wondering if you were alright, if you got home fine to your sister since you left the club. Which, obviously you did… but, I wanted to kick myself for not asking your number, just to be able to check on you… and this is frown upon, a d completely unethical, but—“

“I’ll email you,” I say quickly. “Nothing explicit. But I’ll let you know I’m home and okay.” I’ve spoken to people in code before, this shouldn’t be a problem, and really, sending my professor an email with a time stamp and some innocuous question about the syllabus doesn’t have to be nefarious at all. 

“Alright… Just let me know if there’s anything wrong, okay? I swear this won’t become a routine thing or anything, just this time, to give me peace of mind, and because it is late… and well, yesterday…”

“It’s fine, professor. I don’t mind. And… everything will work out,” I say shouldering my bag and pocketing my phone, “everything will work out, even if my Plan B doesn’t,” I smile and scurry out the door, before the puzzlement in his face has time to settle. 

After all, a semester is only 15 weeks long, give or take… that’s plenty of time to figure things out. 

[thearvariblues]

And They Were Roommates - Chapter 1

Slimmer Than Yennefer’s Waist

***

“I just wish he just fucking did it already, you know?” Lambert muttered, leaning against the bar counter.

“Yeah, I know,” Eskel nodded, wiping another glass dry. “He’s like a lovesick puppy.”

“And you don’t have to live with him,” Lambert groaned as he watched Geralt “help” Jaskier pack his things on the tiny stage at the back of the bar. The help consisted of Geralt doing all the work while Jaskier just stood there and watched, smiling like an idiot.

“Yes, every fucking day I see them like this, I thank all the gods I know for that,” Eskel agreed.

“Hey, Geralt!” Lambert yelled. “Aren’t you fucker supposed to be helping us close the bar? Or are you too busy playing a roadie?”

Geralt lifted his middle finger, not even looking up from Jaskier’s things.

“Fucking unbelievable,” Lambert snorted.

“By the way, aren’t you supposed to be helping, too? Because it seems to me like I am doing all the work here.”

“I’m giving you moral support or something, jeez,” Lambert sighed, rolling his eyes.

“And that prevents you from doing anything else, or…?”

“Ugh, fine. Whatever. Whose bright idea it was to close almost right after Jaskier’s gig ends, anyway?”

“You mean whose bright idea it was to plan a gig that ends at midnight,” Eskel replied. “Although there were so many people here tonight that I’m starting to think Jaskier’s really good. Probably.”

“If you have any doubts about that, don’t mention them to Geralt. He’ll gladly explain to you that Jaskier is the best thing that happened to rock music since fucking Queen.”

Eskel paused.

“Doesn’t Geralt only listen to death metal? Power, if he’s feeling particularly soft.”

“Yeah, I said rock, not metal,” Lambert chuckled. “Besides, Jaskier loves Queen.”

“Oh. I see.”

“Yeah, it’s absolutely disgusting.”

“That he loves Queen?”

“No, I mean what Geralt’s doing.”

“Well… Yeah,” Eskel chuckled, but then he suddenly paused, blinking. “Uh-oh. I think he told him something.”

“What?!” Lambert turned back to the stage, his ginger curls whipping around his head.

Jaskier was just standing there, utterly baffled, staring at Geralt with his mouth wide open. Geralt, meanwhile, was red as a beetroot, clearly trying to come up with something to say and failing.

“Oh, no, don’t you dare,” Lambert muttered. “Don’t you dare back off now, I won’t spend the next two years listening to your lovesick bullshit!”

“You don’t even know what he told him,” Eskel remarked.

“Don’t care,” Lambert shrugged. “Oh. Oh, yes. Can you see that? Jaskier’s coming closer!”

“Oh, fuck, it’s happening,” Eskel gasped, leaning against the counter next to Lambert. “It really is happening.”

“No no no, Geralt, don’t you fucking dare run away, you moron.”

“Yes, Jaskier, stop him, that’s a good boy.”

“Of course he was gonna stop him, that queer bard has been madly in love with him for years.”

“Are you allowed to say queer?”

“Jaskier calls himself that!”

“Fair point.”

“Besides, I am… Oh, god. It really is happening!”

“Jesus Christ, I can’t believe it.”

That was the moment when Jaskier and Geralt’s lips finally met in a careful, almost shy kiss.

“Yes!” Lambert yelled, jumping up and down. “Fucking finally, you hare-brained dickheads!”

Geralt pulled Jaskier closer with one arm, using his other hand to give Lambert another middle finger.

“You gotta admit they’re kind of sweet, though,” Eskel chuckled when Jaskier jumped up, wrapping both his legs around Geralt’s waist.

Lambert rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. But if I ever start being sappy like this, just promise you’re gonna kill me.”

“Oh, Lambert,” Eskel sighed. “With pleasure.”

*

Precisely six months later, Lambert was sitting on his couch, staring at Geralt in utter disbelief.

“What the fuck do you mean you’re gonna move out?!”

“I’m sorry, I really am,” Geralt sighed, taking another sip of his beer. “But we knew this roommate situation wasn’t gonna last forever, didn’t we?”

“Oh, fuck of. We’ve been living together for how long? Since your divorce. That was what, four years ago?”

“Five.”

“Even better,” Lambert snorted. “Not forever, my ass!”

“Look, Lamb, I can give you… three rents. So you have time to find another roommate or… a cheaper apartment to live in, I don’t know.”

“You know where you can shove your fucking three rents, don’t you?” Lambert growled. “Am I really that insufferable a roommate, Geralt?”

“No. Well, you’re very… yourself,” Geralt smiled.

“Thanks a lot, mate, really appreciate it.”

“Lambert. It’s not you. I just… I just want to live with my boyfriend, really.”

“Yeah, and I get it, but I…” Lambert sighed. “I fucking love this apartment, I really do, and now I’m gonna have to give it up. I could never afford a place like this on my own.”

“You just need to find another roommate, Lamb.”

“Hate to break it to you, honey, but chances that I find another person willing to put up with my bullshit are slimmer than Yennefer’s waist.”

“You know, you could just say you’re gonna miss me,” Geralt smiled.

Lambert sighed again, but then he raised to his feet and went to the kitchen. When he came back, he was holding a bottle of scotch and two glasses.

“I am gonna miss you, Geralt,” he said, placing the glasses on the table with a soft clink. “Wanna get utterly wasted one more time?”

“With you? Always,” Geralt nodded, finishing his beer.

*

Geralt’s task to speak with Lambert was a walk in the park in comparison to what Jaskier had to go through.

“So… You want me to move out, basically,” his roommate said.

“I didn’t say that, dear heart,” Jaskier sighed, pouring them another glass of wine. “You’re more than welcome to stay, it’s just…”

“It’s just that I’d have to live here with you and your boyfriend. No, thanks.” He ran his fingers through his long black hair. “It’s fine, really. I’m sure I can find a place to stay.”

“Geralt’s not gonna move in immediately, of course. I was thinking… perhaps next month?” Jaskier shrugged. “I can even help you with the apartment hunting, if you want.”

“That’s sweet of you, Jaskier, but there’s no need. I’m sure I can do it on my own,” he said, adjusting his long skirt to cover his feet. “Damn, it’s fucking cold today, isn’t it?”

“Just put on some socks.”

“You know I hate socks.”

“Fine, freeze to death, then, if you want. Just… Listen, I want to help. To compensate for kicking you out!”

His roommate smirked.

“You just wanna ease your conscience, that’s all, babe. Stop it, for fuck’s sake. I’m gonna be fine. I’m just gonna miss my friend, that’s all.”

“Oh, honey, but you can still see me whenever you want!” Jaskier said quickly. “Just stop by for a glass of wine, or we can meet at Geralt’s bar!”

“You mean Geralt and those other two’s bar.”

“Eskel and Lambert. Geralt’s adoptive brothers.”

“Yeah, those two. The scarred one and the asshole one.”

“You could meet them if you wanted, you see.”

“No, thanks. Knowing Geralt is probably enough, I don’t need to meet his family, too.”

“Well, you’re gonna meet them at the wedding whether you want it or not, so–”

“What fucking wedding are you talking about? Jaskier! Did he propose and you didn’t tell me?!”

“Relax. I meant a… potential future wedding I absolutely haven’t already planned every detail of.”

“Jesus, you’re incredible, Jaskier,” his roommate laughed. “Hey, I have a question. Couldn’t you like… you move in with Geralt and leave this apartment to me so all I’d have to do would be to find another roommate?”

“I wish,” Jaskier muttered, licking his lips. “But I told you Geralt lives with his brother Lambert, remember? And he insisted on leaving that apartment to him.”

“Lucky bastard. Think I could convince him to let me move in with him?”

Jaskier blinked, mouth falling open.

“Aiden!” he gasped. “That’s a fucking brilliant idea!”

Aiden groaned finishing his wine in a single one gulp.

“Oh, well. Looks like I’m gonna meet one of Geralt’s brothers, after all. Lucky me. Just remind me, Lambert is…”

“The asshole one.”

“Fucking great,” Aiden said, lifting the hand holding his glass. “In that case, more wine, please. I don’t want to face that idea sober.”

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Eighty-Five [PT. 1]

Part Eighty-Five [PT. 2]

Words: 5.5k

Warning(s): explicit language, explicit sexual situations, mentions of drug abuse

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NIKKI

My lawyer looks completely unimpressed with my lack of shoes, shirt, and dignity as he leans back in his chair behind his desk, rubbing his temples. 

"It doesn't work like that, Nikki, I'm afraid." He informs me finally, sitting up and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his desk. 

"I was declared dead for two minutes. I died. My wife's technically a widow." 

"You can't annul a four year marriage on the basis of 'I died for two minutes.' Some cases of actual death, it can take an act of congress for widow or widower to have an annulment for a marriage where their spouse is no longer alive, legitimately." He explains and I roll my eyes. 

"So, what, I just get some divorce papers or something?" 

"Unless I declare mental incapacity given that you went through a traumatic series of events within the last twenty-four hours and this could possibly be a very serious lapse in judgement." He argues and I stare at him.

"Stop pulling my dick." 

"I'm not 'pulling your dick.' I just don't want you to make this decision and then regret it when your head clears." 

I managed to wear him down and by the next morning, he left the papers by Tommy's door after Vince mentioned to me that Viv stayed over there with Tommy and Heather.

When I get home, Karen opens the door and looks at me, wide eyed and confused. 

"H-Hey?" She says as I push past her and go to the phone, opting to change my answering machine. 

"Hey, it's Nikki." I say. "I'm not here because I'm dead." 

Karen just looks at me, astounded, and I go to my room, slamming the door. 

I was good and tired and glutton for punishment because I got home that night and loaded up the biggest shot of smack I could muster and pulled the trigger.

I wake up with a sharp pain in the crook of my arm, a needle still in my skin as blood trails my forearm to collect in my palm...Jesus fucking Christ, I've officially lost it. 

I take the needle out and force myself up to trudge to the living room to check my messages. 

Things like, "You're an asshole," and "that's not funny," tend to be the common theme. 

I guess I need to change my answering machine. 

I comb through to see if I have anything from Viv. 

Now would be a good time to hear her bitch me out for almost making her kill herself--because, lets face it, she's gonna blame it on me, anyway. 

Nothing's found, though. 

"Fuck, Vivian." I sigh out, sitting on the carpet in the living room, rubbing my forehead as a new message comes on…

"You fucker, you would be the one to fucking OD and die and then get up right after and file for divorce as if she doesn't have enough shit going on, already." 

I furrow my brows at the voice. 

"Axl the Twat?" I say aloud, confused, as he finishes with, "fuck you, you fucking fuck." 

He hangs up and I raise my brows. 

Did I die and wake up in a parallel universe? Axl defending Vivian? 

Is this hell? 

It cuts to the last message. 

"Hey, umm...I don't know if you'll get this or not or if…" Vanity. "...I don't know what's going on but I heard something terrible on the radio and I suppose it was true--well, kind of, um…" she sighs. "We're not together anymore and I get that I just hope you're o--"

"Fuck that." I grumble, hitting delete. 

I fall back and I look up at myself. 

It's fucked that I bought this fucking house for Viv, and she's not even staying in it anymore. 

I feel like I promised her so much and haven't given a damn thing to her except reasons to want to throw herself off of balconies.

I look down at my arm, dried blood still on my skin. 

I'm fucking tired of this shit. 

I let my complete exhaustion of being sick fuel me to dig through everything I own and throw out all of my rigs, any other drugs in my path, and even pour everything to get drunk off of down the sink--even the fucking cooking-wine. 

Vivian's somewhere catching the holy spirit, probably, just sensing I'm finally fucking done. 

Or she's somewhere in tears over me finally taking the final step to end our relationship. 

I feel like it's dead in every way aside from legal. 

Whisky's laying by the door, whining when I step over him to go throw the big garbage bag out. 

I'd get down there and whine for her, too, but I know this is what needs to be done. 

Our entire relationship has just been one giant clusterfuck, and I don't want to put her through the bullshit of having to try to forgive me and trust me, again. 

I think I've already stolen enough of her peace of mind. 

She'll be happier with Duff, anyway. He's a good guy. A hell of a lot more suited for her than I am. 

My hand rubs the back of my neck and I realize I'm still wearing the small crucifix of her's. 

I'm tempted not to give it back. 

I just sigh and throw the trash out and get back in the house, getting in the shower. 

When I get out, I ruffle a towel through my hair, seeing the light blinking on my answering machine. 

I go over and try to keep myself from getting too excited at the thought of it being Viv before I hit play on my messages. 

"Nikki, it's Doc. I know you feel like horseshit right about now but I need you to come down to the office at 5:00p.m., we're getting you guys together because we need to talk. See you then--preferebly kinda sober and coherent." 

Turns out I'll have my ass chewed by Doc before Viv, after all. 

I know he came down to the hospital and tore Slash and the guys new ones while I was unconscious. 

I'm digging in my garbage for a couple pills to dull down my future shakes that I just know are gonna be coming before sundown. 

Despite being not in shape to fucking drive anywhere, I still go because I know if I don't go, Doc will come here and I don't need him here. 

It's morbid walking into the office to see Vince, Tommy, and Mick sitting and waiting for me while Doc sits behind his desk. 

"Fuck me." I complain out loud, dreading what Doc's about to go on about. 

"Sit." Doc tells me and I plop down beside Tommy, sighing, and Doc waits a minute before saying, "I canceled the European tour."

"What?" Vince asks and Mick furrows his brows. 

"What the fuck, Doc--"

"--Shut the fuck up and listen." He cuts me off while Tommy nervously shakes his leg. "If you bastards go to Europe, one of you will come back in a body bag. And I'm not gonna be the fucking manager that runs Mötley Crüe into the ground." He states harshly. 

"That's a fucking first." I laugh out, meanly, and Doc glares at me. "Guess dead rockstars don't make as much money as alive ones, huh? I coulda told ya that after Razzle--"

"--Nikki." Mick states. 

"Where's my wife?" I snap next. 

"Oh, the one you so stupidly filed for divorce from without giving me a heads up first? Probably with her friends that haven't put her through the ringer and fucked her over time and time again." He states. 

"I didn't know I needed permission to make decisions in my personal life--that have nothing to do with Mötley Crüe." 

"Are you two just gonna argue or are we gonna actually talk about why we're here because I have things to do." Vince grumbles. 

"Tommy came to me and told me he's thinking about rehab." Doc tells us and I glance at Tommy, who's avoiding looking at anybody. "I'm not taking Mötley Crüe on tour again, in a studio, whatever, until you guys get your act together." 

We all look at each other, exhaling, and I rub my lips together. 

"Fine." Vince sighs, and Doc looks at Tommy.

He nods. 

"Nikki?" Doc asks and I just stare at him. 

The guys are gone in a few minutes, leaving just me and Doc and I stand up. 

"I wanna see Viv." I tell Doc as he digs through some files, and he looks up and blinks from behind his desk, 

"She said she's not seeing you until you get help." Doc states. 

"She says that but I bet I could find her tonight and still get her under me in less than three minutes." 

"Assuming she's not still under Duff." Doc says and I tense up. "You think I didn't notice how questionably close they got on tour?" He adds. 

"She's going through a crisis." I reply. 

"Can't imagine why." He mumbles. 

"Just tell me where she's at, Doc." I snap. 

"You look like shit. You need to go home and get some fuckin' rest because you're all checking in tomorrow afternoon." He adds. 

"I'm not going anywhere until I see my wife."

"You mean the wife you filed for divorce from?" He questions and I roll my jaw. "Your wife is resting. You should, too."

1981

I fumble for my key to the apartment, cussing under my breath when I can't get the door opened. 

"Motherfucker." I hiss, finally getting it unlocked and shoving it open…

I slam it shut and toss my keys across the room, hearing Tommy and Vince's room door creak open. 

Vivian crosses her arms, a scowl on her face, her hair tousled from sleep. 

"Could you be any louder?" She snaps, shutting the door behind her, going to the kitchen.

My eyes run up and down her long legs as she heads that way, only in one of Tommy's t-shirts and panties. 

Fuck. Me. 

I go to grab the bottle of Jack on the counter, taking a sip as she gulps some water down, a droplet escaping the glass as she drinks, rolling down her chin to her neck and I watch it, my burning throat getting dry as I try to pull myself together, my prick starting to push against my pants. 

Damnit. 

It's like the sane part of myself is trying to slap the hopelessly horny part of me. 

She's fucking evil, dude, fuck off, I tell myself. 

She's hot. 

You hate each other. 

I wonder what weird shit she's into in bed. 

She's a bitch. You know she's a bitch. Leave her alone. 

Oh, I forgot she's supposedly a virgin.

Go to bed, dumbfuck. GO TO BED. 

That means I get to watch her experience stuff for the first time.

I end up chuckling, amused at the thought of seeing her pretty eyes roll in her head as pleasure bombards her for the first time. 

"What?" She snaps, and I realize I've been staring at her. 

I'm about to answer until I get caught up at the sight of her nipples peering through her shirt...fuck me. 

"Nikki," she shoves at my shoulder, making me take my eyes off of her chest.

She just scoffs. 

"Go touch yourself in the bathroom or something. Jesus." She puts the glass down and walks past me to go back to Tommy's room.

See? Evil. 

I ignore the voice of reason and I catch her wrist and stop her, yanking her closer to me. 

She looks like a deer in headlights for a minute before I'm grabbing at her hair closest to her neck and pulling her to me, kissing her. 

It's a pretty clean kiss, no tongue, no mess, just testing the waters. 

She doesn't push me away or beat me up like I always thought she would do, instead, when I pull away for a moment, she takes a breath, wide eyed, before grabbing me by my jacket, pulling me back in. 

I'm surprised but I don't let it get in the way, taking lead a little to guide her. 

For someone who's never been kissed before (again, allegedly) she's not awful at it like I expected--well, I didn't expect her to be awful because she's never kissed anybody, I expected her to be awful because she's so mean to me. 

Her hands push my jacket off my shoulders and I push my tongue past her lips, coaxing a quiet moan from her. 

Holy shit. 

My hands go to her ass and she grasps at my hair as I pick her up, her legs wrapping around me. 

Just to see if we're on a standard starting basis of common interests, I lift one of my hands and bring it back down, not too hard, but hard enough, and she hums, fucking biting my bottom lip and grinding into me a couple times. 

I have to keep from creaming my pants just by her moving against me. 

You're being stupid, I tell myself, but I can't bring myself to leave her alone now. 

She's been the forbidden fruit or whatever for months now and I just gotta have it. 

I take her to my room and kick the door shut with my foot, taking her to the shitty mattress on the floor. 

I drop her onto it, seeing her in the glow of streetlights. 

"Take your shirt off." I say, lowly, and she rubs her lips together and slowly pulls it over her head, her bare chest exposed and my dick's practically throbbing at this point. 

I take her crucifix in my hand, and she looks down at it as I lick my lips. 

She unfastens it and throws it aside. 

I lean down and kiss her again, trailing down her neck, my tongue against her skin and she gasps out a sharp breath, her hands pulling at my shirt. 

I take it off and she's sitting up and running her palms over my shoulders, down my chest, and I grasp her around her throat, pushing her back to the mattress and I feel a little shiver go up her spine. 

My tongue circles one of her nipples and she lets out bated breaths as I take it between my teeth. 

She moans, loudly, and I move my hand to her mouth. 

"Shh!" I say. "You're gonna wake them up." I add and she nods. 

I do the same to her other breast, with my hand over her mouth, but then I get an idea. 

A glorious, completely selfish idea. 

I take my hand off of her mouth and smirk before kissing the middle of her chest, one of her top ribs, biting into it, hard, making her scratch at my shoulder while covering her own mouth as a sharp moan is forced from her.

I run my tongue over the bite mark and continue down her stomach, stopping at the top of her panties, glancing at her. 

She's still breathing heavy, hands covering her chest, tilting her head to see me. 

I run my hand over her clothed core, a little noise coming from her throat, feeling a big wet spot over her cunt. 

She lifts her hips and starts pulling them down and I take them and discard them, running my fingertips up the inside of her thigh before I rub my thumb around her clit that's slickened wet. 

Her hands jolt to mine between her legs, her back arching, trying her hardest not to be loud. 

I tug her to the edge of the mattress, and grab one of her hands, replacing mine with it before I'm looming over her for a moment. "Touch yourself." I tell her, my lips brushing against hers and I can tell she's blushing under the dark of the room. "C'mon, it's hot, just do what feels good." I add, my lips pressing against hers for a moment before I feel her hand move, a delicate gasp coming from her and I pull my lips from hers to watch her face. 

Her eyes close, her head tilts back while her other hand tangles in her hair. 

I stand up to take my pants off, grabbing at my painfully hard cock when she bucks her hips against her frail fingers. 

"Nikki," she says, eyes still shut, head back, and I rub my hands down my face. 

We haven't even fucked yet and I can already tell she's gonna make me a fucking idiot. 

I get my pants off and run my thumb over my tip and get some precum on it, leaning down and holding it up to her lips. 

"Hold your tongue out," I tell her and she opens her eyes and looks at me, before doing as I say. 

The pad of my thumb rubs it over her tongue and she lets out a satisfied sigh, looking up at me as I lick her spit off my thumb. 

I get back up on my feet for a moment and she gets up and crawls to the foot of the bed, her eyes on my prick, hunger in her eyes…

Nice try, evil bitch, you're not stealing my soul by sucking it through my dick. 

I grab her hair and make her look at me. 

"Lay down." I tell her and doesn't argue, eyes still ravenous…

I kiss up her kneecap to her thigh, sliding up and up until--

"Oh, fuck!" She whimpers out when my tongue swirls her clit around, getting the first taste of Saint Viv. 

My eyes are the ones to roll back, now. 

Holy shit. 

It's good because she's Satan and needs something to trap you with, that little voice comes back. 

Her hands find my hair, her lips find my name and if I don't get ahold of myself, I'll be finding God based on this experience alone.

Apparently she's finding him right now because all she can muster out is, "oh, God." 

I find a good rhythm with my tongue, her pussy starting to grind against my face as teasing, little sultry moans flutter through the room. 

After a minute I feel her body tense up, and I pat myself on the back as she comes, my tongue lapping at her entrance to get drunk off of her, my hands running over her stomach and thighs. 

Vivian claims we just went right into sex without doing anything aside from making out before hand but I distinctly remember going down on her. She must've blacked out once she realized we were about to fool around or something but I remember that happening because it was something I'd dreamed up doing ever since I met her, creepy but honest.

I pry myself from her to grab a rubber behind the head of the mattress, the both of us pulling ourselves up there.

I get it on and turn over, getting on top of her. 

She's already hooking her legs around me before I even line myself up with her. 

She looks like she's high or drunk, eyes nearly shut, her lip between her teeth, her head tilted slightly, exposing her neck. 

I lean down and kiss her neck, her skin damp with sweat and she sighs. 

I rub my tip against her opening and she closes her eyes. 

I push into her, having to coach myself through because fuck her pussy is tight, and she winces, her mouth opening but nothing coming out. I'm about to ask her if she's alright when she speaks first. 

"Take it off." She tells me. 

"What?" 

"The condom, take it off." 

"Are you trying to trap me or something?" I snap at her. 

"I wanna feel you." She tells me softly, and I guess it's kinda sweet, or primal, whatever. 

I pull out of her and take the condom off, dropping it by the bed before I'm pushing back into her. 

We both moan, and I can feel her body stretching to accommodate my entrance, her face showing pain. 

I pullout again, but before I can get out completely, she pulls me back in with her legs, letting out a high pitched breath. 

More of her juices coat over my cock. 

"Fuck, Vivian," I say it, thrusting into her again and she wraps her arms around my back, hugging me to her, and my lips find hers as I push into her again, and again, roughly, the feeling of heaven washing over me each time I go back inside her. 

I make her take every inch, forcing myself to fit the last inch and a half despite her body not having room, and she writhes underneath me. 

"I think I'm bleeding." She tells me breathlessly and I think she wants me to back off or get off her, but when I go to, she says, "No, keep going, it feels good." 

The look on her face is a clear indication that she's into it. 

I'm kind of shocked that churchy Vivian is into the same shit I'm into, and I grab her throat, again, and kiss her, our tongues moving together. 

"I wanna get on top next." She tells me through moans. 

"Why?" I ask. 

"I wanna see it." She says and I furrow my brows for a second before I catch on. 

I'm rolling off of her and onto my back, my hands running up her thighs and waist when she gets on top of me, and I grab myself as she straddles me, pushing it against her before my hands pull  her down onto me. 

She screws her eyes shut, as she sinks down to the hilt, her thighs shaking, and I hit her ass cheek as hard as I can and she gets so tight around me I can't pull out until she relaxes. 

"You can't do that shit." I tell her harshly, biting back my urge to go ahead and come, and she relaxes a little more as my hands hold at her waist, guiding her movements since she's never done this before. 

"Does it feel good?" I ask her, her little moans and whimpers getting me even more hot and bothered. 

"Yes," she nods, tipping her head back. "So good."

I look between us, clear view of her pussy taking it, and I sigh. 

"It looks good, too." I tell her and she leans down over me, her forehead against my chest as she watches me fuck her for a moment before looking at me, kissing me sloppily, her chest pressing against mine making her sigh when her nipples brush against my skin. 

When she pulls away, I'm sticking two fingers in her mouth, taking her by surprise but she starts sucking on them in a second, and I force them down her throat, making her gag, as I start pounding into her, making her nearly shriek out but I gag her with my hand around her throat. 

"You're so pretty." I tell her, spit all down her chin from choking on my fingers, eyes nearly shut, my hand around her throat, and I glance down between us, licking my lips. "That pussy's pretty, too." I add and she cries out when my other hand starts rubbing at her clit. 

I take my hand from her throat and she gasps for air. 

"Nikki, I'm--" 

She can't finish. 

I roll onto her again, getting on my knees and lift her hips, continuing to hammer into her roughly and her eyes go to the back of her head, as her cum soaks the both of us. 

Why the fuck didn't she tell me she can come like that? 

I feel myself reaching my own end and go to pull out but she tugs me onto her, kissing me, her legs snaking around me. 

At first I don't think she realizes I'm about to blow my kids everywhere, then when I try to pullout, she says, "do it in me, I've heard it feels good."

I look at her like she's crazy because it's something I'd never expect her to say. 

"Please, Nikki, let me have it." 

I don't have time to argue because I'm finishing with a grunt and a satisfied smile at the sight of tears of pleasure in her eyes before her lids screw shut, her mouth open as a moan leaves her, her body sparking off with shivers. 

I let her have it.

"You're a slut." I tell her, thrusting into her a couple more times and she hums at my words. 

"Shut up." She says next and I kiss her one last time before rolling off of her. 

She pulls the covers over her chest and closes her eyes, tired, and I watch her for a moment. 

Okay, she may not be a slut, but I know she's gonna be able to get away with murder and I'm gonna let her because she's fucking Vivian. 

I ran myself into my own grave, but heroin and Vivian were major catalysts, but I know I was a catalyst for her own rock bottom, too. We were just too fucking young to know better, I guess. We fell in love and got hooked on playing house without actually stopping to think what all it would look like. Of course, neither of us expected me to be on smack, neither of us expected me to reach the level of stupidity that I reached with Vanity, and neither of us expected her to be conceiving a lovechild while I was next door dying, and I certainly didn't expect to file for divorce first, if at all. I remember that first night together in that shitty apartment got me hooked on her. Not just sex, I actually started listening to what she had to say after that, and wanting to have conversations, and hangout...I fell in love and she made it easy for me to. It was like boiling a frog. Things got worse and worse slowly overtime until BAM! I had Vanity, crack, and junk, and Vivian had Duff and a secret savings account she didn't think our lawyer would get record of. I was pissed, but I knew it was my fault. 

All of it was. 

I had promised her the world and instead stole everything from her like a life-sucking demon. 

She wasn't the evil, manipulative bitch. 

I was.

[werezmastarbucks]

honeymoon landing

honeymoon masterlist

word count: 3236

music: blood on the leaves by kanye west

warnings: choking

author’s notes: OUT OF SPITE, I want you to know this is a rewritten chapter. the first variant was ANNIHILATED by tumblr which is whatever. this story is the background/prequel to my three-part shot more like honeymoon. the idea of the prison world simply didn’t let go of me.

again, shoutout to my partner in crime @stfudipz​ who gets me and Kai like nobody else

As soon as you landed, it landed on you. The realization.

Sometimes it dawns after a while, sometimes it creeps up gradually like a snake, but that time you knew what you’ve done a second after the ethereal white glow of the portal ceased.

Transportation was painless and didn’t feel like anything. Not a buzz in your fingers, no lightness in your limbs. You wouldn’t get motion sickness. Another type of sickness settled, when you felt Kai wiggle away from under your arm.

You were startled, and at the same time, your head was absolutely clear, which was not true about the sky.

First of all, it was cast.

Second of all, you were shocked Damon did that. It hurt you way more than a lot of things could hurt you now. Damon, your friend, your past crush, your protector, your drinking buddy, your safe guy, looked at you the way he has never done before. Like you’ve gone completely mad, and he didn’t recognize you anymore.

Maybe you have.

Third of all, you’d been holding Kai, who was flying with you almost feet first, and now he sprinted away from your arms to stand up, and was frozen, silently, looking up like he suddenly got distracted.

Fourth of all, you were now in the prison world with Kai Parker.

And you understood it well.

You looked at him from the grass, and you didn’t breathe. Run? Stay? Curl and roll? Attack? Play dead?

What made you jump in front of him, was it his face when he realized he’s outpowered, almost gutted, betrayed, and about to be sent to the place he was terrified of? It was the fucker’s face. It was his face when you danced at the Grill, making the history out of one single date you’ve had before you decided he was worth it. He said, how don’t you crawl up the wall with the Boring Faces? and you found it hilarious, and bang, next thing you knew, his tongue was so deep in your throat he could almost tickle your lungs. You had never experienced anything quite like that before. The touch was electric. It was meant to be. You saw it in his eyes, too, he was amazed at how warm the hug was, when everybody stopped dancing and moved away from each other, you wouldn’t let go. The feeling of his arm around your waist, his fives on your back, just touching, was one of the most fulfilling things you’ve experienced in your life. In your romantic mind, perhaps, you thought he was the one, and maybe it wasn’t the love at first sight, but something like the realization at second touch.

He was your own, you knew that, but couldn’t explain. It was knowledge absurd and intimate enough not to share with anyone, and to take quietly, and just let it be. You knew it like you knew the rain falls from up there and down here.

You just couldn’t figure out why you had to have this mass murderer. This unhinged psychopath. This hurt killer who enjoyed inflicting pain on others. This chatty nightmare. On the date, he wouldn’t stop talking about himself, telling you the whole life story, and somehow you still lacked something, still wanted to know more. His hand on your lap felt so natural you enjoyed it like it was the familiar palm of your husband, and it was supposed to be there, and has been, for the last forty years. They way you touched, it felt like you already knew everything about each other.

Why wouldn’t you go with him?

Kai now looked down on you, lying on the ground, and his eyes were crazy mad. You knew he wasn’t all here, and you didn’t even get angry when he asked,

“How could you do that to me?”

“I didn’t send you in, Kai”.

“Your friends”, he whispered. You could see his white knuckles tightening. If he had glass in his hands, he’d cut his palms through.

“Your friends...”

“You’re not alone this time”.

“They did it because of you, Damon had told me to stay away from you...”

“He did it because you’ve been going around beheading people, Kai”.

He didn’t hear you. You got up, completely sober about what is going to be happening right now. Your mind was clear. Only there somewhere, in the back of your mind, queueing, was the horror.

I can’t run away from him here. It is his world. He will completely lose it.

There was sadness standing in line behind fear,

and I can’t have my own because he’s as good as gone.

You got up and ran towards the house, the dark mass here in the night, hoping that back in ‘94, the door was in the same place. You ran towards the entrance, feeling unfamiliar pebble road under your feet. You heard Kai running after you, and before you could think how scary it is, you crashed into something.

The collision was so violent you fell completely black for a moment. You got blinded, although there was not much to see anyway, since the moon was hidden behind the clouds, and the mansion stood lightless. It felt like a giant baseball bat hit you with a swing, violently, and tears of pain sprayed out of your eyes. Dumbfounded, you lay on the ground, slowly realizing you ran into a tree. That would not make it into the future. Perhaps Stefan tore it out with the roots in a fit of rage in 1999 or maybe the very 1995. Who knew; your head was spinning. Long, dull sound filled your brain.

Kai picked you up and took you by the hair as you waved your hands, trying to regain the sense of space. You touched your face with one hand and grabbed his fingers with the other; your face was wet with blood.

“Let me go”.

“Running away already? You think I’m gonna let you?”

You’ve never been dragged by your hair before. It was carrying all your weight on the strings of it. It was painful. You took his hand and pulled on it, pulling your legs up, and tried to stop him.

“Kai, stop! Stop where you are!”

He let go of you like you were hurting him. You rolled on the grass, and caught your breath, expecting a punch, but it never came.

Instead, you were left alone on the ground. You rolled onto your back and looked at the sky again. All was quiet.

You sat up, taking in the thick, dense air. It felt like it was going to rain. You got your heavy self up, and, as your eyes finally got used to the night, you walked on towards the house.

The porch, the heavy posh door, the wide hall, all was the same. Salvatore house was older than 90s drama after all. On your left, you felt for the light, and sighed, turning it on.

Then it dawned on you again, although you thought you were already mentally prepared. You were in the 94, and the house was what it used to be back then, and there was no escape from it.

You knew he’d return. Or maybe he wouldn’t. He mentioned it’s quite impossible to die here, so you didn’t worry about him killing himself.

You looked at the big round clock (surprisingly ugly; who was living there at that point? which of the Salvatore nephews?) in the kitchen and saw it was about half past eleven.

Then the silence made you shiver.

The wind outside was still, lying on the ground like a dead serpent. There were no crickets and no mice in between the walls, no bark beetles that used to shuffle cozily at night as you slept here many times.

There was nothing in this world except you, him, and this dark cast sky.

You limped towards the kitchen counter, observing things. A row of mugs was hanging above the sink, and you took one to make yourself some tea or coffee. Who needs so many mugs? There were no less than twenty of them. There were millions of millions of mugs in the world, and exactly half of them, just like half of everything else on this planet, belonged to you.

Think, think think. There was nothing to think about. There is a thing that’s called three foot world, and you were living in it. Right now, your aim was tea to soothe your aching head, and shower. Your body hurt, and you could feel your hair hurt, too. You sobbed a little, out of anger, and because it hurt so much. Part of feeling alive is feeling pain. You frowned, and groaned, and wiped away the tears, cursing under your breath at Kai and the kettle you couldn’t find.

Kettle finally came round, but the boy didn’t.

As you stood over the stove, listening to the water slowly heat, you tried to calm down the buzzing inside your skull.

Damn psycho. Why him.

Jerk

What an asshole, what a miserable selfish douche

You turned around to look over the kitchen, and find the ten differences between then and now. Kai reappeared like a shadow, like a silhouette out of a nightmare. His face changed, his posture - everything. He was a broken man now. He was stooping like a boar, piercing you with his eyes, and you thought for a second that he looked and felt more like a demon rather than a mortal. You haven’t heard him creep up on you, and you could barely see the trace of human in his impedning demeanor as he condemned you silently.

Kai attacked so quickly you barely managed to put out your fists to set them between you and him; he didn’t seem to feel pain, since he has felt it all; he didn’t seem to hear you wail as his hands clutched your shoulders, then crawled up to your neck. You dug your nails into the milk skin of his throat, and he didn’t flinch. You could feel the cage-like muscles of his neck under your fingers as you tried to inflict pain, still uncertain to go for the eyes; but as he started to choke you, you decided that it was either you or him after all.

You completely forgot at that moment that nobody dies in the prison world.

He pushed you towards the stove, nearly leaning you over the heating kettle and the open fire, and you twisted your arm, trying to get it.

“This torture”, he was whispering, as if he was communicating with the demonic spirits piloting whatever he was doing, in his head. Psychopaths. Fucking strong.

“I can’t subject you, too, to that. I am used to this place, but you have no idea...”

You opened your mouth like a fish, your throat squeezed in his palms, and your eyes rolling. Your hand got burned on the red-hot surface of the kettle, and your body twitched. Kai closed his eyes hard, and then opened them.

“The things I will do to you”, he moaned, as if it hurt him more than in hurt you. Anger was rising in you, and probably that’s why you wrapped your palm around the kettle. “If I just keep you dead...”

Swinging your arm back, you crashed it on his head, and Parker released you, yelping in pain and jumping away. You put hands to your face not to let boiling water spill into your eyes. Half-awake, you stooped, fell, rolled and was out of the kitchen.

The forest was useless. It was just a big mass of darkness, with trees everywhere, and as soon as you lost the sight of the house, you lost your senses, too. You had no idea which way was the road. And what did it matter? Not like you could run into the city, it’s too far away on foot, when you’re so incredibly hurt. First five minutes here, and you are in such ridiculous amount of pain you’re surprised how you’re still moving. Your arms are burnt, your throat is all but squashed, your ribs are hurting, your head is aching and spinning, your face is bleeding and your nose feels like it’s broken.

Is that how it’s going to be here? Kai chasing you and torturing you to no end? While having a panic attack? Was he trying to spare you? It looked like he almost cried, it looked like he was trying to suffocate you in spite of him, and in his mind, that could be mercy.

You wanted to groan, but was to weak. The silence was driving you mad: all around, not a spider sigh, no rustle, no bats, no owls, nothing. Windless, lightless hell, dense night, and the moon hiding somewhere.

You leaned on a tree to breathe a little, thinking, he’s going to find you. It’s his reign. He knows every inch of this land. He can walk with his eyes closed and sense you still.

“Y/N”, the distant call finally ended deafening quiet, and you raised your head like a deer.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me!”

Of course you don’t know, you incredible lunatic!

You expected no less of him. Fake aggressor remorse. Mercy my ass. He was just trying to cope with terror.

You moved on, trying to jog, but in the dark, it was almost impossible. Crooking roots in the earth, not much different than what they were back in the future, caught your feet. You stumbled through the thickets, understanding that you’re wandering in only to piss him off, just to do something.

“Y/N!” he sounded closer. Much closer, in fact, like he was spinting, or teleporting. You stood and tried to see with your skin. With your ears. But all there was - the ringing in your brain.

“Y/N!”

“Fuck off!” you shouted before you could slap yourself on the mouth. It just came out, so sincere.

You went again, but you could feel he was close.

“Please, don’t go! Hey, wait!”

There was no other explanation as to how he navigated here, in the dark, burnt with the boiling water, except that he was an actual spirit from hell, assigned to make your life miserable. Why did you go? Why did you go, oh, you had no fucking clue. What made you think inserting yourself into this would be a good idea.

I just didn’t want him to be alone, well, cry me a river, this fucker was about to turn your whole existence into one prolonged bite in the ass. There was a reason he was sent here in the first place after all.

You heard his footsteps too late, but it’s not like you could catch them before. He manifested himself, tap tap tap, like he jumped off a tree, and you bumped right into his open arms.

“No!”

Your hands flew up as you tried to scratch his face, forgetting completely that you had two good knees.

“Wait, wait, stop, no!”

This clusterfuck of a hug was spinning in place until Kai has had enough, and his restricting grasp turned into a desperate embrace of a drowning man.

He put his face right to the back of your head, and you could feel his body, leaning towards yours, as he shivered as if he was crying. All your fighting instincts were put on hold as you listened.

“Please, don’t go. Don’t leave me here. I can’t stay here alone”, he whispered, trying to conjure something in you.

There he was again, the boy who made you question everything. His arms tightened around you, because he was afraid. Anger boiled in you.

“Let go of me”, your voice was hoarse.

“No, I can’t”.

“I won’t run, Kai!” you snapped, and it sounded more like a bark. He shuddered like you slapped him on the face, and complied.

You were rubbing your face feverishly, almost whimpering with how much the burnt skin stung. The nose was killing you.

“I don’t know who you think I am, Parker”, you panted. You could see his eyes glow faintly in the dark. You had no idea where the light came from.

“But I’m not your fucking family. I’m not leaving”.

He could do this thing with his face, that made him look like he was a seventeen years old boy puppy, which would break just about anyone, except, maybe, Damon. Kai was so full of shit.

“Stay with me”, he said quietly like he didn’t hear you. You went on,

“But if you wanna pull your murderous shit on me, you gotta know one thing. Once I bounce back, I’m gonna give you as much hell as you give me, you got it?”

He nodded, although he certainly didn’t get it.

“Seriously, if you hurt me, I’ll retaliate so hard you’ll be wishing you were here alone”.

“Nothing is as bad as being here alone”, he said seriously.

You felt the air painfully clogging in your lungs. You opened your mouth to say something and was cut off, by the weirdest sensation, like you were stung with a needle full of drug all of a sudden.

You blinked, not understanding what’s happening.

Kai was looking at you, perplexed and careful, like he was ready to charge if you run again. You touched your face, made fists and undid them. Suddenly, your head was clear again, and you felt completely full of energy, like you really could run to the very Mystic Falls.

“What the hell?”

“It must be midnight”.

You touched the back of your head, where he pulled your hair, and it didn’t hurt anymore, either.

“Your body reset”.

“And yours?”

“Mine, too”.

“Y/N...”

“Wait a minute. It’s going to be happening every night?”

“There’s no every night”, he moaned, “there’s only tonight. Again and again. That’s why I tried to kill you, I guess. I don’t really...  I don’t know why, by the way”, he started pacing, rubbing the hard tree skin like it could help him, “I don’t want you to go through this. You don’t know what it’s like here”.

You blinked with your dry eyes. You were still mad.

“Which way is the house?”

He pointed behind your back.

“Suck it up, Parker”, you said. “You’re a powerful coven leader now, aren’t you? You’re gonna find the way out of here”.

You walked back slowy, feeling your way around in the twilight, until you were back on the Salvatore yard. You didn’t hear his footsteps, like he was a bloody ghost, but Kai was following you all the way down, defeated, which didn’t bring you much pleasure. Stepping into the house, you looked back at him.

“If you touch me while I sleep...”

“I know, you’ll scratch my eyes out”, he said. Parker regained his composure and was straight and menacing as usual, like nothing happened. He bounced back quickly, too. He kept gazing at you, standing in the doorframe, a symbol of unwanted intervention, like a vampire.

“What?” you finally asked.

“Just wondering why Damon would send you here, while he knows what I’m capable of. Do you think he cares about you at all?”

You licked your lips.

“You should be thanking him. I’m the only one who cares about you”.

He was taken aback.

Yeah, take that, villain boy. Pretty soon he’ll learn what it feels like, to be taken care of. That’ll show him.

[the-writing-mobster]

Yes Man AU

I know no one was asking for this, but this is literally my favorite movie! So as a small love letter to Yes Man starring Jim Carrey, I wrote a small au oneshot with the WDYW cast. I do hope you enjoy, and found it just as funny as I did while reading it! 

Yes Man AU 

Sans couldn't believe he was doing this. He couldn't believe he had let Nick talk him into coming. He hadn't even really talked him into it. Nick had just popped up out of nowhere, threw a rock into the university window where he worked and yelled at him to go to the stupid Yes Seminar while getting chased by security. 

Honestly the reason he had actually come to this stupid fucking thing was because he had accidentally blown off Papyrus's engagement party. What kind of a brother was he!? That was the wakeup call he needed to get off his ass. Maybe… maybe this would… he didn't know. He already felt stupid as he walked through the throngs of happy humans and monsters alike. 

It was like walking through a mega church. There was an air of… some weird spirituality sprinkled with scummy book stores. 

Everyone was so… smiley. He himself had a literal permanent grin on his face but… their smiles were different. Alive? 

“Sans! You actually came! I knew you would. Trust me man, this is what you need. You're gonna love this man. You need this!” Sans nodded along, trying to hide his pained grimace as best he could from his longtime friend. 

“Yeah well… I just… yeah,” he murmured as Nick dragged him to their seats in the audience. Sans sat awkwardly amongst the jabbering crowd as Nick waited impatiently for the seminar to start. 

He felt as out of place as an atheist during mass. 

Then the lights dimmed and a hush fell over the crowd. Music swelled throughout the room and his brow bones raised and he glanced at Nick, who's eyes were wide with childish excitement. 

“Life… we are all living it… Or are we?” spoke a mystical voice. Sans grunted. 

“Riveting…” 

“Change is generated from consciousness, but where is consciousness generated from? From the external. And how do we control the external? ... With one word. And what is that word?” 

“YES!” screamed the crowd, Sans jumping in his seat at the sudden roar of noise. He laughed nervously and shot Nick a desperate look, already regretting his decision to come. 

A man emerged onto the stage, a monster. An old tortoise man in a sharp white suit and silver tie. 

“The word is yes! Yes. Yes! Yes!” Sans smirked and leaned over to Nick. 

“That's what she said,” he teased and Nick rolled his eyes as he stifled his snicker, punching Sans lightly on the shoulder. 

“What are you, twelve? Pay attention.” 

“Say it a million times. Say it a million more times. And the word you will have said two million times is…” This time Sans was expecting it and waved his hand with annoyed amusement as the crowd screamed YES once more. There was an uproar of cheer and staggering emotion that swept through the ballroom. Sans didn’t know what to think of it. There was such a mixture of being freaked out and being very interested in what was about to occur that he merely just sat there in stunned, awkward silence while the crowd lost their fucking minds. 

Finally, everyone had the decency to shut up and let the old tortoise talk. Sans let out a breath and leaned back in his seat. He hadn’t even realized he was on the edge of it. 

“I want you to invite yes into your life… because when you say yes to things, you will embrace the possible.” Sans’s eyes wandered the stadium. Psh, what a bunch of horse shit. 

“You gobble up all of life’s energies… and excrete the waste.” Sans furrowed his brow with puzzled disgust at the wording and shot a wary look at Nick. What the fuck did he drag me to? 

“I would like to welcome our newcomers… Who among us is new?” asked the turtle man, his eyes glittering in the spotlight. Nick jumped up and pointed directly at Sans with giddy excitement. 

“He is! This guy right here!” Sans’s soul dropped to the floor, his eyelights snuffing out and leaving his sockets black as the abyss. He shot Nick a poisonous warning glare. The entirety of the ballroom seemed to turn and lock their eyes onto him. 

“Haha… I’m gonna kill you...” he growled under his breath as he shot a sheepish, nervous grin at everyone. His threat didn’t phase Nick, who continued despite Sans’s embarrassment, to point him out to everyone. 

“Come on up, future Yes Man!” beckoned the tortoise. Sans grimaced and shook his head, he was flooded with humiliation. He really was going to murder Nick Creamer. No doubts about it. He was already planning where to dismember and bury his body. 

“Uh… No thanks I’m just… auditing?” he called back. The crowd vocally cringed at him, some laughing and shaking their heads like they knew exactly what was about to happen. He couldn’t believe his luck, or rather lack of luck. 

“You can’t audit life my friend, now get on up here!” Sans seethed through his teeth and gave the fucker a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“Nah… No thanks, I'm good.” Let it go old man. 

“I’m sorry, what was that you just said?” he asked. Sans gritted his teeth and shot Nick a withering glare. Nick merely smirked smugly at him, sealing his fate. He glanced back up at the dumb ass turtle and shook his head stubbornly. 

“Uh… I’m good?” he grunted. We could play this game all night. It was clear though that Gerson wasn’t going to let this go. 

“Before that.” Asshole. Fuck you Nick. You’re dead. You’re so dead. You’re already dead. The crowd all looked at him expectantly. He wanted to wipe their smug little grins off their faces. This was awful. This was worse than the entirety of middle school. 

“Thank you…?” he said again. A few people rolled their eyes at him and he growled. Gerson shook his head and held up his hand as if trying to reach something intangible. This guy ain’t gonna let up. 

“Back up just a little bit more…” Sans glared at him and ran his tongue along the edges of his fangs. Nick nudged him and he punched him in the shoulder hard. Nick winced and held his aching arm. Sans grunted, sinking under the pressure. 

“...No—” 

“—No man! No Man, No Man, NO MAN!” Sans shrunk into himself as the crowd yelled at him, wagging their fingers as they shamed him and only him. 

“Ok! If the molehill won’t come to Gerson… Gerson will come to the molehill!” he exclaimed. Sans’s eyes widened as the old man took off in a sprint down the aisle right for him. His eye flared with shock as he stumbled back in his seat, Nick holding him in place. The only reason he hadn’t used his magic was for all the humans’ sakes. 

Gerson stole a chair and turned it to face him, sitting down as a crew member handed him a microphone. Sans gulped. 

“What’s your name?” He shoved the microphone into Sans’s face and he let out an annoyed grumble. No getting out of this now. 

“Sans.” 

“Let me guess Sans, someone talked you into coming here today didn’t they?” Sans rolled his head to look at Nick and he sighed. Yep it definitely looked like he’d have to do this. Fuuuuuuck! 

“...Yes.” Everyone shouted YES at the top of their lungs and Sans rolled his eyes. 

“And you’re not… sure about this are you?” Sans narrowed his eyes at Gerson as he weighed the options of his answer. It was just a yes or no question. He inwardly groaned. This sucked. 

“No,” he grunted. Again, the audience shouted no man over and over, none more passionately than Nick, who was only digging himself into a deeper hole than he was already in. Sans shook his head with irritated bafflement at his predicament. He really should’ve stayed home. Gerson shrugged. 

“You’re dead Sans,” he said bluntly, with a nonchalant shake of his head, “you say no to life and therefore you are not living.” 

Sans’s skull grin faltered at the words. 

“You make up excuses to the people around you, and to yourself. You’re trapped in the same dead end job you’ve been stuck in for years. You don’t have a significant other. You don’t have anything close to a significant other, and you lost the love of your life because they couldn’t be with someone who couldn’t live theirs…” Sans’s brow furrowed as he read him like a newspaper. ...Hittin’ a lil’ too close to home their bucko. 

“And most nights you’re so bored and filled with ornery that… you can’t even summon up the enthusiasm necessary to masterbate.” Sans choked at the statement. He was right. Jesus I’m depressing. 

“Am I right, Sans?” He shoved the microphone right against his skeletal nose and Sans avoided looking into his dark, glittering… piercing, green eyes. He had just read the contents of his soul… In front of everyone! 

“Um… you uh, I mean I guess you could say I’m sans enthusiasm,” he murmured the shitty pun, trying as hard as possible to not let the microphone pick up the rumble of his voice, or allow the audience to hear his meager confession. Gerson gave a soft smirk. He glanced up as the old turtle pulled himself closer. Way too much closer. Sans scaled his chair to somehow escape him as he came right up to his nose. 

“We’re gonna make a covenant Sans… do you want to make a covenant?” he whispered into the mic. Sans’s breath shook as he glanced down at the floor. 

“Come on Sans!” shouted some random guy in the crowd. Sans grimaced and groaned softly as he tried to battle his thoughts.

“Uh—” Sans flinched as Gerson hit his head with the mic, the auditorium filling with feedback at the move. 

“—The answer is yes, Sans.” The crowd screamed Yes. 

“Yes!” he croaked. Nick screamed yes with fierce passion into Sans’s ear and Sans curled away from him. 

“Yes!” This time with a bit more conviction. Nick was right. He… maybe he did need this. Gerson had been right about everything. He really was a sorry sack of shit. Would it really kill him to spice up his life like this? 

The crowd screamed yes again and Sans let escape a soft whisper, pleading and desperate, partly for this whole ordeal to be over, but… mostly a sincere want to change. 

Gerson’s piercing eyes locked onto his, his face solemn and sober. 

“Once you leave this building… every time an opportunity presents itself…no matter what it is… you will say yes.” Another round of yes’s filled the hall, and this time Sans found himself embracing it. Afterwards he gave Gerson a nervous grimace and nodded. 

“And what if I say, heh… the other word?” he asked, not willing to risk the chance of saying no and being yelled at again. Gerson narrowed his eyes at him. 

“You’ll be breaking a promise to yourself… and when you break a promise to yourself… things can get a little dicey. What do you say, Sans… want to make that covenant?” God yes, if this is what it takes to make Papyrus… or, fuck, if this is what it takes to get out of my funk then… 

“Yes.” YES! 

“Yes!” YES! Gerson grabbed him by the face and dragged him out of his seat with such vigor, Sans gave a growl of surprise. 

“MAKE ME BELIEVE IT!” he snarled as he shook Sans. 

“Yes! Yes! YES!” he cried desperately, Gerson throwing him back down in Nick’s arms. Sans was shaking from the entire experience. What. The. Fuck… just happened to me? 

Gerson turned back towards the stage and made his way through the crowd. He rose his fists into the air with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. 

“YES!” he cheered, the audience practically screaming their inspired praise. Sans breathed shakily as he tried to regain his composure. A laugh escaped him as Nick pushed him back into his own seat. Slowly Sans began to clap. Guess you could say I’m a little shell shocked. 

⁂ 

“Hey! There he is!” Sans glanced up at one of the men from the auditorium as he and Nick walked through the parking lot. The man’s wife smiled brightly at him. 

“That was wonderful, so inspiring,” she said sweetly as they climbed into their car. Sans grinned and saluted them lazily. Nick chuckled as they came to his little blue car. 

“So… you gonna do it?” he asked. Sans hummed in thought and shrugged. 

“I… I don’t know. Maybe,” he said with a coy grin. Nick scrunched his nose at the answer and chuckled. 

“That’s weird, I didn’t realize we stepped out of a maybe seminar,” he teased. Sans snickered and rolled his eyes as he turned away, coming face to face with an old homeless monster, his head cloaked with a black hood, nothing but bright white eyes peering back at him. 

“You… are a reaper, tralala… yes?” asked the homeless monster. Sans swallowed and raised his brows, looking down at his skeletal hands. 

“Uh, tch, yes,” he grunted. The hobo gave a small squeak of delight. 

“Do you think you could use those fancy powers of yours, tralala, and take me to Ebbot City park?” he asked. Sans hummed his displeasure at the request and began to shake his head. He hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep last night, in fact, only around three hours and the closest thing he’d had to a meal all day was a hotdog from a street vendor. He only had enough energy really to get himself home and make a measly ramen noodle dinner for himself. Jesus Christ, I really am pathetic. 

“Uh… liste—”

“—YEEESSSSS!” shouted Nick as he came sprinting to Sans’s side. Sans winced at the reminder of the stupid covenant. 

“Sure he can! Right Sans?” asked Nick with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Sans laughed wryly at him. Nick, do you want me to kill you? You have to say yes. He thought bitterly. He inwardly groaned and turned back to the homeless man. With a long sigh of resolve he shook his head yes. 

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Why not?” he grumbled. Nick giggled gleefully, and the homeless monster shot him a puzzled look. 

“Yes! You won’t regret this Sans!” Sans shot him a warning glare and chuckled bitterly as the hobo held out his dirty hand for him to take. Sans grimaced as he debated on taking his hand, the two dancing around each other awkwardly before Sans grabbed sternly onto his shoulder. 

“Alright just… Ebbot City park right?” he asked. The man nodded and he sighed as smoke poured out of his sockets. He longed for the days people were scared shitless of reapers. They were all getting so comfy. 

“Have fun!” called Nick as he walked back to his car. Sans shook his head as the red smoke surrounded them. 

“Fuck off.” 

⁂ 

The mist dissipated to reveal the gate leading into the park, big rod iron letters spelling Ebbot City Park. Sans grunted and turned away before the hobo cleared his throat and pointed inside. 

“I need to go a little further in, tralala. It’s in the hiking range near the water, if you don’t mind tralala,” he said. Sans froze and glanced back at the hobo. He stifled his annoyed growl and plastered on the fakest smile he could. 

“Of course… silly me.” Because nothing could be easy. He sighed as he clasped his hand onto the monster’s shoulders and shrouded them in red mist again. The hiking range was way deep in the park. He prayed to whatever dumbass god was listening to allow him to have the energy necessary to get him home. 

When they arrived at the riverside, dark water lapping up at the shore, the hobo searched the water. A tired sigh exploded from Sans’s jaw and he shot the hobo a disgruntled look. 

“Got any more requests or can I just leave ya here cause it doesn’t really matter… tralala…?” he grumbled. The hobo hummed his disapproval and glanced back at him with a sheepish sparkle in his bright, white eyes. 

“I’m sorry man, but… it’s on the other side of the river, tralala” He said. Sans stared at him. Fuck you Nick, fuck you Nick, fuck you Nick. He mustered up enough decency to give the homeless monster a gracious smile and snatched his arm. 

“Fine by me,” he growled as once again, his smoke surrounded them. 

He stumbled and leaned against a tree as he took them to the other side of the river. There was a small encampment with a little canoe pulled up on the river bank. The hobo clapped his hands cheerfully before slowly turning to Sans. 

“Thanks man for doing this, you know a lot of people would’ve just said no, tralala… although I have been getting a lot of luck lately outside of that hotel,” he said. Sans chuckled wrly and shook his head.

 “Hey man it’s… it’s no problem,” he grunted as he wiped his hand on his jeans. 

“Um… you wouldn’t mind if… do you think you could spare a couple bucks, tralala?” he asked. Sans’s eye socket twitched before he chuckled aridly and yanked out his wallet. 

“You know what? I’ve come this far,” he hissed as he leafed through some of his on hand cash. “Yes you can… tralala,” he said with a gracious smile. 

The hobo glanced at his stack of cash and chuckled, shaking his head and pointing to it. 

“You’ve got a whole lot there, tralala, can I have it all?” he joked. Sans’s eyes snuffed out, abyssal black holes filled with rage. These assholes keep testing me. The riverman hobo let out a jolly laugh and Sans laughed mockingly along before holding out the whole stack.

“Sure,” he hissed as he held out the stack of cash. The hobo laughed nervously, his eyes widening at the generous gesture. He hesitantly reached for it and clasped it in his hand. For a second, they both pulled on the money, Sans’s grip a cold dead grip on his hard earned money. However, the hobo eventually won that game of tug-o-war. 

He held up the bundle to him as Sans glared across at him. 

“Angel bless you, tralala,” he breathed with genuine gratitude. Sans waved him off as the hobo got into his canoe and pulled a raggedy blanket over his head. He scoffed and walked along the river path as he tried to summon his magic. A curl of red mist fluttered around him, but he was exhausted and he had reached a depletion in magic. He panted and leaned against a tree trunk. 

“Come on man!” he snarled. He tried again only for his eye to flare like a sputtering candle and he stumbled back. He gritted his teeth and growled low under his breath. 

“Great” he spat. He dug through his pockets for his phone. He’d have to call an Uber or something once he made it out of the park. A reaper in an Uber. What was the world coming to? 

As he glanced down his eyes widened when he realized his battery was at one percent. He had forgotten to charge it before he left, banking on just charging it at the seminar.  

“Oh no, no, no!” he gasped, just as it decided to shut down. His fists clenched and he rummaged through his jacket pockets. Yes, he had his charger, thank God. Ok then… new plan… walk to a gas station, charge my phone, get somethin’ to eat and call an Uber. He would’ve called Papyrus, but where they stood right now… he knew his brother would rather not deal with him. He was on his own. 

“Heh… perfect.” 

⁂

“Hey Sans, do you wanna give away all your cash to a homeless guy? Why yes. Yes I do,” he growled to himself as he marched over the empty bridge across the river. He couldn’t fucking believe he was in this situation. 

“How about expending all the rest of your energy teleporting him around a six hundred acre park? You know what? That sounds like a fucking great idea!” he shouted into the indifferent night. 

Assholes. All of them. Weird culty assholes. How could anything good ever come out of this? He’d probably get jumped, and with no magic to defend himself… Ugh! He read the directions to get out of the hiking trail and sighed as he found himself running along a thin dirt path. Fuck this Park. Fuck that homeless guy. Fuck Nick. Fuck the covenant! 

“Let’s just take a late night stroll through the hills and get killed by a murder cult! Don’t mind if I do!” 

It took hours. Literal hours. He was winded… and sweaty and exhausted! His legs felt like jelly by the time he was practically crawling up to the closest gas station. He threw the door open, eyes black as a starless night as he locked the cashier in his gaze. He held up his phone as he caught his breath and bared his fangs. 

“Charging port. Where is it?” he snarled. The tired teenager squeaked with fear, that’s more like it, and pointed outside. He groaned and stomped back out to find the port. As he bent down to plug his charger in, the rev of an engine filled the air. 

A vespa pulled into the gas station and parked at the front near the building. He glanced up as the rider slid off of their ride and spared him a curious look while they took off their helmet. It was a rather stupid sight. A large skeleton monster hunched over a little outlet with his stupid little cell phone. Might as well join the circus while he was at it.  

To make matters worse, they were a human woman. A rather cute one at that and he looked like a fucking idiot. 

They smiled awkwardly at each other and she stepped inside. He gave a small sigh and turned back to his phone to check if it was charging. Now with one percent battery life and still charging, he gave a small breath of relief and tried to force it to turn on. He shook his head as frustration flooded him. He couldn’t believe this. 

“Do you wanna call an uber for the first time in your stupid ass life and sit in some smelly guy’s car as he forces you to talk to him about your fucking day while Nickleback plays just a little too loud? Oh could I? Could I really?—” He froze when the flash of a camera lit his vision and he jerked up. 

The woman looked down at her cute polaroid camera as it printed the picture she had just taken. People still used those? She giggled quietly to herself and glanced back up at him with a coy smirk. 

“That’s a good look,” she said as she waved the picture in the air. He narrowed his eyes as he studied her. She was small… short brown hair that framed her round, bronzen face and… her eyes were big and brown. Ugh, just my luck that I would look like a complete dumbass in front of such a pretty girl! 

“Did you just… take my picture?” he asked, pointing to the photo in her hand. Her smirk widened and she bit her lip as she unscrewed a water bottle. He watched as she took a sip before turning her attention back to him with a sigh. 

“Maybe… Did you run out of battery?” she asked. He chuckled wrly and glanced down at his phone. He glanced back up at her through narrowed eyes, running his tongue along the top of his fangs. 

“Maybe…” he murmured. She grinned and shook her head. 

“That sucks. That happened to me last week,” she said as she grinned down at the picture before pocketing it. He rolled his eyes to the heavens. 

“Was it because you forgot to charge it and then had to keep teleporting a homeless guy all around a park because no matter where you took him it just didn’t feel enough like home… which depleted all your magic and left you stranded with an empty battery so you couldn’t call a driver?” he asked. She snorted with laughter and leaned against the wall, head tilted with tender curiosity. 

“Um… no… but I take it that… that’s what happened to you?” she asked with a giggle. His grin widened and he shrugged innocently. 

“Nope. What would make you assume that?” They laughed quietly as he looked down at his phone. Four percent. He glanced back up at her as she continued to drink her water. Why was someone like her talking to someone like him? Not that he was complaining… after all she was super cute. 

“He kept making you teleport him around a park?” she asked. Sans grunted and nodded at the ridiculous truth. 

“Yeah, uh, apparently he was the most demanding homeless man on the planet. Wasn’t letting anyone walk all over him. He was keeping his sense of dignity… It was good to see,” he said with a teasing grin. She laughed with him, her nose wrinkling sweetly as she tried to understand his current predicament. He chuckled along and held open his arms with a welcoming grin. “I’m just glad to be a part of it really…” 

Her smile grew on her face. “Yeah that must feel good,” she said with a firm nod. 

They shared a lingering gaze before he cleared his throat and turned back to his phone. “Truly, yeah… oh and I’m getting some exercise… which is cool,” he mumbled as he glared at the Uber app in the app store. Was he really gonna have to download this and make an account and everything? Tonight was gonna be a long night… 

“Well… do you need a ride?” she asked, gesturing to her scooter. Is she for real? He looked over her shoulder at the little vespa and swallowed his nerves. Would he even fit on that?

“Uh… on that thing?” He asked nervously. She quirked a perfect brow at him as she sauntered back to her scooter and handed him her helmet. No fucking way. Well… Yes is the only option you have… 

⁂

They sped through the street, weaving in and out of traffic, Sans’s arms awkwardly wrapped around her slender waist. The rev of the vespa engine and the slap of wind in his face was exhilarating. This was probably the first time in a long time he had felt like he was alive… and maybe that was because at any moment they could go flying to their certain death. 

“Am I going too fast for you, faucheuse drôle?” she shouted over the wind. He laughed nervously and leaned his chin over her shoulder. 

“Nah, in fact I think you should go faster… that way if we crash at least I’ll die.” She barked with laughter at his quips and he chuckled along. “I just don’t want to be kept alive artificially, ya know?” They laughed together as they drove. 

She turned into a street with a little less traffic and slowly raised her polaroid into the air. His grin faltered as she straightened and smiled into the camera lens. 

“Wait, what are you doing?” She laughed cheerfully and leaned against him. 

“I’m taking our picture! Sourire!” she said as the camera flashed. He groaned as the flash cut through his vision. 

“Oh God, are you trynna blind me? Can’t see shit,” he said, but he couldn’t help but chuckle. She gave an easy laugh and shook her hair in the wind. 

“Me neither! Isn’t it great!?” she exclaimed as she swerved through traffic and down another road as he shouted in terror. Is she crazy!? Yeah, he was definitely not a vehicle kind of guy. 

When he realized that, yes, they were still alive, he allowed himself to grin and hug her a little tighter. This was… kind of fun. She was really fun! He was having such a great time! To think all it took was an awful trip through the park. 

They laughed together as she drove the rest of the way to his apartment complex. 

They stopped a little ways down the street and the woman dismounted, kicking her stand out to lean the scooter on. He stalled as he glanced up at the building, then back at her. She glanced at him as she ran a hand through her short, windswept hair. They stood in silence, studying each other with gentle curiosity. 

He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his skull. “So uh… thanks for uh, doin’ that. Ya didn’t have to really,” he said as he tried to avoid her gaze. She smiled sweetly at him and began to walk, Sans stupidly following behind her to his own apartment complex. 

“No problem, maybe the color will return to your face sometime… or not, considering you’re a skeleton.” He laughed at her joke and nodded along. 

“Well I hope you feel powerful because you’re the only person who’s made me scream like a little baby,” he said with a bashful grin. She scoffed with teasing laughter and winked at him. She was so pretty… How had he gotten this lucky? 

“Je le porterai comme un badge d'honneur… Can I have my helmet back now?” she asked as she pointed at his skull. He glanced up and chuckled with quiet embarrassment. He pointed at it and grinned. 

“I’m still wearing it, aren’t I,” he murmured. She gave a sleepy laugh and nodded. He sighed in mock sorrow as he took it off and handed it back to her. As she reached for it, he lifted his hand out of her reach and she whined playfully. He laughed and tossed it to her, her fumbling it a bit before pulling it to her chest. They giggled together. 

As they came to the gate to the complex she faltered and shoved her hands in her coat pockets. She swayed on her heels and smiled. 

“So… are you gonna be ok?” she asked. He grinned and leaned against the gate as he eyed her. Well now that I’ve met you…may the angel bless me indeed. 

“Yeah! Yeah I’m great… unless you wanna stick around and makeout,” he murmured under his breath. Her big, brown eyes perked up at the words and he inwardly kicked himself. No I did not just say that out loud. I don’t even know her name! 

“What?” she asked, eyes wide. Oh shit, I totally fucked that. Stupid, idiot, asshole! 

“Wha- What did you say?” he stammered. She narrowed her eyes and advanced on him with aggressive finality. He held up his hands as he feared maybe pepper spray, or a taser if she was one of those girls. 

“Hey listen, I wasn’t bein—” She grabbed his jacket and pulled him down, pressing her lips to his fangs in a forceful kiss. He froze up. That had been the last thing he had been expecting. She pulled away… too soon… and stared up at him. A shocked silence fell over both of them. 

“... Have a good night,” she said as she gave him a firm pat on the chest. His eyes followed her as she sauntered back to her vespa. She swung her leg over and revved the little engine before taking off down the street. He watched her go and looked down at his chest, where his hands were clutching a… a photograph. His grin softened. The two of them on her scooter. He actually looked happy… 

He glanced back down the street where she had driven off and smiled to himself, tucking the photo into his jacket pocket. 

“Yes…” he murmured thoughtfully, a skip in his step as he made his way back to his room. Yes always leads to something good… Thank you Nick.   

[gustafsnightangel]

A Softer Side Part 7

The computer pinged with each frantic bid in the dying minutes, and all out war between Petrov and user BaishunpuSureiya, which in a literal translation meant Whore Slayer, otherwise known as first lieutenant to the Yakuza clan Moriyama. “Only thing worse than the Russian mob, the Japanese Yakuza.” Strand sighed.

”Damn I’m glad we got the girl out of this one.” Jerry muttered quietly.

Ayla was frantically digging into these guys as they watched the bidding war play out. A different ping had their attention snap to Ayla’s screen. “Oh you clever sweet girl.” Karl breathed. “You hacked the sites mainframe.”

“Told you she was good.” Jerry elbowed him with his murmured.

As the auction timed out the bids stopped at 6.5 million, Petrov waiting until the last second to out bid his closest rival. Karl kept a hand on Jerry’s shoulder as he breathed out very slowly. “Not celebrating until we bag him.” He said finally, wrangling his emotions under control. “We’re not done, he’s not in our care yet.”

“One step at a time kid.” Karl murmured and watched as Ayla’s hand squeezed Jerry’s. The ping of money being transferred to their dummy account brought them back to reality. “Wainwright will be getting a call soon.” As if he’d dialed the number himself, the call came through, Steve answering. With the drop location agreed on Davis and his team headed out to cast the net wide, they had a few hours to burn beforehand which was ample time to secure all access roads.

As Karl studied the takedown, he could see Ayla was busy pulling those digital threads to finesse the data she was searching for. With a frantic hand tapping his she pointed at the screen and then to Davis’s feed.

“Davis.” He snapped through the coms. “They’re already at the drop site, preplanned in the event they won the auction.”

“Copy that boss. We’ll cast wider see what we come up with.”

“I’ll forward this intel to you, it just came in. North side heavily guarded, best choke point along the south east ridge. You can bottle neck them in if you have a team at the choke point.”

“Mia?” Strand asked.

“Already leaving.” She said. Karl knew she had a helicopter stashed away, there wasn’t much she didn’t have in the way of equipment.

“Archangel is on the way.” Strand snapped out grinding his teeth, shit was about to get real.

“Copy that boss.”

Karl paced and saw Jerry blanch. “We’ll get him kid.”

“I know, his luck’s run out.” He shrugged. “I gotta gut feeling this is his last auction, whether we catch him or kill him it’s his fucking last.”

“Davis?” Strand called.

“Yeah?”

“Capture not kill, do you understand? Not unless he gives you no other option. We want Petrov alive and to at least be able to talk coherently.” Karl thought for a moment. “I don’t care about the rest, society will be much better without them.”

“Copy that. With Archangel, we’ll clean house.” Karl knew Davis understood his command. Take everyone out, leave Petrov alive, it was that fucking simple.

The randevu inched closer, the seconds ticking by in silence as Strand let Davis and Wainwright do their jobs. He had absolute confidence in their ability, he just didn’t want to let Jerry down, they’d come too far now.

“Why Mia?” Hunt asked as he paced, his restless energy making him on edge.

“That woman can shoot the hair off a gnats ass at two miles. She’ll find a nest and pick them off, effectively clearing the way for Davis and company to move in.”

“She is so much more than she seems.” Jerry said

“You have no idea kid.”

“Did you guys ever... you know?” Jerry asked quietly.

“Nope and never will. It would be like fucking my little sister.” Strand said disgustedly, even the thought of it put a bad taste in his mouth.

“Fair enough.” Jerry chuckled.

“You looking to start something with her?” He asked as he watched Davis’s team come online.

“Maybe. I like her.” He shrugged.

“Tread carefully and slowly, she’s been through hell.” Was all Strand would say on the matter and Jerry wisely shut his mouth. Karl didn’t want to get into it, he had enough relationship troubles at the moment without diving into someone else’s love life woes. Is that what this was, he thought, was he in love with her, was this a relationship?”

“In position.” Davis’s voice crackled over coms. “Waiting for Archangel.”

“Copy that, she’s en route. ETA, thirty minutes or so.” Strand said taking a seat again, his own nervous energy starting to make his skin crawl. He should be out there with the team, not cooped up inside watching it go down. In that regard he was impatient, preferring to be in the thick of it not on the sidelines.

“Get my drone up in the air Davis, I’ll need to have eyes.” Mia’s voice was clipped as it came over the coms unit.

“Copy that Archangel.” Karl could hear the smirk in Davis’s voice and smiled, he had a good team.

“Pull it up Jerry.” He said quietly and Hunt activated the drone feed. “We may need to be her eyes as well, the team on the ground will have enough to do.” They settled in with a little over an hour to analyse, strategize, and tighten the net.

******

“Archangel in position.” Mia’s voice was barely a whisper.

“You close?” Strand asked.

“Hostiles 100 yards.” She said shortly barely breathing, though the hostiles in question weren’t exactly being quiet and would mask any noise she made.

“Copy.” Karl said softly.

******

“Approaching now.” Wainwright said as they pulled up just outside the containment line.

“As soon as you set foot on the ground Archangel will clear the outer perimeter, Davis will clean up and move the containment line in.”

“Copy.”

“You ready Burke?” Strand asked.

“Asshole won’t know what hit him.” She snarked.

“We need him alive.” He said.

“I got the memo. He’ll be breathing and conscious.”

“Pulling up.” Steve cut in, now it was down to business.

“Copy.” Strand said.

The feed came into view and Karl saw Petrov waiting, surrounded by his entourage trying to look important more than watching for any real threat, that would be their fatal mistake. “Jerry, paint our good friend Ivan so Mia can leave that asshole alive.” He growled and Hunt did as requested using the drone to fix a red glow to the man, only Mia would be able to see the glow through her scope.”

“Stepping out now Archangel.” Wainwright said softly.

“Copy.” Came Mia’s feminine whisper.

******

No sooner had Steve’s foot met gravel, Petrov’s men started dropping like flies. In less than a minute she had the outer security down.

“Davis move in.” She said quietly. “North side.”

“Copy.” She would keep them safe.

Strand watched Steve take his time, the customary small talk between buyer and seller, giving Mia as much time as possible to plow the road. With an ear on their conversation he glanced to see Davis’s team secure the heavily armed North side.

“Ametures.” Mia snorted. “Never leave the high ground unattended.” Her soft mumble had Karl chuckling. “May as well have presented your asses with a flashing neon sign that said shoot me.”

“It’s just the inner circle left now.” Strand said gruffly as Wainwright hauled Burke out of his car. She swayed as if she was drugged, Karl knowing full well she was stone cold sober.

“Is she armed?” Jerry asked, a worried edge to his voice. “If this goes south she’s fucked.”

Strand snorted before he laughed. “She doesn’t need a weapon Jerry, she is the weapon.” He looked at the rookie and smiled. “Watch and learn, Petrov’s about to get his ass handed to him by a girl.” Strand looked back to watch the takedown unfold, like fucking poetry.

Like a well choreographed dance Burke reached Petrov and his hands closed around her bicep. As soon as skin met skin, Mia reduced his entourage down to just him and his first lieutenant. By the time Mia had taken down the first lieutenant, Burke had Petrov on the ground, balls in his hands, pain plastered across his face, in less than three minutes he was crying like a baby and screaming like a stuck pig.

“Not so tough now are you Ivan.” Burke purred as she circled him.

“What do you want?” He blubbered.

“Funny you should ask.” She grinned and got in his face. “Know this girl?” She held up her phone with a photo of Jerry’s sister Eva. “Before you answer let me remind you, lying or anything other than the whereabouts of this girl will end with you being shipped off to Hades 6, where we have a very nice welcome party waiting for you.” Even on the shitty feed Strand saw his face pale. “Take your time and think real hard because you purchased her, cheaper than a prime piece but you bought her, you have three minutes Ivan, then I’m handing you over to those on Hades 6 to extract the data out of you.” She let him cower at her feet, Hunt was chewing his nails, the wait unbearable.

No one spoke for the entire three minutes, the silence palpable. Crouching again before him she flicked his nose and he trembled, fucking pussy, Strand thought. “Where is she Petrov?”

“Outside San Francisco, at our US compound.” His voice choked and quavered, Karl wouldn’t be surprised if this sniveling asshole had peed his pants.

“You’re going to make a call, in English or the same fate will be in your future.” She growled. “One person drives her to this location.” She held up the address for him to see. Only the girl gets out of the car, I see anyone else I’ll pack you off to Hades 6 so fast your head will spin. Understand?” He nodded furiously.

With shaking hands Ivan dialed the number. As it was ringing Ayla traced it. He rattled off instructions for the girl, where to drive her to. The ping from the computer Ayla was working from made a sly smile spread across Karl’s face.

“Got you now you fuckers.” He growled. “We have what we need. Secure and transport Petrov, collect the girl and take her to the outcrop safe house, I’ll have her brother meet her there.”

“I’m closer.” Mia said quickly. “I’ll bring her home, she’ll be more comfortable there.”

“Sounds good, let us know when you’re heading our way.”

“Copy that, Archangel out.”

Strand turned to Jerry, the rookie pale and in shock. “Mia will bring her home here.” He said placing an understanding hand on the kids shoulder. “You need to brace yourself Jerry, she’s not going to be the same sister.”

“I know. How do I help her?” He asked quietly.

“Just be her brother, that’s all you can do. She’s not going to want to be around anyone for a while.”

“Much like Ayla was.” Jerry breathed and looked at her, that slight nod the only answer he’d get. “You guys go ahead and sleep, I’ll wait up for Mia and my sister.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. She’s going to terrified out of her mind, the less of an audience the better. I just need to lay eyes on her, know that she’s here, safe.”

Strand watched as Ayla stood and padded over to Jerry. Her tentative hug was a huge step, a silent gesture to let him know she was here for him, for his sister.

“Thanks Ayla, if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have found her.” The rookie was almost in tears. She smiled softly and nodded. Jerry headed out to brew what would probably be his tenth coffee for the evening, leaving Ayla staring at Wainwright.

“It’s not him sweet girl.” Karl reassured. Reaching over he clicked Wainwright’s com on to open a channel. “Steve do me a favor and lose the face.” He said quietly. “On camera, she needs to see it.”

“Sure.” He pulled the camera around so Ayla had a good view and she pulled back, almost dissolving against Karl, his arms wrapping around her protectively.

“It’s not him, watch.” Steve scrubbed a hand over his face and she watched as his fingers disappeared. “It’s a holographic image projected over his face to make him look like Raven. If he touches his face it disrupts the signal.” Wainwright pressed a spot by his ear and half the holographic mask disappeared to reveal Steve’s thirty something face. “Pretty cool huh?” Strand murmured as she reached out a hand to touch the screen, a barely there nod her only answer. “Thanks Steve.”

“No problem boss.” Even his voice was back to normal.

“It has a voice chip in there too which makes him sound like Raven.” Karl explained as he cut the feed. She turned in his arms, buried her face in his chest and wept, those slender fingers fisting in his shirt. “You’re ok sweet girl.” He soothed as Jerry came back in and sat at the computer ignoring them as if they weren’t in the room. With a reassuring squeeze of the rookie’s shoulder he scooped Ayla up into his arms and carried her to her room.

It had been a rough evening for her mentally and emotionally, seeing and hearing a likeness of Raven rocking her to her core. “You’re safe Ayla.” He murmured as he climbed into bed with her, there was no way she was letting go of him tonight. He soothed her to sleep, his body cradling hers. Could he really be this stability she was looking for, he wondered? That one thought pounded through his head as he drifted, was he in love with her?

Her nightmare was more a night terror, visceral, all consuming. It was the first sound other than her whimper he’d heard from her, the terrified scream tearing from her throat, hands frantically pushing him away, fighting whatever had appeared in her mind to torment her. Waking her was difficult, his soft commands to wake up were a glancing blow, it held her under deeply. In the end, as much as he hated himself for it, he grabbed her by the biceps tightly, pined her to the mattress and barked at her.

“AYLA, WAKE UP!” He barked, a tone that left no room for interpretation. She woke sharply, eyes suddenly forced wide open at his voice, the grip on her probably hurting. That keening half scream half sob was wrenched from deep within her and she froze in his hands.

Loosening his grip he let her go and put his hands up in front of him. “You’re ok sweet girl, just a nightmare, you’re safe.” She continued to stare at him, her shuddering breath heaving in and out. “Just a really bad dream.” He repeated. Her eyes searched the room frantically, that whimper gutting him. “He’s not here Ayla, he’s on Hades 6 remember?” The urge to pull her into his arms and cradle her against him was overwhelming, the need to soothe. “You’re safe with me sweet girl, I won’t hurt you.” He murmured and held out his hands for her to come to him, to seek comfort, shelter, protection. Her choice, he thought, it had to be her choice as much as this was killing him it would only exacerbate her fear if he forced it.

He clicked on the lamp, the soft glow chasing the shadows into the night where they belonged, not that there was much of the night left. “It’s just you and me sweet girl.” He said softly, her breathing calmer now the light was on, her body still trembling. “I’m here when you’re ready Ayla, no rush.” The look of absolute terror in her eyes destroyed him as he rested his hand on his knee and let her process what she’d dreamt and the scene in front of her.

Eventually her hand reached out, fingertips brushing his. He curled them gently, urging her to come closer, to seek the safety she desperately needed. She inched closer, tentative fingers shaking toward him before they snatched back as if they’d been struck.

“You can touch me sweet girl, you’re safe with me.” He said calmly. “You’re ok.” When in the world had he become so fucking patient, he thought? Since you became her world, that little voice in his head smirked. As her mind settled she curled into him, the quiet weeping of an overwhelmed soul. “You’re safe sweet girl.” He sighed, holding her tighter and slowly leaning back against the headboard. As her tears subsided her finger grazed his scruff, the gentle touch igniting that fire within him. Her hands fisted in his shirt as she pressed her face to his chest and breathed. “Get some more sleep sweet girl, I’m right here ok?” She nodded and he heard the shuddered sigh, willing her body to relax knowing he’d keep her safe while she slept. He squeezed her tightly and shifted to lay flat, her tiny form cradled against his gigantic frame.

He felt her drift under, not so lucky himself as he stared at the ceiling. She slept for another few hours, he was content to just hold her in his arms while he thought about the next op in a few days time. He was pulled from the quiet doze he’d fallen into by her lips on his.

“You feeling better sweet girl?” He rasped as his mind coming back from wherever it had wandered off to. Opening his eyes sea green looked back, clear and full of love, her slight nod settling him. I don’t deserve you, he said silently, I’m no good for you I’m so many ways. No matter how many times he thought it and then banished it from his mind, he still craved her. She’d gotten under his guard and sucker punched him, stealing whatever was left of his black heart for herself. She kissed him again, the primal animal inside him surging forward as he deepened it, taking what he desperately wanted, giving her whatever it was she needed. He lost himself to the taste of her, those soft lips he suddenly had the urge to have around his cock.

Her hands wandering down his chest and along his torso snapped him back to some semblance of reality before her mouth claimed his. “Ayla.” He breathed, he was drowning in her. Shivering slightly as her hand grazed his shaft, his body betrayed his resolve. The press of her body against his elicited a groan as she palmed him, the sensual stroke of his erection causing a low growl to rumble from within him. God he wanted her, every cell in his body wanted her. “Stop.” He murmured gently as he took her hands and brought them to rest on his chest. Pressing his forehead against hers he regained his control, the slim margin of space suddenly between them giving his brain time to think before he acted and did something monumentally stupid. “I want to.” He whispered. “But the way I want you isn’t what you need.” No, he thought, pinning her to the bed and taking her how he pleased was not what she needed, to plunge inside her, to feel her wrapped around his cock as he fucked her hard. No, she needed tender, and he wasn’t sure he could give that to her. He felt her nod slightly, her head bowing until it rested on his chest tucked under his chin. Her tears slipped over his hand and he felt like an even bigger asshole. “I need time Ayla. I’m not sure being intimate with you is best for either of us.” He felt her nod again before she pulled away, rolling over quickly, and moving to the bathroom. “Ayla.” He said gently, but the quiet snick of the door ended his sentence before it had begun. Staring at the ceiling he let his frustration simmer. He was trying to take it slow with her, ease her into sex, did she not see that? Did she not understand that if he hurt her it would destroy him?

Ripping the covers off he dressed in jeans and a sweater and grabbed his Glock out of nightstand drawer. He stomped out to the kitchen, grabbed a coffee in a to go thermos and headed out to Mia’s range. He needed distance, he needed violence, and he needed to get her scent out of his fucking system. They had days to prepare for the last of the three auctions and hopefully put and end to all of it, he needed to focus.

Round after round went into the targets, the action soothing the edges of his unease, cathartic violence for his soul. He wasn’t husband material, relationship material, he worked hard, and played harder. His next shot faltered as Sarah popped into his mind, he’d loved her, still loved her, or what was his version of love. Was that why it felt wrong with Ayla, he wondered? No, not wrong, because he did feel something for her, it was just different to what he felt with Sarah.

Loading a new clip he emptied it into the target.

“I thought I’d find you here.” Mia said as the echo of the last round faded.

“Needed to clear my head.” He snarled, slamming another clip in and fired.

“I figured when you weren’t anywhere to be found.” She said as he let the empty clip fall and placed an egg and bacon sandwich on the table for him. “Thought you could use a bite.”

“Thanks.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.” He loaded and fired, the smooth action one of years of repetition.

“All right then, I’ll leave you to it.” Mia sighed and turned to walk away.

“I’m in love with her Mia and it fucking terrifies me.” He blurted out. “All I keep thinking about is how I’m not the right person for her, I want to push her so far away from me to protect her yet my body wants her, I want her. How do I give her what she needs when I don’t even know what that is or how to give it to her. I’m not the loving gentle soul she needs.”

“Maybe not to the rest of us but to her you are.” Mia said gently. “Karl, she brings out a softer side of you I’ve never seen before, and it’s only with her.”

“I love Sarah, loved Sarah and I don’t know if I can take that kind of a beating again emotionally.”

“I know you did, but this isn’t the same.” Mia said softly.

“It’s so different.” He sighed, unwrapping the sandwich and taking a bite.

“Ayla is happy with you Strand and that’s a good thing for her, positive in her healing, but don’t lead her on.” She put her hands up as he opened his mouth to speak. “You’re not doing that, I’m just saying if you’re not serious about her you need to tell her.”

“I don’t even know what this is Mia.” He huffed.

“Then you need to figure it out, because if you keep pushing her away she’ll eventually stop coming to you, stop vying for your affection.”

“She had a nightmare last night.”

“And she’ll have many more.” Mia shot back. Damn it, Strand thought, she was going to make him deal with it all.

“She wanted sex.” He said flatly.

“Then give it to her.” Mia shrugged.

“It’s not that simple.”

Mia laughed. “God men are so clueless sometimes, I have to spell it out.” Her sigh making Strand bristle.

“Was it like that with you and Peter?” He sniped, the mention of his old partner bringing a mournful look into her eyes. He wished he could take back those words the second they were out.

“That was a low blow even for you Karl, but to answer your question, yes. After you brought me home it was Peter that tended me much like you’re doing with Ayla. There came a point where I needed sex, I needed to feel what it was like to be in control of what was taken from me. The only difference between me and Ayla is I knew what sex was like before Syria, she’s had nothing but rape and torture her entire life.” She studied him. “She trusts you Karl, she wouldn’t be asking if she didn’t.”

“She hasn’t asked, she hasn’t said a fucking word.” His growl was more a snarl.

“Her actions ask. She wouldn’t let you touch her if she didn’t want you to, it’s her choice.” He chewed it over and felt his gut sink, had he pushed her away too much already? “Finish up here.” Mia said seeing him start to think on her words. “Burgers tonight out on the patio, we earned them after last night.”

“You loved him didn’t you?” He said gently.

“Very much.” Her words held such grief, a deep longing as she walked back to the pickup.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole.”

“You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t.” She snorted.

******

The long walk back to the house cleared his head about Sarah, she was not who he thought she was, their relationship tenuous at best. If he was being honest with himself they were using each other for sex and that was, and always had been their relationship, even when he’d thought he’d been in love with her. The way he felt about Ayla however was as clear as mud. There was a deeper pull to her, as if her soul spoke to his, a softness and calm he’d never experienced before. Her soul soothed his own.

Coming into the kitchen he glanced into the rec room and found Ayla and Jerry at the computers working hard to set up their next op for tomorrow. He should have been here helping instead of having his own existential crisis. At least she hadn’t withdrawn or shut down.

“Hey boss.” Jerry said quietly and he saw Ayla’s hands still on the keyboard before resuming their rapid beat.

“How’s your sister?” He asked taking a seat between them.

“Doing ok considering, we talked some.” Jerry shrugged.

“That’s a start.” Karl said softly. Hunt brought him up to speed with their progress. The report from Burke on the delivery of Petrov to Hades 6. “We all set for tonight’s pickup?”

“Wainwright and Burke are set, Davis is regrouping with his team.”

“Good.”

“Do you think our old CO will bid tonight?” Hunt asked hopeful.

“God I fucking hope so.” Karl growled. “He’s the middle man, there’s someone above him pulling the strings and I want to know who.” Because that was who Raven supplied on a regular basis and would bring this entire syndicate down.

“Raven’s the supplier and distributer.”

“Yes, but who’s running the show? Who does he answer to? Raven makes millions off these auctions yet look at the house and neighborhood he lived in. If he had access to all this money where are the fancy cars, the mansions, the carefree lifestyle one had with that about of money?” Karl mused. “Were missing something.” And he’d noticed that even Ayla didn’t have the answer, maybe she doesn’t know.

******

When it came time for burgers Jerry left Strand and Ayla to go see if his sister would join them. He watched as Ayla stood and went to help Mia in the kitchen. There was a tension between them that wasn’t there last night and he was kicking himself for putting it there.

“Great, now she doesn’t want to be in the same room alone with me.” He muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose before scrubbing a hand over his face.

They all took some down time, walked away from the case for a few hours to devour a burger and fries, laugh, and boost each other’s moral.

“Did you like the burger?” Karl asked Ayla before she could get up and leave, the two of them alone for the moment as Jerry and Mia cleared and washed dishes. Jerry taking something in for his sister. She nodded and he could feel the distance between them growing exponentially. “It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with you, I’m just terrified I’ll hurt you.” He blurted out. “I’m a mess Ayla.” He sighed and looked at her, those intense sea green eyes looking back. “I’ve never felt like this about someone, even with Sarah it wasn’t like this and I don’t know how to handle it.” His hand hesitated before he brushed his knuckles along her arm, that jolt to his system something he could no longer ignore or pass off as fleeting arousal. “I feel it every time I touch you, or you touch me.” He said, his voice husky. “That unmistakable yearning for you.” He looked at her. “I crave you, and sure we could just have sex, but it’s more than that, and I’m not sure that’s what you need, or what I need.” Was it love, he wondered? “I wish you’d talk to me sweet girl, tell me what you want, what you need from me.” He murmured.

She stood slowly and Karl thought he’d blown it, but she took his face in her hands and kissed him tenderly. Her knee brushed his and he opened his legs for her to stand closer as she deepened the kiss. He looked up at her as she pulled away, her fingers caressing every angle of his face. The urge to slide his hands along her body made his fingers ache, but he kept them still, not wanting to disrupt the moment.

“Do you really want this with me?” He asked quietly and her nod made his breath hitch. “You know you could do much better.” He scoffed softly and a slight smirk touched her lips before she shook her head. “You don’t think so?” She shook her head again. “I don’t deserve you.” He whispered against her lips as they claimed his again. Her fingers wandered his chest and shoulders, feeling every contour and defined muscle.

He wanted to take it further, but time, once again, wasn’t on their side. “We have an op to run sweet girl.” He sighed as he broke the kiss, her nod one of understanding. Resting his forehead against hers he regained control of his system. “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before.” He whispered. Her hand cupped his cheek and she kissed him sweetly before stepping back.

Making their way back inside, the heat between them making him itch to touch her, maybe he’d scratch that itch after the auction was online and the pickup had been made. Sitting down they got to the business end of the evening. The pickup went as planned, the auction was live and the bidding war had begun. Jerry decided to monitor the auction while the rest of the team get some sleep.

“See you at one ish?” Hunt asked Karl as he and Ayla rose from their chairs, Mia had already gone to crash out.

“Come tap on the door, wake me if anything strange goes down.”

“Will do boss.” Jerry nodded and went back to reading through the mountain of information they were still wading through.

******

He hesitated on her threshold, it was needless, the invitation clear from the tug of her hand in his. It was like any other night they’d slept together, her choice to have him here with her. Sitting on the edge of the bed he watched as she shut the door, her tentative steps toward him had him question himself. “There’s no rush Ayla, we don’t have to do this right now.” He said softly, her hand reaching for his chest. Opening his legs she stood between them much like she had out on the patio. “Talk to me sweet girl.” He whispered. “Tell me what you want.”

Her hand lightly tapped his chest, her mouth opening and then closing a few times as she fought for the words. “I want you.” She whispered, her words barely audible, her hand trembling.

“I’m all yours.” He breathed, a little in awe of her, a little startled at her voice. As a hand wandered the other joined it as she leaned in and kissed him.

He’d forgotten how arousing it was to have a woman touch him so tenderly, each stroke of a finger igniting a trail of searing heat over him. Her eyes met his as they found the hem of his shirt and lifted it, the slight nod telling her it was ok. He shivered as her fingers brushed his bare chest. Pulling his shirt up he felt that tightness in his belly as he lifted his arms so she could take it all the way off, she excited something in him. Her touch became bolder as time went on, her kiss hungrier for him. “Can I touch you?” He asked quietly against her mouth, her gaze uncertain. “I want you to feel good too sweet girl.” His fingers toying with the wisps of hair framing her face. “To show you how good it can feel.” He breathed as she kissed him again. “No ones done that for you have they? They just took what they wanted.” Her embarrassed nod broke his heart. “Do you trust me to make you feel good, make this feel good?” She bowed her head and he hooked a finger under it asking her to look at him. When she did he kissed her tenderly, the barely there brush off his lips against hers. “Nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about sweet girl. Sex should be mutually beneficial and enjoyed.” Threading his fingers into her hair he kissed her, keeping it gentle and loving, something new for him and it felt foreign. He couldn’t just take what he wanted, not like Sarah, he had to go at her speed, let her get comfortable knowing he wasn’t going to pin her down against her will.

He deepened the kiss, tongue toying with her lip, requesting, asking for her to come and play. The soft tremble of her body when he devoured her mouth made him continue, sweeping her up in the arousal a good kiss could give. She swayed on her feet when he pulled away and chuckled softly. “I think you liked that.” He murmured nuzzling her cheek, her blush flushing her cheeks confirming it.

“Can I touch you?” He asked again gently, she nodded hesitating slightly as his finger trailed her jaw, down to brush her collarbone. “You can stop me at anytime.” Her eyes looked up and found his. “Mutually beneficial, if something hurts or makes you uncomfortable you need to tell me ok?” She nodded and nibbled on her bottom lip. “I want to make you feel good sweet girl, not hurt you.” With both hands splayed out over his chest she leaned in and kissed him. He felt the fire inside her, the passion and desire skittering below the surface waiting to be unlocked.

Keeping her mouth occupied with his own he rested his fingers at her hips, the slow gentle patterns he stroked her with hopefully desensitizing her. Hugging and holding her was one thing, this was on completely different level. She jumped slightly as fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt to graze the skin at her waist, the low sweep of her ribs. He gave her a moment to process and when she didn’t stop him he continued. His hands drifted under her shirt, the softness of her skin, the scent of her already making him hard. As he dragged his hands up her ribs she raised her arms above her head, a bold enough signal to tell him to remove her shirt.

The weeks of good food and freedom had filled her out. Gone was the bony waif with sharp angles and a pained look, a lush curvy woman stood in her wake. “God you’re beautiful.” He choked, his emotions gaining the upper hand momentarily. His kiss was barely restrained, the hunger for her almost too much to contain. Leaning his head against hers he breathed deeply, reeling it in for her sake. Kissing his way down her neck she shivered as he kissed her shoulder, a finger easing her bra strap off, his lips teasing the swell of her cleavage as he peeled the lace cup down. As his mouth claimed her nipple her hands cupped his head. At first he thought she would push him away, until the soft moan escaped as he rolled the hardened bud over his tongue. “I like hearing those sounds from your lips.” He purred as he kissed his way to the other breast to do the exact same thing. As he aroused her further he unclipped the bra and helped her remove it, her hands cupping his face to bring his mouth to hers.

Wordlessly he looked at her, those sea green eyes full of desire before he slowly kissed his way down her body. Falling to his knees he burrowed his face into her belly as his hands slipped between skin and the waistband of her leggings. He heard her breath hitch and took it slow, giving her enough time to process where his hands were and what she was feeling at his touch before he inched them down along with her panties. Taking his time he was content to taste every inch of her skin giving her the time she needed. Her scent was driving him insane, the hot heady mix of lust and arousal making his cock throb. Kissing his way down further she flinched and stepped back as his tongue licked along her wet folds.

“You didn’t like that?” He asked gently, releasing her immediately. She stood for a moment trying to process what her body felt, that tell tale tremble stopping him cold. “Do you want me to stop?” He asked and she shook her head.

“No.” She breathed, her chest heaving a little with uncertainty.

“You liked it?” Her shy nod made him smile. “Makes you feel good?” He asked as he trailed his finger up her legs from ankle to ass, kissing her hips, tongue trailing over her, he couldn’t taste her enough.

Resting his chin on her belly he looked up at her as a thought occurred to him. “Have you had oral before? Received not give?” He asked quietly, the small shake of her head confirmed his suspicions. “An orgasm?” She bowed her head and shied away, the bright red flush to her face causing her to try and hide from him. “I’ll take that as a no.” He breathed and reached up to stroke his knuckles down her cheek.

She’d simply been something to fuck, no emotions, no foreplay, no enjoyment, just a thing that Allen Raven could fuck and abuse on his every whim.

He could see she was embarrassed and he had to take things carefully now. “Would you like to try?” He looked up into that beautiful face, her hair a curtain around her bowed head, her hands had clasped in front of her mound. Kissing her hands he gave her time to think. “Or we can stop? It’s up to you Ayla.”

Her fingers eventually unclasped and touched his face, they shook slightly. “You’re a little nervous?” She nodded. “We’ll take it slow. Oral for you is better laying down when you’re ready, if you want to try it.” He left it at that and continued to kiss her, the gentle strokes of his fingers easing her jitters. Every so often his tongue would swipe through her slick folds, the pleasurable jolt of something so new it had her breathing hitch, a frantic scramble to process what she was feeling. As she warmed up to the new sensations he was freely giving her she started to relax, her hands and fingers gripping at him urging him to take more, give more. “Sit on the edge of the bed sweet girl.” He said and only let her go long enough for her to sit.

She shivered as he kissed her knees the tender request to open them. As she did he kissed along her inner thighs until she relaxed further. “Lay back.” He said softly as he rose up on his knees and kissed her, tongue darting in to flick hers playfully. “Let me make you feel good.” Lowering herself back he followed, his eyes not leaving hers. “You can stop me at anytime ok? You’re in control. You tell me to stop, I’ll stop.” He kissed her until that soft moan filled the room, hoping there were more it in their future.

Traveling the length of her body he kissed and teased her until he was on his knees between her legs. One ankle at a time he sat them on his shoulders and ran his hands the length of her inner thighs to spread her wide open for him. “Relax your legs.” He purred and trailed a finger along her thighs until she did, they shook the entire way, nerves getting the better of her. Trailing his hands up her torso he cupped her breasts and gently pinched the nipples, rolling the buds between his fingers. God he wanted to taste her and then feast, her scent was hypnotic.

He sampled her, tongue softly grazing her entrance, building her arousal, her confidence. Her hips started to move with him, urging him to take more, to go faster. With one hand on her breast he skated the other down her body, finger gently teasing her entrance. As he circled a finger a soft whimper came from her, arousal not fear. “Let it come sweet girl.” He murmured as his finger slipped just inside her before stroking her clit. “This will feel so good, I promise.” It would also prime her body to take him fully without hurting her. As her whimpers grew stronger he added a second finger and teased her opening, not ready for him to plunge them in just yet. Fingers circled as his tongue stroked her clit, drawing out as much pleasure for her as possible, slow and gentle. He felt her peak, her body writhing against his mouth, her hands grasping at him desperately. As her body tensed for release he slipped his fingers into her, the long digits stroking her core as his lips suctioned around her clit, tongue flicking. She bucked against his fingers as they took her apart slowly, coaxing her orgasm out and letting it linger as it rolled through her. The soft cry of his name as she came hadn’t been what he’d expected.

He brought her back to reality with soothing strokes and tender kisses, letting her brain process what he’d just done to her, given her. Placing her legs back down he kissed his way up her torso to claim her mouth. “You liked that.” He grinned and her nod had him chuckling. “I hope to give you a few more of those tonight.” She trailed a finger along his scruff and kissed him, that sweet tenderness his undoing.

She kissed him until she was sitting and urged him to stand up, he stopped her as she went to kneel. “You don’t have to, Ayla.” He said knowing she would have been forced to suck cock regularly, and not very pleasantly. She kissed his chest and looked up at him before sinking to her knees, this was her choice. Raking his fingers through her hair she slipped his jeans off, taking his briefs with them and freeing his thick erection. Once he’d stepped free of the denim her fingers wandered, taking her time exploring his body, his reactions to her touch. He groaned as she stroked him, those slender fingers wrapped around his shaft, the feel of them igniting all his dark fantasies. He hissed as she took him into her mouth and he had to resist the urge to grab her hair and thrust deep. She felt glorious, that soft sweet mouth sucking him into oblivion. He pulled back as she went to take him deep, the hesitation stopping her.

“If you take me like that it’ll be all over, I won’t last.” He said huskily, chest heaving as he struggled for control. Holding out his hand for hers he helped her to stand. He kissed her, long and deep. “Another day maybe, but tonight I want to be inside you when I come. I want to feel you.” She went to bow her head, but he stopped her with a gentle finger under her chin. “I liked it Ayla, you did nothing wrong, I just want to last a little longer.” He sat on the bed and urged her to stand between his legs again, his erection spearing upward. His lips played with hers, the soft nibble relaxing her, showing her that this was how sex was supposed to be, fun, sensual. Hooking a hand behind her knee he guided her to straddle him, her petite figure pressing against him. He let the moment build taking the subtle hints when she gave them to move forward, that she was nearly ready to take him in.

She watched him as she sank down on her knees, her hand stroking him along her heat. His eyes never left hers as she lowered and took in his mushroom tip, the girth stretching her open. Her heat wrapping around him nearly sent him over the edge as she inched her way down, impaling herself on his cock. When he was fully seated he held her ass cheeks so she couldn’t move and groaned as she kissed him. So unbelievably tight and wet, he could feel her throbbing for him. “Fuck Ayla you’re so tight.” He mumbled into her shoulder as he nipped her neck. “Stay still a moment.” He urged as his hands held her on him as she tried to rock, he was teetering on the edge. Her kiss was tender as she sat, his cock buried deep, her arms wrapped around his neck. “Go slow sweet girl. I don’t want to hurt you.” He said softly and guided her hips as she started to rock. Enjoying the ride he watched her take her pleasure, the way he moved with her, the tiny gasps when he hit that one spot inside her she didn’t know existed. He felt her orgasm build, the tremble of her body as it started to spiral out of control, the soft whimpers that made his cock twitch. “Let me feel you come sweet girl.” He kissed her. “Just like before, let it take you.” Reaching between them he circled her clit with his thumb and watched her eyes widen at the sensation. “Relax and let it come.” Keeping the same rhythm she peaked, her body going taught before the euphoria swamped her. Writhing and bucking he guided her hips as she came, keeping the rhythm going to prolong her pleasure and build another.

“Can I lay you down?” He asked as she collapsed into him.

“Yes.” Her breath ragged. Flipping them he wrapped her legs around him and gently thrust in until he was buried to his hilt. With long slow strokes he took her, deeply and gently, he would pull this climax from deep within her. Busy fingers and the plunging strokes had them both on the edge. “Let me watch you come sweet girl.” He whispered as he slipped his hand between them, finger circling her clit, her cry one he hoped to hear again and again. As she threw her head back and came, his name on her lips, he dipped down to suck at her pulse, his hips pistoning a little faster before he groaned his pleasure and emptied himself inside her.

They lay there sated and pleasurably wrecked, and Karl had to admit he’d enjoyed the slow burn more than he’d anticipated. “I like it when you say my name.” He mumbled into her neck as he nibbled the tender flesh there. Lifting his head he looked down to see tears streaking her cheeks. “Ayla?” He couldn’t keep the panic from his voice. “Did I hurt you?” He asked gently, mind reeling, cursing himself for even entertaining the idea of sex with her. The vehement shake of her head was a strong indication she was ok. Pulling out of her he rolled and curled her into him, pulling the covers over them both. “A little overwhelming?” Her nod set him at ease. “Did you like it?” That nod made him smile. “Me too.” Shifting down a little he kissed her, long and tender, wrapping her up tightly in his arms. He’d never been one for post coital snuggling but this, with her, this he liked.

“Karl?” Came her soft voice, husky from disuse.

“Mmmm.” He couldn’t deny he loved how his name sounded on her lips.

“I love you.” It was simply said, her face buried in his chest as if she was expecting a blow, verbal or physical. He had no response other than to hold her tightly and kiss her head. For the first time in a long time, he was speechless. She had a right to voice her feelings, he just didn’t know how to voice his to her.

“Sleep now.” He murmured, reaching over to turn off the lamp. She snuggled in closer as if the darkness had pushed her against him. “You’re safe sweet girl. He can’t touch you ever again.” He dropped into sleep like a stone once Ayla was out cold, sex a sure fire way to give him the release he needed to clear his head.

******

They slept until six and he only woke because of Ayla’s pretty mouth around his cock. He had no chance of holding off as the cobwebs of deep sleep muddled his brain. Lightly fisting his hand into her hair he thrust up, fucking that beautiful mouth until he emptied himself, body still jerking as he released his grip on her. She kissed her way up his body and lay flat against him. “I’ve never had such a nice wake up call.” He growled softly, fingers trailing her skin. “Shall I return the favor?” He asked and kissed the top of her head. “Shall I give you an orgasm to start your day sweet girl?” She lifted her head and looked at him slightly unsure. Keeping his gaze on hers he rolled slowly so she was under him and felt her tense. Kissing her softly she relaxed, her hands flexing over his chest, he gave her a moment. “Just like last night.” He breathed, her face already flush with arousal, and traveled south, kissing every inch of her.

She was already wet for him and although he took a slow and steady approach like last night he added a third digit and filled her. The gentle come hither motion rubbing her g spot, his mouth on her clit, her hand gripped his forearm and the cry of his name from her lips as she came made him smile. That, he decided, was his new favorite sound.

They curled up, he the bigger spoon, and she plummeted into sleep again. Laying there he kissed her hair and breathed in the scent of her, fingers trailing bare skin. “I think I’m in love with you sweet girl.” He whispered. “And that should terrify you. It should make you want to run. I’m no good for you.” He raked his fingers through her hair and kissed her temple. “I’m no good for you but I’m willing to try to be the man you believe I am.” With her on his mind and in his arms, he drifted to sleep and dreamt of uncertainty.

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden

[rwby-grimm-guardians]

RWBY Grimm Guardians Arc 3: Separated Union Ch 2

Side White I: Family Drama

Welcome back to Separate Union! Here is Side White, which revolves around Weiss and Arktis’s experience in Atlas. The constant theme of this side is, obviously, Arktis...or rather, WILLOW becoming more frustrated and angry with Jacques. Willow will be referred as Willow and not Arktis for this arc...and maybe onward.

A specific theme of this chapter is the former heiress and Klein talking about how they can make sure Willow can prevent her children from ending up like their father. As usual, please give constructive criticism and enjoy!

Disclaimer: Still own nothing.

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(Several months after the Fall of Beacon, in Schnee Manor, Altas…)

Late at night, Willow Arktis Schnee sat in the manor’s library, reading a random book. Despite looking at the pages, she wasn't paying attention to it. She was more focused on what had happened earlier in the day… “Fuck…” The former heiress sighed, tossing the book on the table, before rubbing her eyes. These past few months have been… Well, increasingly frustrating for her. Not just because of what happened to Beacon, but also because of her husband, Jacques… Or was he her widow now?

She had no clue. Hell, for what Jacques and the rest of Atlas knew, Willow was still dead. “Maybe it’s better that I STAY that way to them.” She mumbled, laying on the couch and closing her eyes as she recalled the events leading up to now…

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(Over the past few months…)

1st Month

Willow and Weiss had returned to Atlas, where they were immediately greeted by a few individuals. Firstly was, quite predictably, General Ironwood and the Atlas Military, who had also returned quite recently. While he gave them a brief rundown of what had happened in Beacon, it was mostly information that the two already knew. That is, until he brought up what had happened to the headmaster.

At the moment and according to their current understanding, Beacon Headmaster Evergreen Ozpin Brown was dead... Needless to say, neither of them had expected that information…

The two went into the Manor afterwards, hoping to think over the events at Beacon...and comprehend them. They were soon greeted by a very worried Winter, who hugged them tightly. “Are you two okay? What happened? Are your friends alright?” She began asking, receiving a small smile from her mother. “Slow down, hun. Breathe…” Willow said. “Yes, we’re safe. Yes, our friends are safe...or as safe as they can be, at least…” “A...lot of chaos happened in Beacon.” She sighed tiredly.

The two Schnees then gave Winter a run down of the recent events. “Lieber Gott…” The Special Operative whispered. Willow nodded, “Dear god is right… Yang, Ruby, and her family are safe and healing. So are Blake and Gambol.” Winter nodded, “What of the headmaster…?” The former heiress froze, before looking at the floor with a sorrowful expression. Hesitantly, Weiss said, “He’s...gone… We don’t know...if that means he’s been captured or…” She didn’t dare finish the sentence.

“What happens now?” Weiss asked. Winter held her sister’s shoulders and looked at her in the eye, “Right now, we settle down for a while. You two need to heal as well.” She turned to her mother, saying, “I’ll be here for a while, but I won’t be staying at the Manor. You know why.” Nodding, the former heiress sighed, “Damn straight, I do.” After Winter and Weiss entered the teenager’s bedroom, Willow walked to where she knew an old friend would be waiting for her.

Entering the kitchen, Willow leaned against the door frame, saying, “We’re home.” The butler jumped, almost dropping the tea set as he rushed over and hugged the former heiress tightly. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? Would you like something? Where’s Weiss?” He began asking, panicking out of his mind as Willow gave a tried smile. “Gods, I missed you, Klein.” She said. “To answer your questions, we are...doing okay, we are safe, and we would like some tea please…”

Klein nodded, before immediately preparing some tea. “A lot has changed while you were gone…” He sighed. Willow raised an eyebrow, “Not in a good way, I assume?” The butler gave a nod, “Whitley...is not doing well...mentally.” “What the hell did that bastard do to him?” The former heiress growled, figuring that this was Jacques’s doing. “You don’t want to know the specifics…” The butler gave a sad sigh. “He’s still alive, but...Jacques is...morphing him. MOLDING him.”

Willow swore she felt her heart stop. Though, despite knowing that information, she never got to see Whitley that month… Even though she actively tried.

2nd Month

The next month, Willow actually MANAGED to see Whitley….and right away, she could tell that Klein was right. Whitley was becoming more like Jacques, even if he didn’t want to. Somehow...he was even looking up to him, despite the fact Jacques was manipulative and controlling. ‘What did you do to my baby boy, you fucker?’ Willow thought as she felt tension between her and Whitley. ‘What the fuck did you do to my children, Jacques…?’

She continued to watch over her children’s interactions with the man, even though Winter had gone back to the military...

3rd Month

The next month, Willow’s depression reared its unwanted head again. Just when she thought she was finally over it, turns out she wasn’t.

She started to blame herself for failing to protect her son, her youngest child,...from becoming like Jacques. As far as she was concerned, it was true...

She was dead for several years…and it was because she committed suicide. As far as she was concerned, she left to escape her own selfish pain...and in doing so, left her three children with a monster.

“Fuck this feeling…” The former heiress whispered, grabbing a bottle of wine and began drinking it. “Fuck it all…” She then blacked out.

She woke up the next day with a massive hangover...and Klein watching over her.

4th Month

Klein, to help Willow, hid and locked the alcohol away. If he wanted to help her overcome her depression, he needed to first help her get sober again. The next morning after he did that, the former heiress awoke with a groan and splitting headache. She groaned, “Verdammte Hölle.” She was in Weiss’s room, with said teenager playing the piano. “Good morning.” Her daughter said. Willow just grunted, her head throbbing, “How was I…?”

“Klein brought you here.” Her daughter said. The heiress then went over and sat on the edge of the bed, asking, “Would you like to tell me what’s going on?” Willow raised an eyebrow, before sighing, “What is there to say when I’m sure you already know?” “Try me.” Weiss said. The former heiress looked at her daughter for a few moments, before sighing. “So...my depression returned.” She said.

As Weiss gave the woman a cup of tea, Willow explained that it was triggered by thoughts of thinking she failed her children. “I left you three…in the most permanent and selfish way…” She sighed. “I… I committed suicide to….escape my own suffering.” She then looked at her daughter in the eye, “And yet, I made you three suffer because of it.” The heiress said nothing as her mother went on to say, “I KNOW it will NEVER change what I did...or redeem my actions, but I’m sorry….”

“I’m sorry for leaving you three… I’m sorry for not returning sooner…” Willow said, her hand shaking with the cup in her grasp. “I… I’m sorry...for being a terrible mother…” She then felt Weiss wrap her arms around her. The former heiress kept whispering apologies as tears ran down her face....while her daughter held her. Then...there was silence. Weiss looked down as Willow had passed out with the tea cup in her hand. Sighing, she put the cup on the bedside table , before laying her mother back down.

“Mom…” The teenager said, despite knowing her mother couldn’t hear her. “I won’t deny that what you did was wrong. You left us…” She then bit her lip, “But you came back. You’ve been given a chance to redeem yourself for what you did. You can STILL protect and care for us…” “To me….” Weiss started, before holding Willow’s hand. “I think you’ve been doing a good job as a mother since you came back… You just need some help getting on the right track.”

Subconsciously, the former heiress’s hand gripped her daughter’s. It wasn’t much, but it gave Weiss some hope that maybe...just maybe she heard her. “It’ll get better…” The teenager gave a small smile. “Nothing stays bad for long…” With that, she went back to the piano, continuing to play it as Willow slept peacefully.

5th Month

By the time the fifth month came around, Willow had stopped her drinking habits once more. This time, she hoped it would be for good.

6th Month

By the time the sixth month came up, the former heiress had stopped feeling depressed once more. She knew it wouldn’t stay like that….but she prayed that her depression wouldn’t be as severe as it was the next it showed up. Her anger with Jacques, however, was now nearing its boiling point with the man’s demanding behaviour towards Weiss as the Schnee Dust Company’s next heiress.

Willow couldn’t have been more disgusted and furious with Jacques.

7th Month

Finally, after three months of self-hatred and self-blaming, Willow had stopped blaming herself. She now knew that she needed to focus on the now and future. For herself. For Klein. For her children and friends.

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(Present day…)

Willow perked up when the family butler, Klein entered the room, holding two cups of tea. “Care to have a chat?” He asked with a smile. The former heiress nodded, sitting up as Klein sat next to her. Handing her a cup of tea, the butler sighed, “Winter, Weiss, and Whitley are struggling…” “I know…” Willow said. “Winter has escaped via the military. But who knows how much damage has been done?” Klein nodded, “She’s strong, old friend. But she needs help.”

The woman nodded, “Whitley seems almost beyond repair, given his reactions.” The butler sighed, “That is true… But there IS hope for him.” “Weiss needs to escape.” He said. “She needs a chance...to make things right again.” Willow sighed, “She needs to do what she thinks is right, Klein. Believe me, I want her to get to safety too, but in the end, we can NOT make the decision for her.” “We’d be no better than Jacques if we did…” She explained.

“But she’s…!” Klein started, only to be cut off by his old friend. “In danger? Yes, I know…” She sighed. “However, she’s mature enough to make her own decisions. She is more than capable...of making decisions to protect herself from Jacques. She just needs encouragement to make those decisions.” Willow put the cup on the table, “What we need to ask...is how I am going to be able to protect them… And how am I going to stop that son of a bitch who is their father…”

Klein smiled, “Well, I’m willing to help out as much as I can. You know that.” “Klein, you’re going to get into serious trouble if you do that!” The former heiress nearly shouted. The butler shrugged, “I don't mind. Besides, I’m sure Jacques is planning on letting me go sooner or later.” Willow sighed, “That fucker… We need to get the kids or Jacques out of here as soon as possible.” Klein nodded, “Agreed. The children are not safe with him around. And you WILL save them. I know you can...”

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Yeah, not the best to end it, but I couldn’t think of anything else. Oh well. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! I tried my best to explain the reasons why Arktis is becoming more and more frustrated with Jacques and her struggle on how she’s going to protect her kids…

Next chapter will be the start of both Side Black and Yellow, as it has Blake and Yang chatting. Thought that would make sense. See ya then.

[neo-culture-mafia]

Chest Fire (l.dh)

Warnings: |Strong Themes| |Triggering Themes|

Summary: He wasn't the same. No one was, really. But, especially him...Donghyuck. He lost you and can't bear feeling sober anymore. He needed to be numb so he didn't feel himself and get lost in his own mind. But the guys are getting tired of watching Donghyuck drink away his money--but the damage had already been done.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Donghyuck stumbled the now home feeling club where sweaty bodies pressed against each other and peach scented vodka drifted through the humid and sticky air.

The alcohol was making his fingers turn into fire as his toes curled in his combat boots. Another random girl walked up to offer him a dance, but he turned her away already knowing that she couldn't move like you. You were special, and no whore at the club could compare to you, yet he still came crawling back here for the simple fact he couldn't crawl back into bed with you.

He was lost and needed help because his heart was losing its sense of direction. The booming of the bass vibrated through his shoes as his fingers curled into his palm. He needed to stay balanced and he was finding it harder with every passing minute.

He lousily made his way over to a bar stool, not wasting a second before sitting down. "Anoth-" Hyuck was cut off by the bartender. "Im sorry buddy, I'm cutting you off. You've had way too much to drink tonight." He said and Donghyuck was just sitting there, his mouth wide open in shock.

"I am...You-you should..." He slurred over his words, trying to at least get 5 more drinks out of the bartender he now deemed as a friend. Yet, this guy saw himself as Hyuck's friend too, and friends don't let each other kill themselves by drinking their pain away...even though it might help.

Yet, the raging fire in Hyuck's chest only became more apparent at the sudden news of his cut off.

"I think it's time I call Mark, Hyuck. It's time to go home." The bartender said grabbing his phone from his back pocket; and like a cherry bomb...Hyuck exploded.

"No." He slammed his fists on the bar like a 5 year old. "No no no." He repeatedly said slamming his hands down. "Give me more. You're not my father." Donghyuck said and the bartender just sighed and felt pity at the sight.

Stares were coming from each direction as the man gave in to Donghyuck's wants for more liquor. Hyuck sat down, drinking his beer through a straw because he had read somewhere that women liked 'sophisticated' men. Yet, even after 20 minutes of him sitting there sipping his bitter liquid through a neon yellow bendy straw, he finally gave up when he was now drinking air through the endless loops of the bendy plastic.

Even if someone came over and talked to him, he knows he could never take them home to where you used to lay; where you and him had pillowtalks; where you and him did things that only the moon kept secret. It would never be the same...no matter what girl came skipping along.

This was his last resort on trying to cap the memories he had with you. The alcohol was no match for his loneliness though, and it was starting to show. "Hey buddy, you good?" The bartender asked, putting a hand on Hyuck's shoulder. "Uh yeah...totally." Donghyuck chuckled. He turned to face the other man again. "How much is my tab?" Hyuck asked as he grabbed his wallet.

"Why? Usually you pay after 2 weeks." The guy said as he dried a glass lazily. "Not this time my man." Hyuck said fooling around with his wallet. "No, seriously. It's fine." The bartender said going into a folder and ripping up pieces of paper that were labeled as receipts.

"I was gonna pay!" Hyuck said getting defensive. "No...I promise it's fine." The bartender said and Hyuck groaned as he still slipped a 100 out and gave it the worker. "For all the trouble I caused." He said and the man just grabbed it hesitantly. "Thank you?" He questioned, but Hyuck was already out the door with another beer in his ring adorned hand.

He stumbled in a literal circle for 20 minutes. "Hyuck." He heard someone call. It sounded like you. He immediately stopped and looked at the beer. "Hyuck!" Someone screamed this time. "Y/n?" He called out, turning around now. His heard was whooshing with all the passing traffic; all the bright city lights blending together. The fire on his chest wanting to grow more and more at the such sweet sound.

"Y/n!" He yelled and the people passing him gave dirty looks but he was trying to find you. "Hyuck." Someone grabbed him from behind. He whirled around and was met eye to eye...with Jaemin. "...y/n..." is all that Hyuck muttered to himself.

"No. It's Jaemin." Jaemin reassured and the delirious boy could only nod, meaning he could understand him. "It's time to go home now." Jaemin said holding Hyuck's arm and leading him to a car.

"Can we go to y/n's place?" Hyuck asked like a five year old who just lost his favorite toy. Jaemin opened the passenger door and helped the boy in.

You and Jaemin were twins. You were siblings but acted like best friends, so naturally when you and Hyuck started dating, the three of you became family. So seeing Hyuck so hung up about you leaving him...it hurts Jaemin too.

"I don't think that's a good idea, buddy." Jaemin sighed, buckling his best friend up. "Please. I need to see her." Hyuck gripped Jaemin's hand. "Please." He choked out, tears ready to spill at any moment.

Jaemin removed his hand and groaned; slamming the door with such a force that it rocked the car a little.

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

"We're here." Jaemin braked hardly infront of the homes for you and what seemed like a million other people. Hyuck was jolted awake, but he was still thankful for the hour trip Jaemin made.

Jaemin just looked out his window and sulked like a pouty baby. Hyuck had sobered up a little and he was able to control himself and his own body.

He hopped out of the car and walked the short way to the gate. He opened the small gate and walked up the foot path to your house. The walking distance felt like muscle memory as he recognized the familiar feeling.

He was then met with the glimmering marble stuck in the ground. He stared at your engraved name in the ground. He just sighed, falling to his knees. "...hey baby..." He said sitting on his bottom and crossing his legs so he sat like a kindergartener in class.

"I miss you." He sighed again, tracing hearts next to your name. "Jaemin misses you...he's just...scared to come visit you..." Hyuck said looking back to the boy sitting in the car. Even in the complete darkness of night, anyone could see Jaemin's body shake with sobs. The light behind him made it look like a shillouete. It was absolutely beautiful yet heartbreaking.

Yet his body straightened again and you could see Jaemin light a cigarette quickly.

Donghyuck looked back down to you. "Jaemin started smoking again." He sighed and picked at the weeds growing around your headstone. "Renjun doesn't come out of his room except for missions." He said and recalled what the others were doing.

"I caught Jisung in your room, trying to talk to you...he's been a mess." Hyuck told of the younger boy, totally lost with the fact you aren't around anymore. "And...we're just all...really sorry it happened like this."

You died in a mission gone wrong. You had the option of staying in the truck with Chenle, or accompying Hyuck and Jaemin into the warehouse where Jeno, Renjun, and Jisung were working undercover. You all didn't hear the man sneaking up behind you, and when you did...it was too late.

Hyuck was twirling his engagement ring around his finger. "This is useless." He said and took it off, setting it right next to yours that was locked in marble forever. He leaned back and looked at the stars. They were so bright that night. It was crazy. "...let me let you go already..." He mumbled as he watched a star fizzle out completely.

"I love you." Hyuck said leaning down and kissing your stone sweetly. "...wait for me..." He said as he got up and walking away back to the car. He hopped in, now completely sober after the experience.

"Ready?" Your brother asked, ready to speed away from this place that held you imprisoned. "Yeah...I'm ready." Hyuck said and they zoomed away as if they were still threatened by the attacker that took you.

"..soon enough..." Hyuck whispered to himself, setting his chin in his hand and looking into the city. "...soon enough..." He closed his eyes.

----------

THE NEXT DAY

Hyuck didn't sleep at night, literally. He sat up on the rug the whole night, afraid of the harsh reality that once he opened his bedroom door, you wouldn't be there. He knew you weren't there, he just doesn't want to accept it.

You both were so strong and had so many plans for the future. You both wanted kids, a home, a life...and it was all down the drain now.

It was just getting harder to live everyday when his every breath felt like a gunshot to the chest. His mind was a bomb, and it was going off every time he is reminded of you and the way you used to tell him it was okay.

"You fucker." Jaemin yelled as he shot the man down quickly. Hyuck dropped his gun and grabbed you as you began to drop.

"Chenle, get 127 unit down here, man down." Jaemin called and Hyuck was still frozen in shock, yet the bullet stuck in your neck made him snap in and out of this icy trance.

"Come on, you got this. Keep your eyes open." Hyuck said taking off his bandana and getting ready to wrap it around your throat so it can stop the bleeding. Yet, you wouldn't be able to breath . Him and Jaemin realised this at the same time, as your eyes became icy and pale. You were dying. You realised this too. It would be a painful and gruesome way to go, but it was happening.

"It's okay." You motioned with your mouth, the hole in your throat, not letting you speak. The look on your fiancés face would haunt you to the other side. He looked so...scared. "It's okay. I'm here." You mouthed again and touched his cheek. He just looked down at you as you took your final breath. Jaemin hasn't told anyone yet, but he was so ready to pop one on himself in that very moment, yet he was so convinced this was a dream that all he did was stare down at your cold and pale face.

Jaemin woke up the next morning and wished he didn't. Hyuck didn't sleep till the next night; he was too afraid of the dark and the thoughts that would cloud his mind once he was alone, wanting to be with you.

Hyuck was now laying in a baby position, holding his legs close to his chest. The knocking on the door brought him out of his dark thoughts. "Open." He mumbled and the door opened to Jaemin.

"Dude...we've been at training for an hour now." He said and all Hyuck did was nod, understanding what he was saying. "Sorry?" He yawned and Jaemin slumped at his friends expression.

He sat down next to his laying position.

It was pure silence until it was sliced by Hyuck's heartbreaking confession. "It hurts." He said, and Jaemin didn't have to be a genius to figure out what he was talking about. "I know...i know." He said putting his hand on Donghyuck's shoulder. "It hurts so much." Hyuck cried, curling up into a tighter ball.

The firey feeling in Hyuck's chest was like never before. It felt so much different as your literal other half held him as he cried like a child.

The burning was unbearable as his eyes screwed shut in pure agony. Jaemin couldn't help the tears from pouring either. Sitting on the ground in yours and Hyuck's apartment was all too real. It was too real you weren't here anymore.

Hyuck finally calmed down and looked to his friend. "...please...please end this..." He begged and Jaemin couldn't yell at him. He wanted to end this pain too. The bottle of aspirin wasn't doing anything anymore. It all hurt too much for any medication to numb it.

"...I'm...not going to kill you..." Jaemin breathed, the words falling out of his mouth. "...please..." Hyuck became desperate to make the raging in his chest and head stop.

"I'm...no." Jaemin said standing up now, leaving Hyuck on the floor. "It hurts...I know...It hurts like hell. But, you can't give up now. She wouldn't be happy with this..." Jaemin started getting into his own mind.

He had been so long without one of your hugs or seeing you smile at his surprise tickle attacks.

"I...I know it seems like the only way. I know that." Jaemin said pulling at his hair.

"Because it is." Hyuck bursted through the air, throwing the TV remote at the wall. It ended up hitting the vase and made it shatter into a million little pieces.

"I'm tired! I'm tired of coming home alone! I could lie, and say it's okay and that I like it that way, but I don't!" Hyuck screamed, kicking things around to get his point across.

"It feels as if I'll never be happy again, and at this point I don't care. I just want this..." Hyuck said pointing to himself and all around the room. "this....I want this to end..."

They were left together in the quiet room, the only sound being their breathing. They could only look at each other at a time like this.

-----------

"I just don't know what to say anymore." Mark sighed as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. They were all in practice, and Jaemin had left about an hour ago to find Donghyuck.

"None of us do." Renjun mumbled, twisting his leather bracelet around his wrist.

"He's gonna end up killing himself if we don't do something." Mark said what everyone was thinking. "We just need to get him out of the house." Mark finished as he grabbed his jacket.

"No...we should let him be alone...he'll just be aggressive if we tell him to move on." Jisung finally piped in, trying to get everyone to turn around and leave Hyuck alone.

"Jaemin has it...it will be okay." Jisung said, more of assuring himself than anyone else.

Everyone looked at each other in silence, even though they knew it wouldn't be okay...ever.

"...okay..." Mark said dropping his jacket and walking back over slowly.

"...30 pushups..." Mark said and the Junior Forces hit the ground, their worry and fear going into the performance they were all wearing on their face.

----------

"...i'm cold..." Jaemin muttered and Hyuck could only nod, the tears falling down into the blue water. "...me too..." He muttered.

He held Jaemin close to his chest, the water sloshing over the sides a little bit. "...it's going to be okay..." Jaemin reassured Hyuck, but also himself. "...i know..." was all that was muttered from the slightly older boy.

"...thank you..." was the last thing said by Hyuck before he grabbed Jaemin's hand. He closed his eyes as the banging and yells from the front door began to get more violent, the rest of the units trying to get to them. Yet, they were in the bathroom and no one could make it to them in time. It was already over.

Jaemin gripped Hyuck's hand one more time as he felt everything become still, shuttering in the cold water that entrapped both of their bodies. Both of their eyes closing, and the raging fire in their chests finally stopped....

...everything stopped...

○••••••••••••••••○

I honestly think this is the worst thing I have ever written, to be completely honest.

I might do a couple time stamps for what happens after...but...yeah. I hope you enjoyed it, and sorry in advance if I made you cry.

Love,

~J

[itsanerdlife]

Chasing The Dream 1/10

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader (High School/College AU)

Warning: Angst. Underage drinking. Jealousy. Language. Heartbreak and arguing.

A/N: This is the series, the prequel of Chasing Dreams One Shot. They do overlap so if you need to read it I can link it when time comes.

Your father always warned you about musicians. They’re never good news, but Peter Parker is everything you could want. The other half to your groupie, rocker baby soul. Peter and the guys have big dreams to be rock stars, you couldn’t be a bigger fan of theirs. But your dad’s got a different path for your future, one that doesn’t include Peter and his band. But can Fame and dreams coming true really keep the two of you apart? Is this just a high school love? Or will you make it through the struggle of chasing your dreams?

Tag List Is Open!!

High School –

Peter (What’s Your Name again?)

Friday Night in their town, always meant kegger. Someone’s parents were always out of town, or someone knew a vacant house on the skirts of their town. They sat around the table, covered in empty cans, solo cups, his head bobbed up and down as he and Steve went back and forth on the in depth conversation about how they were going to make it. They were going to be rock stars one day, take their band across the world.

“Come on Parker. Your ride is ready.” Buck laughs, pulling him up out of the chair.

“What, I drove.” Peter waves his hand, drunk.

“Nah, your ass is getting drove home. Be good and don’t puke in the back of her car.” He chuckles, carrying most of Peter’s weight out of the house.

“Pssssh.” His face scrunching up. He knew the girl, she was in their class, he was sure he had a class with her.

“Don’t forget we have practice tomorrow Parker.” Buck laughs, putting him in the sober ride.

“Yeah, yeah.” He nods.

“Hey, you got room for one more?” Someone yells from the house.

“Yeah, of course.” The girl smiles, closing the door on Peter’s side, his head drops to the door.

The window is cool against his head, when the other door opens, he glances over a girl drops into the seat. She runs a hand through her pretty wavy hair, she sighs leaning her head back. She wore one of those high neckline tank tops, it was black and stopped around her belly button. Her cut off shorts and high-top chucks on her feet, she was the kind of girl who dated football players and had straight A’s.

“Y/L/N.” She grins at him. “Y/N.” She laughs, and the sound does something to Peter. He grins at her, introducing himself to her. He was sure he wasn’t going to remember her name by morning, he had to sober up to remember her.

“You go to school with us?” His brow connects as she looks out the window. She nods, looking over at him grinning for a moment. “Why haven’t I seen you before?” He wonders.

“Maybe you have, Peter Parker.” She laughs, those gorgeous waves falling over her shoulder and into her face. God damn.

“No, I’d remember you if I had.” He shakes his head.

“Maybe I wasn’t worth remembering.” She shrugs, there’s sarcasm in her voice and it makes him laugh.

“With that laugh and grin, I’d have written a song about you by now.” He laughs looking out the window. His head heavy and his eyes starting to slip shut.

“Don’t get a girl’s hopes up Peter Parker, you won’t remember come morning.” She laughs, and the door opens, she’s gone before he can force his eyes open or keep the darkness closing in on him at bay. Before he can ask for her name again, before his drunkenness pulls him down for the count.

----------

“Little hung over Parker?” Steve shakes Peter’s shoulders, laughing.

“No. Just trying to put together part of last night.” He shakes his head, he was sitting on the old couch Aunt May had put in the extra garage for them to use. Buck flops down next to him.

“What are you missing?” He smirks.

“I swear I met someone last night.” He rubs a hand over his face.

“At the party?” Steve asks sitting down on a random wooden chair.

“No I think I met her on the ride home.” Peter shakes his head.

“Are you talking about the chick who drove you home?” Buck looks over at Peter.

“No.” He shakes his head. “She was in the backseat with me. She introduced herself, but fuck I can’t remember what she said. But she knew me.” He sighs.

“How drunk were you?” Steve laughs.

“I passed out before I could ask her name again, I think I said some stupid shit too.” He groans.

“Smooth Peter. Made an ass out of yourself and you can’t remember her name.” Steve laughs, smacking Peter’s knee.

“Where the hell is Wilson, let’s get this shit started.” Peter ignores Steve.

-----------

He opened his locker, shoving his books in, he grabbed the back of his hoodie he had on. Pulling up he yanks it up and over his head, his T-shirt coming up with it. Someone whistles, and that laugh, the one that he heard in his sleep, the one that sounded like a melody all on its own. He rips the hoodie off looking around.

“Looking good, Parker.” His head snaps up, there she was.

She wore a little black skater skirt and the same chucks, her white T-shirt, tucked loosely into the skirt, has Nirvana written in large, faded black letters. Her books tucked into the crook of her arm and those fucking waves hanging around her shoulders. Her red headed friend laughs, playfully nudging her as they continue to walk away.

“What’s your name?” He calls reaching up on his toes as he loses her in the crowd of students. Her laughs is the only response he gets. He groans, grabbing his things from the locker, slamming it shut he runs off to class in the other direction.

---------

They head for Peter’s car after school. Tossing their bags into the trunk, he starts for the driver’s side another car beeps at them, making all four of them turning looking around. Nat slows to a stop, a familiar red head in the front seat. Buck jogs over, grinning, Peter steps towards the red head, she grins at him.

“You know Peter Parker, I hear you don’t hold your alcohol well.” She leans on the rolled down window seal, resting on her arms.

“Your friend. What’s her name?” He grins.

“Well now why would I make it that easy for you?” She laughs.

“Really? If I had known, I wouldn’t have drank that much.” He laughs, his hands grip the top half of the door, so he’s leaning over her.

“Why do you want to know so bad?” She smirks at him.

“Call it personal interest.” He laughs.

“Personal interest?” She nods, her eyebrows lifted.

“Come on, help a guy out.” He chuckles. “I’ll repay you a favor.” He grins. Her lips press together, and her eyes slip over towards Sam who was leaning against Peter’s car, talking to Steve. “I’ll put in a really good word for you.” He grins at her looking back at her.

“All for personal interest?” She laughs.

“Personal Interest?” He spins around at the sound of her voice. She’s grinning at him, the breeze tassels her waves, she pushes them back.

“You.” He breathes grinning at her.

“And you.” She laughs, adjusting the bag on her shoulder.

“You have me in a vice, I don’t remember your name.” He chuckles.

“Hard to write a song about a girl whose name you can’t remember?” She smirks at him, she pushes her bag through the open window on the backseat.

“I said some stupid shit.” Peter laughs.

“Or charming, depends who you ask.” She shrugs.

“Maybe I’m asking you.” He smiles.

“My daddy always said to watch out for musicians, they’re good with their words and can’t settle down.” She smirks. “Can’t say you weren’t a little charming.” She pulls the door open slipping in.

“Does that mean I get to know your name?” He supports himself on the open window leaning down to keep eye contact with her. “I mean how else am I supposed to name a song after you?” He grins, she laughs.

“I won’t tell you again, so you better not forget it.” She gives him a look, before she turns pulling a pen from her bag, she grabs his hand turning it over. She writes smoothly and quickly across his palm, Buck kisses Nat, Peter steps back from the car as she pressed down on the gas. Opening his hand up he looks down.

Y/N Y/L/N AP LIT

“I have a class with her?” He looks up watching Nat pull out of the parking lot.

“Do you ever pay attention to anything?” Steve laughs.

“You have no idea who she is?” Sam cracks up as they get into the car.

“Who is she?” He looks around the car.

“She lives the block over from you. Her dad was apart of some big band in the 80’s.” Buck grins.

“You fuckers knew who she was the whole time?” He looks over and glances back at the two in the backseat. The three of them erupt into laughter. “I hate you fuckers.” Peter shakes his head, pulling out of the school parking lot.

Everything Peaches 2/6/19: @xmtd5 @mo320 @courtmr   @all1e23 @izzy--lee @irepeldirt @dumblani @crist1216 @alyssaj23 @allyp1023 @joannie95 @kolakube9 @rileyloves5 @sarahp879 @sea040561 @sexyvixen7 @pcterpvrker @pigwidgexn @doctoranon @abschaffer2 @nickimarie94 @teller258316 @wandressfox @amandab-ftw @henrietteoaks @nea90sweetie @circusofchaos @itsagalaxystar @bettercallsabs @miraclesoflove @lucifersnipnips @queenkrissy11 @sadyoungadult @destiel-artemis @paintballkid711 @iwillbeinmynest @teaand-cookies @sweet-honey15 @chanelmadrid13 @mellxander1993   @spookygrantaire @geeksareunique @supernatural508 @sammysgirl1997 @itzmegaaaaaaan @booksbeforebois @mariekoukie6661 @pure-princess-97 @capsheadquaters @samanthasmileys @youclickedthislink @futuremrsb-r-main @lovemarvelousfics @petersunderoos96 @loving-life-my-way @booktvmoviefangirl @supernatural-girl97 @fanfictionjunkie1112 @abbypalmer14-blog @meganlikesfandoms @awkwardfangirl2014 @supernaturaldean67 @xqueenofthecraziesx   @queenoftheunderdark @writingaworldofmyown @supernaturallover2002 @sprinklesandsugarcubes @whothehellisbucky-1930 @verymuchclosetedfangirl @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan @wonderlandfandomkingdom @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @stupendoussciencenaturepanda @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety

Peter Parker: @ml7010 @ariminiria @dkpink123   @boltsgirl919 @everthenerd @ms-rogers06 @crayonwriting @baebeepeach @bellamouse16 @honey-bee-holly @kiss-the-stars-goodbye

Chasing The Dream: @del-rcys @gabile18   @little-smurf @robin-writes @raven-black102

[jungxk]

just one

filed under: the fuckboi saga. for @suga-kookiemonster who puts up with me gushing about jungkook on the daily and still hasn’t blocked me ily xoxo

notes: the only guy on campus who’s track record trumped that of your best friend’s - park jimin - was jeon jungkook. not that that was a problem...until he set his sights on you. 

warnings: eventual smut, swearing, bad habits (mentions of drinking, smoking etc)

genre: humour, drama, romance, college!au 

wordcount: 5.4k

part i // part ii // part iii // part iv // part v // part vi // part vii // part viii // part ix // part x

"what did i tell you about calling before midday?" you grumble, but jimin is already pushing his way past you before you can finish the sentence. he takes a gulp of your coffee when he thinks you aren't looking, earning a hearty slap on the arm.

"i have a good reason, i promise," he says, hands raised guiltily. his tee is tucked into his jeans at the front, so unreasonably attractive even at this time in the morning. he flashes you a pleasant smile. "i ran out of milk and your place is closer than the store. also, come to my party tonight."

"fridge door, next to the juice. and no."

"come on, hear me out," jimin starts, but you're already padding back to your room. he uses your groggy state to snake an arm around your waist, yanking you back into him effectively. you've never been a morning person and this isn't the first time he's used that to his advantage. usually you'd be at least mildly aware that you don't even have a bra on, but you're so sleepy you can barely acknowledge how the underside of your breast brushes his forearm. you can only hope the same goes for jimin, who's snuggling into you cutely - the classic puppy dog tactic. "it's not even a party, just me and tae and a few others. bring the girls if you want, we'll order some takeout. super chill."

"that's what you always say," you rub your temples. "and the next thing i know jisoo is throwing up on the side of a car and seulgi's in a fist fight."

"i mean it this time," he smiles again, turning you around like a rag doll to face him. "you never come over anymore! it'll be fun."

"what are you talking about? i was literally there yesterday! we had dinner, remember?" the warmth of jimin's hand pushing you onto the sofa would've made you give in on any other day, but all it does now is make your eyes feel extra heavy, ready to go back to bed. it was always like that with jimin, teetering on the end of touches that could be flirty, could be friendly - you could never really tell. it had been so long now you learned not to question it. besides, jimin was a touchy guy. a social butterfly and all that. he'd grope anything with a heartbeat and you were no exception, best friend or not.

"first of all, eating cereal in my bed while i play fallout is not dinner," he says, carding a hand through his ashy hair as if to make sure you don't forget how handsome he is while he's convincing you. "i found a marshmallow chunk in my pillow case by the way, so thanks for that. but what i mean is, you always work so hard. you deserve a little fun and the last time you came to one of my things was, what? two months ago? it's like you don't like parties!"

"i don't like parties!" you say, folding your arms. "you know this, jimin. especially not the sticky, humid kind. i’m an introvert in disguise, remember?"

"what if i clean? like vacuum and everything?"

"do you even own a vacuum?"

"not the point," he presses his lips together so his cheeks puff out. "i miss you."

you hold back a shit eating grin. "you miss me?"

"yeah," he props his elbow on the back of the sofa to face you. "ever since senior year started, i hardly see you letting loose. and i get that it's not the same as before, i just," your eyes soften and he avoids them vehemently. "whatever. maybe i just miss seeing you all dolled up."

he isn't exactly lying. ironically, you found yourself becoming even more isolated nowadays, especially with graduation looming in the not-so-distant future. ever since you switched your science major to arts, your parents made it abundantly clear that there wasn't a chance in hell they'd support you. financially or otherwise. while not joining your family's long line of doctors and engineers had its perks - the main one being you weren't painfully miserable anymore - it also meant you had nothing and no one to fall back on if your career went tits up. and while overworking yourself with projects and internships in preparation wasn't such a loss since it was a subject you were actually passionate about, jimin was right. too much of anything wasn't good for anyone.

"dolled up, huh..." you say, and he perks up immediately at the resolve slipping in your voice.

"yeah. i forgot what you look like with lipstick on," he peers at you hopefully. because occasional bad habits and fickle personality aside, jimin really did care. and him coming all the way here just to make sure you didn't slip back into how you used to be was testament to that. "and not the skin colour ones, i mean like actual colours."

"they're called nudes."

"and not even the good kind," he huffs, shifting closer because he knows you're about to break. "so? what do you say?"

you look up at him one last time before sighing in defeat. "i'm not bringing jisoo," you say, but he still beams happily. "if she catches tae with his tongue down another girl's throat it's gonna be your birthday party all over again, and i don't have the strength for that. and i'm leaving before midnight. i have an early class tomorrow."

"that's fine!" jimin says with a grin that takes up almost his whole face, soft cheeks glowing. he leans in close enough for you to get a whiff of his comforting, intoxicating cologne. "as long as you can make it."

"just a few friends and takeout, right?" you poke his chest warningly. "nothing crazy?"

he nods. "nothing crazy."

x

x

x

"yeah, there's no way in hell i'm going," jisoo says around a mouthful of pasta. you're currently all curled up on your bed like always, even though there's a perfectly good living room, not that you mind. ever since your parents kicked you out, having the girls crowded in your room made you feel cosy. less alone. "i'm either gonna clock taehyung into next week or screw him on the porch. i'd rather avoid both instances."

"do you even remember what he did?" seulgi asks, genuinely curious. "i think i was breaking up a cat fight at the time."

"no, you joined in," you correct, but she ignores you.

jisoo chews her food thoughtfully. "i think it was something to do with another girl? julie? jennifer?" she takes another second to think. "to be honest, no not really. but the point is i remember how he made me feel and that's just as important! if not more! but that doesn't matter," she says, training her eyes back on you. she points her fork. "what we should be worrying about is ____."

"you're right," you sigh, burying your face into your koala plushie. "i haven't shaved my legs in like, centuries. i'm considering telling jimin i'm sick, that's how badly i don't wanna deal with it." you rub your scratchy knee against seulgi to prove a point. "see? i'm like a porcupine! getting even one leg bald by tonight is like, a three person job-"

"not that," jisoo says, waving your leg away when you stretch it to her. "i have wax strips in the bathroom, you're fine. what i'm talking about is jimin. i know i say this before every party, but i'm like, a thousand per cent certain he's gonna make a move on you."

even seulgi laughs at that. "here we go again. what are you gonna bet this time? that skirt you ordered came in the mail by the way."

"i'm calling dibs on her new lipstick," you point to the one on her vanity. "jimin broke my brown one! he put the cap on without rolling it down first. i thought it was an accident but after this morning i think maybe the fucker broke my favourite nude on purpose."

"ugh, typical," seulgi shakes her head in disgust. "men are so dumb. don't tell me it was the limited edition one that i got you?"

"it was!" you wail, covering your eyes at the memory. "i actually cried."

"hello!" jisoo claps her hands between the two of you. "can we focus for a second?"

"deciding which of your stuff to steal next is focusing," seulgi offers.

jisoo narrows her eyes. "stop acting like the pair of you won't take my stuff anyway." she turns back to you, her expression looking far more serious than what the conversation permits. "what are you gonna do when jimin confesses to you tonight, hm? should seulgi let him fuck you in the bathroom or do you wanna be cockblocked until he's sober enough to kiss you with no tongue?"

"how about neither?" you sigh. "babe, when are you gonna give all this up and just believe me? me and jimin are friends."

"i'll believe you when it sounds believable!" she huffs. "come on, coming all the way over here to get you to come to his party because he misses you? asking you to get dolled up for him? this is peak fuckboy crush culture, i don't know why you don't want to accept that!"

"because it's jimin!"

"exactly," jisoo looks at you carefully. "it's jimin...can you honestly say you've never thought about it?"

you don't say anything, because you both know the answer. but in your defence, so did everyone. park jimin was gorgeous and friendly and naturally touchy. he always knew the right thing to say and was charming to a fault without even having to try. everyone and their mother thought about him in a romantic context, even you put your hands up to that. you may have briefly entertained the idea back in the beginnings of your friendship but it was quick to pass. even though he was friends with literally everyone, not many people could say they were close to jimin like you, and that made you so happy. there was nothing else to want.

"well, if you ask me, whether he's in love with her or not is irrelevant," seulgi butts in. "i'm not letting that clown near her tonight or any other night until he buys her a new lipstick."

"wow, you're right," jisoo nods, sinking back into the pillows. "forget what i said. cockblock him until he at least coughs up a gift card."

x

x

x

"just a few friends and takeout, right? nothing crazy?"

"nothing crazy."

"this is crazy," seulgi hisses, hands wringing out your arm defensively when you both pass a couple dry humping on the front porch on the way in. "it's not even that late!" the gush of musky air that hits you both in the face when you walk in is enough to render her speechless after that.

it definitely took some getting used to after a few weeks being cooped up in an art studio or at your desk, but it wasn't something a few drinks couldn't fix. it's only after seulgi wanders off and leaves you to your own devices does taehyung find you in the corridor, with that smile that shows all his teeth, big arms wrapping around your neck so you have no choice but to squish your face into his shoulder.

"____! i thought jimin was lying when he said you'd show up!" he says, manoeuvring you round the corner where the music is a little more muffled. he keeps his hand around you even once he's steadied you, the contact going straight to your head. it didn't help that literally every one of jimin's friends were as beautiful as him. his dark eyes study you carefully, and you know that look. "is jisoo here?"

there it is, you smile to yourself. "not tonight, tae. sorry."

he pouts, fingers tapping patterns on your side. "did you tell her i was sorry? about jennie? it all happened really fast and i..."

"didn't you finger her in the garden?"

"yeah, but she blew me! what else was i supposed to do?"

"tae," you pat his chest soothingly. if it was any other guy you'd be talking in colourful expletives, but taehyung really was a puppy in a boy's body. he had the attention span of a peanut despite meaning well, and you were just a tad too nice to reprimand him for it. at least tonight. "i think you should consider that maybe the jisoo boat has officially sailed. reigning her back in will only do more harm than good, you know?"

"will it though?" he has a twinkle in his eye. which in your experience, is not a good sign.

"that wasn't a challenge, taehyung." you frown.

he winces. you only call him taehyung when you're super serious or super drunk. and since the drink he gave you is still half full it wasn't wise to bank on the latter. you were always sweet, friendly to a fault, but when it came to your girl friends even you had your limits. "okay okay, fine." and before barely a millisecond passes, "so...did you come with seulgi?"

"for the love of god," you mutter, passing him. you definitely needed another drink.

x

x

x

when jimin sees you across the sea of bodies in the living room, he can't hold in his giddiness. you look particularly pretty tonight, with your hair down and a attractive red stained lip colour (of his choice). watching you blossom into such a soft, captivating young woman over the last couple years made him so happy. maybe too happy. jimin had a tendency of breaking things closest to him when he got too invested, and it was a miracle you weren't one of them - yet. he does his best to handle you with care even though you aren't a fragile little thing anymore, his touch radiating that as he snakes an arm around your waist.

"oh!" you squeak, turning back to look up at him with wide eyes as he tugs you into his chest. you're so pretty. "jimin!"

"when did you get here?" he smiles, effectively pulling you away from the group of friends you chatted with. he lowers his mouth to your ear like he's sharing a secret, chest close against yours. you gulp. every little thing he does always feels so intimate, and it was harder to ignore that when you had a bit to drink. "if taehyung hadn't let me know you showed up i might've missed you."

you brace a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself, your feet a little wobbly after that last shot. "wouldn't be the first time. do you even know half the people here?"

he shrugs playfully. "am i supposed to?"

you sigh. "jimin, what did i tell you about lending out your house and booze to people who don't know your last name?"

"hmm," he tips his chin up and pouts his mouth thoughtfully so that his cheek dimples, fingers interlocking behind your waist securely. the action is enough to make onlookers dubious of your ‘friendship’, and you don't blame them. but you quickly push the thought aside in favour of jimin's alluring eyes. "something about how its telling of my generous and lovable character?"

you pinch his chin until he squirms into laughter. "try again, hot shot."

x

x

x

"what was that?" seulgi hisses in your ear on one of your many trips to the bathroom. thankfully since its a house party you aren't crowding into a stall together like you would a club, giving her enough space to sit on the rim of the bathtub while you fix your hair. "like is it me, or is jimin extra touchy with you tonight?"

"not you too," you groan, ruffling the roots. "for the last time, jimin is just being jimin. can we please talk about something else?"

"okay, fine," she says, getting up to fix the back of your hair that you can't see. "while prince charming was sweet talking you downstairs, some guy came up to me asking about you. ever heard of jung hoseok?"

you pout thoughtfully. "red hair? kinda loud? i think so..."

she smacks you playfully. "what do you mean you think so? the guy is so pretty i started feeling insecure about myself! and i'm wearing my lucky underwear!" she says, making you laugh. "anyway, apparently he's in one of your political arts classes and hasn't had the chance to talk to you yet."

you wince in the mirror at her. "i don't like where you're going with this..."

"____, babe. just get his number. there's nothing wrong with just talking a little," seulgi says gently. she knows how close you keep your cards to your chest, and with good reason after all you'd been through. you only had a few close friends and sociable as you seemed, letting people in was difficult for you. but if anyone genuinely wanted more happiness for you, it was seulgi. you never dabbled with guys if she didn't give them the all-clear. "he seems like a nice guy, really. and you know i'd never just say that for the sake of it."

"i know," you smile, dipping in to hug her. "i'll think about it."

x

x

x

jimin, being the center of attention that he is - the walking social hub of any given five mile radius - considers himself pretty good at handling the unexpected, especially at house parties. the unexpected being a broken vase, vomit on the carpet, a fist fight in the kitchen. normal stuff. what he isn't prepared for, however, is jungkook rocking up well past one in the morning, already making eyes at some girls even when he's barely got the other foot in the door.

jeon jungkook doesn't usually turn up to these parties, because...well, he never usually turns up to anything. but everyone knew his name, of course, because jungkook's track record was the only one that trumped jimin's - to the point where it bordered on myth, and with good reason. the guy was built like a steakhouse and still had the handsome, innocent face of a boy that meant well even though he rarely ever meant well.

which in all honesty wasn't a problem. jimin loves jungkook like his own, really. he's known him since he was pre-pubescent and acne prone and lord knows he'd fight a losing battle for that boy because that's what brothers do. regardless, when jungkook all but lets his line of vision land somewhere near your pretty smile from across the garden, jimin smacks him upside the head. "no."

"the fuck," jungkook spits, rubbing his undercut. "i didn't do anything!"

"yet," jimin finishes, stony faced. "i'm just stopping you in your tracks so your bad habits can catch up." he entertains jungkook's sceptical expression before huffing. "____ isn't one of your play things. she's a good person and no offence, but she really doesn't need any of your shit in her life."

"she's your friend, not your girlfriend," jungkook clarifies, and jimin can see the way his eyes fight to peel away even with ten feet and thirty bodies between you. 

maybe it's the alcohol but he can't help the way his gaze keeps naturally drawing back to you; it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to set his sights on a girl for the night, but you were so...different from his normal pickings. so...fresh. you didn't try hard and you didn't need to, kept to yourself and remembered every ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ - jungkook liked that. jungkook really liked that. "how is it i've never run into her before?"

jimin isn't stupid enough to use the words off limits because that's just fanning the flames with this kid. he's older than jungkook but he still resorts to puffing out his cheeks and lying through his teeth like a five year old. "she doesn't like you."

"she doesn't know me," jungkook flashes his glittering smile at him, the devil incarnate.

"everyone knows you, kookie," jimin says into his beer, too quiet to be banter but too loud for jungkook to ignore. he cards a hand through his ashy brown hair, doesn't look jungkook in the eye but may as well with how serious his voice goes. "please. just leave her out of it."

jungkook presses his mouth together, dimples pinching at the sides resolutely as he sways his gaze to some giggling redhead instead, because that's what brothers do.

x

x

x

somehow you always end up in this position - the drunk friend having to help the drunker friend. but the drunker friend isn't usually seulgi; in the intoxicated hierarchy on a night out you always fell snugly between jisoo and seulgi, but not this time. this time, you find yourself on the porch with seulgi's head cradled in your lap after she emptied her stomach out on the lawn, frantically tapping on your phone for an uber just as it dies.

"fuck," you grunt, throwing it back into your purse before rummaging through your roommate's. you visibly cringe at how sticky it feels, covered in god knows what and refusing to switch on. "this can't be happening..."

you're forced to prop seulgi up against the side of the house while you hurry inside to search for jimin. it was well passed late but the crowd was still hot and heavy, your short stature making it difficult for you to peer through the sea of bodies. you almost cry in relief when you finally locate taehyung in the kitchen, his hands instinctively grabbing your elbows to pull you out of the crowd and steady you when you teeter over to him.

"tae," you start, almost dipping straight into his chest if he didn't have a hold on you. "have you seen jimin? i need a ride home, seulgi's done for tonight."

"i'm pretty sure he's busy," he says apologetically, gesturing upstairs. "as in, took some girl up to his room an hour ago kind of busy."

"fuck," you sigh, head lolling back. "seulgi's still outside...”

"here," tae says, pulling you into his hip with one hand and reaching for his phone with the other. the contact is nice, warm. comfortable to the point where you find yourself snuggling your head into his shoulder. tae glances down at you against him with a pleased smirk. "easy there, princess. keep your head up while i call you an uber, okay?"

"i can take them," a sudden voice intervenes, your chin lifting up to peer over tae's chest. the boy beside taehyung offers you a small smile, so disarmingly attractive you lose your words. he's got round eyes that glitter even in the dim kitchen lighting, connecting with yours in a way that makes it impossible to look anywhere else. "i'm parked just outside. only had a few beers and even that was like, hours ago."

"are you sure, jungkook?" taehyung asks, still keeping a protective arm around you.

"'course," he turns his attention back to you, your skin prickling inadvertently under his gaze. he's so tall you have to look up at him a little. "and you said your friend's still outside, right? the quicker she gets home the better."

you nod. "thank you..."

"jungkook," he smiles, teeth glittering as he plucks you smoothly from taehyung's hold and into his. you're so focused on the weight of his hand around your back you forget to say bye to tae, letting jungkook guide you through the packed hallway and back outside. maybe it’s the booze but his jawline is amazing even from this angle. "i'm a friend of jimin's."

"yeah, i know," you giggle finally. "everyone knows you, jeon jungkook. you're just...different than i expected."

"different?" he pries softly, the quick lift of his brow making you giggle again. "different how?"

"just," your teeth sink into your bottom lip when you eye him up and down and jungkook swears he's got head rush just from that. you take him in, broad torso stuffed into a leather jacket that's straining at the seams, hair pushed back to reveal his handsome face. even the tattoos poking through the v of his t-shirt makes you splutter back a laugh, so picture-perfectly badboy. "...cute."

jungkook doubles takes. he wasn’t exactly expecting that adjective. "cute?"

"yeah," you say, but you're already turning your attention to seulgi now that you've reached her, slipping an arm around her to haul her up. you wobble a little since you're quite unsteady yourself, jungkook quickly ducking down to help you. "where's your car?"

"over there," he tilts his head in the direction of a jeep, propping seulgi's limp arm around his neck.

"who's this?" she slurs sleepily into your ear, but she's loud enough for everyone to hear. "he smells nice."

"your guardian angel," he answers. "with a truck."

"hm," seulgi considers carefully, even while you and jungkook bundle her up so she's lying across the backseat. she's already got her head nestled into your purse like a pillow by the time you manage to climb into the front. "ya seem nice. ____, give him a suck on my behalf when we get home."

jungkook discreetly grins to himself while you're busy with strapping in your belt. "he's not taking us home like that, babe."

"why not?" she grumbles, eyes barely open. "you waxed your legs!"

"here," jungkook says, his face suddenly close as he leans in to pull your seat belt over you. if you looked up you know you'd be millimetres apart, forcing you to stare dumbly down at your torso while he buckles you in, giving the stap a final tug so it settles comfortably between your breasts. it's such a quick action you barely register how practiced it is, like he's done it a thousand times. a more pressing matter is at hand anyway: seulgi was right. he does smell good. "there, all set."

your mumbled thanks barely carries over the sound of the engine starting, and thankfully you're not trashed enough to forget your address. jungkook rolls the windows down so the night air sobers you up a little anyway, finally free of that musky feeling of being in a room filled with too many people. "ah, i missed this...jimin hasn't taken me on a night drive in ages."

"you and hyung are close, right?" jungkook asks, arm up on the wheel in that way that makes boys look irresistible. "he talks about you a lot."

"oh yeah? funny, he never mentions you." you muse.

"really? not at all?"

"i think he called you chlamydia on a stick once," you ponder. 

jungkook huffs, and you can't help but laugh at his pouty expression. he finds himself drawn to it, almost entranced by it; even with your messy hair and smudged makeup, your smile is so effortlessly beautiful. he can see why jimin hid you away from him for so long. "i don't blame hyung for wanting to keep you to himself, i guess. girls as beautiful as you don't come by often."

you smile to yourself and it doesn't go unnoticed by him. "very smooth. don't forget to ask for my number when you help me out."

jungkook tongues his cheek, exhilarated by the challenge. "you think i'm flirting with you, noona?"

you keep a calm demeanour but even he sees the way you eye the veins in his big hands while he drives. but watching the rough of his palms skirt smoothly over the leather is near hypnotic. "i think you're trying to flirt with me, jungkook."

"maybe," he admits with a shrug. "so would you give it to me?"

"what?"

"your number."

you regard him properly. "do you want me to?"

"yes," is his bold reply, calling your bluff without hesitation. jungkook's sheer confidence makes you falter for a moment, his attitude so relaxed you can't tell whether he was taking any of this seriously or not. he meets your eyes from across the console with a small smirk that renders you speechless yet again. "not that jimin hyung would approve. but you're a big girl who can decide for herself, right?"

you blink, before shaking your head with a laugh just as he pulls into your road. jungkook waits patiently for an answer while he parks up by the curb, relishing in the way you eye him oh so carefully. you're tip toeing that fine line between drunk enough to speak your mind but not drunk enough to forget in the morning, so there really wasn't a better time to put all his eggs in one basket. you wet your lips at him and he's sure he’s hit bullseye, but then you're grabbing his chin and pinching it like you would with jimin. "you're cute, jungkook. now help me get her inside."

he blinks, his brain taking a second to catch up before he has to manually tell himself to move. getting seulgi out the back of the car wasn't easy but he's just glad she didn't throw up on him. you call a quick thanks over your shoulder before dragging her in and kicking the front door shut behind you, jungkook finding himself back at his steering wheel more riveted than before.

"fuck," he swears to himself, pulling out his phone and getting up taehyung's chat. "i need her number."

x

x

x

you barely plug your phone into charge with both eyes open once you've put seulgi to bed, and even then jimin's contact is the first thing to appear on the lockscreen. even though you’re halfway in bed with a makeup wipe in one hand, you force yourself to reply.

[jimin 3:42am] you get home okay? tae said you needed a ride, sorry

[you 3:45am] np ur friendsh jungkook gave usf a lift

[jimin 3:45am] jungkook? like jeon jungkook?

[you 3:49am] well unless you know anyt othrer jungkooks yh

[jimin 3:49am] is he there right now?

[you 3:51am] wht no he just dropped us off

[jimin 3:52am] thats all???

you frown, like that was any of his business. but you're honestly too exhausted to pick a fight.

[you 3:53am] yh thats all u nosy fuck

[you 3:54am] anywyh im dead now so gn

[jaywhitecotton]

Fuck Elvis

I used to play this terrible game with some monstrous friends at karaoke shows. It was all based on how Michael Jackson died at the right time and if he molested just one more kid we’d be screwed out of decades of music and nostalgia.

We’d then apply other artists to this molestation scale. Like if MJ set the standard at say 7 known kids we’re pretty sure he finger banged, how many could say Aerosmith’s Steven Tyler get away with?

Turns out - it’s one. One for sure, but I’m pretty sure there would have to be at least three before we as a society are willing to let go of Dream On or Bruce Willis’s meteor sacrifice.

Bob Dylan? So hard. Old white NPR people would blame the motorcycle accident and give up everything after to protect his earlier legacy, but comparing Michael Jackson to Bob Dylan’s importance? He’s got to be able to molest as many - if not three more kids - than the King of Pop, right? I mean Jewish or not, he is still white so that has to give him the edge over Jacko in what he can get away with.

Anyhoo

Comics have been acting like comedy has been bringing “truth to power!” and patting themselves on the back, but thirty years of Michael Jackson jokes couldn’t do what one documentary has done.

Proving if you really want any justice these days, you need to first invest in some production value and an editor who knows how to make criminal acts look especially bad.

The reactions are pouring in and people are very conflicted. Many questioning whether or not it’s ok to like an artist because of their lurid personal life.

Look, can we come to a consensus on just one thing?

Human beings have been giant flesh bags of hot garbage since the very beginning of our upright existence. We started out so bad, we’re not even sure of what are real beginnings were actually like.

And its not even people that are the worst either. Look at life itself.

Nature is gruesome and horrifying! Every nature documentary is inherently a horror movie missing the scary cello mood music. If you knew how much ducks gang-raped in real life you would burn any remanence of all those duck-themed shows from the 90’s.

Even the creation of space and time was the result of a destructive explosion that shit us out into the nothingness of space.

Disagree? Thinks humans are great? Cool. Keep in mind a lot of people watched a movie about a guy who sexually abused children and their first thought was “Can I still grab my dick and effeminately scream ‘ohhhhh’ whenever it gets super windy? Because I don’t want to live in a world where I can’t do that!”

To me anytime a person does something exceptional - THAT should be the thing that is celebrated. Like “Wow, you overcame being a piece of shit and had a moment of triumph for our species, well done ya piece of shit!”

Thomas Jefferson and the Declaration of Independence, Gandhi and Civil Disobedience, Beethoven’s 9th have all stood the test of time and those acts are worthy of praise.

Are we going to really miss Ignition (remix)?

I’m not saying any of these people’s flaws should be ignored, but seriously - there were plenty of slave fuckers, wife abusers, and piss-on-tweeners out there who not only did that shit - but didn’t even have the decency to form an experimental democratic republic placing power in the hands of the people, much less write a catchy tune.

We have got to start holding a higher standard for what we consider legit and meaningful art.

Is Trapped in the Closet really an achievement for humanity? Is the cinematic legacy of Space Jam ruined by the tainting of I Believe I Can Fly?

Was American Beauty and House of Cards our civilization’s finest cinematic moments? Has there been nothing else to watch?

Can we no longer backwards slide dance at house parties because a guy who dressed like a sequined private eye slept with kids?

I’m not saying you can’t still enjoy those things, or even question your feelings about them. I’m saying don’t make those things more important than they actually are. You can both think an actor should be castrated and get lost in visualized fiction.

Just as easily as you can decide to never watch again. It’s all disposable.

To me the real crime is needing a movie like American Beauty to be the pinnacle of human achievement because you got your first handy in the theater when it came out or whatever.

Not that anyone is exactly saying that, but you big bad wolves get my straw house point.

What is the value of achievement? How do we measure what’s important? I’m not sure. Maybe it’s what the consensus decides should stay. Maybe it’s the individual.

Sometimes it feels like a lot of our general arguments are between the perspectives of group thinking socialists versus self-motivated libertarians. Maybe they’re both right, I guess it depends on the situation.

Personally I think most the arguments about entertainers matters most to the people who have a vested interest in brands and making it in the ‘look at me’ industry.

I don’t know if it’s because I’m in the thick of it having done music and standup most of my life and have the same guttural need for a stranger’s approval, but sometimes I feel surrounded by people who treat every moment of their lives like a biopic. Selling themselves on social media as if they’re the subject of their own Rolling Stone exposé.

People who define themselves by the most disposable of expressions and since trying to be good and known is so difficult, decided it’s easier to just simulate success instead of working harder on the mediums.

You know, frauds.

I’m surrounded by a generation of ‘fake it til you make it’ personalities who thrive on all the shit I find utterly useless, meaningless and the worst crime - boring.

Entrepreneurs in narcissism who communicate through gossip and trade in brand expression, littering the artistic landscape with recycled lateral thinking dog turds.

It’s exhausting,debilitating, and absolutely the future as AI replaces our normal careers, forcing all of us into becoming Instagram models and Influencers.

And everyday I have to have deep sobering introspection trying to figure out if I’m not equally culpable in this terrible trap of meaningless thinking.

Not that there’s anything wrong with meaningless. Not everything has to have as everlasting an impact as Ode to Joy.

I mean really, what actually matters if we all die and whatever impact we had becomes erased regardless of whether or not it takes years, months, days or even minutes after we are laid into the ground?

Most of everyone who has been born has meant nothing and left no trace or measurement that they even existed at all. Think of all the stillborn babies who didn’t even get the chance.

Nature the cold hearted bitch strikes again!

People call me jaded and bitter for these thoughts, but I promise you - I hold no anger or selfish need to compensate my own lacking by exclaiming ‘people are mostly shit and none of this will stand the test of time’. I’m very fun at parties.

It’s just the people desperate to matter that think reality is inherently mean.

Celebrate the achievement not the person, but also - let’s not over inflate the achievement to validate our own petty need for someone to hear our folk song about getting a handy while watching American Beauty or whatever.

A quick story.

One of the most talented people I ever met was a dude from Philly named Perone.

Perone played bass and was known across the city as being this incredible player who for some reason just never found a project he clicked with.

I met him when I was 18 and homeless, living in a 24 hour diner he waited tables at. Everyone loved this dude and for some reason he took care of me. Hooking up free salads, sodas, bread. He was the coolest dude I ever met.

I was learning guitar and we both loved 70’s soul and blues music so we’d jam together which in hindsight was wild.

I had no fucking idea what I was doing and yet here was this genius jamming patiently along.

Teaching me without putting in a show that he was actually teaching me, if that makes sense?

Was he perfect? No. Not at all. He was charismatic as fuck, but obviously weighted down with some demons.

The weirdest thing I could say about him - and I don’t know how to even properly frame this was - he used to draw on bed sheets.

For years he had a dream about a woman he never met and would paint her face on the bed sheets and attach lyrics to songs he was writing next to her face. These sheets hung all over his walls.

Keep in mind he was living with a girl at the time. He had a kid, yet here were all these sheets dedicated to a fictional white woman he was obsessed with, hung like championship banners across his entire two bedroom apartment.

My last conversation with Perone was perfect. I sat strumming his guitar while he smoked meth out of a can of Pepsi, telling me how Michael Jackson was the King.

Every click of the lighter, every inhale and exhale would punctuate just how much Michael Jackson meant to the world and music.

How Motown celebrated their 25th anniversary with a tv special and Michael Jackson came out and destroyed with the moonwalk.

“Dude, (click) black people loved Michael (inhale). White people loved Michael. (exhale)Young people loved Michael. (cough) Old people loved Michael. (click) None of this race or generation shit mattered. (inhale) It was because of the music and HE did that. (exhale) He bridged everything together in that one moment. (violent cough) Michael Jackson is and will always be the King. (click) Fuck Elvis.”

That was twenty years ago. I have no idea if he’s still alive, earned a living with his music or met the woman he’d dreamt and painted for years. Or if instead he succumbed to meth, took his own life and or manages an Olive Garden.

I don’t know and I don’t have to. I miss him and appreciate the things we shared that mattered and helped me grow as a person, but that’s all it ever will be.

Let justice be done and handled by those involved in their situation and value only the things and constructs that have some permanence or growth in your own life.

Either way you will still die, and wether it’s alone and forgotten or if it takes centuries for people to forget you were a miserable deaf cunt who wrote some sweet jams - you’ll eventually be nothing.

Fuck Elvis.

[hanzier]

Richie Tozier was 17 years old that summer and gloriously self-destructive. Much like Bev, he had just finished barreling through an awful year. Although, unlike Bev, he did nothing in attempt to prevent himself from spiraling- instead he let himself fall. No house, no health insurance, no future plans and no problem with any of that. He had his job, his friends and enough weed to keep him in a permanent state of semi high.

It could be said that much like Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier was at an all-time low. But, Richie didn’t consider himself to be any lower than he’d always been. Over the course of the summer he had many opportunities to change that, and though he took advantage of a few of these well…

Like I said Richard Tozier was tragically self-destructive, but more on that later.

Richie was seldom caught frowning in the company of Bill Denbrough.

The pair could have close to intense arguments and still have a hint of amusement in their voices and a tug at the corner of their lips. They just played off of each other’s goofiness and complimented each other in such a way that only brothers could. Richie loved being around Bill, because his smile was infectious.

But as of present, Richie was not smiling at his best friend. He was, in fact, almost ready to toss him out of a window. Which would be difficult, considering they were walking down the deserted main street.

“Three god-damn shots and a beer!” Richie was incredulous and speaking to no one in particular, “How the fuck-“

“Rich, knock it off. He apologized.” Bev’s voice called from behind him, he turned around.

Bill was slung over her shoulder, a goofy grin plastered on his intoxicated face, “I didn’t mean to flush them I swear, Rich.”

Richie blinked furiously as he heard Eddie giggle somewhere to his right, everything was already kind of hazy and that damn sound made the world go blurry.

He soon realized that the additional fuzziness wasn’t due to Eddies laugh, but to a drunk Stan Uris knocking his glasses off of his face.

Two large blobs knocked into each other to his left and Stan murmured, “Whoops, sorry Rich.”

Richie blinked again, unsure of where they had fallen on the dark pavement, he was too high for this, “Mother fucker…You know, Denbrough, this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t flushed my fucking contacts you drunk slut.”

Eddie’s giggles started again, “Drunk slut?” He was closer than Richie realized, right next to him, actually. And Richie really wished he could see what the hell was happening as more giggles erupted from everyone in the group.

“Here ya go,” Richie felt his glasses slide onto his face from someone below him.

He looked down at Eddie who was very much in his space, and seemingly decently intoxicated. Richie liked that he wasn’t as uptight as he’d been that morning. He seemed like he was having fun, and Richie got a little selfish thrill knowing that he had played a small role in making that happen, (although some could definitely be contributed to his two shots of tequila and a hit from Richie’s own blunt).

Eddie had been kind of closed off at first, but Richie wore him down with a few mom jokes and an inappropriate amount of touches for someone he had just met. By the time they left the apartment, Eddie had been calling Richie a ‘blind want-to-be stoner’ with a glimmer in his eye.

Richie grinned, “Well thanks, doll. I was getting tired of not seeing that pretty little face.”

Eddie just rolled his eyes, stepping back out of Richie’s space.

Richie turned around to see what the laughter had been about and realized that Stan had been impersonating him with a large pair of sunglasses on, feeling around Bill’s chest and Bev’s hair as if he were blind.

“Hardy har har. When did you become such a menace, Stanny?” Richie laughed, enjoying the rare sight of his most responsible friend letting loose.

Stan was by no means the stick in the mud strangers had mistaken him for, due to his clean-cut look, but he defiantly didn’t indulge in shenanigans as often as Bev, Richie and Bill.

“I learned from the best.” Stan said with a smug look, his hand still firmly placed on Bill’s bicep.

Richie raised a brow, but didn’t say anything, instead putting on his best Scottish accent, “Tha’ ya did, Stanleh.”

Bev groaned under Bill’s weight, “Stan, you gotta keep him up. He’s way too heavy for me.” Without waiting for a response, she tilted to the left, unloading all of Bill’s mass onto Stan’s shoulders.

He didn’t seem to mind.

She skipped a few steps forward to Eddie, who was suddenly looking much more bitter than he had just moments before, “I hope Mike remembered the oreos. I’m really craving double stuffed.”

As if on cue, Mike Hanlon: knight in shining armor, emerged from the 7/11 brandishing a cure for the munchies, rather than a sword. In Richie’s expert opinion, sour cream and onion chips were much more impressive than any medieval weapons. But, that could have been the weed talking.

Eddie was the first to Mike, nearly snatching the bag out of his hands. He grabbed a water bottle and the back of pretzels and made his little way over to Bill and Stan.

“Here, Bill. Try and sober up a little so that you don’t fall asleep before we get to the beach.” Eddie held out the opened water bottle and Bill took it with unsteady hands. Stan held it to his mouth instead and Eddie deflated a little more.

Richie watched the interaction in awe, “The kid is six feet tall. This isn’t even close to his first time drinking… How is he still such a massive lightweight?”

Bev giggled sifting through the shopping bag as she sat on the curb next to Mike, “God had to give him some flaws, right?”

Mike snorted and popped an oreo into his mouth. Richie and Beverly looked at him in awe, “Why’d you just eat that?”

“Oreos are vegan,” Eddie entered the conversation, the same slightly sour look on his face, “Mike told me before when I was asking how he survived on that diet without junk food.”

Bev’s face contorted in horror, “What the heck are they made out of then?”

Mike shrugged, “Chocolatey goodness.” he offered them around the group and Richie took six, and sat down next to Bev. He looked across the street at Stan and Bill while he munched.

The pair was sitting on the opposite curb, sides pressed together, Bill’s head on Stan’s shoulder, while Stan held the bottle of water to Bill’s mouth.

“How long has that been going on?” Richie directed the question at Eddie, leaning back on his hands and looking up at him for a change.

Eddie rolled his eyes, “According to Ben it hasn’t been going on. But, they’ve been awfully close all year.”

Mike spoke, clearly noticing the sore spot and trying to change the subject, “Ben’s the one who broke his leg right?” Eddie nodded, “He’s getting his cast off in a week, so he’ll be joining us soon enough.”

Bev hummed, clearly not as interested in this as she was in the situation across the street. She leaned her head on Richie’s shoulder, the proximity made him smile and he gestured to her bag, she handed it over knowing exactly what he needed, “So did either of them say anything…”

She trailed off nodding across the street and Richie dug through her extensive collection of lipsticks, clothing swatches and what would be a suspicious zip-lock bag to most, finally pulling out a cigarette. She lit it for him with her sparkly hot pink bic. He liked it when they were in tune like that. It was getting rarer and rarer.

He inhaled sharply, staring at Eddie.

They both knew what she was really asking.

Had Bill come out?

It was a good question. One that Richie was sure he knew the answer to. One that Richie was sure Eddie needed the answer to.

Eyes never leaving Eddie, he blew out a stream of smoke.

Eddie shrugged, trying and failing to come across as nonchalant, “Stan came out a year ago. He told us all about how he liked you last summer, Mike. He said all you guys knew.”

Mike smiled fondly at the memories. But that wasn’t the answer Bev was looking for, she opened her mouth to pry again. She really could be quite the gossip, Richie recalled the hours she and Stan blabbered on over the phone.

Richie wasn’t particularly interested in talking about Bill all night while he sat twenty feet away, “Yea, no one was particularly surprised about that one.” He said flatly. The topic of coming out was not one that Richie was at all fond of.

Mike spoke, “We should get a move on if we want to even make it to the bonfire before it gets shut down.”

Richie leaned forward, gently shaking Bev off, “Big Bill! How ya feeling, fella?” He made his way across the street to Stan and Bill, who both looked a bit better than they had five minutes ago.

They albeit leapt apart at the sound of his voice, “Much better, Rich. Sorry about the contacts, they were just so slimey…”

Stan grimaced, standing up to adjust his pants. Richie offered Bill a hand up, which he gladly took, standing much steadier than he had before.

“See,” Mike said, crossing the street to meet them, “All you needed was a little break and a little water. Let’s try to pace ourselves for the rest of the night.”

Richie laughed, knowing that Mike was trying to be reasonable, but also knowing that across the street Beverly and Eddie were smoking another joint.

“All right, losers, let’s roll out.”

When the finally stumbled onto the beach, the bonfire was roaring.

About forty or so kids were scattered a few yards from the lifeguard stand, around a burning pile of wood.

“PARTY’S HERE!” Richie hollered and was greeted with a roar of approval from the people he was jogging to.

Eddie didn’t know what to do. Parties were something he had steered clear of ever since a disastrous encounter on Halloween in freshman year. He looked to his left and wished he hadn’t.

Bill and Stan were laughing to themselves, sharing a new bottle of beer, closer than they needed to be. Eddie wondered when the germs had stopped bothering Stan.

Feeling uncertain, he followed Richie. Mike was preoccupied spinning in a circle with Bev on his back, both of them laughing wildly.

He made his way over to the bonfire, the heat greeted him before anything else.

Richie was standing with his arm looped around a blonde girl’s shoulder, she was wearing a red lifeguard hoodie and handing him a red solo cup.

Eddie teetered on the edge of the fire for a moment before the sound of Richie’s voice permeated his thoughts once again, “Everyone, this is Eddie,” he had his solo cup raised in Eddies direction, “Give him a warm welcome, it’s his first time in Paradise.”

From what Eddie could tell, these kids would cheer at anything, because there were several shouts of approval from the group.

Someone handed him another drink and Eddie realized he was still too sober to deal with such a new social situation.

Bev and Mike came to his side and Bev looked at his drink, “You want that? I can light up with you instead.”

Eddie looked at the drink and shrugged, “I’m gonna be honest, I’ve only smoked a few times. So, for now I’m a little more comfortable drinking.”

He didn’t need the drink, it was only a beer but he was already feeling light and floaty. He drank it anyway.

Time was drifting at an odd pace, as it tended to do when you were drifting under the influence.

There were claps on the backs and informal introductions and Eddie found himself successfully distracted from everything he wanted to be distracted from.

He wasn’t a fan of the music, rap wasn’t something he was too fond of and it was blaring. But he was a fan of the way Bev was dancing to it, twirling by herself, offbeat and happy.

He stood from a log he didn’t know he was sitting on and joined her to the back of the crowd. It was a bolder move than Eddie usually made; he wasn’t one to go to parties, let alone dance with girls at them. But, he had already become very comfortable with Beverly, and the alcohol and weed were certainly making things easier for him.

He grabbed her hand and she giggled. She jumped up and down with him until he tried to spin her, failing miserably because she was about an inch taller than him.

They both collapsed into peals of laughter and Eddie continued to forget that Bill and Stan had disappeared the moment they stepped on the beach.

The stars were shrouded in a fog of sorts. It took Eddie a few seconds to realize that was because of the smoke.

Richie walked over with the blonde girl, interrupting the dance.

He squeezed his wiry frame between the dancing pair, pressing himself almost flush to Eddie and spoke, “Mind if I cut in? Estelle wants a word with our Bevie.”

Richie was leaning down to Eddie, almost blocking his view of Bev, but he could just see her pick up her bag as the blonde girl whispered something that made Bev frown.

“I guess… what’s that about?” Eddie pried, feeling loose as Richie swayed in front of him.

The taller boy grinned, “Estelle is a client of Bev’s. She’s also a life guard. Cute huh?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a challenge. And Eddie was too drunk for it. He was about to fail miserably.

Eddie shrugged, finishing off his drink, “I’m not really into blondes.”

“Red heads then, right?” Richie had an infuriatingly sly look on his face and Eddie prayed to whatever god was listening that this stranger didn’t know what he was trying so hard to hide.

“You mean Bev?” He wasn’t convincing enough. His voice cracked and Richie smirked. He hoped his breathing wasn’t as shallow as it felt.

“No, not Bev- our other resident ginger B.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world and his casual tone made Eddie’s blood boil, “You have a crush on Big Bill too right?”

Eddies world was crumbling and he couldn’t make a sound, but Richie was gladly jabbering on.

“I’m starting to think it’s some sorta rite of passage to fall for the fucker… Bev was head over heels for the guy. They only hooked up a few times, but she gushed about him for weeks. Obviously, she’s over it now, but Christ, did ya see the look on her face when she saw how hot he’s gotten.”

Richie didn’t notice that he was more or less talking to himself, “Now Stanny- I’m surprised he didn’t have higher standards, but have you ever seen a kid so in love?” He laughed, “Besides from looking in the mirror, I guess.”

Richie hadn’t meant to be malicious. He was high. And he was perpetually jealous of Bill. He was also maybe trying to get a rise out of Eddie, in a twisted attempt to see if he was right about his hunch. He was teasing for entirely selfish reasons, he knew there was no positive outcome, but like I said, Richie Tozier was incredibly self-destructive.

And once he started talking, he couldn’t stop.

But Eddie knew none of this. He simply knew that this boy had uncovered his darkest secret in mere hours and was making fun of him for it.

He was still going, as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, “Tell me, what is it about Billy that makes your knees quiver? Gotta hand it to him, he has some charm if he can rope three-’’

Eddie managed to regain control of his mouth, “I’m not gay,” he snapped, “Especially not for Bill.”

Richie put the cigarette to his lips and lit it with that tacky lighter once again, “Whatever you say, Eds.”

“Don’t call me that!” His voice was shrill and he tried to get a grip, but it was easier said than done.

His breath was shaky and far too thin. He felt like he was having an asthma attack and then he felt stupid. Because his asthma was fake. So, Eddie just stood there breathing in and out while Richie abused his lungs.

One…two…three… inhale. One…two…three… exhale. One…two…three… one…two…three…one…two…three…

He wasn’t sure how long they stood like that, but they had long since stopped dancing when Mike greeted them with a blissful grin. Eddie wished he could reciprocate it.

“Hey, guys. You seen Bill or Stan?” he sounded genuinely concerned.

Richie grinned around his cig, “They ran off the second we got here. They’re probably in the dunes, sucking face.”

Mike frowned, “Well, I’m gonna look for them. You should get Bev out of here, Rich. Someone heard sirens…said the cops were on their way.”

Richie’s whole demeanor changed and he dropped his cigarette, “Okay. Call me when you find them.” He looked down to Eddie, “C’mon, Eds. Looks like the party’s over.”

He walked off, expecting Eddie to follow him. And Eddie wanted to do nothing less than sprint in the opposite direction, but his body was feeling the toxic mix of anxiety, alcohol and weed and his brain wasn’t working. He was scared if he let Richie walk off, he would be stranded on the beach for the rest of his miserable little life, so he followed the douche.

Bev was making a drug deal in the dunes when the sirens got closer. She pocketed the cash and zipped up her bag, quickly turning on her heel.

She tried not to panic, it was always worse when she got in her own head, so she merely sped walk for a minute. However, the second she heard the tires screech she took off in a sprint.Someone was calling her name. She moved faster and crashed squarely into the guilty party, “Rich,” she breathed out.

“Hey Ringwald, a little faster maybe?” She started moving again, barely registering that Eddie was also running alongside them.

There were kids scattering every which way and the music had shut off. It was pitch black on the beach; the cops had put out the fire and the only source of light was from a shitty streetlamp on the board walk. The only thing that could be heard now was chaos.

“Richie!” A deeper voice called out from a few feet ahead. It was Mike, gesturing wildly for them to hurry up, “Stan and Bill are out already. Hurry!” They finally reached him, he was holding up the wire fence that stretched from the bottom of the board walk to the sand.

Bev was the first to throw herself under it. It smelled awful and the sand was wet and cold but she crawled like her life depended on it. Because it did.

Stan was holding up the fence on the other side and she slipped out, hearing the other boys struggling behind her. There was another cop car driving towards the boardwalk.

The second she saw Mike stand up she yelped, “Book it!” And the six of them took off into the dimly lit street, leaving the blaring sirens behind.

Heyyy guys enjoy chapter three! Any feedback is welcome, I’d love to hear what you guys have to say about the story so far. :)@

@fuckuris @dewdropseddie @richietoaster @sad-synth @rrichiettozier @its-stranger-than-you-think

[lovelybones81]

Unthinkable- Updated

Summary: Seven years, three movies, two people, one story. But before they can get their happily ever after, Sebastian Stan and Camille Solis must learn to trust in each other and in themselves, before allowing the unthinkable to happen.

Warnings: Fluff, future smut, Language, Angst, mental health, WOC lead character

Rating: NC-17

Note: I finally finished it! yay!! Anyway thank you so much those who have been reading, and all those new readers. You have no idea how motivating that is. xoxo! Again feedback is much appreciated! xoxoxo

Chapter 13 Concrete Jungle

New York, 2010

 “Charles, the lights aren’t even on right now!” Sebastian growled in annoyance. “Take off the damn sunglasses.”

 “It’s fucking bright man!” Charles snapped back.

 Grunting Sebastian answered. “That’s what happens when you decide to drink a bottle and a half of whiskey.” Setting Camille’s cup of coffee on the counter, and taking a swig from his own. “Mother fucker!” he cursed, burning his tongue on the steaming liquid. Charles snickered and Sebastian quickly turned to glare.

 Charles slipped the sunglasses over the top of his head, narrowing his eyes. “Whoa. What’s up your ass dude?” sitting down on the stool and opening the paper bag with the warm bagels and cream cheese.

 Sebastian sat his cup of coffee on the counter. “Nothing.” But in reality he was feeling a bit irritable.

 “Seb- about last night, I’ll pay for it.” Charles said in an almost ashamed voice.

 The crashing Sebastian had heard a few hours before, had been Charles bumping into a hall table and lamp. Apparently he had been looking for the bathroom, which had been hard to find while intoxicated. He waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you didn’t end up getting hurt.” And that was the truth. After the initial displeasure of being interrupted while in bed with Camille, the feeling quickly turned to fear when he and Camille made their way out of the bedroom to find Charles sprawled on the floor, the broken lamp in his lap. Camille had swiftly helped Charles off the floor to make sure he hadn’t been hurt (just a few cuts) while Sebastian cleaned up.

 After that excitement, Camille had gone back to the extra bedroom to sleep for a few more hours. Sebastian had been too wired to try, so he had gone out for a run. When he had gotten back, Charles had sobered up enough that they had walked down to the corner shop to grab coffee and bagels for breakfast for the three of them. He would have liked to make Camille a nice breakfast, but realized there was nothing in his refrigerator to make, since he hadn’t been home in months. His idea was to have them munch on a bagel and then grab brunch once they were out and about. Because apparently Camille had not forgotten about the promise he had made in Manchester about letting her drag Sebastian around the city.

 Taking out a bagel, he insisted. “I’ll send you a check.” Then changed the subject. “Are you going to spill whatever has you looking that way?”

 “What way?”

 “You know for an actor- you have the worst poker face.” Charles said with a light chuckle and a shake of his head, pulling the lid off the container that held the cream cheese. “I’m assuming it has to do with Camille?” He guessed. “And why she was in your room?”

 Sebastian narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “For someone who was drunk out of their ass last night you sure are hell observant.”

 “Exactly- I was drunk.” Making sure to put emphases on the word. “Not stupid.”

 Sebastian’s mouth twitched, but brought his coffee back up to his lips instead to keep from snapping. He had to keep reminding himself that Charles had not meant to crash into the table and lamp. It was an accident. And it could have happened to anyone. Hell, Sebastian was sure it happened to him before.

 But if he hadn’t then maybe-

 Sebastian stopped himself. Then what? He would have confessed his love to Camille? And was it even love? Maybe all those feelings were just because of the closeness they had been sharing the last 4-5 months. Besides it was not fair to throw this at her right now. She had too much on her plate. He still had shit to deal with. He cursed in Romanian as his lips touched the searing coffee again. He slammed the Styrofoam back on the counter. Obviously he had been in his own world, he had forgotten about the damn hot cup.

 Charles snorted and said sarcastically. “Oh yeah, nothing...” Sebastian didn’t respond. His oldest friend continued. “Obviously there is something going on between the both of you-“  At the comment, Sebastian opened his mouth to protest but Charles raised his hand and continued. “Whether you recognize it or not. And I know I gave you shit about it yesterday, but if you aren’t ready to go there then don’t. Especially since it sounds like Camille has to figure things out herself.” He paused before letting out a large exaggerated sigh. “Okay, those are my only wise words on the subject. Don’t ask again.” Pointing an accusing finger.

 Smiling in spite of himself, Sebastian mumbled. “Thanks.”  

 “Mmmmm coffee...”

 Both Charles and Sebastian turned to the sound of Camille’s voice. She strode toward them, a bounce in her step and beaming as she eyed the coffee on the counter. Sebastian smirked. She did love her coffee. His bad mood slowly began to fade at the sight of her.

 Charles spoke first, making a tsk sound. “Shit! Sorry Camille. We forgot to get you some.” He teased.

 The beaming look slowly faded, a small pout on those lips. Sebastian interjected. “Listen man, one thing I’ve learned-don’t mess with the girl’s caffeine. Especially in the morning.”

 Camille scrunched up her nose. “I’m not that bad.” She protested, reaching for the cup. “It smells so good.” She hummed in appreciation, cupping the container that held the elixir that would give her energy in both hands. She grinned widely at Sebastian. “Thank you.”

 “Welcome.” he responded with a sincere smile, pushing the flutter in his stomach away. “Bagels are in there.” Pointing to the paper bag next to Charles. “I figured we could get brunch before you drag me around the city.” He said the last part with a disgusted look. He heard Charles snicker. Sebastian scowled back at him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like New York, quite the opposite, Sebastian loved it. But doing the tourist thing had never been appealing to him. Sure his mom, stepdad and him would drive down to Rockefeller Center around Christmas, but other than that, the urge to do Time Square, or the Empire State Building never crossed his mind. And he knew part of it was because he lived here for most of his adult life. But he had vowed Camille a good time while she was here, and it would be a distraction for her and maybe even for him.

 Sipping on her coffee, she glanced innocently at Charles. “You aren’t coming with us?”

 Charles shook his head, a feign look of disappointment on his face. “I wish I could, but I already made plans with the parents.”

 Sebastian coughed into his mouth while uttering. “Bull shit.”  

 “You don’t have to lie.” Camille started, giving Sebastian a wink before turning to Charles. “I mean after last night’s debacle…” Blinking sweetly at him and peering down before continuing. “How is your hand?”

 Angling his head down, Sebastian tried his best to hide the smug look, as he listened to Camille. He knew Charles was feeling embarrassed about what happen. Sebastian had seen him act like an idiot plenty of times during the years, but it was another thing to do it in front of a girl. And it seemed Camille had picked up on it. But if Sebastian knew Charles, he wasn’t going to let her have the last word. In a matter of 24 hours they had adapted an almost brother/sister relationship.

 “The hand is good. Want to see it?” he challenged with a wicked smile.

 He had a feeling, Charles was about to show her the finger. “The two of you are worse than teenagers.” Sebastian intervened, reaching again for his coffee, hoping it had cooled down.

 “You think he be happy we get along?” Charles murmured, as Camille sat on the stool next to him. Camille only giggled before taking another sip.

 Before Sebastian had the chance to reply, the doorbell rang. Frowning he looked between them, confused to who would be at his door this early in the morning. Especially when not many people knew he was back in the city. With the cup still in his hand he marched in the direction of the front door. He peeked through the peephole, his eyes widening when he recognize who was on the other side. Without hesitation, he unlocked the door, and swung it open.

 “Ma!” he exclaimed in surprise. “What are you doing here?!” Taking a step back to let Georgeta in.

 His mother furrowed his eyebrows at her only son. “Nice to see you too sweetheart.”  She teased, placing a tender kiss on his cheek.

 Sebastian shut the door behind them. “That’s not what I meant.” He stammered, fretfully running his fingers through his hair. “I thought you were in Los Angeles with Anastasia?” he asked. “Weren’t we supposed to be flying back together?” Had he misunderstood their conversation from earlier in the week? She had flown down to see his godmother for a few days, and it just happened to interchange with his schedule.

 “Did you not get my message?” she asked, setting down her purse on the edge of the couch. “I decided to leave a day early since Anastasia had to leave for some meetings in Chicago.”

 He groaned, shaking his head. “My phone has somehow been eating my messages since coming back to New York.” He hadn’t even bothered to check them in the last 24 hours. The plan was to stop by the store and have them look at it before Camille and he started anything today. Sebastian realized that even though she had placed her purse down, another bag was in her hand. He peered curiously, quickly becoming distracted. “What’s in the bag Ma?” 

 “I thought I would make breakfast.” She explained showing him what was inside. “Since I know there is no food in the house.” She said in an accusing tone, taking a step in the direction of the kitchen. 

 “I haven’t been here!” Sebastian protested, glancing over his mom’s shoulder to find Charles getting up from the stool to greet Georgeta. He felt a small twinge in his chest when he saw the look on Camille’s face. She had not been expecting this. In truth, Sebastian had been a bit relief when his mom had informed him she was going to be out of town when he came back to the states. Camille meeting Georgeta had not been part of the plan. And it wasn’t because Sebastian would mind it. It was more of self preservation. He had just gotten out of a 2 year relationship and even though she was the only one who knew the full details of what had happened, he had a feeling she would not truly understand his relationship with Camille. Especially because he was not one to bring along friends to meet her. And his intention had not been to add more on for Camille. Yes, he talked about his mother to Camille and vise versa, but hadn’t prepared for this impromptu meeting. 

 "Charles!" Georgeta proclaimed. "I didn't know you were going to be here!" Reaching to wrap her arms around his best friend in a motherly hug. Her back to Camille.

 Charles smiled widely. "Just for a few days." Letting go of each other and grabbing the bag out of her hand to place it on the counter.

 By that time, Sebastian had made his way toward Camille, placing one hand on her shoulder, feeling her stiffen a bit at the touch. Peering down, he gave her an apologetic smile. But as quickly as he felt her stiffen a few seconds ago, Sebastian felt her rapidly relax. Clearing her throat, Camille stood up from the stool.

 Sebastian knew this shouldn’t be a big deal, yet it felt like a big deal.

 Georgeta turned around to face Camille and Sebastian. Her eyes widen in surprise for a moment, but quickly warmed up when they landed on Camille. If there was one thing he could always count on was his mother knack of making people feel welcome and at ease. It was like she somehow sensed it. Beaming with a smile, she spoke up. “Camille…right?” extending one hand out.

 Camille gave a slight nod, giving Sebastian a side look in surprise. “Yeah-yes.” She stammered. “Nice to meet you.” Reaching out to shake Georgeta’s hand.

 Georgeta stretched out her arms, but stopped abruptly as if realizing that not everyone liked to be touched. “If that’s okay?” she asked.

 “Sure! Of course.” Camille said in surprise, giving Sebastian a quick look over her shoulder as Georgeta enveloped her in a quick hug.

 After a few seconds, they broke away and his mother spoke up. “It’s so great to finally meet you! Sebby has talked a lot about you.”  

 “That’s not true.” Sebastian interjected with a shake of his head. “I maybe mentioned you once or twice.” Trying his best to hide the superior look, and he could have sworn he heard Charles snicker.

 Georgeta waved a dismissive hand at her son. “He is lying. He has talked a lot about you.” She reaffirmed with a knowing smile. Camille raised an eyebrow at Sebastian but didn’t say a word. He felt his cheeks flush. And this time, Charles did snicker next to him. She continued. “I was going to make breakfast. I’m not sure if you or Charles have eaten? I know sometimes hotel food is not always the best.”

 Charles piped in excitedly. “I will gladly stay for breakfast!” If there was anything Charles enjoyed was Georgeta’s Romanian mealtime.

 Sebastian felt Camille’s eyes narrow in at him. Slowly, he met her gaze. Okay, so he might not have mentioned to his mother about Camille staying with him for the few days she would be in New York. It hadn’t seemed like an important detail when they had last talked. But if it was any indication by the way Camille was glaring at him at the moment, Sebastian should have mentioned that small tidbit.

 Georgeta must have caught the way Camille was looking at him, because she wrinkled her nose and asked. “Is everything okay?”

 Clearing his throat, he looked sheepishly at Georgeta. “Actually Ma, Camille is staying here…with me.”

 Georgeta glanced over at Charles. And he quickly shook his head. “I’m staying at my parents.” Sebastian frowned. It was amazing how quickly they all turned to almost teenagers when parents were around. Especially him.  

 His mother quickly turned her head to face him and said in Romanian with a knowing look. “So that’s why you didn’t answer my call.”

 Sebastian’s mouth twitched with a roll of eyes. “It’s not that way at all.” He replied back in his native tongue. Ah yes, this was the other reason why he had wanted to avoid this meeting. Because his mother always presumed some- if not all- the women in his life were girlfriends.

 She squinted her eyes at him, the same way he had done plenty of times before, and then said in English. “It’s a good thing I brought plenty suncilita taraneasca. (Fatty piece of meat that still has the pork skin on it.)” She teased with a light smile. Taking a step in the direction of the kitchen, and rummaging through the bag she had brought in. “There is another bag missing…” she mused to herself, taking out a large container with a lid.

 He let out silent sigh. Good. She wasn’t going to push it-at least for the time being. He eventually wanted to sort out his feelings, and he wanted talk to Georgeta about it, but he just wasn’t ready to do so right now.

 “I’ll go grab it.” Charles volunteered. “In the car?” he asked, already trudging toward the front door.

 Georgeta took two glass containers of zacusca. (Romanian vegetarian spread), and franzela (Romanian typical bread) out of the bag. “Oh shoot! He doesn’t have the car key!” she cried, quickly grabbing her purse, and jogging to follow Charles. She came to a quick halt before stepping out of the apartment. “Please start getting the oven ready.” She ordered Sebastian in Romanian.

 As soon as the door shut, Camille spun to Sebastian, with glowering eyes. His own widen in alarm. “I’m sorry!” he apologized before she had the chance to gripe at him. “I thought she was still in Los Angeles…” He argued, noticing for the first time her hair. The straight hair was gone, instead her dark auburn curls were back, still damp, clanging to her head and neck. A heavy smell of vanilla clogged his nostrils. Swallowing, he stopped talking, letting his eyes admire how striking Camille looked in the mornings.

 “Sebastian!” she hissed.

 He blinked out of his daze, eyes locking with her. “What?” he asked stupidly.

 “I said- I don’t want your mom thinking that I’m trying-“

 “Camille,” He soothed. “I promise its okay.” Closing the gap between them, cupping her face with both of his hands. “I could have mentioned the little detail about you staying with me.” He admitted with a light shrug. “But that’s it. And if anyone is going to get an earful- it will be me.” He finished, giving her his famous half smirk and puppy eyes.

 Knitting her eyebrows together, Camille leaned in closer. “You’re lucky your so-“  but stopped herself, biting on her lower lip.

 Sebastian raised an eyebrow expectantly. “That I’m what doll?” he pushed.

 Camille pinched the bridge of her nose. “Don’t call me doll.” She ordered in annoyance.

 But he ignored her request and pressed. “I’m lucky that I’m what Camille?” God, how he loved the teasing/flirty banter between them. She gave a nonchalant shrug, looking anywhere but his face. Using his index finger, he tilted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. Unable to keep the coy look off his face, as she squirmed under his touch.

 “Stop.” Camille whined, giving his front door a quick glance.

 He didn’t budge, he squinted his eyes, mouth twitching to one side. He still wasn’t sure of what he was doing, but it obviously had an effect on her and he found it slightly adorable. “I’m not doing anything.” Breaking into a huge grin, unable to keep the other look going.

 His smile must have caught on, because a grin began to tug on her face. But the grin slowly spewed out a slight giggle out of her. She was visibly trying to keep a straight face through this little banter they were having to see who would break first. It was humorous, because at times even when they were having tiny moments just like this one- they still managed to bring the silliness out of each other.  

 Giving him a gently shove, she asked. “Didn’t your mom say to start the oven?” He raised a brow in a surprise. She raised one back. “I kind of got the gist of what she was asking.” Taking a small step back toward the oven, while making a funny face.

 “You’re really not going to finish that sentence?” following her into the kitchen, but not before reaching one arm out to try and grab her wrist or waist.

 “No.” she replied with a shake of her head.

 “Why not?”

 “Because,” Camille started, turning on the oven. “It will just give you a big head. And I don’t want to be responsible for that.” Dramatically placing a hand over her chest.

 “Uh huh. Whatever you have to tell yourself doll.” Repeating the nickname she disliked so much. But Camille didn’t respond, instead stuck her tongue out. “You should put that away before you hurt someone.” He snapped back wittily, dropping his eyes down to her mouth for effect.

 “Hmmph.” Was Camille’s only response.

 He gave her a cheeky grin. “Actually- I can think of other places where you can put that tongue on.”

 As those words left his lips the front door flew open, Georgeta and Charles reappeared, each one with a bag. His mother eyed him. “Did you turn the oven on?”

 He pointed to Camille. “She did.” Grabbing the bag out of his mother’s grasp and placing the bag on the counter.

 “Thank you.” Georgeta said, making a point to look at her with a heartfelt smile.

 Smiling back, Camille answered. “You’re welcome. Anything else I can help with?”

 “Would you mind cutting into slices the franzela to put in the oven?” As she began to take the rest of the ingredients out of the bags. “Charles? You want to start on the vegetables?” Charles nodded without saying a word.

 While his mom gave instructions, Sebastian was showing Camille where his cutting knifes, utensils, etc. were located. But he quickly twisted around, facing Charles with a reproachful look. “Uh-didn’t you say a few minutes ago you had plans with your parents?”

 His oldest friend opened then quickly shut his mouth, throwing daggers with his eyes. “Not until later this afternoon.” He replied with an indifferent hand way, as he reached for the cutting board and knife, quickly getting started on slicing the cucumbers, tomatoes and spring onion like Georgeta had asked.

 “Are you sure?” Camille piped in over her shoulder, an accusing look in her eyes before giving her attention back to the bread. “It sounded as if you needed to leave ASAP.”

 Georgeta laughed lightly. “It sounds to me as if these two are trying to rid of you Charles.” Bending down in front of a cabinet and seizing a frying pan.

 Glad to have an ally, Charles glare faded, a sweet smile tugged at his lips instead, gazing at Georgeta. “They are.” He stated innocently. “They want this amazing Romanian breakfast just for themselves.”

 Both Camille and Sebastian snickered. Sebastian spoke up. “Ma, I’m just repeating his words before you got here.” Opening the big plastic container, he assumed had the delicious meat he was so used to. His mouth watered when he finally took the lid off. Hell yeah. He would take Camille to brunch tomorrow. Feeling eager to share this breakfast tradition with her now. “Do you want me go ahead and put it in the microwave?”

 Georgeta had begun frying the eggs. “Da.”  She responded with a nod.

 A sudden feeling of warmth, love and gratitude washed over him at the sight of his mom. He took a step in her direction, wrapping one arm around her shoulder, squeezing gently before planting a big kiss on her cheek.

 Amused with laughter, Georgeta broke from his kiss, blinking in surprise. “What was that for?”

 Grinning back, he said simply. “Because I love you.” Giving her shoulder another squeeze. “And because I’ve missed you.” Placing another kiss on the other cheek. “And because I’ve missed your amazing home cook meals!”

 She tossed her head back with a short laugh. “I wouldn’t necessarily call this a home cook meal.” Patting Sebastian’s cheek mildly before turning to the stove.

 “We spent a lot of time eating out.” Camille added, taking a step in their direction. “But all of this looks and smells delightful.” Eyeing the fried egg Georgeta was working on.

 “We cooked sometimes.” Sebastian scoffed, emphasizing the word ‘sometimes’ before hitting the timer on the microwave. “You made your aunt’s chicken noodle soup recipe.” He reminded, folding his arms across his chest before leaning back against the counter. Trying his best to make easy conversation. Because even though she looked fine at the moment, he had feeling Camille was still a bit anxious in the presence of his mother.

 And almost as if on cue, she let out a nervous laugh. “I wouldn’t necessarily call it culinary.” Opening the oven door, setting the slices of bread in it.

 “If it’s anything like Sebastian’s cooking then its’ definitely culinary.” Charles mumbled.

 “Hey! I’ll have you know, I make a mean bowl of cereal and toast.” Feigning a look of hurt.

 Georgeta chuckled. “Sweetie, the last time you were home you burnt toast.”

 He heard Camille giggle next to him, he turned and scowled. For the next 5-10 minutes, they continued to badger Sebastian about his cooking skills- or lack thereof, as Charles, Camille and himself helped Georgeta with the food. All four of them filled their plate up with the delicious food breakfast food. When Camille came to the zacusca, Sebastian explained what it was and how much was needed on the bread.

 As they made their way to the dinner table, Camille peered at his plate and pouted. “How come you have more zacusca on your bread than I do?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sebastian answered, setting his plate down and turning back to the counter for his coffee and Camille’s.

 Taking the coffee out of his hand, she raised a suspicious eyebrow, sitting down next to Georgeta. His mom leaned a bit into Camille and said in a not so loud whisper. “We usually had to have two separate containers when he was growing up because he would eat most of it.” Winking, before reaching for her fork.

 Camille shoved a slice of tomato into her mouth, wiggling her eyebrows at this revelation. He tried to scowl but instead his lips twitched into a small grin. Sitting across from both women, he glanced at Charles. “Thanks for the support.” He uttered sarcastically. 

 Charles stopped mid chew, looking at Sebastian for the first time. “What? I knew that already.” His fingers reaching for a slice of bread.  

 Sebastian elbowed him in the ribs before taking a sip of the coffee. “I didn’t want it to go to waste.” Georgeta looked amusingly at him first then at Camille. Sebastian watched as Camille thrusted another piece of tomato in her mouth, trying to suppress the smile. Sitting up straight, leaning into the table, Sebastian squinted his eyes at both of them. “I don’t know how I feel about the two of you...” pointing an accusing finger. Yet, couldn’t help but feel a big pleased and relieved they were getting along. Even if it was at his expense.

 His mom squinted back playfully, taking a bite of her food at the same time Charles spoke. “He just doesn’t like that Camille has come in and quickly turned everyone against him.” Throwing Camille a wink as he put more food in his mouth.

 Camille’s eyes widen. “That’s not true.” Shaking her head and meeting Georgeta’s gaze.  

 “Ha! It’s not as funny when people start picking on you is it?” He teased, closing his eyes for a split second to enjoy his zacusca on his bread. Opening them back up, he saw the look on Camille’s face. She must have thought Charles comment would offend Georgeta, but Sebastian was sure it was quite the opposite of it.

 “But it doesn’t take much to pick on him.” Georgeta’s eyes dancing with amusement as she met his gaze.

 There it was! He thought to himself smugly. She could be playful when she wanted. “Thanks Mom.” He said sarcastically, chewing on a piece of bread himself.

 “I think Georgeta just gave us permission to keep picking on him.” Charles said to Camille. But she still looked hesitant to say anything. “Now, you stay quiet?” he asked in a blaming tone.

 “Charles…” his mother warned. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with the both of them.” Giving Camille a sympathetic smile.

 “It hasn’t been easy.” Camille said, a sheepish look on her face when she met Georgeta’s eyes.

 “Imi place de ea.” She said in Romanian to Sebastian.

 From the corner of his eye, Camille smiled shyly. “Who has the big head now?” he teased, looking back his mother. “She understood what you just said.” Nodding in the direction of Camille when he saw the look of confusion on Georgeta’s face.  

 “Oh!” She exclaimed. “You speak Romanian?”

 Sebastian chuckled softly to himself. It was always exciting when you found someone else who spoke Romanian.

 “Just what Sebastian been teaching me.” Camille answered. “Not fluently.”

 “In exchange, she’s teaching me Spanish.” He explained. “Or trying to anyway.”

 “Seriously?” Charles asked in an incredulously voice. Sebastian gave him a warning look. Charles pressed his lips together to keep from saying anything else. Instead he feign a look of innocence as he went back to his food. He didn’t’ even need to hear Charles to know he was about to make a smart ass remark.

 Georgeta didn’t seem phased, and instead focused her attention back on Camille. “Sebastian said your parents are from Central America?”  

 Camille gave Sebastian a quick glance. Obviously still surprised he shared so much of Camille to his mother. Was it really that weird? She just sort of came up in conversation, or was it he brought her up in conversation? Camille was part of his daily life now. He talked to Camille about Charles, and the rest of his friends. So what was the difference?

 “We migrated from El Salvador when I was about 4 years old.” She responded, tugging a strand of curly hair behind her ear.

 “We?”

 “Mmm hmm.” Nodding before setting her cup down. “My mom was here first, then a year later my dad and I followed.”

 “After a year?” Charles repeated.

 “Yeah.” Her fingers reaching for a slice of a vegetable on her plate. Giving an almost awkward look over at Sebastian. He gave a small nod of encouragement to let her know it was okay to continue if she wanted. “My mom had to save some money before she could try and get us here.” Pausing for a split second, then laughing nervously. “Apparently it’s not cheap trying to find a good coyote.”

 Sebastian carefully watched Charles and Georgeta’s reaction change when Camille’s words slowly begin to register with them. One of the things they had quickly bonded over was the fact they came from two different cultures/countries and migrated to the United States, finding that in someone was not an everyday thing. But somehow finding that in each other had been a good interest point for the beginning of their relationship. Sebastian did not know many people who could relate to the difficulty of coming into a new environment without knowing the language and being teased about it. And the more they got to know each other, it was obvious Camille did understand that growing pain.

 But the more Camille had shared, he realized how very different paths their parents had taken to get them to the states. He remembered the first time she had brought it up, almost hesitant in the idea of sharing that detail with him. Almost as if she was afraid of being shamed for it.

 Sebastian heard his mother. “It takes a lot of courage to do what your parents did.” All Sebastian wanted to at the moment was give her a huge hug in appreciation. It never crossed his mind that she would be any less understanding, but he also knew sometimes things just needed to be said out loud. And Sebastian knew this was one of those moments.

 Camille tilted her head slightly, chewing on her lower lip. “I thought so too.” She said in a whisper then looked over at Charles from across the table. “No comment from the peanut gallery?” she joked.

 And Sebastian knew that was as much as she was going to share about her experience.-at least for now. That was clear to him. If there was one thing Sebastian quickly learned about Camille was how she hated people feeling sorry for her. Even if that was not the case, it was always a fear. And Sebastian assumed it had a lot to do with how she was told to act after her parents’ death.

 Breaking out of his thoughts, Sebastian watched as Charles shook his head, leaning back against his chair. “It’s not a laughing matter. Georgeta is right. Obviously your parents knew what was right for them and you. I understand that completely.” Pausing for a split second. “And if anyone ever thinks it is a laughing matter, I’ll kick their ass.” A small grin appearing on his face.

 “He doesn’t even get this protective with me.” Sebastian scoffed, pretending to be hurt. “And he hasn’t even known her for 24 hours.” Yet, Sebastian couldn’t help but feel delighted at how quickly his friends, and now his mother gravitated to Camille. It only vindicated to him the kind of person Camille was. It wasn’t just him that saw the goodness in her.

 Damn. He really did have it bad didn’t he?

 “The older they get the worse they start to act.” Georgeta said to Camille with a wink.

 “You know I can hear you right?”

 “Oh I know you can sweetie.” Georgeta quipped. Charles snickered shoving more food into his mouth. “I was also talking about you.” Narrowing her eyes across the table at Charles.

 “Ha!” Sebastian taunted, chewing on a piece of bread.

 “You should have seen them when they were younger-“

 “Ma...” Sebastian interrupted, his face quickly flushing at the stories his mom could tell about him. Camille quickly sat up straighter, with one arm resting on the table, an enthusiastic look in her eyes. “She doesn’t want to hear any of those stories.” He stated, but her face said otherwise.

 Giving him a side look, Camille replied with a smirk. “Of course I want to hear about them. I make you listen to all of mine.”

 So as they all continued to eat breakfast, Georgeta told Camille a few stories about Sebastian growing up. Thankfully they weren’t the truly embarrassing ones, silently he thanked his mother for that. But some of her stories did have Camille in fits of giggles, which only fueled Georgeta to keep telling more.

 “Overall he was a good kid.” Georgeta concluded, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his forehead, then seized the dirty plates off the table, trudging back to the kitchen sink.

 Sebastian followed suit, quickly taking the plates out of her hands, giving her a light shake of his head. “I got it.”

 She didn’t argue. Instead she continued talking. “He was a cute chubby bebelus.” She gushed, placing both elbows on the counter.

 He groaned, hanging his head forward in embarrassment as he turned the faucet on. Great, now that she started, she wasn’t going to stop.  

 “Aww I would love to see pictures!”

 “She has plenty of naked baby pictures at her house.” Charles supplemented. Grinning from ear to ear at the look Sebastian was giving him at the moment. “What?” he said innocently. “It’s the truth!” While handing Sebastian another dirty plate. “She has them in frames and on the wall.” He continued, looking over his shoulder at Camille.

 With the smile still on her lovely face, Camille met his eyes. “Why, Sebastian Stan I believe your blushing.” she teased, leaning into the counter from the other side, her legs swinging gently behind her in giddiness.

 “Uh huh. Keep laughing.” He warned, scrubbing one of the dishes down. “I can’t wait until we hit Los Angeles.” Referring to the future meeting of Camille’s sister.

 “Okay, okay. Let’s stop teasing him.” Georgeta ordered with a hint of smile on her features. She peered back at Charles and asked instead. “Is there a reason why you were trying to rush out of here?” Charles looked startled by the question, but quickly recovered with a shake of his head. But Georgeta was not buying it. “And don’t you lie to me.”

 Camille spoke up. “He doesn’t want to be dragged around all of New York City.” Setting herself down happily down on the bar stool. Obviously the coffee had started to kick in. Because just like him, Camille had maybe gotten about 2 hours of sleep since their outing the night before. “I’m making Sebastian do the tourist thing for a few hours today.” She explained, batting her eyelashes playfully over at him. He wrinkled his nose, before continuing the task of washing the dishes. Why did he agree to this again?  “Even though he doesn’t want to. He’s being a good sport about it.” Camille finished.

 “It sounds like fun!” Georgeta said enthusiastically.

 “Yeah, for someone who’s never been to New York.” Charles wisecracked. But he quickly shut his mouth and pressed his lips together when he saw the look Georgeta was giving him. His best friend looked like a little kid who had just been caught stealing candy.

 Sebastian shook in head in amazement. It was telling how his mother or any mother for that fact, could intimidate a grown man with just a look. It just showed the power a mother had.

 “Sometimes it’s nice to see or experience things through someone else eyes. You never know what you could be missing.” Georgeta said, looking meaningfully between Sebastian and Camille, as if she knew something they didn’t know.

tag: @thewintersadie @its-daydreamer23  @jhangelface0523