#v: i’m like four days past my bedtime

[theallblue]

@legendreign liked for a starter!

After looking at countless schools, Sanji decided that this would be the best one which also had the favor of his old man. A school which Zeff once attended figuring that it was the best one because it would help reach the career he had in mind. One that he had plenty of interest in because of the skills which lingered within his own two hands, something else that he had in common with his adoptive father. 

Cooking was the one thing that the blonde loved, especially remembering the smiles that it caused, one of those smiles that once belonged to his mother. He tended not to speak much about his childhood while Zeff was the only one he was willing to claim as his father, he wanted nothing to do with the burden of the name that lingered over his shoulders. Sanji refused to claim himself as a Vinsmoke, he knew that Judge wouldn’t want him to. 

He was the son that Judge labeled as a failure. The only one from his family that Sanji was able to get along with was his sister, she was the only one who did care about him. She was the only one who he managed to make a good bond with while his brothers tended to look down at him. 

Sitting at a random table in the library, Sanji was looking through one of the many books because of the assignment that needed his attention. A group project with the one who he had been paired with, a random student that he was unfamiliar with. 

A student who soon appeared in front of him causing a light smile to grace his lips “Hi, you’re Saya right?”

[boredkaiju]

A sneak peak at an upcoming story I'm working on! (I'll be doing editing to fix some of the grammar before posting the full thing lol)

----------------------------------------------------  As Jaggy grew, he would become an incredibly curious child. Most children are curious, of course, but where his friends wanted to learn what fruits had the sweetest taste and what streams had the coolest waters, Jaggy’s mind was always on things most did not care to notice. Jaggy was curious about where the flying things came from and went as they passed over head. He wanted to know why there were so many stars but only one moon, why some things walked on four legs and other walked on two, and why the water in the rivers was always in such a hurry to go from one place to the next.

One night when Jaggy was a child, Garoh found him sitting on a large boulder and staring up at the sky.

Garoh chuckled. “It’s past bedtime, young man. What are you doing so late?”

Jaggy did not look down at his father. “Where do the sun and moon go when they’re not in the sky?” he asked.

Garoh was taken aback by this question. He climbed atop the boulder and stared up with him. “I’m not really sure.” he said. No further words were spoken for several minutes. Eventually, Garoh had formulated a theory. “Suppose they might go underground, maybe? Could be some tunnels underneath us they need to travel through to get back to the other side and start the next day.”

Jaggy wagged his tail. His eyes were still fixed on the moon, but a smile crept along his face at his father’s idea. He had a theory of his own. “What if there’s a new sun and moon every day and night?” he said.

Garoh only laughed and pulled his son in for a hug. His son’s curiosity for the world was infectious, and he found himself drawn in by wonderful, fantastical ideas that he would otherwise have never considered. ---------------------------------------------------- I'd also like to share the song that inspired this scene! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zcnoovBptu0 When I was a little one I’d sit and watch the setting sun And I’d wonder when it was gone Where was it going to visit next? All that time my eyes were pointed off Out into the distance Often drowning in my questions Like what will I learn From those with a foreign tongue? And what makes a river run? Oh, I wonder what I’ll become And what places will I belong?

[gojos-sidepiece-69]

Tokyo Tech Training- Chapter 5

The four of you first-years finally stumbled back to your dorms at the end of the day after an overdose of brain-rotting movies and binging food that would bring you one step closer to Type-2 Diabetes. You decided that a hot shower would help dissolve your stress from earlier, but that didn’t seem like nearly enough...a lightbulb flicked on over your head as you remembered that Tokyo Tech had a natural hot springs on location, and that sounded more than promising. You hadn’t used it yet, but you hoped it was empty; you signed in contentment at the thought of laying in hot water in the dark, unbothered: no thinking about anything, not even your literal deal with the devil. You could worry about that disaster tomorrow; today was enough of a shitshow in and of itself. It was 11:55 PM, so you quietly padded through the dorms so as not to wake anyone up.

You exited the building and strolled to the hot springs behind the building, taking in the cool night air. You inhaled slowly, and the scent of cherry blossoms filled you with tranquility.

In order to get to the hot springs, you had to pass through a small bamboo shed to rinse yourself clean and change into one of the clean bathing suits that were provided in the lockers. You shut the door to the shed behind you softly, and began stripping off your clothes. You kept your clothes out on the bench, much too tired to stow them away in a locker. The water droplets from the shower head felt cool and refreshing, and you walked over to the corner to pick up a swimsuit.

However, a small part of your brain told you that there was no way anyone would see you here; after all, it was dark and past the usual students’ bedtime on the weekdays. They were all such early risers. So you decided to forego a swimsuit and lay in the hot springs completely nude, because that would be the most relaxing. Who was going to judge you, anyways? People did this all the time. You grabbed a white towel to take with you for drying off after the soak, and headed out towards the spring.

You slipped into the hot water and sighed deeply, closing your eyes. You were in the moonlight surrounded by cherry blossom trees, beautiful black rocks, and the peaceful sound of water flowing. You leaned your head back against one rock and smiled, almost drifting off into sleep. The water felt like silk draped around you, and you were in it deep with only your head above the surface. “I didn’t peg you as the type to skinny dip at night, princess. But you keep proving me wrong,” said a familiar voice in a cocky, insolent tone. Your eyes flew open in fear, unfortunately landing on Gojo Satoru leaning back against a rock five feet away from you, head tilted upwards.

Your heart rate quickened with anger. This was supposed to be your night alone, head clear except for the sounds of running water. Your fool of a sensei was supposed to be 38 floors above you somewhere downtown, probably screwing another girl. Not sitting across from you, ruining your night. “What the hell are you doing here?” You said angrily, crossing your arms.

“Well, after a long day of exorcising high-grade unregistered curses all on my own, I thought I deserved a nice little dip in the spring. Funny, though, don’t people usually put something on before they jump right in?” He teased you and you instantly remembered how exposed you were to him. Even if it wasn’t anything he hadn’t already seen before, it still made you nervous. Why were you nervous? Nothing was going to happen. This was your night to unwind. You looked at him for a minute, trying not to stare. He had taken off his stupid black sunglasses and had his eyes closed, head still tilting up. He hadn’t opened them or looked at you yet, and you were just waiting for his eyes to pierce into yours. He looked like a sculpture, his strong arms resting on other rocks and his collarbones glistening with moisture. You scoffed at his comment. “Why are you here, exhibitionist?” He asked with a smile, and your face reddened at his comment.

“I’m not an exhibitionist. You think I care about getting your attention? I’m not that pathetic,” you jumbled out. “And if you must know, I’m here to relax after all the shit you’ve put me through in the past few days.” His smile deepened as he finally turned toward you and opened his beautiful eyes. You swallowed as he got up from his position and moved closer to you in the water. “Sweetheart, I haven’t put you through anything you didn’t want to do yourself. And I would argue that you do quite a lot to get my attention. Already forgetting about just yesterday, when you were jizzing all over yourself to the sight of me? You couldn’t keep your hands out of your pants.” Your chest started heaving as you forgot how to breathe.

He moved closer. “As for relaxing, I think I can help you with that.” He stopped about a foot away from you and your stomach flipped. “But I’m only going to help you if you ask me real nicely, like a good girl.” You silently cursed him for being such a stupid tease. Your brain was telling you to just get out of there before things escalated, to keep your ego and moral high ground intact, but those things were long gone. You hated yourself for thinking with your heat instead of your head. Damn it. You chewed on the inside of your lips, salivating at the sight of Gojo in the water. You could see droplets clinging to his chest, torso, and...v-line. His boxers were underwater, but he smirked when he caught you staring. “It’s not polite to stare,” he said intimidatingly, standing at full height, while you were still mostly underwater.

Your eyes snapped up to meet his, and you almost folded under the weight of your lust. Seeing him touch another woman yesterday only made you ten times hungrier for him. You needed a taste or you would lose your mind.

You could only manage a weak, “Come here,” but that wasn’t enough for him. He tutted and shook his head. “I said, ask politely. Remember the magic words?” You wanted to strangle him. “Please, Gojo?” Your voice almost cracked with impatience. “Wrong! You’re forgetting already?” He laughed, crossing his arms. Your mind flashed back to your first night together, when he asked you for those “magic words” before he went down on you. Oh. “Please...come over here, Sensei,” you said quietly, and he flashed his white teeth. “Good. Was that so hard?” He closed the remaining distance between you and you could’ve sworn your heart was going to burst right out of your chest.

He bent over and wrapped his fingers around the backs of your thighs, lifting you up onto the edge of a large, smooth black rock. Water spilled down from your body, revealing it all to Gojo. His head was directly level with your chest, but he didn’t make any sign of moving it yet. “Gojo, come on, I already asked you nicely. What else do you want?” You whined quietly. “Nothing, I’m just admiring the view,” he smiled, rolling your eyes at his boyishness. He secured both of his large hands tightly around your waist to keep you from slipping off the rock, and started sucking at one of your breasts. He started with just moving his tongue over your nipple slowly, and then took the whole breast in his mouth. He moved his tongue in a way that was making your pulse quicken and your thighs slick.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him in closer. He pulled his mouth off of your breast, and you looked down at it and nearly moaned at the sight of it: wet from his mouth, and left with tiny purple spots to mark his territory.

He moved onto your other breast, his face completely shoved against it. You could feel him smile against your chest, tongue again swiping torturously slowly across your nipple. You started panting, and you felt embarrassed that he could feel your heart moving at a million miles per hour while he was somehow still completely calm and collected. You gripped roughly at his wet hair, and whispered to him, “Need...need more.” He looked up at your blushing face and quirked an eyebrow. “More? You should’ve just said so. Always remember, communication is key,” he said as he roughly parted your thighs. “Shut up, idiot,” you choked out after his stupid insertion of a “wise” life lesson. He kept your shaking legs open with a Vice-like grip, and dipped his head down. His breathed teased against your opening for a few seconds, until he finally gave into his need to taste you.

His tongue took a broad stroke up your heat, lapping at the juices. He moaned lightly and pulled his head back out to make eye contact with you. “You taste so fucking good, sweetheart. You’re just gonna sit nice and still for me while I taste you, okay?” You nodded, and he went back down. He talked into your pussy as he said, “So pretty and wet, just for me,” and you just about lost it. His hands massaged and rubbed at your inner thighs softly while his tongue ravaged your pussy. He stopped at times to suck and blow onto your clit, and you had to forcefully bite down onto one hand to keep from screaming out and waking up everyone in Tokyo. The other still gripped onto Gojo’s hair. You could only moan softly as your teacher got you wetter and closer to your destination.

You pushed your legs around him tighter, and he kept moaning softly as he picked up his pace. He pulled his head back to look up at the mess you were, and made direct eye contact while inserting one, then two, of his fingers. You let out a feral sound, and he laughed at the effect he had on you. His ego liked how easily he could make you lose your mind, begging for him desperately like he was the only man on earth. He never broke eye contact while he grinned and pumped his fingers in and out of you. Your release was threatening to fall over, but you seemed to have an issue finishing without him telling you to. “Pl-please,” you panted breathily, and Gojo laughed up at you again.

“Okay, okay, needy. That’s it, you did amazing for me. You can cum now,” as he bent down to place another heavy kiss on your clit. You moaned loudly into your mouth as you came onto his luscious lips, and he groaned slightly. He pulled you off of the rock and onto the ground, and your legs almost gave out. He licked the mess you made off of his lips before saying cheekily, “You liked that, huh. Just can’t keep away from me. You feel more relaxed now?” You couldn’t help but nod, head still spinning from your intense orgasm.

“I could tell,” he said. Before you could think about returning the favor, your white-haired man-whore turned around and walked right out of the hot springs. Your eyes trailed over his back muscles longingly as he entered back into the bamboo shed. He left you with a dull ache between your thighs and a heaving chest. You raked a hand through your wet hair and squeezed your eyes shut. And just like that, the rational thinking and whatever was left of your moral compass came flooding back in. God damn it, again?! So this was going to be a regular thing now? Being fuck-buddies with your ridiculously attractive teacher? This was so illegal...but then again, since when were any of the rules in this Jujutsu world unbreakable?

You sunk back down into the hot springs and sighed. The amount of shame that washed over you was significantly smaller, because as much as you hated to admit it...he really did help you unwind. And release some pent-up stress. Okay, a lot of pent-up stress. You leaned your head back against a smooth rock and decided on a short nap before taking on the challenge of walking up to your dorm because you weren’t sure you’d be able to walk straight.

After a fifteen-minute power nap, you heaved yourself up out of the water and wrapped the fluffy white towel around your body. You made your way into the shed again, sleepily searching for the bench with your clothes on it. You could’ve sworn you put it on that one over there...your eyes narrowed as you frantically searched all the lockers for your clothes. Where the fuck were they? You couldn’t just walk back through the school in a towel, you’d get in trouble for sure...and then it dawned on you. Bastard. Gojo, the biggest fool of them all, probably thought it was a funny idea to snatch your clothes, leaving you even more of a hot mess than you already were. You were threatening to boil over in anger, so you picked up your phone to call him immediately.

He picked up after one ring, “Want more already?” He said airily. You could tell he was driving away fast, back to his place. “Shut the fuck up and listen for once in your life. Did you take my clothes?” Your voice shook. He gasped. “Why would you accuse me of such a thing?! I would never. That being said, yes, I took them. I couldn’t help it, your little pink panties were just so cute,” he laughed.

You couldn’t take it anymore. “Get over here right now. I’m not walking back through the school in a towel,” you said sternly. “Not a chance, sweetheart,” Gojo sang. “You’ll have to come get them yourself if you want them.” That wasn’t about to happen. “Go fuck yourself,” you said, and before hanging up on him, he replied, “Oh, I will, darling.” You were so angry that you ran all the way back to your dorm, not caring about loudly your feet were stomping on the floorboards. You saw three sleepy, confused faces peep out at you from their rooms, but they dismissed seeing a large, white fluffy bird fly past them as a weird dream.

You slammed your door shut and threw your towel to the side, putting on some actual clothes. You put your hands up against the wall and breathed for a minute, trying to process your emotions. This boy was going to leave you in a wheelchair and in therapy. You were ripped from your animalistic rage when you heard your phone chime. It was a single picture from your sensei. Him dangling your lacy underwear from his long index finger. You felt a familiar blush rising to your cheeks, but shook it away as you threw your phone against the nearest wall.

🌹

[joshslater]

Five Step Program

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I stared at the contents of the envelope, a blue jockstrap, and a folded piece of paper. I hadn’t put much hope into this “miracle solution” to becoming a jock without any of the work. Of course there was a catch. “First 20 customers get their first shipment free of charge” was enough for me to fill out the form with my information. It wasn’t anything too revealing. Name, address, height, weight, age. A box where you could write what you hoped to achieve with this revolutionary five step program. That’s what they really were after, I guessed. Having people enter their dreams so that they can tailor their next scam better. I was even surprised I got anything in the mail at all, and now having opened it, it made even more sense.

I could see how sending a jockstrap to someone perhaps fulfills some legal requirement that the recipient could now look like a jock. It could be a way to avoid getting a federal fraud charge. But I hadn’t spent a dime on this, so it didn’t make any sense. The jockstrap looked like any other jockstrap, I guessed. I’d never owned one, nor worn one. The pouch was dark blue and made with two layers of some synthetic mesh material. The big waistband was light blue with the letters JOCK repeated in dark blue around it. There was a faint smell of synthetic material and detergent. I did a mental sigh and opened the folded letter.

Congratulation on becoming one of our first customers on the revolutionizing five step Jock Express program. As a thank you for signing up, this first part is totally free of charge. Should you wish to continue the program, as we are confident you will after having successfully completed the first session, simply use the URL at the bottom of this page to enter your credit card information and we’ll send you the next item as soon as the payment is confirmed. I’m happy to inform you that we can offer a reduced price for the entire program, should you chose to start it within five days. The price is only $100 for the next installment, and progressively higher as you advance in the program. There is no commitment to purchase so you can stop the program at any point. We’re confident you will want to complete all the five steps in the Jock Express program.

Fuck that! What morons sign up to this kind of shit?

Instructions: The Jock Express is the easiest and most user friendly fitness program ever developed. Simply drink a lot of water, put on the items included in each program step, as you normally would, and go to sleep.

I was even more confused. Why would that sway anyone to put out $100 for at best another piece of gym clothing? I put it all in my in-tray on my desk and let it slip from my mind. I had dinner, watched TV, answered some late emails and the usual Tuesday stuff. By bedtime I walked past my home office and had the sudden recollection that I had something waiting in the in-tray. Then I remembered what it was, and almost reluctantly decided to go ahead with wearing the damn thing. I was still convinced it was a scam, but was immensely curious to exactly how it would work. If nothing else I would get to feel what wearing a jockstrap feels like. I drank a glass of water, put on the jockstrap, and went to bed. The jockstrap was as comfortable as anything and I quickly went to sleep.

Apparently I slept through the first alarm, and jolted awake on hearing the more incessant buzz from the phone. I jumped out of bed and it wasn’t until halfway to the bathroom I realized I was naked. I wouldn’t say massive, as in cartoonish in any way, but my dick and balls were noticeably bigger than before. It took a few seconds for my still startled brain to put the pieces together. The jockstrap had disappeared and somehow affected the body. It hadn’t replaced any body parts, I could still recognize my dick, but it was for sure altered. Suddenly $100 felt like way too little money. I didn’t even put any pants on as I typed in the URL from the letter. Jock Express step #2  for $100 and express delivery for another $25. Annoyingly no option to order all four remaining steps as a package. I just wanted to have them all in my house as soon as possible.

By the time I had entered all my details, checked all the boxes, and clicked the final webshop button I was rocking a massive hard-on. The biggest one in my life so far, by far. I didn’t care right then if I would come late or call in sick, I just knew that I had to take my pre-cum leaking enhancement for a test drive, and slowly started to move my hand up and down the shaft. It felt better than ever, and lasted longer than I have ever before. I’m not really sure how long, because I zoned out a bit while wanking, and then exploded with an epic load of cum. I managed to tilt the chair back and catch it all on my body, but then I felt really spent and dozed off, only to be brought back with a text message from my boss. Sick day it is, I decided.

A more apt description would be a lewd day. I just cycled between laptop porn, wanking and showers, and combinations thereof. I loved the difference it made when wearing underwear. Even when flaccid you could tell here was action waiting, not just only wearing underwear, but while wearing jeans too. I took photos so I had progress photos to compare with.

The next day was a strange one. I worked all day in the glow of someone with confidence, as if somehow I had done some achievement. I kind of surprised myself with how much of a difference it made when dealing with the pileup of emails from yesterday. Big dick energy. I could make decisions so much faster than I was used to. I don’t know if I really had more confidence, or just didn’t care as much. I was for sure giddy with anticipation of what was yet to come by overnight delivery. I forced myself to stay until official end of office hours and then bolted and drove straight home.

Thank God there was a DHL box in my mailbox, or I don’t know what I would have done. I opened it on my way in, and it’s contents were similar to the first one. A folded letter and some folded cloth. Without opening the letter I unfolded the cloth, which turned out to be a plain, sleeveless, white cotton T-shirt. Had there been someone to high five, I would have done so. I’m not fat, but there is a bit of flabbiness I would love to get rid of, so I couldn’t wait for this part. I felt anticipation in my stomach and something else in my pants. I hadn’t had a wank since this morning.

Evening couldn’t come soon enough. The letter said basically the same as the last one. A new URL for the $400 Jock Express #3, which I immediately ordered, again with overnight shipping. Not really sure what to kill time with, I figured a jock would watch sport, so I just randomly put some football on. I hadn’t really paid any attention to sports before, so I wasn’t sure about who was who, what the series looked like, or really what happened on the field besides the obvious. I ended up masturbating to the football, which in my opinion made it better. By 9:30 I decided to drink a few glasses of water, strip, put on the sleeveless T-shirt, and go to bed. I tossed and turned in anticipation for quite a while. The T-shirt had a very loose fit, and the big holes for the arms made it even more mobile, though it was anchored by the crew neck. Finally at some point I managed to fall asleep.

I woke up before the alarm. It was dark enough that I knew I hadn’t slept through them all. Instead of getting up or turning on the light, I just slowly moved my hand to my chest under the sheet. My chest was about the same size, but felt firmer, I imagined. But more importantly I was naked and the shirt was gone. I moved my hand down and couldn’t contain my joy when I started to feel the faint square of abs. I jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom to have a look in the mirror. The effect was better than I thought from just touch. My torso not only looked fit as a model, with abs and V and all, but younger and with better skin. Perhaps an illusion, but it almost looked like my dick was bigger as well.

Having woken up early, after a wank and a shower, I was one of the first in at the office and quickly got ahead on my tasks for the day. I still had the anticipation I felt yesterday, but today it was more like I knew what to expect. It wasn’t just a one-off or a fluke, this was legit and it was happening. As I started early I decided to flex out early and rush back home. I spent the drive home fantasizing about different types of clothing. I was kind of wishing for those sleeves they use in basket, to amp up my arms, but there might be some scientific reason why they changed the body parts in a specific order. Who was I kidding? This wasn’t science. This was magic.

I ripped open the familiar package as soon as I was inside the front door. This time it was white under armour legging of some sort, ending just below the knees. I was considering strip down fully naked and put on the leggings right then and there, and wear them until it was time to go to bed, but decided against it. Even though the descriptions were vague and didn’t really say you couldn’t do that, I didn’t want to risk fucking up the process. Instead I found some underwear in the same color as the jockstrap and took a pair of scissors to an old white T-shirt to make it look like the one I put on yesterday. Then I put on those, and nothing but, and sat myself in front of the TV, determined to actually try to follow the game this time, whichever game I happened to see.

It might be I imagined it, perhaps because I’ve never really seen myself in a sleeveless T-shirt before, but it looked to me like my arms were a bit more defined than yesterday. I realized that I had just assumed only the parts under the clothes are affected, but that’s just something I made up. It could be that it just primarily acts under the clothes, or perhaps it was just a coincidence and the clothes really could change anything. In the end I let it go. It didn’t matter, I couldn’t prove it either way, and I couldn’t watch a game, have deep thoughts and masturbate all at the same time anyway. I was so into it I almost forgot to order the next package. A steep $1000 for whatever the next item was, but so far it was fucking worth it.

I really liked how I looked in the 3/4 leggings or whatever the fuck they are called. Just imagining how much better I would look the morning after made me go to bed with a big boner, despite being thoroughly wanked. I tried to calm myself by thinking of the last game I watched, and not give Jock Express a thought, and it kind of worked. I know I fell asleep pretty quickly and dreamt of football until the alarm woke me up.

“Fuck yeah!” was the first I could think when I saw myself. The thighs were about as large as before, but the line going down them made it obvious they were muscles and not jiggle matter. It even felt different just standing. I’m almost positive my dick had grown even more. Who the hell wouldn’t dish out $400 or whatever for this shit?

While the day started great it quickly became frustrating with all the corporate bullshit. I knew how to do my job. There were just so many fucking rules in the way of doing it in the best way. Perhaps the anticipation of the second to last package made me be in a bad mood. Whatever. I bolted as soon as I could, cranked up the volume in the car, trying to not think of anything until I got home. I almost punched something when I opened the mailbox and didn’t find an envelope. Instead it was just a note about DHL attempted to deliver while I wasn’t home. I could either call them to deliver tomorrow or drive to a pickup point. Like fuck I would wait another full fucking day.

I was furious when I got back into the car, blasting music as loud as I could, but I quickly calmed down. Perhaps this was a good thing? It might be a box with shoulder pads from football or hockey or lacrosse or whatever the fuck else looks hot. You know what else is hot? Michael at the DHL pickup point. I mean, I’m not homo or anything, I’m just saying he was a good looking dude.

The packet he gave me was a bit disappointing though. No way it could contain anything as large as shoulder pads. I didn’t want to fuck with my mojo, so I kept the same routine as before and didn’t open it until back home. Fucking cleats and socks. Another fucking leg day. And they smelled bad too, like distilled vinegar or some shit. As I entered the URL from the letter on my phone I got two more shocks. The price of the last package was ten thousand fucking dollars! And even worse, the delivery wouldn’t arrive until Monday. Two fucking days away. “This is bullshit” I shouted at nobody and threw the empty cardboard box into the wall to no damage to either.

I was still furious and went straight to the fridge, pulled out a cold can of beer, opened it, and downed half of it. It felt better, but I was still upset on the world in general. I looked at the phone screen again. $10k is a fuckton of money. There wasn’t a rush to buy it right now either, if they didn’t do overnight delivery during weekends. I emptied the can and crushed it against the countertop. It hurt my hand, which just added to my anger for being such a weakling. I pulled the rest of the six-pack out of the fridge and threw it in the living room couch on my way to the bedroom. I needed to get out of these stuffy office clothes and cool down with a cold one, or four.

I ripped off the tie and started to unbutton the shirt on my way into the bedroom, and once there opened the door to my wardrobe. I felt like a girl, not knowing what to wear. I hated everything my eyes fell on, and I hated feeling like that. I bunched the shirt into a ball and threw it into a corner, together with the tie. I climbed out of the pants as quickly as I could and threw them there as well. Then I stopped myself.

Everything I saw I really liked, I realized. The pecs, the abs, the thighs, and the generous bulge in the boxer briefs.I yanked off my socks and more deliberately lowered my boxers to let the dick and balls loose. I knew what I wanted from this junk selection of clothes, and opened a drawer with my athletic clothes and pulled out a pair of grey sweatpants. It was Friday and my dick and balls deserved some freedom, I thought, as I put on the sweats without any underwear. I picked up the sleeveless T-shirt from the floor by the bed and put that on as well. I felt so much better. A few beers, whatever game was on, and some more wanking, and perhaps this could turn into a good evening after all.

After two more beers, cum stains on sweatpants, T-shirt and the couch, and fuck knows how many games I zapped through I couldn’t wait any longer. Whatever bullshit the cleats and sock did, the sooner it was over with, the sooner I could move on with the final package. $10k was still a lot, but if I sold all shares I could buy it, keeping both house and car.

The socks went almost up to the knees, but weren’t any real soccer socks or anything like that. The looked more like something someone might have to the gym, or something a skater would wear. Skater was perhaps right, because they smelled like that vinegary acidic smell of really sweaty skater shoes. The socks were white with a wide black band around it near the top, and were a bit off-white on contact surfaces around the foot, as if they had been used in black shoes by someone. As if I would fucking care. I pulled up both legs of the sweats over the knees and put on both socks, pulling them as high as possible. The cleats were black and a bit banged up, but fit perfectly on my feet. I didn’t even remember having given out my shoe size. I was unsure how tight to tie them, so I went with comfortable without being loose.

It felt weird walking with them, like the shoes were pushing your forward. Not at all like my much flatter leather shoes. Somehow my test walking ended up by the fridge, so I grabbed another six-pack and returned to the couch for some more ESPN or whatever.

I had no idea what sport it was on the screen, but glancing out the window I could see that it wasn’t evening anymore. I must have fallen asleep, I realized, but I felt way better than I ought to, given the pile of crushed beer cans around me. I walked to the toilet to have a piss, and it wasn’t until I lowered the front of my sweatpants to grab my morning semi-stiff snake I realized I was barefoot. I was pissing for probably a good minute, aiming down with one hand. Holy fuck so much I’ve kept in while sleeping. I was pretty sure I had cleats and socks on when I fell asleep. I did a few bounces on the balls of the feet. It felt fucking great, and shook loose the last drops of piss from my dick. I dropped it back into the sweatpants, and broke into a smile from how fucking huge of a tent it made, despite being just a semi. I did a few more jumps, looking at how the flagpole in my front swung up and down. I really didn’t deserve to feel this great after yesterday, but I’d fucking take it. I felt so full of energy I felt I could do anything. I wanted to run just to see how it would feel.

I dashed into my bedroom and emptied the rest of the athletic clothes drawer on the floor. Some T-shirts, a pair of basket shorts, white socks and wiped down indoor and outdoor shoes. All of it was underwhelming, outright disappointing. And why the fuck did I keep the shoes here and not by the door? I grabbed the outdoor shoes and without bothering with socks started to mash my foot into it. It was clearly at least one size too small, perhaps several. Who the fucks know how shoe sizes work. I threw both shoes into the wall above my pile of office clothes. Fucking hell. Why do all days start out great and then go downhill so fast, I wondered.

I grabbed a pair of flip flops, the car keys, and pulled the credit card out of the wallet and walked out to the car. The car stereo startled me when I turned the ignition key, as it blared out some hip hop at max volume. I reached to turn it down, but changed my mind. It felt like my mood, as I was driving to my closest mall almost below speed limit. There wasn’t much traffic out anyway on a Saturday morning. As I turned into the almost empty parking lot in front of the mall I realized the fucking God damn shit mall would open for another 40-something fucking minutes. I wished I could turn up the music louder.

As I looked down on the cum stains on my shirt and tenting sweats I decided why the fuck not, and started to beat off in sync with the music.

40-something fucking minutes later I entered the sporting goods store in the mall. Johnson’s or Dick’s or Willy’s or whatever, I don’t care. I picked up some proper compression clothes, like the leggings I had earlier with a matching top. I got myself some outdoor Nike’s, a few proper tanks, some jocks, boxer shorts and socks, new flip flops, and a snapback cap. On the way to the cashier I decided to pick up a wooden baseball bat and a regulation size football as well. Back in the car I ripped off all the stickers and shit and put on something I could run in. The sneakers, jockstrap and shorts, a tank top, and the snapback. I left the car and just ran.

It was a revelation. The first time I tasted ice cream or coca cola, or the first time I discovered I could do something else with my dick besides peeing and hitting it too hard. I felt like a good damn terminator. Like as long as I kept the pace below sprinting I could run for hours. Trickles of sweat running down my face, my arms, my back, wetting the fabric of my clothes where it could, cooling the skin with the breeze my motion generated where it couldn’t. I have no fucking idea how long I actually run. When I finally ended up back in the car I was steaming and real fucking hungry.

I felt like a shower was in order, but I was too hungry to do that first. I went by Five Guys and had a bacon cheeseburger with fries and a peanut butter milkshake. As I started eating I realized I wasn’t anywhere near tired. It was probably enough running for today, but I wanted to do more. Halfway through the meal I decided I would visit the gym we had a company membership at. I had only been there a few times since the introduction walkthrough. I wasn’t even sure I had the card in my wallet anymore, or if it was in the bowl of stuff in the kitchen.

I made a quick stop at home, unloaded my car, found the card, and set off to the Pacific Wellness Center. The dude in the lobby had a pissy attitude and asked me if I was wearing indoor shoes. I asked him what they looked like, and he let me in. Such a shame, because he was kind of good looking.

Inside the gym the results were mixed. Squats, lunges, planking, and abductor machine all went excellent. It was fun, even. But everything involving arms went miserably. I could only lift a pathetic load, and after a few reps I would be tired. I even embarrassed myself in front of two massive gym buddies. One of them had amazing arms. You could see how strong they were even when he wasn’t lifting, but fuck me what beautiful ‘ceps when loaded. And tanned too. It was lucky I had the jockstrap on, because that body was smoking hot.

I could only stand a few more failures after that and then sped back home, still with hip hop at max, in a mix of emotions. I got naked on the way to the bathroom, and there I spent perhaps an hour in the shower, getting the grime and sweat off me, and wanking twice, thinking of the arms of the hot dude. As I dried myself on a towel I knew I had to buy the last package. Ten fucking thousand fucking dollars. I had to use the laptop to access my bank, and once I had put in the sell order for my stock portfolio I saw the pornhub tabs I hadn’t looked at since Wednesday.

The big-busted bimbos I had wanked my way through the Wednesday suddenly didn’t seem as interesting. I clicked around a bit until I found a muscle stud fucking a Latino girl. How quickly the taste can change, but except for pathetic arms, I’m was now the muscle stud. I quickly entered the URL from the Jock Express #4 box and ordered the last package. The delivery date was still Monday, so come Tuesday the muscle stud would be me. Only one fucking week.

Since I was out of beer I threw on my old shorts and a T-shirt, and had a walk to my nearest convenience store and bought one six-pack for each hand. I was feeling a bit stiff from the training, but it was much better than it ought to be.

As I opened the door back at home the warm smell of gym clothes, sweat, and feet hit me. I did the responsible thing and threw everything in the washing machine, opened a beer, and started to watch whatever was on.

Sunday was just a boring-ass filler day. I woke up at a decent time, had a long run. I passed through the park, but didn’t engage with any of the groups playing football or beach volley there. I could wait two more days to get my arms sorted. I did some cleaning up and domestic shit back home. Then I went to the gym again, but this time I pretended it was leg day, so I didn’t have to embarrass myself. After dinner I had an evening jog as well, and only had a few beers before bedtime.

Same thing on Monday. Woke up pretty early and went for a long run. When I was almost back home I got a text message from my boss, saying we needed to talk about my performance over the last few days. My answer “Suck my balls” probably summed up the conversation much better than any in-person meeting. I found that the best way to find porn with muscle studs in them was to search in the gay section. Just because you like to watch big arms and strong backs doesn’t make you homo. I jacked off to the videos until it was time to eat lunch. By 2 pm I was climbing on the fucking walls in anticipation, and every minute felt like too long. Perhaps it wouldn’t arrive today at all? I heard the mailman at 2:18 and rushed out wearing only shorts and snapback.

The mailbox was stuffed full with a big, soft envelope. I tore it open on my way back inside, kicked the door shut, and emptied the contents on my kitchen table. A big black something fell out, as well as something small that rattled across the table. Ignoring the letters, as usual, I unfolded the cloth. It was a big, black hoodie in sweatshirt material, with the print “STRONG” on the front. Finally arms! I picked up the small plastic box that almost fell off the table and opened it. It contained some sort of advanced mouthguard mad in blue, white, and transparent plastic of different hardness and flex. The kind that football players use.

Not knowing what to do next, I went to the gym and spent a few hours just randomly doing low weight, high rep stuff. I was trying to catch a glimpse of everyone else who worked out to see what their arms and legs looked like. Once I felt it was too obvious I wasn’t doing anything serious I drove home, but instead of going inside I started to walk and walked for hours just looking. It felt good just to be in motion. I didn’t return back until the sun started to set, and it was almost fully dark when I walked through the door.

I decided to just go ahead with the last piece of transformation. I stepped out of my sneakers and pulled off my damp socks. It didn’t smell of strawberries. I pulled off the T-shirt and stepped out of the basket shorts, but kept the compression shorts on. I grabbed the hoodie from the table and put it over my head. Perhaps it was me, but it smelled of musky sweat inside while I put it on. I poured myself a big glass of water and downed it.

I walked with the small plastic box to the bathroom and had a look in the mirror. I didn’t really look that different. The big hoodie hid my newly athletic front. The legs and feet looked strong, but who ever notices that? My big bulge in the compression pants was however a change from the past week that couldn’t easily be hidden. I opened the box and put the mouthguard into my mouth. It fit snugly and didn’t change my appearance much either. Not knowing what to do with the hoodie I put it up over my head and pulled it tighter with the drawstrings so all but my face was gone. Then I turned off all the lights and went to bed.

It was still dark when I woke up. Instantly I knew it had worked, because I couldn’t feel the mouthguard in my mouth, though it felt different. As if the ghost of the mouthguard was still there, prying my mouth open. I felt some sort of pressure on my head, as if I was wearing a hat or a beanie or something. I was about to feel my head when I realized moving my arm felt different. Not wanting to fuck around any longer I went straight to the bathroom again to have a look in the mirror. I stared at my reflection with open mouth. The difference was breathtaking.

First of all I wasn’t wearing any top, so my abs and pecs were on full display, but they were also bigger than before. Everything was bigger. My shoulders were much bigger, my entire upper body looked wider than before, and everything about the arms were huge. My face was still my face, but there were lots of small changes. “Fucking dope” I said with a much deeper voice than what I had before. I smiled a smirk and flexed the arms in different poses. I couldn't wait to show up at the gym doing an arm day. I just needed to have another shower. My dick needed service, and I felt sluggish, as if I hadn't really wakened up yet.

[strawberry-skies-xx]

a million reasons to let you go

C H A P T E R   S E V E N

word count: 2029

tags: eventual hiccup/astrid, slow burn, fluff, angst, happy ending, feral hiccup, hiccup whump, bamf hiccup, protective astrid, protective hiccup, interrogation, aftermath of torture, implied/referenced torture, hurt/comfort, stoick’s a+ parenting, stoick’s bad parenting, hiccstrid fluff, hiccup and toothless friendship

main masterlist | story on ao3 | next chapter >>

Gothi grumbles for all of three seconds when Astrid wakes her up from her early bedtime, but as soon as she sees Hiccup cradled in Astrid’s arms, her face sobers and she gestures to one of the extra beds.

Astrid sets him down gently, and if asked she will deny to her last breath that she runs a concerned hand through his hair, but Gothi doesn’t say anything and Astrid steps back to let her examine him.

Astrid stands there worriedly for five minutes before Gothi whirls and smacks her arm with her staff, gesturing irritatedly to a chair, and Astrid reluctantly sits down.

Shoving down the fear and worry for Hiccup doesn’t work, so Astrid spends at least an hour watching Gothi strip Hiccup’s shirt, touching hesitant fingers over what does turn out to be a brand on his chest, rubbing in lotions and wrapping bandages, all in utter silence except for Astrid’s racing thoughts and worries.

Finally, Gothi turns around and Astrid stands up instantly. “Will he be okay?” she blurts out first, without thinking.

She quails only slightly under Gothi’s reproachful look, but the elder nods and Astrid exhales in relief, feeling a weight she didn’t know she had lift off her shoulders.

And then she turns to the real issue, the one equally as pressing as Hiccup’s survival, if not part of his survival.

“Gothi,” she says hesitantly, and the healer turns from her sorting to face her. “Can you- this needs to be a secret, for his sake. Please?”

Gothi’s expression doesn’t change, and for a heart-stopping moment Astrid thinks that she’ll have single-handedly betrayed Hiccup and possibly ended his life, but then Gothi gives a slight nod and an indulgent smile. Her face turns stern just as quickly, tapping the Berk seal on a nearby parcel and glancing outside, and Astrid takes it for what it is.

Gothi won’t hide it from Stoick if he asks, but she won’t tell beforehand either. That’s more than Astrid hoped for, anyway, and now she hopes desperately that her luck doesn’t run out, and Hiccup survives.

Hiccup doesn’t wake for four days. At first, it’s from the sheer severity of his injuries - Astrid spends a good hour in the forest tossing her axe into trees when she learns that the men starved Hiccup for the week they had him - but Gothi puts Hiccup into his own sleep just so he can heal faster. She kicks Astrid out after the first morning, and she spends two days stalking around the village, glaring hard enough that everyone avoids her.

Fishlegs, however, doesn’t succeed. Astrid chases him down on the second day, pulling his Book of Dragons edition out of her clothes and dragging him just into the edge of the forest, swinging him so his back hits the bark of a tree and she holds the book up, expression stormy.

“What do you know about them?” she demands.

Fishlegs’ eyes widen. “About- about who? Where’d you get that? I left it in the forest!”

“And why were you in the forest near the cove, and why was the plant next to it burnt to a crisp? And why are there annotations that aren’t yours in the book? The Night Fury page is filled!”

Fishlegs whimpers, eyes darting around. Astrid glares, until his gaze meets hers and he closes his eyes, squeezing them shut as all his words come out in a rush.

“Snotlout and the twins asked me to go to the cove with them and we saw a Night Fury!” Fishlegs blurts. Astrid keeps her glare up for another long moment, then steps back, her expression smoothing over into the closest approximation to a neutral face as she has these past two days.

Fishlegs opens his eyes hesitantly, watching Astrid worriedly as he slowly turns to face her again, relaxing only slightly. “So… you’re not going to kill me with your axe?”

Astrid grins. “Oh, you’re not off the hook yet. Did you see anyone else?”

He hesitates, gaze darting around again, and Astrid glares again. It takes all of three seconds, in which Fishlegs meets Astrid’s glare and whimpers, for him to start talking. “There was a boy with the Night Fury. He was… defending it,” he says, and his eyes start to light up with the mystery of something he hasn’t learned about. “I’ve never seen anything like it, Astrid. He had a flaming sword, and moved with the dragon like-”

Astrid cuts him off. “I’ve heard enough. I’m assuming Snotlout and the twins were foolish enough to attack those two?”

Fishlegs nods, and then his eyes widen as he realizes what she said. “Wait, you know them- Astrid, what have you been doing-”

“Find Snotlout and meet me back here as soon as possible,” she interrupts, tone sharp.

“You know, I really don’t think-”

Astrid glares at him, feeling the anger simmering in her gut, and Fishlegs quails, nodding quickly. Astrid watches him for another moment, and then walks past him, annoyance in every movement of her body.

She has to find the twins.

“You went after him twice?!”

Snotlout glances down at Astrid’s axe, whose edges are embedded in the wood on either side of Snotlout’s head and the curve in the middle circling his neck, and then back at Astrid, whose glare is fiercer than it was when she was interrogating Fishlegs.

“Yeah, why is this important?” he asks, voice panicked with the threat to his neck. “They kicked my butt both times, well, they did one time and you did the second-”

Astrid shoves her axe closer to his throat, effectively cutting his sentence off with a yelp, then yanks her axe back with a glare and walks away. She faces the group - Snotlout, the twins, and Fishlegs - and glares at them all.

“Do you know what could’ve happened if the rest of Berk found out about those two?” she asks, voice harsh. “If Stoick found out about those two?”

Tuffnut makes a questioning face. “Well, you told Stoick and he didn’t believe you. I’d say nothing would happen.”

Astrid whirls on him, turning the full force of her glare towards him, and he goes quiet. “If they got injured,” -and she tries not to think about how they already are injured- “their defenses would’ve been down, and you know Berk would hunt them if they ever discovered, and believed, there to be a Night Fury in the forest. And the boy too!” She didn’t say Hiccup, because it was far too risky and she couldn’t trust them with his name. “He would’ve been brought back to Berk and most likely jailed!”

Under her glare and harsh words, all four of them shrink away from her anger. It’s a long moment before Snotlout finally speaks up, hesitantly and still glancing at the axe in her hand.

“You know them, though, right? I saw you talking to the kid the second time I attacked them. Or- tried to attack them. A bit difficult, you know, with all the axe-throwing and threatening-“

Astrid holds up her axe and smiles. “Would you like me to throw it again?”

Snotlout shakes his head quickly, voice rising an octave and hands raising in surrender. “No, no axe-throwing, I didn’t mean it, it was a joke!”

She lowers her axe and sees Snotlout let out a breath of relief, and then she looks at him - neutrally. “I do know them. I’ve been talking with them for just a few days.”

Fishlegs frowns. “But you called the hunt a month and a half ago.”

Astrid nods. “I didn’t have much time to sneak out and see them.” She glares at Snotlout, again. “And the last time I did, they had tried to leave. Because of what you did. The boy thought that I lied to him about not wanting to hurt him. He threatened me, and thanks to you  the trust he’d built in me was almost entirely destroyed.”

Snotlout glances away, muttering something under her breath that Astrid doesn’t care to find out, and Ruffnut speaks up next. “So what now? We have a dragon and a dragon-boy who want to leave, why don’t we let them leave?”

Now Astrid sighs defeatedly, staring down at the floor. “They can’t.”

“Why not?” Ruffnut asks.

“They did leave,” Astrid says. “I came back… and the Night Fury was all alone in the cove. The boy was injured and unconscious, so… I took him to Gothi.”

Fishlegs gasps. “Where’s the Night Fury?”

“Still in the cove. He was injured too, and unconscious. He would’ve never let me take the boy otherwise.”

“Does Stoick know?”

Astrid looks up at him. “No. Do you think the village would have been so quiet if he did?”

Fishlegs sighs. “No…”

Ruffnut frowns. “So… now what are we gonna do? If the boy is at Gothi’s… how long until Stoick goes in and asks about him?”

Astrid looks down. “I don’t know. We need to get him out somehow, but he’s too wounded to leave without more medical attention, and his medical supplies aren’t nearly enough. The dragon can’t apply medicines, either, so we can’t bring them to his cave.”

Tuffnut looks up then, out at Berk, and his eyes widen. Astrid opens her mouth-

And gets cut off by Stoick, towering over her and with a stormy expression on his face. “Astrid,” he says. “Who is the boy at Gothi’s?”

Now her eyes widen - that was a much shorter time frame than she expected to figure something out about Hiccup, and she blurts out the cover story that she hadn’t fully refined yet, because she didn’t think Stoick would find out so fast, but now it’s all she has. “I found him,” she says quickly. “He- he was injured, and unconscious, so I brought him to Gothi. I didn’t want a big deal made of it so I asked her to keep it a secret,” she adds on impulse, adrenaline and fear shooting through her. “Neither of us were going to lie if you asked, though, I swear!”

Stoick stares her down, expression unflinching. Astrid stares back, ignoring the wild pounding of her heart, and it seems like forever until Stoick’s face softens and he steps back.

He nods. “I believe ye. Come with me to Gothi’s. I want you to tell me what you know about him, and where he may have gotten his injuries.”

Stoick walks away then. Astrid shares a panicked glance with her friends, eyes wide and slightly trembling as the weight of what she has to do and lie about drops down on her, and she turns to follow Stoick.

Hiccup is still unconscious when they make it to Gothi’s, but he looks a little better - some of the bruises have faded, and the bandages wrapped around some of his cuts have stayed white instead of being soaked in blood. He’s also been cleaned, face and body now free of dirt and blood, and Astrid resists the urge to go to him and touch him, just to be reassured that he’s alive and breathing. She doesn’t know when it was that she started caring about him so much, but it’s happened and now she can’t exactly stop the tight feeling in her chest when she thinks about Hiccup being hurt.

“Do you know his name, Astrid?” Stoick asks. “Where did you find him?”

Astrid shakes her head, staring down at the ground. “I don’t know his name. I found him,” -she thinks of everywhere on Berk, because she knows she can’t tell Stoick the truth or they’ll find Toothless, and picks a location anywhere but the cove- “on the south side of the island, by the water. It looks like he’d washed up on shore.”

Stoick grunts. “When he wakes, we’ll ask him about his name, where he’s from, and what happened to him. We can’t have intruders on our island.”

Astrid nods, worry for Hiccup and thoughts about how she’s lying to the Chief of Berk making her hands shake and her heart pound. She turns away, hiding her face from Stoick.

“Yes, Chief,” she says.

next chapter >>

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 82

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​

The storm rolls in shortly before nine; torrential rain and howling winds that rattle the windows, bend tree branches, and strip them of leaves.  Both the thunder and lightning are intense and incessant; resounding booms that seem to shake the entire house and forks of silver that slice through the coal black sky.  The sudden change in weather does little to improve Tyler’s mood; the pressure in the air bringing a migraine that settles in both temples and  over his left eye. While the sadness and hints of guilt, regret, and even embarrassment have faded, they’ve been replaced with emotions much more profound and unsettling. Immense hatred. Blinding rage. A desperate and powerful want and need for revenge.

It’s been almost three months since it all began. Kicking off with Mahajan’s badgering of his son in regards to taking over the ‘family business’, escalating into threats against his family that grew more disturbing with each passing day, and culminating in an unwanted return to Dhaka. It’s complicated and twisted; each hour brings an added layer that only pushes the finish line further and further away.  His physical pain may be worsening; but it’s his mental stability that is the most concerning. Unable to turn off the emotionally driven side of him and solely look at things from a mercenary’s point of view. He knows he’s on the edge; barely hanging on his last shred of sanity. The games have taken their toll; hearing vile things about his wife and children serving as the final nails in the coffin. Even if he does survive with his body intact, he’s not sure if his brain will be as fortunate. It’s a no win situation. Whether it’s a busted up body or a broken mind, he’ll suffer either way. And so will his family.

He places a call to Kyle’s cell phone, grimacing at the pain that shoots through his right leg and across the small of his back as he takes a seat at the end of the bed.  Anil had one of his ‘people’ stop by; a physician originally from Mumbai who’d not only  taken the CEO position at one of Dhaka’s private hospitals, but holds the utmost contempt for both the ghost of Amir Asif and those still pledging loyalty to him.

“He’s been dead for seven years,” he’d said. “Yet he’s still sending me patients and putting bodies in my morgue. Old, young; his drugs and his people do not discriminate.”

That had been the extent of conversation. No small talk exchanged as he put Tyler through a series of physical tests to determine the state of his mobility issues. The doctor offering little more than heavy sighs and shakes of head as he discovered things were worse than he initially suspected. Torn ligaments and tendons, the disintegration of cartilage, scar tissue. A lengthy list of things that could be causing problems but would definitely have to be properly -and extensively- investigated by a specialist. For the time being, there’s nothing anyone can do, aside from prescribing yet another painkiller with strict orders that someone else be in charge of dispensing it. He can’t be trusted to do it himself; the first one to admit that he has absolutely no control over the demon of drug addiction. And he’d been more than happy to hand over the responsibility; as long as he’d get some relief.

So far he's pleasantly surprised; the two pills he’d taken an hour ago successfully -and quickly- taking the edge off without making him feel ‘doped up’. The pain is still present, but nowhere as intense or unbearable. Relegated to a dull, continuous throb akin to the agony of a bad toothache.

Kyle answers on the third ring, giving a quick ‘hey’ followed by “I’ll get one of the kids for you.”  It’s the first time they’ve spoken since right before he and Esme had left for Dhaka; Kyle still sore over the fact he’d been called out for his poor treatment of his sister.

“Hold up,” Tyler says, smirking at the sound of his brother in law’s heavy sigh. “How’s things there? And don’t bullshit me.”

“Things are okay.”

“Okay as in good or okay as in they could be better?"

“If you’re just asking about the kids, then things are okay as in good. Ovi and I are making sure we keep them busy; filling their days up. And they’re happy as they can be when they’re missing both their mom and dad as much as they are. It’s hard on them; both of you being gone. But they’re doing alright. They’re coping. We’re busting our asses to make sure they don’t catch wind of what’s really going on.”

“Thanks for that. Esme and I appreciate it. Keep an eye on Millie though. She figured everything out, and while she promised she wouldn’t say anything to her brothers, I wouldn’t put it past her if they pissed her off enough. Nothing she loves more than tormenting those two.”

Kyle gives a small chuckle. “I’ll keep an eye on her. There hasn’t been any actual fights so far, but she has threatened to beat their asses a few times. You know, she’s a mind fuck that kid. She’s so sweet and cute to look at…

“But she’s a total savage,” Tyler finishes for him.

“Exactly. She doesn’t take any shit. Esme was like that as a kid; no one dared messing with her because she’d beat the ever loving hell out of them. Small, but tough. How is she? She doing okay?”

“She’s hanging in there. Just ready for all this to be over. Sooner the better. Anything going on there? Anything weird or suspicious or…”

“Other than Anil going ape shit on all the nannies and replacing them all? Things have been pretty quiet. There’s been a couple little things here and there; people getting too close to the house, calling here and hanging up, dead cat thrown over the fence.”

“That’s all rookie stuff. Someone trying to unnerve ya. I wouldn’t put too much stock into it; guys who can really do damage start bigger and end even bigger. They don’t bother with bullshit like that. You’ll call, yeah? If things get any weirder?”

“I will,” Kyle promises. “Keep  my little sister safe, okay? I wish she wasn’t involved in this at all, but..”

“She’s safe with me. She always is. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect her. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do. But I wish she’d never gotten dragged into all of this in the first place. And I’m not talking now. I’m talking seven years ago. If you’d just thought of her instead of yourself…”

“Is that daddy?”   Millie’s voice interrupts Kyle before he can launch into his tirade. “Mommy said daddy was going to call us. Is that him? Can I talk to him? I want to talk to him.”

There’s a slight rustling noise as the phone is passed from person to person, and the first smile of the day manages to make its way to his face when his daughter greets him with a cheerful “Hi daddy! I miss you!”

He tries not to think about it; the threat made against her and the knowledge of what would be done to her. She’s only six. Still a baby. HIS baby. “Hey,” he says. “Hey  baby girl.”

“Mommy said you’d call and you did! She said you were feeling a bit sad ‘cause you miss us so much.”

“I am a bit sad,” Tyler admits. “I do miss you guys. You being good?”

“I’m trying. But TJ really tests my patience. He’s so annoying! Why does he have to be so annoying?”

“Because he knows it bothers you. Just try to ignore him”

“It’s hard!” Millie laments.  “It’s really, REALLY hard. It’s like he wants me to punch him in the face.”

“Well I’d rather you didn’t punch anyone in the face.”

“But I’m not a pacifist. I’d rather  ‘pass a fist’.”

“Where did you learn that?”

“I’m not a snitch. Snitches get stitches.”

“How about you rein in your temper a bit,” he suggests. “Just take it from the source. He’s doing it to get a reaction. Don’t give him one. That’ll irritate him and he’ll get bored and back off. How are you? You doing okay?”

“I’m okay, I guess. I miss home. Can we go back soon? Are you almost done your work? I really want to go home.”

“So do I. And it’ll be over soon.”

“And then you and mommy will come and get us and take us home?”

“As soon as it’s over.  Once it’s done, we’ll come and get you guys. I promise.”

“Maybe next time we go on a trip, we can go to Disney World. That would be fun.”

“Have you been talking to Tanner?”

“Maybe…” Millie sing songs.

“Tell you what, when we get home, your mom and I will talk about it, okay?”

“Okay. Is it stormy where you are? It’s really stormy here.  It’s kinda scary! The thunder is really loud and it’s really windy. It never gets THIS bad at home. We get storms, but they’re not as scary as this one. I wish you were here; it wouldn’t be as scary.  You always built a fort in the living room so we can all sleep together and we won’t be afraid.  You always make it fun. Like we’re on a camping trip. We forget about being scared when you’re with us. I wish you were here, daddy.”

He swallows around the lump of emotion sitting square in his throat. “I wish I was there too.”

“Did you watch my video? I sent it to your email. Did you get it?”

“I did. But I haven’t watched it yet.  I was going to do that before bed. So I could have good dreams instead of bad ones.”

“That’s  a good idea! Maybe you can send ME a video and I can watch it before bed and that way I’LL have good dreams too.”

“You know what I’ll do? I’ll make a video for all of you and then you can all watch it before bed. Sound good?”

“Sounds good!”

“I gotta go. I’ve got an important meeting I have to get to. But I’ll make the video and I’ll send it to Auntie Nik’s email. You tell her I’m doing that, okay?”

“Okay. I miss you, daddy. I love you.”

“I miss you too. And I love you. ALL of you. So much. And I’ll see you guys in a few days.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah.” He hopes he sounds more confident than he feels. “I promise.”

****

It takes four attempts before he gets a usable video to send to the kids; trying to keep it light and cheerful and finding himself stumbling over his words and fighting back tears.  The last thing he wanted was to turn a bedtime message into something so dark and depressing. Even Millie -who is incredibly intuitive and had known from the start that Mumbai wasn’t a normal family holiday- doesn’t know the full extent of just how serious things are. He doesn’t want to scare them; seeing daddy emotional will only cause them to ask questions no one truly has answers for.  And it would only send their fears and anxiety -especially Tanner’s- through the roof. In the end he’d been able to hold it together. Reciting one of their favorite bedtime stories by heart and telling them how much he  loves them and misses them; promising that they’ll all be heading home soon. The latter had actually helped lift his own spirits. Saying the words out loud doing wonders for his confidence;  the promise itself -and not wanting to break it-  giving his motivation a desperately needed kick in the ass.

By the time he journeys downstairs, Yaz has already arrived; joining Esme, Koen, Rata and two of Anil’s men -who’d been ordered to help out in each and every way possible- in the living room. And the younger man pauses in the setting up of his laptop in order to greet Tyler with a warm,  tight hug and a playful backhand to an unshaven cheek.  He sees the exhaustion that clouds Yaz’ eyes and dampens his smile; his own fears and worries revolving around a heavily pregnant girlfriend back home. It’s been hell on everyone; long hours and restless sleep and one stumbling block after another. There’s finally some light at the end of that very long and winding tunnel. It’s faint, but at least it’s there.

He pours himself a coffee from the freshly brewed pot in the kitchen and then joins the others. Returning Esme’s smile as she looks up at him, giving her a wink before taking a seat beside her and then pressing a kiss to her temple as he leans into her. Her hand slides along his inner thigh and then settles on his knee;  squeezing lightly before her fingers locate the most tender area and begin digging and manipulating. She doesn’t need to be asked; always knowing where the painful spots are and never hesitating to provide even the smallest bit of relief.

“I hope this weather isn’t some kind of bloody omen,” Raka grumbles.   Nervously bouncing  his legs and both jumping and looking towards the sliding glass doors with each boom of thunder that  shakes the  house.

“Forty damn years old and he’s scared of a wee storm,” Koen scoffs.

Rata glares at him. “A wee storm? Sounds like Mother Nature is getting ready to blow shit up!”

“Do you need your favorite blanket? A warm bottle of milk? Someone to cuddle with you? It’s nothing but some wind and a bit of rain.”

“That’s more than just some wind and some rain!” his friend argues. “It’s like the end of the world out there! And if this some kind of omen about how things are going to go down…”

“Ain’t no bloody omen!” Koen laughs “Don’t tell me you believe in all that shit. Signs and karma and all that hoodoo voodoo, hocus pocus crap!”

“I d0n’t know,” Esme says, as she reaches for a mug of tea sitting on the coffee table. “I like to think that karma exists and that it finally caught up to my ex. Because if anyone deserved to be hit head on by the karma bus, it was him.”

Tyler nods in agreement and takes a swig of coffee.

“So what’s it looking like?” Koen addresses Yaz. “End getting close or what?”

“Depends on what news you guys have for me.  I know where I stand on my end of things. What about over here?”

“I was able to get an extra twenty four hours,” Esme says. “But I really had to up the ante; an extra five million wasn’t going to cut it. I had to promise another ten. I tried to talk them down, but it was either the extra ten or pieces of Neysa and Aarev start washing up on the shores of Buriganga in a few days' time.”

“And Anil was willing to up that much?” Yaz asks. “IF it comes down to having to pay the ransom?”

“He didn’t hesitate when I told him. I don’t know where he gets all his money from, but he acted like it was nothing more than pocket change. He’s prepared to pay IF all else fails.  But they still won’t give me proof of life unless I agree to meet them at Asif’s house and have them take me to where they’re being held.”

“Which is NOT happening,” Tyler says. “There’s no way in hell that’s happening.”

“Now hold on a second,” Koen speaks up. “It’s the way that makes the most sense.”

Tyler frowns. “What are you talking about? It makes no sense. You really think they’re going to keep their word? That they won’t hurt her? They’ll use her as bait. She won’t get anywhere near Neysa and Aarev; they won’t take her there. They’ll keep her at Asif’s and do God knows what to her until I show up to get her out.”

“She won’t be going alone,” Koen points out.

“I don’t give a shit if there’s ten of you going with her. She’s not doing this. She’s not going there. No fucking way.”

“But when they take  her there...US there...you just follow behind and…”

“You’re not hearing me, mate. They won’t take her anywhere. They’ll kill you, then use her to bait me. And they’ll do all kinds of sick and twisted shit to her. You’re just going to take them at their word that they won’t hurt her? I know you’re not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but you’re not THAT stupid.”

“Okay….” Esme speaks up. “...why don’t we all calm down and talk through all of this rationally. There’s got to be another way to find out where Neysa and Aarev are that doesn’t involve having to go to Asif’s house. We all know it’s a trap. We can’t trust a single word they say and there no doubt in my mind they’d keep me in order to get Tyler to show up.”

“She’s NOT going,” Tyler stresses. “End of story. After tonight, her part in this is down. She did everything we needed her to do. Enough’s enough. I’m not risking her or the…” he catches himself. “...I’m not risking her. We gotta find another way.”

“I think I have one.” Yaz says. “It unfortunately does involve sending people to Asif’s house, but not in an official capacity. What if I can get people to plant tracking devices on a few of the cars that are always coming in and out of there? We’ve had eyes on that place since we got here; there’s a constant flow of the same six vehicles going in and out at all hours of the day. If I can get some guys close enough to put some GPS trackers in place, we just sit back and see if any of them visit a storage facility.”

“The storage thing was just something I pulled out of my ass,” Tyler admits.  “What I saw in the pictures and the videos reminded me of where we held McMann. That’s the only reason I said. Could be a factory or a warehouse for all I know.”

“What if it’s Asif’s basement?” Esme asks. “Does that place have one? Or a cold cellar or something like that? Cements walls and floors? Could be a basement or a cellar of some kind. It would explain no windows.”

“Well that makes it even more complicated if it is,” Koen grumbles. “How would we ever find that out? We can’t just go on up and knock on the front door and ask for a tour.”

“Any way of getting eyes in there?” Tyler asks Yaz.  “It wouldn’t hurt ruling it out. Kind of fitting if it is where they’re holding them. Almost like they’re offering them up as some sacrifice to Asif.  Appease the Gods of whatever the fuck they believe in.”

“I’d have to study the blueprints again,” Yaz says. “I didn’t see a basement, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. A lot could have changed since the originals were made; people renovate and add on all the time. We definitely need to check it out. Better to be safe than sorry, right?”

“Can you do it?” Tyler inquires. “Get eyes in there?”

“It’ll be hard. But I’m sure I can come up with something.   There’s got to be a way of getting in there without tripping the alarms or grabbing their attention. I’ll work on it.”

“I think the bigger worry right now is the bridges,” Esme pipes up. “Koen and I saw it with our own eyes. They are locked down and both the police AND the military are manning the road blocks. And they have pictures of me, of Tyler, and they’re comparing them to everyone that goes in or out. Whether they’re walking or driving.”

“They do have them locked pretty tight,” Koen confirms. “There’s no way we could get him across without him being seen.”

“What about going in from the north?” Esme suggests. “Does anyone know if they’ve got things blocked off up there too? If you go north into one of the smaller towns, you can  backtrack your way into Dhaka,  You can’t send a chopper right into the city; you just can’t. Not when even the police and military are wanting to cash in on the bounty. A chopper is big and noisy and that’s way too much attention right off the hop. But if you take one into one of the towns north of the city, you can drive back in. IF there’s no roadblocks that way.”

“That’s a big if,” Tyler says.

“I can send some people to check it out,” Yaz offers. “There’s a lot of remote areas north of Dhaka. Could them in, get them to see what’s going and probably have an answer in five or six hours. Gotta mobilize them first.  Have they sent anything? For proof of life? Any pictures, videos…?”

“The last proof Anil received was three days ago,” Esme sighs. “Nothing since.”

“So they could be dead,” Koen concludes.

“There’s no way they’re dead,” Tyler says. “They need them alive. They know if I don’t come there, they’re going to have to settle for the cash. Which means they have thirty million reasons to keep them alive.”

Or they could kill them and just let on that they’re alive,” Koen argues. “Bait you there with the impression that they ARE still breathing.”

“That’s highly unlikely,” Yaz speaks up. “This is a huge pay day for these guys. If Tyler bails, the money is all they have. They’ll take it.”

“Then why not just bail?” Rata asks.  “Why not just say ‘fuck it’ and get out of here? Just let Anil give them the money. Hand over the cash and Neysa and Aarev go free, that’s it.”

“It isn’t just about Neysa and Aarev,” Esme reminds him. “It started with the threats against them and it escalated into a whole lot more. WAY more than any of us thought it would. Did any of us image it would get this far? Did any of us really think it would get this bad? It never should have led to this.”

“This is about my family too,” Tyler adds. “Look at all the shit that’s been said. About my wife, about my kids. You think I’m really going to sit back and let them get away with it? If it was you girl, would you just tuck your tail between your legs and run?”

“Of course I wouldn’t. I’d fight too. But haven’t we fought enough? We took care of all those people on that list. Just like we were supposed to. It’s not our fault that Mahajan changed the game when he grabbed the woman and the kid. We did what we set out to do. So why don’t we just say fuck it and go home?”

“Why don’t YOU just say fuck and go home?” Tyler retorts. “If you can’t handle it, just say so. If you’re scared to do this…”

“I’m not scared of shit!” Rata interjects. “I just don't understand why we keep busting our asses like this. Haven’t we done enough? We got all the names checked off the list, Anil is going to take care of Mahajan. We’re done.”

“We are NOT done.” Esme argues. “They have Neysa and Aarev. And Nathan. Did you forget about him? I know he’s no one’s favorite, but they have him too. We can’t just leave them there.”

“And we can’t leave Asif’s people alive,” Koen adds “They’re too much of a threat; especially to Esme and the kids.  We leave them alive and they’ll always pose a threat. We have to get rid of them so Tyler and his family can leave in peace.”

“If you want to go, go,” Tyler says. “You want to walk away, no one will fault you for it. This has been sheer fucking hell from day one. If you’re tired and you’ve had enough then just walk away. I won’t hold it against you.”

“I sure as hell will,” Koen snarls.

“I ain’t leaving you two useless assholes here!” Rata protests. “Someone has to make sure things get done right. Might as well be me.”

Koen gives a derisive snort and shakes his head.

“Well it’s true,” Rata mutters, and leans back against the couch, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m the one who’s been doing it all right since the beginning.”

“I’ll get trackers on the cars right away and send people north,” Yaz announces, and snaps the lid on his laptop closed. “We’re in the end game now.  Everyone needs to keep on their toes and be ready to go at any given moment.”

“What happens when we get where we’re going?” Koen asks. “When the shooting starts? That’s going to bring a whole lot of attention our way. We’re going to have every fucking drongo in Dhaka showing up. Regular people, cops, military. How do we deal with all of that?”

“That’s why we have guns,” Tyler informs him. “They shoot at you, you shoot back. And shoot to kill. Injuring them will do shit. You gotta put them down and put them for good.”

“What if someone creates a few distractions on the bridges?” Esme addresses Yaz “I’m sure Anil has some extra people he can lend or even people here in Dhaka that he can convince to go against Asif. If we have people causing a disturbance on the bridges, all the attention will be down by the water.”

“Not just a pretty face,” Koen teases, and shoots her a playful wink.

“I like that idea,” Rata enthuses, “Stir up some chaos. Shoot some people, blow some shit up.”

“Well I was thinking relatively non violent,” Esme says. “But yeah, that works too.”

“Just remember to not shoot unless you’re being shot at,” Yaz instructs. There’s a lot of Dhaka. Good, innocent people.  We don’t want their deaths on our hands. Know your target before engaging. And believe me, you’ll know your targets.”

“They don’t waste time shooting,” Esme adds. “Thankfully, most of them can’t shoot for shit. So your chances are pretty good that you won’t get hit.”

“Until they shoot you from behind,” Tyler smirks. “Then all of a sudden they’re really good shots.”  He immediately regrets saying it; noticing the way Esme’s entire body stiffens and hears the heavy sigh that escapes her lips.

“Ask me, that was just luck,” Yaz remarks. “Extremely bad on your part, extremely good on his.”

“Can we NOT talk about?” Esme irritably requests. “We don’t need to talk about this.”

“Gonna need eyes in the back of our heads,” Rata grumbles. “If these fuckers are known for cutting you down from behind.  I don’t want to be catching one in the throat. I wouldn’t be so lucky, that’s for sure.”

“No sense rehashing all of that,” Yaz attempts to derail the conversation. “It was a long time ago. Let’s concentrate on now and…”

“I’m just saying,” Rata continues. “If we got kids out there putting bullets in our backs or our necks…”

“Enough,” Tyler orders. “We all know what happened. We don’t need to talk about it.”

“You got lucky,” his friend informs him. “Someone was there to save your ass. All you bastards would high tail it out of there and let me fend for myself.”

“This conversation is not for me,” Esme declares, and shrugs Tyler’s hand off her shoulder when he tries to prevent her from standing up. “I’m not talking about this. I don’t even want to hear about it. Bad enough I had to go through it. Last thing I want to do is relive it.”

The next thirty second feels as if it lasts thirty minutes. Tension filled silence and a painful awkwardness; all four men attempting to avoid eye contact with one another and trying not to acknowledge the obvious tears sparkling in Esme’s eyes and the way she drops her empty mug into the sink with a loud clatter. Or the way she hurries from the room; light footsteps impossibly loud on the stairs.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Koen angrily elbows Rata in the ribs. “You know we don’t talk about that. We never talk about that.”

“It’s been seven years! I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.”

“It’s a big fucking deal! To her, anyway. You better start kissing some serious ass, you fucking drongo!”

As his friends continue to bicker, Tyler leans forward and places his forearms on his thighs. Eyes on his feet as the fingers of his right hand fidget with his wedding band; twirling it back and forth, pulling it up to the knuckle and sliding it back down again A nervous habit that creeps up when his anxiety rears its ugly head or the PTSD is gearing up to unleash hell.

Yaz slips into the empty seat beside him, then leans in close. “Still a sore spot for her, huh?”

Tyler nods in confirmation.

“It won’t be much longer until go time. Think she’s going to be able to handle it?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I honestly don’t know.”

******

He manages an hour and a half of sleep. Waking to the sounds of Esme muttering and whimpering beside him. Her body drawn impossibly tight and her hands tightly gripping the bottom sheet; heels  digging into the mattress as if trying to push herself away from an attacker.  He opted not to shake her awake, wanting to avoid sending her into a panic and turning her extremely combative.  He’d learned the hard way how NOT to handle a night terror. Confronted by a five foot nothing woman with the sudden strength of three grown men and having to physically restrain her until the nightmare released her from its clutches and she came out of it on her own.

Instead he took the easier approach. Rolling over onto his side and laying an arm across her midsection and draping one leg over both of hers and effectively keeping her flailing limbs and trembling body still.  A forearm resting lightly on the top of her head and his fingers reaching for her face; gently clearing tears off of her cheeks and lightly tracing random patterns on her forehead and down the bridge of her nose. Within minutes she’d been successfully comforted. Body finally stilling, tears ceasing,  eyes never opening as she issued a heavy sigh and moved onto her side.

After that, all hope of getting back to sleep had abandoned him, and for the last hour he’s been lying there in silence. Holding her as tightly as her body will allow him to; face buried in her hair as he listens to her soft, rhythmic breathing. And when her body grows uncomfortable with the heat radiating from his own and the weight of his limbs becomes  too much, she moves away and he gives  up on rest entirely. Sliding out of bed and then bunching up both of his pillows and placing them -one on top of the other, lengthwise- behind her back. If she rolls over in her sleep and blindly reaches for him, she’ll at least discover the pillows; his scent hopefully enough to comfort her.  

He’d fallen asleep fully clothed. Wanting to be ready at the drop of a hat; whether it be a phone call from Yaz or a threat on their doorstep.  And he picks up the holster -gun securely stored inside- from it resting on the nightstand; clipping it to the waist of his jeans and then shoving his feet into his combat boots, lacing them tightly before leaving the room.

He grabs some fresh air; giving the guards a nod in greeting as he steps out onto the back porch. While the storm had settled hours ago, it had brought no relief. Heat near stifling, the humidity already oppressive; causing sweat to quickly bead across his forehead and to gather at his temples and the nape of his neck.  The air is thick and heavy, yet he barely notices it as he sits on the edge of the deck. Jaw firmly set, elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together; eyes dark and staring out into the stillness of the night. He neither sees or acknowledges anything around him. Not the movement of the guards patrolling the darkened perimeter or their quiet conversation. Not the faint music coming from the neighbouring home or the chirping of the crickets.  

His mind is switching over now, and soon his senses and instincts will kick into high gear; his brain thinking of nothing but the task directly in front of him. The adrenaline is starting to build; that rush of blood in your veins and the anticipation that causes your heart to speed up and your stomach to flutter. For now he’s still experiencing other emotions as well; worry, nervousness, fear. Haunted by the thought that he could be called upon at any given moment and he many never return to his old life.  To that sprawling, beautiful home   on the beach with its million dollar view. To the sound of his children laughing and playing. To kissing his wife good morning when she wanders into the kitchen clad in one of his t-shirts. To kissing her goodnight and having that warm, supple body snuggled into his; her breath tickling his skin and that familiar smell clinging to her hair.

It’s shortly before one in the morning when he heads back inside. The house shrouded in silence; the open concept living, dining, and kitchen area illuminated only by the light above the stove. Instead of returning upstairs, he sinks into the easy chair in the living room; relieved that he’s able to stretch out his legs without wincing or groaning from discomfort.  The two pills he’d taken almost three hours ago effectively reducing both his pain and stiffness yet not leaving him groggy or with altered senses. It’s a temporary fix; he knows long term usage is out of the questions. His body will get accustomed to both the drug and the dosage and soon the need for more will start. The cravings will kick in soon afterwards, and he’ll find himself desperate for a fix and willing to do anything to get it. Seeking out a doctor is the safest and only hope he has; whether it be through extensive physio or surgery.  And he’s more than willing to put in the time and the effort. After all, it’s the only way he’ll be able to keep his life from falling apart.

“Tyler?”

His eyes snap open at the sound of her voice, and he glances towards where she’s paused at the middle landing of the stairs.  “Yeah?”

“Just checking to see if it was you. I didn't want to come down there and sit on someone and find out the hard  way it’s Koen.”

“Might give the guy a heart attack. Probably the most attention he’s had from a woman in a long time.”

“Everything okay?” she asks, as she descends the remaining stairs  and joins him; settling herself sideways on his lap with her legs dangling over the arm of the chair.  

“Everything’s good.”

“You feeling alright?” She pushes a hand through his hair, palm settling at the back of his head, nails lightly massaging his scalp.

“I’m feeling pretty good, actually. Those meds are doing their job. For now anyway.” He turns his face into hers and places a kiss to each corner of her mouth before covering it with his own.  One hand sliding up and down her back as the other settles on her hip. “You okay? You were having a pretty bad dream, huh?”

She nods in confirmation.

“Want to tell me about it?”

“Not really,” she says, and rests the side of her head on his shoulder.

“So it was about me?”

Another nod.

“That bad?”

“Bad enough. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” he assures her, and rests the tip of his nose against his forehead, feeling the tickle of her lashes when she closes her eyes.

“Nice attempt with the pillows though,” she says.

“It usually works.”

“I woke up completely this time. And then I panicked; I was worried you’d gotten the call and left without saying bye.”

“I’d never leave without telling you. We have our thing, yeah? Shit we always say to each other before I go? It’s like my good luck charm; say those words and everything will go right.”

“It’s held up so far. You started saying it when you went back to the job the first time and you’ve been saying it ever since.”

“Pretty good track record. I wouldn’t risk screwing things up by leaving without waking you up and telling you. You sure you’re alright? Dream still got you rattled?”

“A little,” she admits. “It was scary. And gruesome. I haven’t had one that bad in a long time.”

“Thought you didn’t want to talk about it?”

“I don’t.” She nuzzles the side of his neck with the tip of her nose, then presses a kiss to it. “It was bad…” her voice cracks. “...it was really bad.”

“It’s okay…” the hand on her back moves up to her hair, slightly stroking it as his other hand rubs her hips. “...everything’s fine. I’m right here.”

“For now.”

“We knew this was coming.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier. I know you have to go, but it doesn’t mean I want you to.”

“Would it make you feel better if I wore my lucky underwear?”

“You didn’t bring them. I packed your bag, remember?”

“And you didn’t put  them in? What’s wrong with you?”

“The only thing those underwear are lucky for is making babies. Declan, Addie. I bet you were wearing them when this one was made too.”

A hand moves to the small baby bump already straining against her pyjamas pants. “I wasn’t wearing any.”

“You don’t even know what day this one was made on. How do you know if you were wearing underwear or not? You can’t remember what you had for breakfast most days.”

“I figure if I don’t wear them six days a week, the chances are pretty high that I wasn’t wearing any that day.”

“Maybe THAT’S why your sperm is so good. You’re not suffocating them all the time. They're free range. They’re not penned in and they can come and go as they please. Like how the chickens in Colorado used to poop out butt nuggets everywhere.”

Tyler chuckles. “Butt nuggets.”

“I used to call eggs that all the time when I was a kid,” Esme muses. “My dad taught me. We’d have a big family breakfast every Sunday; like we do now.  And he’d always ask me how I wanted my butt nuggets cooked. My mom would get so mad! She hated that we were so close. I think in a way she was jealous. I was her first girl and I wanted nothing to do with her. She couldn’t figure out that she was the reason I didn’t want to be around her. And here we are, thirty some years later and she still has no clue. Makes me sad for our kids; they don’t even have one grandmother. Your mom would have been so good with them. I just know it. Her only kid...her son...having kids of his own?”

“She would have spoiled the hell out of them. She would have loved them; there’s no doubt about that.”

“She’d be so proud of you. For how you turned out.”

“Something tells me she wouldn’t he completely on board with the whole hired gun thing.”

“I’m not talking about that. I mean how you turned out as a man. If she was alive right now, she’d know all the struggles you went through and saw all the battles you fought and how you beat every single one. And she’d see how you turned out as a husband and a father despite not having the best role model to emulate.”

“Growing up I told myself that I’d never be like him. That I’d never turn out like that.”

“And you didn’t. You work hard at it every single day; to not be like him. It would have been so easy for you; to end up the same way. But you went in the opposite direction.”

“You keep forgetting that the first time didn’t turn out so good.”

“You were a kid when you got married the first time,” Esme reasons. “And judging by the stories I’ve heard she wasn’t exactly wife material.”

“She had her flaws , that’s for sure. One of them just happened to fucking anyone that showed interest.”

“Well if you ask me, she must have been crazy. Cheating on the likes of you? Why give up filet mignon for ground beef?”

“So I really AM just a piece of meat to you,” he teases, and she giggles when he kisses the side of her neck and playfully pinches her side.

“I’m just saying that I don’t get it. Why do you cheat when you have an amazingly hot husband that’s a god in bed? There has to be something seriously wrong with someone. And don’t get me started on how you were deployed when she would do it. Your husband is off...in the Middle East...getting shot at it and trying not to get blown up by roadside bombs...and you’re back home serving as the base slut? That’s the lowest of the low!”

“I guess both of us weren’t very good judges of character when we were younger.”

“There is a bright side though. To what we both went through the first time around.”

“What’s the bright side?”

“Well if things had been wonderful  in either of our first marriages, neither of us would  have ended up doing the job. You probably would have stayed in the military and I probably would have been a happy little housewife. In the PTA and driving a minivan and taking the kids to soccer and drinking Starbucks.”

“You take the kids to soccer now. Except it’s a thermos with  homemade coffee with Bailey’s in it. “

“That’s in the cooler weather. When it’s hot, it’s pink lemonade with vodka.”

He grins and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Hey, it’s not the most exciting sport in the world; I have to get through it somehow. And I also have to survive all the thirsty females that show up whenever you coach. I don’t know how they know when it’s your turn, but that many never show when you’re not there. And they show up in their slutty little outfits and their make up done. And there I am; no makeup, ball cap on yoga pants and UGG boots and one of your hoodies. And you wonder why I have self confidence issues.”

“Who cares about the thirsty women? I only have eyes for you, you know that.”

“I care when they’re openly discussing my husband’s ass and his muscles and his bulge.”

“You should have married an uglier guy with a small dick then,” Tyler teases.

“I did that with my first marriage. I traded up the second time around.”

“Just ignore them. I do. I don’t pay attention to them. I don’t need to. I’m already married to the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Wow…” she’s grinning as she pulls back to look at him. “...do you ever know how to lay it on thick.”

“It’s the truth. That’s how I see you. I’ve always seen you that way. It’s how I’ll always see you. So fuck ‘em. Who’s the one I go home with? Who’s the one I share a bed with every night?”

“Me. Lucky little old me.”

“Exactly. It’s always been you. It always will be. I choose you every day.”

“Even when my hair hasn’t been washed in four days and I’ve got baby puke on my clothes and dark circles under my eyes and I’m a raging bitch?”

“Even then.”

“Now THAT is true love,” she says, and places both hands on the side of his as she kisses him. Nothing hurried or overly needy; soft and languid, lips moving slowly against one another. And when she pulls away he sees the tears that sparkle in her eyes and the way the corners of her mouth droop.

“Baby…”  he combs his fingers through her hair, then kisses the bridge of her nose and cradles her cheek in the palm of his hand. “...don’t…”

“I don’t want you to go. I know you have to; it’s the only way this will ever be finished. But I still don’t want you to leave. I wish there was another way; to end all of this.”

“Believe me, so do I.”

“I’m scared. This is the most scared I’ve ever been. I wasn’t even this scared seven years ago.”

“We barely knew each other then,” he reasons. “But now…”

“There’s so much to lose. Way too much. If something happens to you…”

“Stop…” he lays a hand on the back of her head and draws it down to his, pressing their brows together. “...just stop.”

“You have to come back for me. You HAVE to. Promise me you’ll come back for me.”

“Esme…”

“Promise me, Tyler,” she pleads, fingers tightly gripping his hair. “Promise me.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“At least promise you’ll try? That you’ll do whatever it takes to get back here. Can you promise me that at least?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he vows,  and places a kiss on her forehead. “I promise.”

[theallblue]

"Sanji!"

He's only just gotten in the dorm and already he's pulling, over-eager to go back out again but this time not alone. He'd gone in only far enough to catch hold of Sanji's arm and start tugging the blond right along with him back out the way he'd come.

"It's raining, Sanji! Come out with me!"

There's a low point in the courtyard. With the rain pouring the way it is, too hard and too fast to sink into the ground right away, it's the perfect place to go for the way the runoff gathers. It's exactly where he wants to go and of course getting soaked along the way is just the icing on the cake.

Luffy's loud voice quickly broke through the silence of the shared dorm room, a voice that caused him to break away from the assignment that he was working on. What did his loud roommate need this time? Was he wanting food or something else?

That was until his fingers wrapped around his arm causing him to pulled out of the chair that he had occupied. It was raining? He hadn't noticed because of the assignment that he was working on completing for the sake of his class. When had it started?

"Why? Is there something you want to show me?"

He didn't know where Luffy wanted to go, but obviously it was important to him since he came barging into their dorm without a second thought. He doubted that he would be able to stop the raven-haired teen anyways especially after he put his mind to something. It was down right impossible to stop Luffy whenever he got an idea in his head whether it be a reckless one or not.

[vanchlo]

Under The Bed / Chapter Three, “Down”

->   SERIES MASTERLIST

->   MAIN MASTERLIST

-> READ ON WATTPAD

WARNINGS: Mild swearing???

WORD COUNT: 5.9k words

LEGEND:

* : jump in time

* * : change in point of view

TAGLIST: IDK HOW TO DO THESE, BUT IF YOU WANNA BE ADDED SO YOU KNOW WHEN A NEW CHAPTER IS POSTED, JUST LET ME KNOW! :)

@berrynarrybanana

@wotamelonsugar​

SNEAK PEEK OF COURSE ->

Even after I slipped under the bed, and back into my world, her sobs still wrench at my heart and fill my head. It doesn’t matter how far I get away from her door that looks like a pixie threw up on it, pink as can be, I still hear them. If anything, they get louder and swarm around in my head. I shake it a bajillion times, wishing they would leave, and that when I pass other monsters who pat me on the back for the sound of her wails, I wish all the more for them to be gone.

THEN

He kept doing that thing, and by thing I mean, showing up and scaring me.

Every night, he popped out from underneath my bed without fail, and scared the bejeezus out of me. He left me crying into my butterfly pillow from an impossibly horrible face he made, an insult he made that I took to heart, or because he wrecked one of my stuffed animals. I didn’t know how to get him to stay away, even if he was kind of cute I’d never tell him that, and when he screws up his blue face to look like a goblin, it’s not very cute. 

I dreaded him coming tonight, just like any other night for the last two weeks. He never missed a night, and I had gotten used to staying up past my bedtime until he arrived, sure that that would save me some pain instead of getting woken up to frogs in my bed and gum stuck in my hair. He had told me about doing that to Polly down the street last week, and the last thing I wanted to do was explain that to my parents in the morning. So, I stayed awake even though it was so hard on so many nights. Tonight, it was hard, but in a different way, because I wanted more than anything to be asleep after my third horrible day of school. I had no choice in the matter, and it worked out that Harry showed up right at nine-thirty. 

“Wakey wakey, bratty!” a voice booms, and I jump awake. 

“I’m awake, I’m awake,” I moan, unsure of who or why I announce myself. 

“Shiiiiiiit, I was hopin’ ya wouldn’t be. ‘s much mo’ fun t’ scare ya awake, ya hardly made a peep jus’ then,” the voice tuts with a clicking of their tongue. A puff leaves my lips when the light flicks on and his menacing figure appears before my eyes. “Welcome back t’ tha world o’ yer nightmares, Josie, loud and proud. Afraid ‘m back fer anotha night t’ scare yer socks off.” 

The My Little Pony covers slide off of me, and I fix the sleeve of my flowery night gown that rode up my shoulder. Ignoring him, I’m met with relief when my fingers grasp the cold familiarity sitting on my nightstand. 

“What tha hell, are ya givin’ me tha cold shoulder now?” he retorts with a volume in his voice, but I kn- I hope that he won’t talk loud enough to wake up Mommy and Daddy. “Since bloody when d’ya do that, Josie?”

“I’m reading, shhh,” I tell him, turning past the first few pages of a Clifford the Big Red Dog book until I find the first page with a picture of him and his owner, Emily Elizabeth. 

“Oh my days, I can’t believe tha nerve you have, girl,” the monster spits back at me, but with shaking fingers, I try to shove his voice away. I have an even harder time finding happiness in the pictures when it’s so hard to forget that he’s standing right there, ready to attack. “Ya think ya can talk t’ me like that, a full-on monster? Tsk, tsk, you dunno who yer talkin’ t’ here, ya li’l-.” 

“Eh-eh-v . . ugh . . Eh-eh-v-r-e-e . . ,” I try to sound out the word at the bottom of the page, but it’s so long and I don’t know this one. “Eh-ev-ree . . won loves Clifford, b-b-b-bee-c-c-cah-ssssss-e he has good m-m-m-a-a-a-n-n-er-r-r-r-s. You don’t have good manners, Harry, that’s something you need to work on.” 

“‘Scuse me, Josie Stephens? I reckon ya don’t even know what tha hell manners are, now d’ya, ya li’l shit?”

Gulping, I tear my eyes away from his angry green pair. Looking back to the book, I try to focus on reading the next part. I get the first two words, but then I’m stuck again, sounding it out like a dummy. I don’t understand how so many of my classmates already know how to read, and I don’t! 

Creeeeeeeeeak!

My eyes shoot up and find Harry is closer, he must have taken a step towards me. As soon as I had looked up, his feet inch away from me, and I wish I hadn’t. Rubbing at my eyes sleepily, I take a deep breath and try again. 

“M-m-m-m-y-s-s-s-eh-l-l-.” 

“Myself,” Harry pipes up, and when I forget the book to look at him, we’re both shocked. “Tha word ‘s ‘myself’. ‘I taught him myself,’ it says,” he tells me slowly. Maybe, just maybe, he sounds normal and like me. Who would have thought that could be? “Duh, ‘s an easy word, even a Kindie like you shoulda known that, stupid.” 

Shaking my head, I move the hair out of my eyes and continue to read, quieter than before, and yet I feel his eyes on me like a hot pair of sun rays. 

“Clifford says p-p-p-l-eeeeee-s w-w-he-n he a-a-s-s-. Why are you laughing at me? I’m only five, we don’t know how to read yet,” I say, pointing my eyes at him. A sound flies from his lips that I’ve never heard before in that way. I think it might be a laugh, a happy one. 

“Sounds like I jus’ heard a five year old swear right there. Looks like me job ‘s done, ruining you by teachin’ you yer first curse. Ass,” he titters, walking away and towards the end of my bed. 

My throat begs for a glass of water and the words that didn’t make sense anyways become blurry in front of me. Swiping under my eyes, I get rid of the tears the second they warm my cheeks. 

“W-What’s this word?” I ask nervously, keeping my head down and refusing to look at him. I know that he likes to see my tears, and I don’t want him to, because then he only becomes meaner. Sniffling, I listen as his steps creak along my floor and his musty smell tickles at my nose. 

“Which one?” he groans as if I had asked the most stupid question in the entire world. I don’t answer out loud, and instead, I point to the one that starts with an ‘s,’ but my tired brain doesn’t want to figure it out. 

“Sumthin’,” he responds, and it pulls my eyes up and over to him. The light catches in the caramel colored streaks in his hair, and the gold bits in his eyes. Shocks of pink around my room from posters, stuffed animals, books, and my Hello Kitty clock look funny behind him. “Something,” he repeats clearly, yanking the book from my hand to point at a word. “D’ya know this one at least?”

“P-p-p-puh-l-,” I begin, but he interrupts me with a whine of ‘you jus’ read it, c’mon now,’ and I continue until he nods when I say ‘please.’

“And this one?” he continues, pointing to one that starts with a ‘t’ that takes me a few tries until I get it. “What comes afta ‘thank’ usually?”

“You,” I tell him, and he nods, at some point perching himself on the side of my bed like a bird. I almost think I hear him say ‘good,’ but it’s gone before I can decide if I did or not. 

The books lining my shelf across the room under the window itch for me to go and grab them, and sound out the words with him that look like nonsense to me. I hold back, and ask Harry to repeat what he said. 

“Yer fallin’ ‘sleep,” he notes, bumping shoulders with me. I shake my head and blink hard, knowing that he’s right. “He says ‘thank you’ when he gets sumthin’. And he writes a thank-you note when someone gives him a present . . ,” and before I know it, the words from the pages are dropping from his lips, slowly, telling the story. 

I don’t remember my head falling onto his shoulder or him letting it stay there. I definitely didn’t know that when I let my eyes rest for one second that I was going to fall asleep, and that the next time it would all feel like a dream, a far away dream that could never be true. 

Because there’s a monster under my bed who’s really gross and mean to me, and he just read me a bedtime story and was maybe nice to me. 

That couldn’t be, could it? 

* *

The ripe smell of mothballs and wet dogs welcomes me back, ripping away the sweet relief of berries and cream that graced my senses for the last however-long-it-was. My feet land with a loud clap! onto the shambles of wooden decking below. I kick the forgotten remnants of a Scooby Doo stuffy away with the torn toe of my Converse. Loud, raucous laughter echoes around me and is followed by a spit and whizz of a bottle rocket nearby. It paints the ink black sky with shocks of gold and white for a few moments, suddenly making me miss the light. The next thought makes me stumble over a lost pink ukulele with broken strings. I think I miss the smell and the warmth, no matter if I never get cold.

How the fuck can I miss that obnoxiously sweet smell of ripe red strawberries, and decadent cream that they’re drowned in? 

Would you shut the fuck up, Harry? What, are you finally going nuts here, on your four hundred and eighth year? 

“Oi!” somebody shouts, yanking me from my thoughts much to my gratitude. “Wait up, would ya?!” they continue in their familiar lilt. Stuffing my hands away in my pockets, met with the typical cool temperature of my own body, my feet kick up sand clouds when they stop suddenly. 

“What d’ya want, Ni?” I spit back, not bothering to turn my head. His cackle accompanies my boring slide down the Hill of Doom Jr. that he rides like a wave. 

“Who put a stick up yer arse, ‘arry?” he gripes, almost losing his footing once we reach the end. “Not a good night with yer kiddies or summat?”

“Sure,” I answer stubbornly, my eyes flitting past the weathered signs slapped onto the pole, pointing every which way with words scrawled onto them. Minneapolis. Chicago. Detroit. Los Angeles. Washington D.C. 

“I found some peanut butta at one o’ mine. I s’pose I could be a good mate and give ya some, but y’know what ‘s gonna cost ya. Figure I should get even mo’ than that seein’ as how ‘m deathly allergic.” 

“Don’t want any,” I retort, walking around the scuffed Spongebob skateboard and Kim Possible figurine lying beside it, missing her signature head of red hair. But it’s forgotten when my foot steps on something, and I lift it to find a plush Hello Kitty with its head torn off, the white more like a light brown now from all of the shoe prints muddling it. A little stuffy that I know all too well, and had forgotten my handy work with until now.

Somehow, it bothers me more than it should, and tips me over the edge. 

“What d’ya mean ya don’t-.” 

“I said I don’t want any fuckin’ peanut butter, Ni, and I never said I wanted yer company, now fuckin’ did I?”!” I explode, whirling around and scaring him to the point that he almost runs into me. His unruly eyebrows sink and the neon purple in his eyes shrinks, the scaring of a monster quite comical in the thought. 

“Fuck you, ‘arry. Dunno who shit in yer bed, yer always high as a kite afta gettin’ done with that Stephens girl. Jus’ cuz ya couldn’t scare tha lights outta her dis time doesn’t mean ya hafta jump down me throat cuzza it,” he says curtly, shaking his head of silver hair that sticks up at all ends. Muttered words float past me as he walks away with the pep out of his step. 

“‘s not that I couldn’t . . ‘s that I didn’t wanna . . fer tha first time,” I curse under my breath, kicking a pink stone riddled with holes off the edge, not waiting to hear its plink! at the bottom of Ghastly Gorge.

Clenching my jaw to stop me from saying all of the words that ricochet inside of my skull, I take a few turns until I step onto a rickety lift. Ignoring the two vampires who cling to each other’s necks with loud suckling noises, I tip my head back and close my eyes against the yellow light of the naked bulb above me. I don’t even lose my footing as the contraption whips from side to side and up and down with the loudest of screeches, lastly halting with a piercing ding! 

Sulking my way off and back to unsolid ground, the giggles from the ghoulish pair continue behind me, suddenly making me wish Liza was here. Biting my tongue, I try to forget about her, and the other her. Yanking open the door, it falls off its top hinge and I leave it there hanging, not giving a shit clearly. The squeals of the fireworks are almost out of earshot, but now, the shouting from some kind of game trickles past. 

“Can’t even get peace and quiet here o’ all places?” I mutter with a long sigh, pushing harshly at the metal gate. It hits the fence with a deafening clang! of metal on metal. 

“Heya, Harry!” somebody shouts and I nod and wave. More ‘hellos’ follow between the gravestones as I kick my feet along the black dirt path. “Oh, on your way to The Rotting River, I see . . Let’s leave him be, lads, he doesn’t look too terrible, the poor bloke,” Henry the Horrid whispers ever so loudly and I toss a hand up in the smallest of thanks, only bringing the memory back bigger and brighter.

Since when do I have fucking manners?

Their transparent white bodies float away with their silent steps, and from the corner of my eye, I see Marcus speed away like a flash of moonlight. 

“Why? Why? Why in tha fuck why?!” I scream, pitching the hundred pound rock into the black water, far and away. “What tha absolute fuck am I doin’? ‘m gonna ruin it all, everythin’ ‘ve ever built!” the red rock crashes into the water and under the green cast of the orb hung in the sky, it smatters onyx droplets across the green. I pluck another one from the ground at random, in between shards of bones, glass, and lost lovers necklaces, propelling them into the lazy waves of the river, wishing it was crashing tonight like the throes of my heart. Something I thought I hadn’t had for the last few centuries, but here I am, low and behold, seeming to have one.

That doesn’t happen, it’s not supposed to be. My kind . . we’re not supposed to use them, or even have a working one. 

How is it that when I saw the glassy tears in Josie’s eyes tonight, it felt like it was being squeezed in my chest? I can’t explain away the warmth I felt in it when her head fell onto my shoulder, and then when I pulled the covers over her tiny, sleeping body. 

I broke a hundred dozen rules tonight, enough to get me sent to the headstones just over the hill, and I can’t decide whether I care or not. 

* *

The tater tot casserole sitting in my stomach tried to lull me into an early sleep that next night, but with determination, I ignored it. I sat in bed with my school books in my lap, flipping through the pictures and trying to find familiar words. I knew that I wouldn’t find many, if any, but it didn’t stop me from trying. 

I didn’t know how long I had been sitting there after dinner looking through the books and making up my own stories, until my tired eyes glanced to the window. There I sat, watching the last few rays of sun be sucked back into the ground, or that’s how it looked. 

Smack!

“Arentcha a li’l old t’ be havin’ shit like this?” a voice pipes up, and before I see him, I smile. I really wish that I hadn’t, because when he turns around, that dark glint in his eye has returned. I don’t know why I thought his voice sounded- what did it sound like, like it had last night? When the words from the Clifford The Big Red Dog book fell from his chapped lips? 

All of my questions are answered when there’s a loud crash! and my Hello Kitty pink clock smashes into a puddle of glass at his feet. “Whoops,” he giggles as I suck in air loudly, the dirty bottoms of his shoes crunching through the glass that I’m sure I’ll never get out of my carpet now.

“What, ya think ‘m gonna bloody read t’ you again or sumthin’, brat?” Harry says, nodding to the pile of books that I tighten my grip on now. “Not gonna speak t’ me, are you? Y’know that’s never a good bet, Josie Stephens,” he continues, each word laced with disgust from his lips. He licks them with his chalky pink tongue as the floor creaks with his nearing. 

“Don’t!” I squeal when he reaches for the books, but I put up a fight. 

“It never does any good fightin’ me, li’l shit, ya should know this by now,” he retorts, giving one last yank with his hands and painfully ripping the books from my grasp. “Ooooo, what d’we got here, huh? More stupid Clifford, Scooby Fucking Doo, Pussy Tom and that minx Jerry, and Peter Bloody Pan. Hmmm, looks like a good lot ya got here, Josie. I reckon they won’t be very easy t’ read if they’re in shreds.” 

“Harry, no! Please, those are from school, they’re not mine! I’ll get in trouble with my teacher,” I beg, getting on all fours and crawling across my bed towards him. One look is all he needs to get me to stop, because I know if I took one more step towards him he’d pull out one of those faces that’d make me wet the bed . . again. 

“Even better then, love,” he smiles that mischievous smile with his yellow teeth that he swipes his tongue across. I feel a lurch in my chest when the first book begins to look like rainbow snow falling from his fingers, then the next, and the others while he laughs loudly. My pleas for him to stop don’t make any difference, and I fear that they only make his devilish smile brighter and wider across his blue tinted cheeks. 

“Why’d you do that?!” I almost scream, and one of his unruly eyebrows raises in answer. 

“How many times do I gotta bloody tell ya t’ shut yer mouth?” he lips back in return, tossing the last handful of papery snow behind him. 

“No, I won’t! Why’d you read to me last night if you were just gonna do that?” I sob, angry words flying with the tears. It’s only a second, but I think that I surprised him. “I thought you could be nice!” 

“Ya well, ‘m not nice, Josie. ‘m a bloody monster, I dunno why you expected that I could ever be nice. Me job ‘snt t’ be nice, ya brat, and that was a fluke - a one time thing that’s never gonna happen ‘gain, ya hear? Stop cryin’ ‘bout yer bloody books and fuckin’ go t’ bed, ya cry baby,” Harry hisses, tightening the frayed red and black flannel tied around his body covered in holey black clothes. 

“But you can be nice, I saw it! You are nice, Harry, if you just try!” 

“What’d I say, li’l girl, huh? Go t’ bed befo’ I make ya, and ya don’t wanna see that happen, I can promise ya that,” he answers with a stern finger pointed at me. The lights flick off with no warning and I fall back when he pushes me onto my covers. I don’t remember when he left, because I was too wrapped up in the tears flowing down my cheeks, and the fear leaking through them. 

He’s right, I am stupid for thinking that the monster who lives under my bed could ever be nice. 

*  *

Even after I slipped under the bed, and back into my world, her sobs still wrench at my heart and fill my head. It doesn’t matter how far I get away from her door that looks like a pixie threw up on it, pink as can be, I still hear them. If anything, they get louder and swarm around in my head. I shake it a bajillion times, wishing they would leave, and that when I pass other monsters who pat me on the back for the sound of her wails, I wish all the more for them to be gone. Suddenly, I’m not proud of them, and I had thought that the few tears she shed the other night bothered me, but this is anything but that. It rips apart my insides how they dig into the crevices of my mind, and how they pull me back to her. 

With every step past the cracked headstones weathered of names and dates of life, my feet become heavier, like cement blocks. With each step, they grow a pound in weight, and the stones and boulders I chuck into the blackness can’t even compare. The shrieks and requital of the pissed off mermaids and slimy grindylows below don’t throw a damper on my exaggerated rock skipping. 

“We’re tryna sleep here, ye fool!” one of the pinched faced mermaids bellows at me, propelling the sharp edged stone back at me. 

“Does it look like I fuckin’ care what yer doin’?” I scream back, chucking a bigger stone in her direction. She yelps before her muddled neon pink hair disappears below the murky surface. “Fuckin’ mermaids, bloody lot still hate me afta I broke tha heart of yer beloved Hera last century,” I mutter under my breath, at last falling to sit on a smooth, red boulder. Prying the minuscule shards of glass from the soles of my shoes, my dormant lungs beg for air, something that stuck with me past my days as a human.

I don’t need to breathe or let alone be gasping for air, but it never escaped me, although most other mortal things certainly did. 

It feels as if a stone stronger and wider than those beneath my feet sits lodged in my throat when I try to swallow, her face stuck behind my eyes. My throat soon feels akin to Darkly Desert a few miles away and the emerald reflected on the toiling waves grows messed up in front of me. 

“What tha bloody hell?” I curse, swiping a finger across my cheek and feeling wetness greet my chalky skin. “Christ Almighty,” I breathe, feeling the cool tears scatter my cheeks as my nose sniffles accordingly. “I can’t remember tha last time I had a bleedin’ cry, certainly not since ‘ve been a monster. Tha fuck ‘s happenin’ t’ me?” I croak, my head collapsing into my hands. 

“Gotcha heart broken by another girl, Harry?” a slinky voice asks, waves lapping against the rocks at my feet. I don’t need to peek my eyes open to know who it is, their revolting voice and squeaky, wicked laugh tells me the whole story. 

“Would ya fuck off, Freya? N’body asked you,” I crack, toeing my shoe through a puddle of rotten weeds that I fling at her. She scoffs loudly and it’s unbeknownst to me whether she scurries away or lingers. 

“Me’s hopin’ she did good work on it, if ya even have anythin’ left in there. Guessin’ ‘s a shriveled ol’ black thing by this time,” Freya bites back, making a loud exit and whipping her tail to spray me with the water that reeks of rotted corpses and fish. 

“Like you’ve ever had one, Frey, it takes one t’ know one!” I shout, standing to my feet and tossing one more stone in her direction. “N’body likes yer kind anyways, jus’ glorified fish with boobs, you are,” I groan with a shake of my head, my feet crunching with every step over the tiny bones that her and her posse toss to the shore like it’s their own garbage bin. 

Questions swim through my mind as I hike up the hill muddied by last night’s boiling hot rain showers, wondering how I can fix this. I jumped right past the wondering and decision making, and have landed right at the ‘how.’

I really do have a problem here, but the one that concerns me isn’t the existential one of sorts. 

“Open alfucking ready!” I shout, pounding my fist on the chipped wooden door, streaked with red. I’m not sure if I want to ask the question of what made it red. “Zekey, c’mon open up , you git!” I continue, lifting my fist for another blow right when the door swings open. 

“Da fuck d’yeh want, ‘arry?” he sighs in return, rubbing at his eyes and only further smearing the black makeup surrounding them. “Shouldn’t yeh be out on yer route, and not buggin’ me?”

“‘m uh, in between kiddies right now, Z. Ya busy, mate?” I explain softly, biting at my nails but there’s not much left to bite. 

“Apparently not, and would it even matta if I was? ‘m sure yeh’d still barge right in, wouldntcha?” he tuts, turning around and leaving the door open for me. “By tha way, did yeh fookin’ tell Ly’ that I revoked his invitation? Told yeh not t’, I found him snoggin’ me girl and that’s reason enuff t’ banish him from here, I reckon.” 

“Nah, that wasn’t me. Maybe it was Ni, I dunno. Can we get on with this, ‘s important,” I rush, tip toeing a careful trail through his doorway littered with empty beer bottles, cardboard pizza boxes, and cigarette butts. “D’y’know how t’ bloody pick up fer once, Z? Yer not even a monster, so ya can’t fall back on tha ‘messy monster’ cliche, mate.” 

“I dont’ rememba askin’ yeh, ‘arry. Now, what tha fook d’ya want that I had t’ wake up fer?” Zeke responds with disdain laced in his voice, collapsing onto his maroon sofa that’s by far seen better days, perhaps last century even. 

“‘m takin’ up that favor o’ mine ya owe me, and don’t even say sumthin’ like, ‘oh, what favor?’ Cuz ya bloody well know what favor, need I remind you?” 

“No, no. My bloody God, ‘arry, jus’ name it already. ‘m not gettin’ any younger sittin’ here waitin’ fer yeh t’ explain yerself away, am I now?” he sighs, raking a hand through his spiked, electric green hair. I nod and with an unnecessary breath, I steady myself, and prepare the sentence that I’ve rehearsed over and over. 

“I need some o’ yer Fix-It Dust,” I say slowly, waiting for his reply.

“That’s all? God, yeh scared me, thinkin’ I needed t’ hex somebody, bring a lover back from tha dead, or wipe a memory,” Z chuckles, springing up from the sofa and across the room to his bookshelf that’s never changed in appearance since that day I met him at the Wobbly Waterfall and came back here. “There, easy ‘nough,” he announces a moment later, tossing a small, dark bottle at me. The bookshelf behind him slides closed, and the fluorescent bottles coloring the rainbow disappear behind the moving novels. 

“Thanks, Z.” 

“Don’t mention it, Hare. I dunno why yeh think that warrants a favor,” he replies with a soft laugh and shrug of his shoulders. 

“What d’ya mean?” 

“‘s bloody dust, mate, not a bleedin’ spell, jinx, or body swap. Tell anybody I did this fer you, and yer screwed, but tha favor still stands. Good luck with whateva tha fuck it ‘s, I don’t care and don’t wanna,” he insists, waving a hand at me. 

“I appreciate it, mate, thank you.” 

“Since when d’yeh have fricken manners, Hare? Yeh gettin’ soft on me, or sumthin’?” he giggles, crossing his pale arms riddled with black ink, one or two of them my own handiwork. 

“Oh, would ya learn when t’ shut yer fuckin’ mouth, Zeke?” I scoff with a tut of my head, turning around and kicking a few beer bottles out of my path. 

“Hare, a softie? It really mus’ be tha end o’ days a comin’,” he titters from behind me, soon the sound of his TerroVision roaring to life. 

“Mention that t’ anyb’dy and ‘ll knock a few mo’ o’ yer teeth out, mate!” I counter, hearing the last few licks of his laugh before the door slams behind me. 

“This shite better magic me way back onto her good side,” I sigh, turning the dark bottle over in my hands, watching the flecks of fluorescent orange trickle around, and wondering just what the hell I’m doing. “I need t’ fix me fuck up befo’ ‘s too late,” I say, shoving it into my pocket hurriedly and padding down a flight of chipped steps, my heart thumping harder with every step that nears her. 

* 

Her decadent smell of berries and cream welcomes me back first, and then the sound of her slow snores. Her Scooby Doo night light smiles at me ironically, shedding light on the piles of torn paper on the cream carpet. Never, did I feel so guilty. The dried tears staining her cheeks and the heart wrenching sniffling in her sleep only make matters worse. Her mattress sags under my weight and I watch how her chest rises and falls with every breath, a sensation I can’t remember experiencing, but then again, I’ve never tried to remember it. I thumb away the strands of golden hair cast over her face, her smell wafting over me when I brush my thumb against her warm skin. Toasty breaths against my hand remind me that they feel like icicles, and that somehow long ago, they used to feel like her. They used to feel human, and so did I. 

“‘m so sorry, Josie, for ruinin’ yer books and clock. Pinky promise ‘ll fix ‘em. Right here and now,” I whisper softly, placing the wild strand of hair behind her ear adorned with an earring of a little, pink ice cream cone. Standing up, I look over my shoulder to make sure I didn’t wake her. 

She’s not really a heavy sleeper or a light one, I’ve found, somewhere in the middle instead. With my back to her, my grimey shoes come to freeze before the flurry of colored paper below me. Nibbling at the inside of my cheek, fretting, I fish the bottle from my pocket. The brown cork slides from the opening easily with a pop! before I turn it around in my hands, finding Zekey’s chicken scratch on the other side. 

After sprinkling on your screw up, chant these words and it’ll magic your mistake away, like it never happened. Three times is a charm. 

Fixus Motalus 

“Easy enuff,” I mutter, stuffing the cork away into a pocket. Tipping the bottle to the side, I tap my finger against it to watch the glowing dust fall to the floor. “Fixus Motalus. Fixus Motalus. Fixus Motalus,” I recite and within a blink, the pile of torn books sparkles before an imaginary wind kicks them up into a tornado of sorts, mending themselves back together before my smiling eyes. 

My steps leave creaks along her carpeted floor, something I’ve always hated, because it gives me away. I just hope it won’t do that very thing now, when I need to remain in secrecy more than ever before. 

“C’mon, Posie, where’s yer markers? They’ve gotta be here sumwhere, bein’ a little kiddie and all,” I sigh, my eyes searching her desk that, of course, is a baby pink. Only when I pull open a drawer do I find a stack of plain paper, and a plastic box chalk full of markers. 

Plucking one of the papers from the stack and a blue marker, I quickly scrawl a note on it before the cap clicks! back onto the marker. I’m careful to shut the drawer quietly and to not move a thing from its place, besides the Aladdin water bottle on her bed stand. Beside it, I find room to place the shiny pile of books with her teacher’s name written on the front, and with my note sat on top. 

She continues to snooze away, unknowing of my presence, and ignoring the crackling of glass below my feet at the end of her bed. As silence trickles through the house, I watch until every last sparkling fleck has fallen from the bottle to the floor, leaving it empty. A small tornado of sharp glass whirls into the air above the floor, and like a puzzle, they fit themselves back into the pink frame of the clock. With a whooooooosh!, it flies itself back up the wall and to the nail that it hung from, a shiny glint on its glass. 

“I dunno what yer doin’ t’ me, Josephine May Stephens,” I cluck softly, hands stuffed in my pockets as I trudge over to her bed and find a seat in front of her. “But I know ‘s no good, that’s fo’sure . . cuz I think I may be gettin’ a soft spot for you . . and monsters don’t get soft spots for kiddies, we hate you lot typically. Yet, here I am, thinkin’ I might be likin’ a kiddie. ‘m in fer real trouble with you, aren’t I, lovie?” 

* *

Sun stretches through my blinds the next morning, trying to reach me. Groaning, I turn over in my bed and call back to my mom when she knocks on my door, asking if I’m awake. Flying up to sit, my eyes race around the room, hoping she won’t walk in. 

“Alright, honey. Breakfast is ready, come and eat before it’s cold.” 

“Okay, Mom!” I reply, swinging my legs over the side of the bed as I lift the covers, accidentally hitting my bedside table. Something falls to the floor with a slap! and my tired eyes follow curiously.

“What was that? I didn’t have anything on the table last night,” I yawn, my feet falling onto the carpet. “Huh?” I exclaim with wonder, falling to my knees and picking up the pile of books, the very same stack that Harry shredded to pieces last night. Questions roll through my head and no answers come as I flip through the pages that are just like before, not even a page tear in sight. “This is really weird . . Am I still dreaming?” I mumble. Something tells me to lift my head and when I look at the wall, there sits my Hello Kitty clock with her arms telling me the time, ticking along just fine. 

Huffing, I glance back to the books but they’re forgotten when I see a piece of paper on the floor. Wait, that wasn’t there before, was it? I never wrote a note or colored last night before bed. Reaching a hand out, I pick it up and find that this morning can only get weirder, and weirder. 

“If only I could read you, because I bet you’re from Harry, and then all of this silliness would make sense to me,” I huff, stashing the note in my side table’s drawer and trudging downstairs, wondering what to expect tonight from the monster under my bed who signs his notes with a really bad drawing of a monster.

[nev3rfound]

i’ll be waiting : b.b

brief summary: you are suffering after a traumatic mission and are moved away from the compound to recover but remain in touch with your closest friend sam whilst someone else longs for your company

word count: 1.7k requested: yes - by the sweetest gal @saturngirlz thank you for the support behind the scenes and patience for me to write this warnings: mention of ptsd, some violence described but nothing much 

* masterlistin’ 

* commissions 

(if anyone has a good idea on how I can set up a permanent taglist so people can easily add themselves do let me know! i’m v close to 2.5k and i want to do this to celebrate)

Two years ago your life fell apart in more ways than you could ever have anticipated. Five years ago you were discovered, captured and kept hostage in a base where no one spoke the same language as you. Four years ago, you were saved and found a new home, with a family who finally accepted you for who you were. The same year you were declared an Avenger, part of the family officially.

You were finally being put back together, the sense of security you had longed for was resonating for the first time in your life. Everything was going too well, part of you anticipated something could happen to ruin it, something always happened whether you wanted it or not. Nothing could stop what happened, not even your family.

There were seven of you on this mission. All split up to cover different sectors of the forest. You knew the risks, you took responsibility for your actions and reasoning for going off course. Your eyes followed a strange man, his armband glowed and you couldn’t stop your legs from moving in his direction.

Bucky was the first to find you. He could barely see you at first beneath the rubble. All he heard was the explosion, the sound of your scream as someone screamed to you. Sam screamed for you to get out of the way, to run. But you were solid, stuck in the spot as three men held guns to your face. 

That was when the explosion occurred. 

You were thrown off of your feet, your body slammed into a series of trees as you fell into the shrubbery. Slowly you were surrounded by dismembered limbs, burning pieces of clothing and the smell of death. When Bucky found you, your smile was vacant, you were lost inside of your thoughts.

He tried to help you to your feet, but you were covered in blood. You had a large gash across the right side of your scalp as it oozed down your face, dripping down your eyelashes as you blinked up at him. Silently you pleaded for him to reverse it all, stop it from happening. But there wasn’t anyone who could take back the past, what was done was done. 

Bucky didn’t let go of your hand as you were carried back to the Quinjet. He sat by your side in the long hours of silence that droned through the hospital ward in the compound. You weren’t responsive, despite his best efforts of making you laugh, you weren’t in there. 

All you could hear was the sound of your name being screamed by Sam, the fear of death hanging heavy as the heat hit your body. You still felt weightless, the moment where you felt like flying before you were harshly reminded of gravity as your body weakened on impact. 

You were told Sam kept coming by, talking to you about old memories from when you first joined to help snap you from the painful state you were encased in. Bucky would tell you he sat and laughed to you, wiping his eyes when you weren’t looking. For once he wanted to be the strong one in your friendship, not let you see him weaken. 

After you were recovering, you moved back to your bedroom. A place you could feel secure as you were surrounded by familiarity. You could curl up into your own bed, wear your own pyjamas that felt comfortable and didn’t itch against the scratches that lined your skin. But that didn’t happen, you weren’t comfortable, no matter how much you tried to hide it.

You felt suffocated beneath your bedding. The pyjamas you once sought out felt alien on your skin as you wished to tear them off. Every time you closed your eyes, you could picture it all happening. You woke up screaming, hearing the sound of your name being softly whispered as strong arms were holding you close.

He was the first to you when it happened, always was. Your screams echoed through the corridors, even in the dead of night. Bucky rushed to your room, not caring who he woke up as long as he knew you were safe. He held you close to his chest, whispering soft reminders to you as you screamed, you sobbed loudly and soaked his shirt once again. But Bucky didn’t care, he just wanted you to know you were safe.

Sam would walk in next, rubbing his eyes as he found his two friends tangled together beneath the sheets. He would let out a silent sigh of relief to see you calm in Bucky’s strong arms and to see Bucky smiling in his sleep as he kept you close to his chest. Bucky quickly learnt you needed to hear soothing sounds. His heart beating, a steady repetitive beat to remind you someone is still here, even if she falls asleep the sound won’t stop. 

Despite this being a temporary fix, everyone knew it couldn’t be a permanent solution. 

Tony sat with Sam, Steve and Bucky to discuss the matter. They witnessed the mission, saw the aftermath first hand. All of them had dealt with PTSD and suggested methods to help. Despite the long hours of discussions, debates and arguments they settled on a single option. They had your best interests at heart and knew this would help you in the long run; they’d send you away. 

That was two years ago. Two years ago you were helped by your friends as you packed your bags with tears in your eyes. You felt numb about the entire thing and obliged. Deep down you knew it was a good choice to make, but it didn’t make it any easier. 

Your room was left empty, the door closed as the faint smell of lavender and vanilla remained etched into the walls enclosed. 

Bucky walked alongside you to the car, fighting back the urge to stop you from going. He wanted to be selfish, not let you leave before he could tell you how much you meant to him. But he couldn’t be selfish. He knew you needed this, something Sam continually reminded him in the weeks after you were driven out of sight. 

Out of everyone, you spoke to Sam every week. He was the first person who let you into his life. Sam wasn’t nervous or afraid of your outspoken attitude when you first joined. He understood your defensive mannerisms, and couldn’t help but see himself in you when you laughed at something stupid. 

Sitting down in the cabin, you curl up in front of the fire. You zone in on the flames, holding your hands out to them and feel the heat slowly starting to burn against your flesh. Staring straight at it, you breathe through the pain, forcing yourself to stop associating heat with that day. 

The sound of your phone ringing snaps you out of it. You quickly retract your hands, rubbing them against your thighs as you wince at the blisters that begin to form. Looking down at your phone, you smile as his goofy expression illuminates the screen, one you’ll never tire of seeing in lapses of doubt. 

“What’s up bird brain?” You answer the phone as you wander into the kitchen, switching the kettle on before you curl up on your sofa, staring into the fire.

Sam scoffs down the line, making you smile to yourself. “You ever going to pick a new nickname?” He questions and hears your light laughter, something he misses hearing. “I’ll take that as a no then.” He mutters under his breath, feigning annoyance with you.

“I’ll consider it, Sam. Just for you, that is.” You joke back with him, wishing he was sat opposite you rather than hundreds of miles away on a phone that lacks the best of signal. “Now why are you calling me when it is obviously your bedtime?”

Smiling to himself, Sam glances over seeing his fellow Avengers watching, listening closely to his phone call with you. His eyes watch Bucky, the cold blue melting at the faint sound of your voice, a sweet laugh he’s longed for. 

“I just, you know it’s been a long time and I know you’re getting better,” Sam starts, unsure where his words will lead him.

You rise from your curled state and sit upright, leaning on the edge of your small sofa. “Yeah, you know I am I mean, you’ve seen my therapists reports.” You remind him, having sent him daily updates after the first few months of you living here. Every day you were registered for an hour with a therapist to talk everything over. With each passing day, it got easier to talk and not cry throughout the whole thing or remain silent. 

Tony flicks through your medical reports, nodding to Sam. “Exactly, and I’ve never been happier for you, Y/N/N. I just, I think it might be time we come and see you?” His tone becomes questionable instead of making a clear statement. 

Sam’s eyes widen as Bucky clenches his jaw, shifting uncomfortably on the spot as Tony facepalms. Inside, Sam begins to breakdown, realising he might’ve just messed everything up, their chance of getting you back. 

Silence echoes through the phone line, and Sam pulls the phone away to ensure you’re still there. “I know it’s been two years, Y/n. But we really miss you.” He mutters softly as he shuts his eyes and leans against the table, turning his back on everyone else. “I miss you, and a certain soldier won’t stop staring me down when I get off the phone with you.” 

Your soft watery laugh sends a wave of relief through Sam as his shoulders slouch back down. “I, I’d really love that.” You whisper down the line as you clutch your phone close to your ear, tears filling your eyes as you smile like a Cheshire cat to yourself. “Thank you, Sam.” You mutter to him. “I, I’ve missed everyone too. And you of course,” You add for his sake, picturing him smile. “and, and I’ve missed him too.” 

Behind Sam, Bucky smiles to himself, hoping it goes unnoticed as his heart flutters in his chest realising he’ll finally see you once again. He might have a chance to hold you close and finally hear his heart beating only for you. 

[insfiringyou]

First time having anal sex with Jungkook

Contains: Him meeting your/his girlfriend’s parents for the first time. Fluff. Smut. Fingering. Oral sex. Anal sex while on period.

While this scenario can be enjoyed on its own, we imagine the reader here to be Young-soon, our headcanon girlfriend for Jungkook (his second serious girlfriend). This takes place around four months into their relationship. Find our more about our headcanon universe and girlfriends here.

We have also written first time anal scenarios for both V and Suga which you may be interested in reading as well as our list of most likely to want to try anal sex.

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin  /   Suga  /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook & Our full masterlist can be found here

Rated content below cut

“Kook.” You whispered in the dark, shuffling slightly against the thick duvet to face him, hoping he wasn’t asleep. Despite the warm, sunny weather earlier in the day it had become an unseasonably cold night and you had opted for the quilted bed-sheets, pulling them from the closet in the corner of the room and making up your bed like you had as a child. At least you didn’t need your hot water bottle, Jungkook’s body always seemed warm and comforting and you had spent the last half an hour with your feet pressed against his legs, sharing his heat. 

He had been worried that your parents would object to him sleeping in the same bed as you, with you staying over at their house and, while it was true they had not been overly fond of your last boyfriend, they had welcomed Jungkook with open arms, surprising you both. You suspected, on some level, that it was due to his age. Your ex had been a couple of years older than you and, on the few occasions you had taken him to meet your parents at your childhood home in Incheon, you had been asked to keep the bedroom door open at night. You rolled your eyes every time, you were in your mid-twenties, not a child, but they had insisted. In hindsight, you wondered whether they had seen something in him you had not and whether they knew that after two years of being together he would suddenly get cold feet and decide he wasn’t the dating type after all.

Jungkook, however, had inspired a different reaction from them the moment he stepped foot on the decking in your garden. Your dad was shovelling coal for a BBQ onto the grill and your mom was preparing some desserts but they had both stopped what they were doing to embrace him. He had been visibly nervous on the drive down but he soon relaxed when he saw he had nothing to worry about. After dinner, your father had taken Jungkook aside, into the front living room to show him his prized model train set and later, when you headed to bed, you heard your parents pass your bedroom door without protesting that it was fully closed.

You had been drifting in and out of sleep for the past thirty minutes but couldn’t fully commit. With your new apartment in disarray following your recent move and him spending most of his time in the shared house with the other members, it had been several weeks since you last slept in the same bed as Jungkook. The solidity of finally having him beside you in nothing but his boxers and an old white T-shirt was too much to bear. Your mind kept returning to the sweet, bashful smile he had sported when your father wrapped him in his arms and the way he bowed politely to your mother, a blush staining his beautiful olive skin; you had never seen him look so happy and proud. Your heart ached for him and your body craved his touch. The light on the landing outside your room was turned on but your parents had gone to bed some time before.

“Mm?” He murmured. His voice was tired but he perked up at your movement, straightening himself beneath the covers.

Shifting your body closer to him, you whispered. “I really want you right now.” 

There was a pause as he registered what you were saying. “Oh.” His hand found your shoulder and brushed the skin gently as he moved forward and captured your lips. He was soft against you as he leaned over your body, kissing you into the covers. You became aware of the wet sound of your lips meeting and opening against each other ringing out in the otherwise silent space; the house was in a suburb and lacked the kind of traffic you had grown used to in Seoul, but the noise only seemed to intensify your desire. By the time his hand finally reached the crotch your panties, pushing gently past your thighs to rub a line down the centre, you were practically squirming into his palm. 

His breath was audibly strained when he broke away from your lips and, in return, you stifled a moan as he slipped his index and middle finger beneath the gusset to gently rub your clit, circling the bud with the pads of his fingers in little, precise movements. 

“Is this good?” He whispered ticklishly into your ear, making you quiver. He could not exactly be described as shy in the bedroom, but he was always eager for feedback; wanting to please you. Moving forward blindly, you pecked his cheek in reply and bit your lip as he continued this motion a few times; his minty breath warm against your cheeks as he held you close, eventually probing downwards towards your entrance. You took a sharp intake of breath as you suddenly remembered...

“Wait...I’m on a period.” You murmured. 

He paused before starting to pull his hand away but you reassured him. 

“It’s okay...I’m wearing a tampon.”

“Oh.” He said, a little wearily. You blushed as you realised he didn’t really know what to do. You had been lucky so far in your time together that your periods had not coincided with the nights you had spent together and so you had never had cause to wonder how squeamish he was. You reached for his wrist, tucked between your thighs, and stroked it gently, savouring the comforting feeling of the fine hairs on his arm against your fingertips. 

“It’s okay.” You reassured him. “Just be careful.” 

He nodded. “I will.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead as he slipped his hand away from you momentarily, pulling it from under the elastic leg of your panties. He spat gently into his hand, brushing his fingers against his lips before dipping back into your knickers; moving against you once more as he rubbed your swollen clit. The extra lubrication was appreciated and you threw your head back against the pillow as he moved down to press his open mouth against your camisole, kissing your hard nipples through the fabric. You did your best to remain quiet, knowing your parents were asleep just across the hallway, but let out the occasional breathy whimper, stifled by Jungkook’s mouth as he pressed back against your lips, more firmly this time. 

Historically, your orgasms came sporadically, even when you touched yourself and it soon became apparent you were not going to reach your high. After so long without sex, you wanted nothing more than to have him completely; for him to press his hot, sweaty bare skin against yours and fuck you until you screamed his name but you knew that wasn’t really plausible in your current situation. Your mind raced through the possibilities as you pulled away from your boyfriend’s lips reluctantly. 

“Do you want me to give you a blowjob?” You whispered against his cheek. He shook his head in reply, slowing his fingers. 

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to.” 

You couldn’t help but peck his face again. His body smelt of the spicy, sweet deodorant he had put on before bedtime and you craved him so much you thought you could cry. “Can we try something else?” You begged, slipping your fingers through his and holding his hand loosely. 

“Like what?” He asked. 

You thought for a moment, considering the possibilities. One, above all others, made your breath hitch and your heart race. “Anal?” You suggested, predicting his reaction correctly nano-seconds before you felt his body stiffen slightly against you. He paused, clearly taken aback. 

“Is it...” He started, before changing his mind. “Have you done it before?” He finished after a moment’s thought. It was mainly concern you sensed in his voice but the thought that telling him the truth might make him unnecessarily jealous crossed your mind.

“It’s okay...” You avoided the question but sensed he had already guessed the answer. “We can stop if you don’t like it.” 

You sensed he was still suspicious you were kidding him as he took another moment to think it through as you adjusted your positions on the bed. The mattress squeaked a little under your weight as you leaned over him and began to work him through his underwear. He let out a loud gasp which you quickly stifled with a kiss as you pulled down his waistband and began to stroke his thick length in slow, languorous motions. Giving you pleasure never failed to arouse him and, as suspected he was already rock hard and extra sensitive. When you were confident he had his vocals under control, you pulled away to take him into your mouth; gliding up and down a couple of times to slicken him.

He held your hair back lovingly as you pleased him with your warm lips and tongue, making sure to pull away before he could get too worked up and lose control. You removed your camisole and panties as you shifted positions once more and settled against the mattress, piling a couple of pillows up beneath your waist to prop your lower body up. 

“Here.” You whispered. “Hold my leg.”

He complied as he nestled himself close to you, supporting your right thigh against his waist to angle your body upwards as you guided his spare hand between your thighs and to your arse. His fingers moved against you momentarily, brushing the puckered skin gently with a slight intake of air, before moving upwards to press against your cunt, figuring out the anatomy. You gasped as you felt his fingers briefly touch the string of your tampon before moving back to your other hole. He nestled himself closer as he pulled away to grasp his length, holding it straight and pressing it against you gently. 

You reached between your legs to stop him before he could penetrate and shuffled slightly to reach into the top draw of your bedside table silently. The anticipation, in addition to the dark and almost-silent environment you were currently in was causing you both to feel a little nervous and you were a little skittish and impatient as you shuffled blindly through the jumble of objects in your draw to find the bottle of lubricant you were sure you had left in here during your last visit home. 

Sensing your frustration, Jungkook moved forwards to help, finding the small bottle first and, with a moment’s difficulty finding the pump, spread the liquid liberally over his cock. He gasped breathlessly. “Oh, it’s cold.” 

You grinned and pecked his lips as he embraced you once more; reaching out and taking his slick member in your hand. Slower than slow, you pressed him against your entrance, opening your mouth wide in a silent moan as you felt the very tip of him press into you. He resisted the urge to push forwards and held his hips still, patiently waiting for you to guide him inside, inch by inch. Eventually, after a few minutes of gentle encouragement, he was able to immerse himself fully and let out an involuntary groan.

You froze below him and, realising his mistake, began to cough a couple of times to try and mask it. “Sorry.” He whispered. His voice sounded genuine and you grinned, despite yourself as he started to move his hips against you, being more careful in stifling his moans and grunts as your body accommodated him. The sensation, vaguely familiar but also different, was exquisite. You had tried anal twice before with your most recent ex, but it had never felt as good as this.You felt full in a delicious, complete way that you could not get from vaginal sex and, while there was some discomfort beneath the pleasure, knowing it was Jungkook doing this to you made your entire body throb and tingle delightfully. You knew that he was feeling overwhelmed too from the way he struggled to control his whines. It was something new and taboo for him and something strangely intimate for you; you didn’t think you would have asked him to do this to you a few weeks ago.

He kept his pace slow but, after a few minutes, moved his fingers back to your clit; rubbing you in time with his motions. 

“That feels good.” You allowed yourself to moan as he worked you up. You were surprised when you felt your orgasm approach; coming in sharp and hot and borderline painful. He increased the pace of his fingers but kept his hips slow as you thrust your pelvis against him, your entire body shuddering violently and causing the mattress to squeak in its wooden frame. 

“God.” You called out, as quietly as you possibly could as your laboured breathing slowed down. He entered you once, twice more, burying himself slowly but deep before slipping himself out of you. It didn’t take long for him to finish himself off; grasping his cock tightly and jerking leisurely; enjoying the slower pace. After he spilled himself into his palm, he reached over to the bedside table and slipped a couple of tissues from the gap in the cardboard box on top, cleaning himself quietly. 

“I can’t believe we just did that...” You grinned as he returned from the en-suite, the light from the small room framing his nude body beautifully. Your breath was still heavy from the intensity of your climax. He climbed into the bed as you rose to clean yourself. 

“Me neither.” The wonderstruck sound of his voice struck a chord in your chest as you considered how happy he had been all day. 

“I really hope we weren’t too loud.” You deliberately lowered your voice, suddenly aware that it was three a.m. 

A frown creased his otherwise blissful face. “I wouldn’t want them to hate me.” He said, referring to your parents. 

You shook your head reassuringly as you reached the doorway to the bathroom. “They adore you. I think they want you to live here permanently.” 

You saw his expression change in an instant as his worry was replaced with the brightest, most blazing smile you had seen. The urge to wrap him in your arms and never let go was suddenly overwhelming. With a regretful sigh, you turned to the bathroom. 

***

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the avatar series: 01.16

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chapter sixteen

It seemed as everyone was walking on broken glass today; creeping around as if the very words to even address the events of tonight were venomous. To replace the topic of great anticipation, discussions regarding the weather and newest music favorites echoed throughout the island.

The White Lotus Society hasn’t had to prepare for an event similar since even before Avatar Aang passed away. Consequently, even the most experienced society members are unsure how to help out Tari and her companions. Everyone, even Sukiara, has been walking around the island as if one wrong move – one misstep will cause the ocean to swallow Bak Mei whole.

The only society members who seemed to know what today needed were the chefs, as they produced what seemed to be an endless amount of food from all four of the nations in order to give everyone a little bit of home before the event of tonight.

Yuta was focused on the plate in front of him, his utensils digging deep into the series of dishes he chose from the buffet. “This reminds me so much of home.” He moaned, biting into the Komodo Chicken prepared for lunch.

“Okay but would you rather know every native language known to man or have all the knowledge, except languages, from Wan’s Library?” Sonan asked, ignoring Yuta’s praise, as she gulped down her Mango and Lychee tea.

“Wan’s Library, 1000%.” Doyoung insisted, furrowing his eyebrows and flinching his head back. The answer was obvious to him, he’d bet his extra bowl of tofu and mung bean curry.  

Yuta hummed, “I agree.”

“I’d say languages.” Jisung shrugged as he finished his side plate of octopus fritters. His answer made Yuta and Doyoung turn their heads harshly to face him in shock. “What! Native languages allows you to speak to everyone in this world, you can learn relevant knowledge from them!” His voice increased in pitch as he defended his opinion.

“No yeah, I agree with Jisung.” Kilari jumped up to defend him, despite her mouth still being full of smoked sea slug pieces. “I rather be able to talk to everyone living than know everything about the past.”

Yuta faked disgust, before turning to Johnny who was drinking his favorite cherry-berry smoothie. “You?”

“I would say languages so I can translate my articles and even reach out to larger audiences.” Johnny shrugged, “But, I would love the information on fighting techniques from the library.”

“You have to pick one!” Sonan challenged.

“You haven’t picked yourself!” Johnny teased, his head leaning in mockingly. Sonan remained tight-lipped as a result, playfully rolling her eyes as if she was annoyed.

Jisung furrowed his eyebrows, “Anyways, wasn’t Wan’s library a myth?”

To Tari’s surprise, it wasn’t only her who shook her head. Tari’s past life witnessed the sinking of Wan’s famous library, but she can’t be certain that he addressed it to the public. From Johnny, Doyoung, and Sonan nodding – she can tell that others have heard the tales. Sonan, however, might’ve been told the stories as a bedtime story as her father was actually there and one of the causes behind the sudden flooding of sand.

Tari smiled. Although the terrible events of tonight are ahead of them, they are able to relax for a while. Yes, through the last few days – they haven’t always been talking about the upcoming battle, but this is the first time Tari relished in this distraction. Despite her recent thinking she’d be better off alone, she can’t be happier with the people she was with now.

She felt overflowing with gratitude. Eventually, she dazed out of the conversation and observed the smiles on their faces – the laughter, the light-hearted conversation. For once, everything felt normal. Everything felt like it had been before the attacks. Tari ended up grinning at anything and everything. Right now, Tari can’t care less if her friendships with them doesn’t transcend lifetimes. What she cares about is that she’s with them now, and there’s no place she’d rather be.

“Tari?” Sonan waved her hand in front of Tari’s eyes, successfully breaking her out of her trance.

Tari’s eyes widened, her eyebrows lifting and humming as if to ask her to repeat what she said. She couldn’t say it with words – her mouth was full of five-flavor soup and she knew if she’d talk right now, it’d look disgusting.

“She said…” Yuta nudged Tari’s knee with his own, a small smirk playing on his lips. “…would you rather live in the Fire Lord’s old beach home or in a home Ba Sing Se?”

“Modern Ba Sing Se or past as in with the Dai Li?” Tari asked, knowing that’ll completely impact her answer. It’s all about being decisive, but like Aang said – the situation matters.

Climbing onto the bison felt like heaving a million rocks to the top of the mountain.

Maybe it’s the knowledge that there is a possibility they’ll die, or they’ll lose something about themselves, be it bending or a sense of carelessness about world events. Maybe it’s the knowledge that after tonight, the city will completely change.

The day full of distracted dialogue and varying conversations has long been forgotten with the sunset ahead of them. They have four hours until the bending event starts, which means around three hours to get there and get on the attendance sheet. It takes an hour and so to get there, but they need time to get out of their White Lotus robes, pajamas, and hand-me-down clothes.

Tari’s companions seem to have never flew a flying bison without the heaviness on their shoulders and the weights in their feet. From travelling there to travelling home, every moment on the bison was thick with tension. The Avatar only wishes that they could experience a ride free of worries. “Shall we sing a song?” Johnny joked, nudging Doyoung who took that as a sign to immediately start singing.

Tari looked at her friends’ faces - all smiling, singing and humming. Despite the anxiety coursing through her veins, she wished this moment never ends.

“I forgot how buff Johnny was.” Kilari gasped, spotting Johnny approach the meeting spot with his sleeveless V-neck black vest and tight black tactical pants Tari recognized from their adventures rock climbing.  His muscles were practically bulging, taking everyone’s - particularly Kilari’s - breath away. “Why doesn’t he show it off more often?” She whispered to Sonan and Tari, making the two roll their eyes – although they’re both truly impressed with his figure.

Sonan chuckled, “Don’t check out our friend, oh my gosh.” She rolled her eyes, “Plus, I thought you liked Yuta.” Kilari shrugged with a small smirk.

“Nothing wrong with checking out the views.” She commented off-handily before moving to look at Yuta, who like Johnny, was wearing a sleeveless shirt although more loose with the top buttons undone. “Yuta is definitely not as buff, but still, hot damn.”

Doyoung furrowed his eyebrows. “Why aren’t I getting any comments?” He playfully pouted. Tari immediately brightened up at that comment, chuckling, before going to lovingly hold his arm in a hug.

“We love you really.” Tari smiled up at him, resting her chin on his shoulder.

Sonan nudged Doyoung, “It’s just you came with us so we can’t comment discreetly about what you’re wearing.” Doyoung, unlike Johnny and Yuta who were flaunting their biceps, was wearing a windbreaker over his shirt.

“How we feeling?” Jisung asked through gritted teeth as everyone formed a circle, his anxieties and concern obvious to everyone. “I think we can do it.” Tari had a feeling he was saying that due to the Law of Attraction rather than his own belief.

Tari lifted her hand up and rested it on Jisung’s shoulder, “You can go home.” She smiled sadly, knowing what it’s like to be so young and forced into a dangerous situation. Her arm slithered around his shoulders and brought him to a tight hug, hoping to calm down his nerves. “You’re on the attendance sheet, but it won’t matter. After tonight, it’ll be over.”

And she means it. She’ll die before she lets anything happen to Jisung and her friends.

Jisung shook his head. “I can hold my own.” He insisted, his lips forming a small pout that Tari understands was supposed to be intimidating. Kilari, as a result, reached over and pinched his cheek and chuckled – making Jisung flustered.

“He’s the Mouse.” Yuta winked at Tari - an action Johnny didn’t miss. “Don’t underestimate him.”

Tari sighed. “I’m not,” she explained, “You guys can all go home. This is my fight.”

If Kilari wasn’t held back by Sonan, she would’ve slapped her. “This isn’t just your fight. We love and care about you.” Kilari basically barked, “You don’t have to be alone.”

But being alone is all I know, Tari wanted to respond. You guys deserve better, she wanted to let them know.

“Stop being stupid.” Johnny sighed, “You’d do the same for us.”

“And not just because you’re the Avatar.” Doyoung seemed to read her mind.

“I know I’ve been mad at you recently, but,” Kilari let out – obviously reluctantly. She always hated admitting her mistakes. “I love you more than you know, and I’ll do anything, anything, to protect you.”

Sonan let out a chuckle, “Sounding like a real Fire Sage there, Kilari.” She winked, before reaching out to the right and grabbing Kilari’s hand. Her left hand went to grab Jisung’s. “Tari, we’re in this together. You aren’t forcing us. We’re here because we love you…and because this affects us too.” She teased lovingly. Jisung and Kilari were quick to continue reaching to their sides, holding the hand of whoever is next to them.

Her heart felt elated as she noticed everyone nodding, and slowly start to hold hands. How am I so lucky? A smile graced her face before even realizing.

“Are we really doing this cliché?” Doyoung basically groaned, earning himself a punch from Johnny. “Fine.” Doyoung did the final connection – interlacing his fingers with Tari.

“I would say put our hands in the center and scream ‘Team Avatar’, but that’ll give away our position.” Johnny whispered loudly so that everyone could hear him, making everyone chuckle. Tari could always count on him for lightening the mood.

Sonan smiled at Tari, without Tari noticing. She smiled at how Tari finally looked comfortable in her own skin, how her smile didn’t seem forced. The oldest girl felt proud for how far Tari has gone over the last few days. Tari’s smile even was present when they let go of their hands and huddled closer together. But she had to get back on track. Sukiara wasn’t here and she was the one who knew the plan best. “Okay, Johnny and I will have to sneak in cause we aren’t benders.” She reminded, “so we need at least two of you guys to cause a bit of a scene – Kilari and Yuta, right?” The attendance was sorted out by gender, therefore Yuta would help Johnny sneak in while Kilari would help Sonan in. “But we need to spread out to cover more ground.”

Everyone nodded. “Everyone ready?” And the question was met with seven thumbs up.

Almost in an act of further disrespect, the government decided to hold the event at the NCT theater. The entrances were flooding with security, and Tari was so glad that The White Lotus society created pole weapons in the shape of pens.

The reason for pole weapons? Tari insisted on avoiding causalities. The supporters of the cause may be forced into it rather than wanting to do it.

Making her way through the crowd, her heart was racing miles per second. What if something goes wrong? She thought, What if I’m not a good enough bender?

But eventually, she got to the attendance paper. And Johnny was right. As soon as she said her name, the security told her to go to a ‘special’ area after giving her a stamp on her hand. As soon as she stepped foot inside, she noticed that the shrine for the bender killed in the attacks was ruined – the candles gone. His lights have been dimmed and Tari was infuriated. Her heart hurt for his family, for his children who may forget his legacy of fighting against wrong-doers.

I will die for this cause. She reminded herself. I cannot back out now. This is for the good of everyone. So, she started looking around and memorizing the stadium as organized by the government. She needed to have an upper hand, and that meant making sure they don’t have any upper hands they think they have.

The crowd felt like an overpacked can of tuna – everyone pressed against each other, unable to have their own personal space. They are cattle, stuffed together in one big cage to be slaughtered. But there was one easy way to make through the crowds – evident through the Equalist guards, who were wearing an all-black outfit with hoods and metal masks with green eyes. They looked like they’d be ready for anything, especially as they were armed.

Tari scanned each of the routes, trying to memorize their layout like the back of her hand. The stadium was divided into four parts – ordered like the Avatar Cycle. Water and earth on one side of the stadium, while fire and air on the other side. There were guards circling the stage where boxing would happen, and even more guards marching down and up the divisions. She, herself, was standing in the box where close friends or family would sit to watch the fighters.

She knew whoever was in charge must be in the underground room, where Yuta and Jisung explained most of the training and preparation happens before a fight. I need to find escape routes, she thought as she knew she needed to make sure her friends get out of the arena if needed once the fight starts.

Eventually, her inner voice hushed down as the entrance doors had shut after an hour of waiting. This is where it starts, she thought, no turning back. Tari focused on the sounds of the doors amongst the loud noises of the crowd talking to each other. No one seemed to notice the sound of harsh locks on the door.

She continuously searched the environment, her heart thumping viciously as if it’s trying to break out of her chest. In her smaller box, she recognized four other names from the list. Jaemin and Jeno weren’t there, although they were born the same year and from the North Water Tribe. Then again, they were cancelled out as they ‘showed no signs of being the Avatar’ when visiting Roddie’s house, according to the sheet.

And within minutes, the stage went dark.

“Good evening.” A haunting voice echoed off the floors, bouncing off each body. “I am the leader, Amon.” It sounded almost ghostly yet mechanical. “We are creating a society where no one will have to live in fear again.” From the voice, Tari could describe them as confident, regretless, and eerie.

Suddenly, the lights went back up. A man wearing a mask stood in the center, where the shrine was, with G-Dragon and the Big Bang Crew chained. At every side of the square box, there was a table with someone there. Hundreds and hundreds of metal bands rested there. But dead center - just right behind the man, was a large box that looked like a soundproof booth.  “We will be implementing measures to ensure your bending goes to check.” She heard groans from the audience, people trying to push through. “This is a mandatory change, and you will be arrested as soon as you leave the building.” The movement in the crowd stopped.

“Now,” Amon paused for dramatic effect, “are you ready to be equalized?”

She knows it has to be now, she knows this is it. But she wanted to make sure everyone is okay. She felt the breath leaving her chest when she realized she won’t be able to see Doyoung and Johnny – her usual peace of mind.

Tari looked across the crowd to look at the earth nation section. She saw Jisung and Sonan standing within a feet of each other, looking over to her.

You ready? She mouthed.

Jisung closed his eyes and nodded, she turned to Sonan who gave her a look that reminded Tari to do what she needs to do, to do whatever it takes.

And then with the click of the button, the stadium went dark and the only thing she could hear were thousands of screams.

request anything for future parts / penny for your thoughts here

[ofelvie]

joe keery. cis male. he/him.  ／  elvie croft just pulled up blasting spooky boy by danny gonzalez  — that song is so them ! you know, for a twenty - four year old youtuber, i’ve heard they’re really scatterbrained, but that they make up for it by being so loyal. if i had to choose three things to describe them, i’d probably say 80s horror, buckets of halloween candy, and blurry photographs of mysterious figures in the woods. here’s to hoping they don’t cause too much trouble ! ( sam, 23, est, she/her )

hey there demons! *ba dum tss* my name is sam and i’ll be writing elvie, a brilliant harvard law graduate who threw away any shred of credibility he ever had in order to make silly videos on the internet. more info under the cut. feel free to message me if you would like to plot!

i. stats

𝖋𝖚𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊: elvin tupelo croft

𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖘: el, elvie, the ghost guy

𝖍𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖔𝖜𝖓: salem, massachusetts 

𝖉𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖇𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖍: october 31, 1995

𝖟𝖔𝖉𝖎𝖆𝖈: scorpio

𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: demisexual

𝖔𝖈𝖈𝖚𝖕𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓: lawyer youtuber

𝖕𝖔𝖘. 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖘: loyal, open - minded, exuberant.

𝖓𝖊𝖌. 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖘: scatterbrained, obstreperous, impulsive.

𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞: shawn spencer, psych ; fox mulder, the x files ; stiles stilinski, teen wolf.

ii. history

elvin tupelo “elvie” croft was born in salem, massachusetts ( yes, really ) on halloween day ( yes, really ). an only child, his father is the district attorney for essex county, massachusetts while his mother owns a store in town that sells witchcraft supplies such as crystals, herbs, grimiores, etc. fun fact: she’s the descendant of an accused witch, meaning that elvie is as well.

as it turns out, beneath of the surface of the few tourist attractions that it has to offer, salem has a small town, stuck in the past vibe. it’s the sort of place where everyone knows everyone all their lives because no one ever leaves and no one ever moves in. he grew up in this...eccentric...environment, living in the same house all his life and only ever leaving to visit his grandparents in boston. 

he was five years old when he saw his first horror movie ( an apathetic teenage babysitter let him stay up long past his bedtime to watch nightmare on elm street ) and from that moment on he was HOOKED.

when he started school, two things about him became apparent: 1) he was highly intelligent and 2) he struggled greatly with tasks such as sitting still and staying focused. he was tested, and it turns out that he has a through the roof genius level iq and he also has adhd, which he was put on a few different medications for until something finally seemed to work for him.

he could have been one of those child prodigies who finished high school at the age of ten and then college at the age of fourteen, BUT his parents decided that they didn’t want him to miss out on the experience of going through school with people his own age.

as the smartest kid in class with glasses and braces and an insatiable obsession with all things horror and halloween, he…was picked on. mercilessly.

so, he didn’t really have any friends...............................at all.................................but he didn’t mind. he was perfectly content to go right home after school and spend the rest of the day reading comic books or watching horror movies or researching local urban legends and paranormal stories.

he started his youtube channel when he was a teenager and it was…trash honestly. it was basically buzzfeed unsolved if buzzfeed unsolved consisted of one ( 1 ) dorky teenager yelling at the air in the middle of abandoned house at 3am, but it turned out that people found it entertaining. his first few videos were flops, but he would soon start amassing subscribers in the hundreds, then thousands, then hundreds of thousands.

so, when he got to his senior year of high school, he was a shoe - in to be named class valedictorian ( he was ) and he was even getting ivy league offers. at the same time, his youtube channel was starting to gain momentum. his parents mainly his father were really pushing him to attend college and elvie, genius level iq and all…didn’t want to go. he wanted to focus on his youtube channel, but his dad was absolutely not having it.

he attended harvard for both his pre law and law school studies, breezed through classes, graduated with honors at the top of his class and once he passed the bar exam there were countless job offers waiting for him. elvie ignored them all and moved to los angeles so that he could finally focus on his youtube channel.

it’s been almost two years since he moved and he likes it in california!

iii. extras

his name is elvin but basically no one ever calls him that. his own parents don’t even particularly like the name. long story. most people call him elvie and some who are super close to him just call him el.

while he is the “ryan” aka the believer of his youtube series, he’s definitely NOT a scaredy cat like ryan the poor guy. in fact, all his life there’s been this running joke that HE DOESN’T SEEM TO BE SCARED OF ANYTHING, and who knows? maybe he isn’t.

has the most cartoonishly exaggerated boston accent that one could ever hope to hear, except he doesn’t seem to realize it at all. 

10/31 blaze it he’s a HUGE stoner.

he’s got jokes. stay vigilant.

he’s OBSESSED with all things horror, halloween, and 80s. he makes a lot of film references that are often so obscure that most people don’t even catch them.

he is legally permitted to practice law in the states of massachusetts and california, so basically: he’s a lawyer! however, this is not at all common knowledge because...

most people don’t know how smart he actually is because he intentionally plays dumb and he’s really good at it. being high all the time and his natural chaotic energy is quite helpful in hiding his intelligence. he just doesn’t like to be seen as smart, so the whole once - brilliant law student thing? not common knowledge whatsoever. he tries not to mention the college he attended by name at all, but if he has to then he lies and says that he went to salem state.

and yes, he has SO MUCH chaotic energy. he’s the kind of person who will stick a fork in his microwave just to see what would happen out of sheer boredom. he has two pet mexican redknee tarantulas that probably aren’t even allowed on campus named freddy and jason who he just…fucking loses track of every other day. his favorite drink is literally black coffee mixed together with a can of monster energy and 5 ( f i v e ) teaspoons of sugar. he is c h a o s. he has absolutely NO IMPULSE CONTROL whatsoever. 

he has slight Daddy Issues™. slight. when he was born, his dad was hoping that he would get a star athlete kid who would go on to follow in his footsteps and one day become a successful, respectable lawyer but instead he got…elvie. he’s never outright said that he’s disappointed but he didn’t need to. elvie’s a really difficult person to rattle but every time, without fail, he ends a phone call with his dad and he’s in a bad mood for the rest of the day. 

his car is this PIECE OF JUNK giant turquoise van that he painted to look like the mystery machine. her name is laurie strode.

even though he makes constant pop culture references about horror movies and the 80s, but outside of those areas he’s completely clueless about pop culture. like, he can recite the entire scripts of the shining and empire strikes back and ferris bueller’s day off word for word, but if someone tried to talk to him about the new post malone song or the latest marvel movie he would just stare blankly.

he has a HUGE sweet tooth. his favorite food is halloween candy and his favorite candy is black licorice disgusting i know.

he takes adderall for his adhd and he’s usually good about keeping up with it. started keeping them on his person in college because he realized that his meds were getting stolen and it’s a habit he's held onto that doesn’t really keep his shit from getting stolen.

.he’s good at…A LOT of things because he’s a really fast learner. he can play the guitar, he can draw, he did drama in high school. he just has to watch someone do something once and then he can usually immediately do it himself. this skill doesn’t extend to physical activities such as sports, however. he’s terrible at those.

he’s basically a cartoon character

iv. wanted connections

friends

cousin  ( their grandparents would probably be from boston but otherwise anything really goes for this )

his weed dealer lmao

smoking buddies

people who don’t like him / find him annoying

has stolen his adderall

maybe someone who knows how smart he really is

exes and flings

( these are just ideas and i’m trash at coming up with these, so please don’t feel limited by what’s listed here. )

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

The Murderess of the Grunewald (25): “Secret Whitsun Holidays on Rügen (14): Sharing Joy and Sorrow (6g) - Jamie’s story (V)”

“Armbanduhr” by emkanicepic 

Previously       

  Tuesday after Whitsun 2020, four days after Claire’s release from prison

         When Jamie woke up the next morning, Claire was not lying next to him. His smartphone and wristwatch were gone too. A slight panic hit him. He jumped out of bed and ran out of the room and into the hallway.

         Just when he wanted to call her name, he heard noises from the kitchen. Obviously, Claire was working with pots and pans. Jamie let out a calm breath and the tension that had taken possession of him dissolved. He went back to the bedroom, took a towel and the clothes he wanted to wear that day, and quietly went down to the bathroom to take a shower. He neither met Adso nor Bismarck, so he assumed the animals were in the kitchen with Claire. Where else could they be? They were always in a place where there was a chance to get something to eat.

         Twenty minutes later, freshly showered and dressed, he walked into the dining room. Claire was already sitting at the table, dressed in a white shirt and blue jeans, reading something on her tablet. Bismarck jumped to meet him and greeted him in the usual exuberant manner. Adso, who had made himself comfortable on one of the windowsills in the living area, took note of Jamie’s appearance but felt no need to greet him. He yawned extensively and then rolled back into his sleep position. Claire had waited until Bismarck calmed down and returned to his pillow. Then she got up to greet Jamie as well.

         "Good Morning. Did you sleep well?“

         She slipped into his outstretched arms.

         "Yes, but much longer than I actually wanted.”

         He kissed her and closed his arms around her.

         "Fine,“ she said, her voice unable to conceal her satisfaction.

         "Someone stole my smartphone and watch from my …”

         "Not stolen! I just banned the danger that those useless electronic … things … would disturb the sleep you needed.“

         A big smile spread over her face. Mischievous, yes, challenging, she looked at him.

         He could not help but smile too and … kissed her again.

“Frühstück” by skeeze

         "Come on,” she said as they broke away, “breakfast is ready and you find your stuff at your place.”

         Claire pointed with one hand to the table and then headed for the kitchen. Jamie circled the table, picked up his watch and put it on. Then he opened the screen of his smartphone and clicked through the incoming messages. Shortly thereafter, Claire returned with a pot of fresh coffee.

         While they ate, a relaxed conversation about this and that developed, interrupted only by an attempt of Bismarck and Adso to get something from the breakfast table of their humans. Claire ignored it completely.

         "I’ve already fed them both - extensively,” she said as she grabbed her second roll.

         It took only one look from Jamie to send Bismarck back to his pillow. Adso was not that easy to discipline. But after Jamie and Claire refused to acknowledge his languishing look, he also gave up after a while. Bored, he retired to his windowsill.

         "We are a good team,“ Jamie acknowledged smiling, not hiding his pride. And in his mind, he added: "We would certainly be a good team when it comes to raising children.” However, he didn’t mention his thoughts audibly but kept his conviction for himself. This wasn’t the time to speak about his dreams and he didn’t wish to rip open old scars. But … Maybe, yes, maybe they would have the grace to have children. Again and again, he was surprised when he realized -  just as right now - that Claire was the first woman with whom he could imagine children.

         "Exactly. They have no chance against us,“ Claire replied, then bit into the second half of her cheese roll.

         Jamie reached for the coffee pot and pointed in her direction. She nodded and he poured fresh coffee in her and his cup.

         "Do you have any other plans for today besides a longer bedtime and a quiet breakfast?”

         Claire swallowed and reached for the coffee cup.

         "Not really.“

         "Shall we go to Binz or Sellin today?”

         He saw that she hesitated and waited for her to turn off her cup. She reached for her napkin and dabbed her lips. When she had folded the cloth and placed it next to her plate, she grabbed his left hand with her right hand and smiled at him.

         "Why don’t we just take it easy today? I mean … we did something every day now. What about just resting, reading something … and … after lunch, we could choose a quiet spot on the beach, take a sunbath and relax. Or … is that too boring for you?“

         A mischievous smile became visible on his face. Then he gently grabbed her face with both hands, pulled her to him and kissed her. She smelled (and she tasted) of rolls, butter, and Gouda.

         "With you by my side darling, I’m never bored.”

         "Oh, that was so … cheesy.“

         Claire grimaced as if she had eaten something sour.

         ”Cheesy?” Jamie asked, “I thought you liked cheese. You just ate a whole roll with cheese.“

         She answered nothing but gave him a slight push with her right fist against the left upper arm.

         The rest of the morning went exactly as Claire had wished. After the table was cleared and the dishes stored in the dishwasher, she made herself comfortable on the couch with a book and a cup of tea. Shortly thereafter, Adso joined her. She picked him up from the ground, put him next to her and scratched him as she continued to read.

         Meanwhile, Jamie had sat down at the dining table with his laptop, watched closely by Bismarck. He had reviewed his E-mails, read and answered some of them. He then devoted himself to the e-papers he had subscribed to. Beside it, he occasionally sipped from the cup of coffee left over from breakfast. It must have been an hour later when a clattering sound from the living room area made him sit up and take notice. When he looked over to the sofa, he saw that Claire had fallen asleep. The book which she had read had slipped out of her hands and fallen to the floor. He walked over, picked it up and put it on the coffee table. Then he covered Claire with one of the blankets that lay on one of the chairs.

“Buch” by silverstrike24

         When he returned to the dining table, he saw Bismarck running back and forth in front of the door, whistling softly. Jamie looked at his watch. It was already close to twelve. He leaned down and whispered softly:

         “At once!”

         Jamie took a post-it from his briefcase, wrote something on it, and placed it on Claire’s book. He reached for the dog leash and put it on Bismarck. Then he looked at the dog and put his right index finger on his mouth. The animal understood and was still immediately.

         "Good boy,“ Jamie whispered.

         He took Bismarck on one of his arms and left the house as quietly as possible.

         When dog and master returned from their walk after nearly thirty minutes, the table was already set and a delicious smell from the kitchen suggested that lunch was almost ready.

         "I’m in here,” Claire called through the half-open door.

         Jamie let Bismarck off the leash and followed the dog into the kitchen. Claire stood at the stove and stirred in a pot. Adso was sitting on the floor, looking up expectantly.

         "Hmm, Minestrone?“ He asked.

         "Yes, made warm by myself,” she answered with a smile.

         "That’s not important. Important is, that it tastes good and fills our bellies.“

         He carefully pulled her close and kissed her.

         “Thank you for preparing lunch.”

         "The minestrone is just the starter. By the time we finish, our pizzas will be ready. ”

         Claire switched off the stove. Then she took the pot. Jamie and the fur monsters followed her into the dining room.

         Lunch went on in the same quiet atmosphere as breakfast. After the table was cleared, they packed a bag and Jamie’s backpack. Then Bismarck was put into his transport box and placed in the back seat of the car. Moments later Jamie steered the car toward the road.

         During lunch, they had discussed that they wanted to go to the local beach at Nonnevitz. The beach, which was virtually on their doorstep, was a mostly stony beach. Besides, it was not officially marked as a dog beach. Nonnevitz, however, not only had a very idyllic white sandy beach but was also allowed for dogs. The ride to the large central car park took just a little over 30 minutes. After parking, they wandered the 1.5 kilometers to the beach and made themselves comfortable in the shade of some trees.

“Buch / Strand” by darf_nicht_mehr_hochladen

         They spent the afternoon the way Claire had wished. As she read with growing enthusiasm in the book that Jamie had lent her (“The Liver Grows With Its Tasks - Funny Things of Medicine” by Dr. med. Eckart von Hirschausen), he tried to read the new issue of  “Zeit-Magazine” called “Felony”. However, Jamie had to interrupt his reading again and again when Claire was shaken by one laughing outburst after another. After the third or fourth time, he wondered if it had been a smart idea to let her have the book. A quiet reading of his magazine would certainly become impossible. But when he saw the smile on her face, his question was answered completely. Everything was right. Everything that helped her to forget the difficult, soul-quenching experiences of the past six months. Everything was right that gave joy back to her life. Everything.

         Suddenly Jamie noticed a slight pressure on his left knee. It was Bismarck who repeatedly tapped him with his nose. Ever since spreading their blankets and settling in that place, the dog had lain in the sand at their feet. After a while, Bismarck had cautiously crawled up Jamie’s left side and started licking his hand. Jamie had begun to scratch Bismarck’s ears - and read on. At some point, the animal had moved back to his place again and then fell asleep. When Jamie looked at him sometime later, his eyes were closed and if one listened closely, one could hear him snoring softly. Neither Claire’s loud laugh attacks nor the screams of several children that echoed from a distance away seemed to bother him. But now Bismarck had evidently enough of good sleep and demanded a change. Jamie sighed. Resigned, he put the magazine aside and reached for the animal.

         "Ah! Is the master needed as an entertainer? “Claire asked and a smug smile accompanied the - from Jamie’s point of view completely unnecessary - question.

         "Bismarck is an intelligent animal that wants to be challenged. Fat, lazy cats, on the other hand, are content to sleep away their day on the windowsill.”

         Jamie had barely finished his sentence when he was hit by one of the inflatable neck pillows that Claire had taken to the beach.

         "Objection Your Honor! My cat is neither fat nor lazy. Adso has an all-consuming … nature and is also an expert in stress-reducing relaxation techniques.“

         Jamie laughed and threw back the neck pillow. Claire caught it with both hands. Then Jamie clapped his hands. Addressing Bismarck, he exclaimed:

         "Come on!”

         Together they ran along the beach. At some point, Jamie found a stick and now Bismarck’s popular “Get the Stick”-game started. After about half an hour Bismarck seemed to give the game some different rules. He picked up the stick, did not bring it back, but ran away with it towards their place under the trees. Jamie followed, unable to catch up with Bismarck. Amused, Claire watched the uneven race behind her sunglasses over the edge of her book. But suddenly Jamie slipped, lost his footing and landed on his back in the damp sand. Bismarck heard Jamie’s startling cry, dropped the stick and ran back to see what had happened to his master. At the same time, Clair dropped her book and was with him after a short, fast sprint.

         "Jamie! Did you hurt yourself?“

         He shook his head slightly.

         "No, not worth mentioning. I just … somehow slipped … ”

         Jamie stretched, then rolled to his left side and stood up.

         "Is everything ok? Did you break something?“

         "No, everything is o.k.”

         He shook the sand away as Claire examined him from top to bottom. Then they slowly returned to their place. Bismarck followed.

         "There is still wet sand in your hair,“ Claire remarked, "but let’s shake it off when it has dried a bit. That will be easier.”

         Jamie nodded and turned to the dog who was sitting in front of him looking at his master with worry in his eyes. He leaned over to him and began to stroke him.

         "Don’t worry, old boy. That wasn’t your fault. Everything is alright again.“

         Claire reached into Jamie’s backpack and pulled out a bottle of water and two storage glasses. Immediately Bismarck’s attention turned to her. She looked at Jamie. He rolled his eyes and grinned. Then he nodded. Once again, she reached into the backpack and pulled out a bag of dry dog food, which she handed to Jamie. He took it and started to feed the dog. Only moments later, the bag was empty. Jamie then provided him with water from the travel dispenser. Contentedly Bismarck trotted back to his place at Jamie’s feet and lay down there. Claire opened the two storage jars and placed them between herself and Jamie while he poured water into two cups.

          The rest of the afternoon they spent watching the action at the beach and at the sea, eating the fruits and biscuits they brought along, teasing each other or Bismarck together. Shortly after five o'clock in the afternoon, one could see little dark clouds gathering on the horizon.

           "I think we should pack our bags and get back to the car,” Jamie said to Claire. She had followed his gaze and nodded.

          "Yes, we better do that. Otherwise, we’ll get wet.“

“Strand von Nonnevitz - Sonnenuntergang” by Carport [Public domain] via Wikimedia Commons

         When Jamie turned to pack his things, she held him back.

         "Stay for a moment, so I can remove the sand from your hair.”

         Claire gently drove her hands through the hair at the back of his head, but suddenly she stopped. Beneath her fingertips, she felt several thick-stained scars on Jamie’s scalp. She’d had her fingers slide through his hair many times before, but since she had mostly kissed him while doing so, she had never paid attention.

         "Jamie! What … what do you have here? Scars?“

         She felt his upper body rise and fall and heard him exhale deeply.

         "Does … has that anything to do with Jonathan Randall’s attack on you?”

         Jamie turned to face her. In her eyes, he saw the horror she associated with this question.

         "No,“ he said, stroking her arm reassuringly with his right hand, "that’s a gift from my uncle Dougal MacKenzie.”

         "A gift from your uncle …?“

         The horror in Claire’s eyes was accompanied by a great lack of understanding that spread all over her face.

         "I … I don’t  …”

         Jamie felt the wind that was coming from the sea grow stronger and he knew that their time to avoid the rain was limited.

         "Claire, we have to go now. I’ll tell you about it when we get home. O.k.?“

         She nodded and he knew by her resigned expression that she agreed only reluctantly.

         Shortly afterward, they packed up their things. They hurried to get back to the car quickly, and barely an hour later they reached the small thatched house that had become their refuge in the past few days. While Jamie provided the animals with food, Claire prepared dinner. On their way back they had agreed on bruschetta and salad. Apparently, the rain had only reached the northernmost part of the island and so after dinner, Jamie leashed the dog again. Claire saw it and he saw her questioning look.

         "Don’t you want to come with us?”

         "Don’t you want to go alone …“

         "No, please come with us!”

         Claire grabbed her jacket, then followed Jamie and Bismarck. For a while, they walked in a row, because the way through the forest was very narrow. Having arrived at the shore, she hooked her right arm into Jamie’s and saw a smile flit across his face. They stopped for a moment and looked at the sea. Jamie pointed straight ahead.

         "Over there is Sweden. Almost straight ahead is Ystadt, the city in which the criminal cases of Inspector Wallander by Henning Mankel are located. There is no direct ferry service there. But if one takes the ferry Sassnitz - Trelleborg, one will be there in five and a half hours.“

         "Have you read all his books?”

         "Not all. The Wallander novels, of course. Then ‘The Return of the Dancing Master’. This is one of the best books I have ever read of him besides 'One Step Behind’, which is excellent. ’Kennedy’s brain’ is not bad, but I think the title is misleading. 'The Man from Bejing’ is exciting, but also very interesting politically. As far as I know, Mankell was one of the first authors who addressed the ever-growing political and economic influence of the Chinese in Africa since Mao in a novel, while connecting it to the history of Chinese Immigrants in America. Did you …"

         "No, I’ve heard of him, but … no.“

“Ostsee” by pixelpepe          Bismarck, who had become bored of standing at the same place, pulled on the leash and whimpered impatiently. They looked at the dog, then at each other, smiled and silently continued on their way. Jamie had not mentioned the scars on the back of his head yet. Claire sensed that it was not easy for him to reveal another, less positive chapter of his family history. So she had decided to wait, even if that put her patience to a hard test. Sometime later, when Bismarck had finished his business, they turned and went back.

         Back in the house, Jamie asked:

         "Would you like to have tea or should we drink the rest of the wine …”

         "Let’s drink the rest of the wine. I’ll get fresh glasses. Can you light the fire …?“

         Jamie nodded.

         Moments later, Claire put the glasses on the coffee table and as she filled them, Jamie sat down beside her. She handed him one of the glasses.

“Wein” by ricarte

         "Claire, it doesn’t make sense … I mean … I don’t want to hide anything from you … and eventually, you’ll find out … I … I just want you … not being scared so much. There is no reason to be afraid. Not really.”

         "Jamie, where did you get those scars?“

         "As I said, they are a gift from my uncle Dougal.”

         "Did you two have an accident? By car or …? “

         "No, Claire. My uncle … well … he … he tried to kill me.”

         Now it was out and again he could see in Claire’s eyes the horror that had already shown itself in the afternoon. How would she react? Would that story - after all the other shameful stories he’d revealed to her the night before - repel her? Would she turn away from him? Would it be more than she could stand? Before he could give his fears any more room, Claire’s voice entered his consciousness.

         "Your uncle? Did I understand you correctly? Your uncle wanted to kill you?“

         "Yes. He hit my skull with an ax. With the blunt side, to be exact.”

         Jamie put his glass on the table and looked down. Claire rested her hand reassuringly on his back. He looked at her and she only shook her head.

         "You have a really complicated story, Dr. Fraser.“

         As serious as the situation was, Jamie could not help himself, he had to laugh out loud. The expression on Claire’s face reminded him of his old elementary school teacher. Whenever he had done something that he shouldn’t have done, Mrs. Rosemann tilted her head slightly to the left and looked at him distraughtly. After a short break (of which he didn’t know whether it was a dramatic break or whether the old lady really had to think), Mrs. Rosemann sighed. Then she said: “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie! What should I do with you!” And a slight shaking of the head accompanied her words.

         When he calmed down, he pulled Claire close and kissed her.

         "And you, Dr. Beauchamp, have the wonderful gift of making me laugh even in such an immensely embarrassing situation! “

         He leaned back in and kissed her again. As they parted, Claire smiled.

         "Jamie, why … embarrassing?”

         "Why embarrassing? Claire! My sister is a  dam … procuress! She brings women into our parents’ home, who have no decency and want to force themselves into my bed! And my uncle Dougal is a greedy killer trying to murder me! And you ask me, why I speak of embarrassing?!“

         Claire gently stroked his left cheek. Then she said calmly:

         "I understand you, Jamie. Really. What your sister and uncle have done is … repugnant. But why should you be ashamed of it? They did it. You are …” she paused for a moment, searching for another word for “victim.” Jamie wanted to interrupt her.

         "Claire, it’s …“

         He wondered if she could understand him at all? The only family Claire had left after her fifth birthday was her uncle Lambert. Undoubtedly her uncle had loved her and provided her with an excellent education. But to be a descendant of a centuries-old Scottish family dynasty that had held on to its values ​​and traditions even in exile and passed them down from generation to generation was something quite different. Would she ever be able to understand that? More importantly, would she be able to share those values ​​and traditions?

         "No, Jamie, please! Please let me finish.”

         He exhaled audibly … and nodded.

         "I understood you,“ she said (and suddenly felt transported to the operating table at the hospital, where she gave instructions to her co-doctors and the nurses), "I agree with you. What your sister and uncle have done is despicable. But why should you be embarrassed? You have done nothing to justify such behavior on your part. You are the aggrieved party. You don’t have to be ashamed of anything they’ve done!”

         "Claire, I … it’s mine … they’re part of my family! Parts of my family did that. Shouldn’t I be ashamed?“

         "Jamie, I understand you,” she said, emphasizing and even more slowly than before, “really. But they are adults who are responsible for their own actions. You can not take responsibility for everything anyone in your family does!”

         She pulled him close and rested his head against her chest as she continued to smooth with her right hand over his back.

         "You are different, Jamie. You made something of yourself. You are a successful lawyer and …  You are a respected man. I saw it myself - in court, with your friends and different other people. Everyone I met spoke highly of you.“

         "At least I tried,” he said quietly but didn’t look up at her.

         Claire hugged his head tighter and ran her hands through his hair.

         "And you succeeded. Believe me. I’m not just saying that to … Jamie, not one man … really not one man I’ve ever known treated me with so much decency … and courtesy as you.“

         He raised his head and looked at her. His eyes reflected a mixture of sadness and hope. But before he could object, she asked him:

         "Come on, tell me how that happened. Believe me, you’ll feel better afterward. I know what I’m talking about. You can not imagine how much it helped me to tell you my story when we talked about all of this in prison. ”

         Once again she looked him in the eyes.

         "And I didn’t know you so well back then. I had to overcome my uneasiness, but I felt better afterward.“

         "You’re a really brave woman,” he replied. As Claire remained silent, he asked in a jesting tone:

         "Well, was that too cheesy again?“

         "Me and brave, really? And of what else do you dream at night, Dr. Fraser?”

         "Only of you.“

         A big smile crossed his face.

         But Claire decided that she didn’t want to be distracted by any little flirting. She looked at him with a piercing look. Then she poked several times with the pointed nail of her index finger on his chest.

         "Tell! Me! Now!”

         Jamie took another deep breath.

“Stadthaus Berlin-Moabit” by karlherl          "Aye, sir!” he said smiling. Feeling that Claire’s patience was not infinite, he continued: 

         “Well … my mother had two brothers, Colum and Dougal. The older one, Colum MacKenzie, suffered from a very serious illness and when he couldn’t stand the pain any longer, he committed suicide a few years ago. Dougal MacKenzie, the younger one, is still alive. He was always like the black sheep of the family. He had affairs and cheated on his wife until she died of a broken heart. He neglected his family and … the number … of his illegitimate children … well, that number is probably unknown to himself. I doubt that he provides for their maintenance even rudimentary.

         The MacKenzie family owned a real estate company with a large number of rental apartments. Their ancestors had fled Scotland after the rising of 1745 and battle of Culloden. They settled in Brandenburg as farmers and livestock breeders and in that, they were very successful. With each generation, they expanded their wealth and thus their influence. Later they invested in real estate, not only in Brandenburg but also in the west of Germany. In this way, they saved part of their fortune despite the wars. After the fall of the Berlin Wall, the city became a boomtown. And when the Bundestag announced the decision that Berlin should become the capital of Germany again, real estate prices rose to unprecedented heights. Investors bought entire streets or quarters. There was a veritable gold digger mood. Everything seemed possible … No one, who didn’t experience that time, can imagine how those years felt. Also, the value of MacKenzie ownership rose and rose and rose. But shortly before the reunification, Jacob MacKenzie, the father of Colum, Dougal, and my mother had died. Colum MacKenzie inherited the company from his father because he was the first-born. My mother and Dougal were very generously compensated. But since my uncle Colum was very limited because of his disability, he was dependent on the help of younger brother. While Colum was in charge of the day-to-day operations, he left such things as negotiations with tenants, estate agents or local managers to Dougal.

         When we, the Frasers, came back into the possession of our old property at Potsdam ten years after the reunification of Germany,  my mother used a large part of the recently received heritage to finance the renovation of the estate and the facilities. My uncle Dougal, on the other hand, spend his inheritance, well, let’s say 'generously’. Twenty-five years after his father died, there was hardly any money left.

         After my mother and sometime later my father died, Dougal thought his time had come. Previously, he had already tried it with Colum’s son. Dougal is very cunning and an extremely 'good’ manipulator. He tried to persuade my cousin Hamish by making him feel guilty. You have to know that with the so-called 'Capital Decision’ also came a big construction boom. My uncle Colum was a far-sighted man and he had bought up and modernized a dilapidated construction company in time. With this company, he then entered the construction business and thus also made a lot of profit. Dougal told Hamish that his father’s company had just become so big and successful because he worked so hard for it and that his sick father was no longer in a position to do so. That’s why he should own a huge share of the company. But Hamish let him down. I once talked to my cousin and he told me that his father had warned him about his uncle. Colum had probably foreseen that - after his death - Dougal would try to bring the company under his power. Besides, Hamish is not stupid. He had seen that his father was very ill. But it had not escaped him that his father had great inner strength and economic intelligence. Yes, Dougal managed the outside appointments with construction companies, etc., which Colum could not attend to. But the day-to-day business, the management, the investments, all this was in Colum’s hands and fully under his control. Colum’s body was weak, but his mind was razor-sharp and assertive. There was no doubt about that until his death.“

“Hackesche Höfe Berlin” by suesun

         Claire had listened attentively and nodded.

         "And then? What happened next?”

         Jamie reached for his wineglass and took a sip. Claire did the same.

         "After he had no luck with my cousin,“ Jamie continued, putting his glass down, "he tried it with us. First, he asked me if he could join our law firm. But I had to tell him that we have a contract that allows lawyers only to participate and excludes other 'partners’. He was satisfied with that and I was glad about it. Then he tried it with Ian and Jenny. But Ian did not trust him … and neither did Jenny. They refused his offer and Ian later told me about it. I was very glad that they had not fallen for his hot air talks.

         Well and then … then he tried to kill me. He probably thought that once I got out of the way, he would have an easier time with Jenny and Ian. Besides, he’s one of the few immediate relatives I have left, and well, he obviously believed that he would inherit a huge part of my fortune. I’m sure he was speculating about that. He had also noticed that Jenny and I had had a quarrel and that we do not stay in contact any longer. That will have encouraged him too.

         It was in the autumn of that year, after the last summer party in Potsdam, when I one evening after sundown I went to the garden to let Brumm do his ‘little business’. Immediately I noticed that the dog was strangely excited and growled. I looked around but saw no one and so I dismissed that as a false alarm. Brumm was already old and couldn’t see well. Then suddenly a very heavy blow hit my head and I lost consciousness. Everything that happened then, I know only from what the Schallers told me. The man who had struck me had invaded the house after the attack - through the door leading from the garden to the winter garden. He had rummaged through some cabinets and also opened a cabinet in which a small wall safe is installed. Normally it is no problem for burglars to open such a wall safe or to tear it from the wall and take it with them. However, I had this small safe coupled with the new alarm and security system. You remember the one I had installed after this crazy young woman … ”

         Claire nodded.

         "The man triggered the alarm and thus the alarm sirens began to howl around the house. In addition, the security system is connected to the security company that installed it. They called and since no one answered the phone and reported the alarm as a false alarm, they notified the police. Shortly thereafter, a police patrol arrived. But Martha and her husband had already come and found me. I was taken to the Hospital of the Order of Malta and got surgery during the night. I had to stay there for two weeks.“

         "What … what did the doctors diagnose?”

“Notarzt” by d-keller

         "Well, I could have had a serious brain injury and lasting damage. But I have, as they say, luck in misfortune. My scalp had burst at various points and there was a great loss of blood. I also had a concussion. But my skull bones were still unbroken. It could have been much worse. The doctors said it was a miracle and they could only explain it that I would probably have just turned in the moment the offender struck me. One of my body sides must have come between me and the attacker and thus the blow was buffered. I can’t comment on that because I can only remember the following: I went to the garden, Brumm behaved strangely and then I felt a hit on my head, fell and everything around me turned black.“

         "And how do you know that it was your Uncle Dougal who wanted to kill you?”

         "Well, for one, the police found fingerprints of him in the house. There were only a few, but they were in places he had not touched on any of his former visits. I had never shown him the wall safe. At first, the police couldn’t assign the fingerprints, because my uncle had not yet made a criminal appearance and therefore his fingerprints were not stored in any police database. But on his escape from the property, he lost his scarf. It was a very individual piece with a Scottish pattern. When the police presented this scarf to me in the hospital a few days later, I immediately recognized it. I even own a picture of my uncle with this scarf. It’s a picture of better days …“

         Claire sighed.

         "And what happened then?”

         "Dougal was caught in a police stop and search. He was sentenced to 14 years in prison by the district court of Berlin. He was still lucky because in Germany the attempt to murder someone can be punished in the same way as accomplished murder. He … he’s incarcerated in the correctional facility in Berlin-Tegel. That is a prison for detention criminals and for the preventive detention of very serious offenders.“

         "Then you are … save … for now … for sure?”

         "Yeah, if my uncle gets out of jail … if he ever gets out of jail … then he’s almost 70 years old and hardly able to do that again.“

         He looked at her and to his surprise, she seemed to be completely calm. Claire stroked his hair gently again. Then she said:

         "It’s getting late, Jamie. We should go to sleep.”

Thank you for reading. Sorry, I know, this chapter has become very long. But I wanted to finish Jamie’s story. With the next chapter, we’re going back to his preparation of Claire’s trial. Next time read: “The Murderess of the Grunewald (26): A lesson in (criminal) media history (1)”

[halloweennut]

You don't have to if you don't want to or are too busy, but since you're okay with writing for other people's AUs, could I get a Drabble set in my Dating... with Children AU? (Btw, thank you so much for all your tag-comments on each chapter when you reblog them ^v^ they mean so much to me and make me so happy when I read them)

f(I gotchu bb. i love your au and this prompt has my attention!)

Like most nights it seemed nowadays, Ben found himself sitting in Lou’s living room with the boys after dinner. His boyfriend had insisted that he could finish the dishes on his own and brew some coffee for them both - besides, the boys were excited to show Ben the books they had gotten from the library that day. Their school had taken the various grades to some of the city’s public libraries that day, and it had been all the boys had talked about for the past week. And of course, Ben was more than happy to hear them talk about it. 

Lou came out of the kitchen with an apologetic grin. “I have to run to the store. I’m completely out of coffee. Will you be okay watching the boys until I get back?”

“I’m sure I can handle them,” Ben smiled. ���I think they have some books to show me.”

“Yeah!” Donnie chorused. “I have a new book on robotics I want to discuss.”

“I believe my evening has been planned,” Ben laughed. Lou smiled, grabbing his keys. 

“Okay then,” Lou replied. “No shenanigans until I get back.”

There was a chorale of “Bye Dad!” and Lou left. Ben got up with the boys to wave goodbye from the front window as his car pulled out from the driveway. As soon as he was out of sight, Ben found himself being dragged back to the living room by four sets of hands. He was still getting used to that motion, and it took a second for him not to pull away. 

“Come on! I got all the off-shoot Jupiter Jim comics!” Leo said, tugging on his sleeve. “And Raph got a new knitting book!”

“Uh-huh! It’s for knitting little stuffed animals!” Raph nodded. “I want to knit the little mouse first.”

“And what about you, Mikey?” Ben asked, sitting back on the couch. “What books did you bring back?”

Mikey wordlessly ran to his backpack by the door and pulled out a brightly colored book, and just as quickly ran back to Draxum. Excitement was clearly written on his face as he scrambled up on the couch. Ben half expected a book on arts and crafts, but instead found an older book of fairytales place in his lap. 

“I found this on the back of the shelves in the kids' section!” he said, bouncing slightly on the cushion. Ben picked it up and smiled- he recognized the book from when he was younger. “The pictures are really pretty!”

“They are aren’t they?” Ben asked, flipping to a random drawing and story. “Would you look at that? This one was my favorite.”

“Really? You liked fairytales?” Donnie asked. He had the image in his mind of a younger Ben reading science journals and textbooks. 

“I did,” he replied. “Can’t recall when I grew out of them.”

“Can you read this one then?” Mikey pleaded, pointing to the page. Ben almost began to protest, but three pairs of eyes looked at him pleadingly, while the other looked between him and the science books in his hands. 

“Well...,” he began. “Just the one. And then we can talk about everyone’s books when it's done. Deal?”

There was a chorus of agreement and the other three climbed onto the couch around him. Ben looked at them in amusement. 

“Settled in then?” he asked before beginning. They nodded. “Alright...Once upon a time, there was a warrior...”

Lou came home later, knocking the door closed with a hip as he made his way to the kitchen to toss the grocery bag on the counter before heading to the living room. “Hey, I’m-”

He paused, just in the entrance to the living room, to the sight of his sons clustered around Ben. Two were leaning on his sides and two were leaning on his shoulders, peering down to a book in his hands as Ben read aloud, totally immersed in the tale. Lou smiled at the sight, hopelessly enamored and charmed.  They didn’t even notice he was back yet, so he stood, leaning against the door as he listened into the end of the tale. 

“And the spell broke, undoing all the evil the demon had done. The stars shone bright, releasing the prince from his prison amongst the stars,” Ben said, flipping the page. “The prince and the warrior were reunited, and lived happily ever after.”

“Yes!” Donnie cheered before coughing into his hand, suddenly serious. “I mean it is requisite for a happy ending.” 

“I liked it!” Mikey chirped. Raph and Leo nodded in agreement. “Can you read another?”

“Remember our deal, Mikey,” Ben closed the book. “We still have your brothers’ books.”

“After their books then?” he asked. “Pleeeeeease?”

“I know I’d like to hear one,” Lou said announcing his presence. The five looked up at him. Mikey and the other three hopped off the couch to run and hug him. “Sorry that took so long - traffic was insane tonight.”

“Not your fault,” Be said, standing with a stretch. “The boys and I were enjoying a story.”

“It’s Ben’s favorite!” Mikey added as Lou scooped him up. Lou looked over at his boyfriend. 

“Is that so?” he replied with a smirk. Mikey nodded. 

“Can he read another one tonight? For bedtime?” he asked. 

“Only if it’s alright with Ben,” Lou said. “Any objections?”

Ben smiled and shook his head. “None at all.”

Mikey pumped his fist with a “yes” and hopped to the floor.  Lou laughed, snaking through the group at his feet over to Ben. He pecked his cheek with a grin, much to the chagrin of the four children. 

“I’ll get the coffee on,” Lou smiled. “And we can finish group book discussion. I’m looking forward to that story as well.”

Ben kissed his cheek back, chuckling at the children’s repeat response. “As am I.”

(I hope you like it! NGL it tripped me up to write Ben instead of Draxum lol)

[campaignofmisinformation]

Fic: The Evolution of Fox

Title: The Evolution of Fox Author: @campaignofmisinformation Rating: PG POV: Third Person: Mulder Timeline: Post Season 9 AU, Canon Divergent after Scary Monsters Summary: Four times William calls Mulder Fox and one time he doesn’t. Author’s Notes: @noamchimpsky‘s head canon about Maggie being the reason William calls Mulder Fox, along with Toddler actor William and Gillian’s Daddy/Fox exchange inspired whatever this is. And of course, @tofutti-rice-dreamsicle is bae as beta. Even though we completely devolved into horrifyingly terrible alternate endings there at the end.

i.

The thump of his tattered bag on the floor makes him wince. He feels like an invader in this place that used to feel more like home than his own. What was once an immaculate living room is now cluttered with colorful toys and toddler paraphernalia. So much has changed, more than he had imagined during long, lonely nights spent far away from here. From them.

“Mulder?”

He hears her calling from the guestroom, the one he’d slept in during late night cases and post parental deaths, and tries to find his voice.

“It’s me,” he whispers. But he isn’t sure who “me” is anymore. He’s lived 10,000 years in the last 367 days.

“William, wait!” Scully yells, two seconds before a toddler appears in the hallway. The boy halts as soon as his eyes catch the stranger in the living room. Mulder can’t breathe. William points at him.

“No! Mama!” the boy yells and Scully scoops him up from behind. He buries his face in her neck.

At the sight of her, Mulder’s lungs resume functioning and he gulps down air. He’s eternally thankful he’d spent the previous day reuniting with her, alone. It’s the only thing dulling the tightness in his chest. His son is afraid of him.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Scully soothes, kissing the boy’s head. “He’s not going to hurt you.” She throws Mulder an apologetic look and resumes stroking William’s hair. “Remember Grandma’s pictures?” William nods. “And the stories she tells you about Fox?” “Foss?” William asks and pats Scully’s face. Mulder’s eyes burn.

“Yes, baby. This is Fox. This is your daddy,” she says, voice breaking. William studies Mulder intently.

“No.”

ii.

Lying on the couch with one arm over his eyes, Mulder broods. He’d spent the last year dreaming about his son—holding him, kissing his hair, reading him stories, loving him—but the toddler with the blocks across the room won’t come within five feet of him. Earlier, he’d tried to sit on the floor and play but William had gathered all his toys and put as much space between them as possible.

So, he’d retreated to the couch, the only place in the apartment he feels at home.

There’s a knock at the door and William squeals.

“Gamma!”

Mulder lets his arm fall from his eyes. It stings that to his son he’s a stranger while Mrs. Scully is a treasure but he knows it’s his own doing. For the past year, she’d been filling the hole he left.

Sighing, he stands and stretches while Scully opens the door.

“Hi Mom,” she says and goes in for a hug but William throws himself between them.

“Gamma! Up!” he shouts, arms stretched over his head.

“Hi little one.” Mrs. Scully scoops up her grandson and receives a sloppy kiss as she turns to hug her daughter. “Hi honey.” With a hand on Scully’s shoulder, her eyes begin to scan the room. “Is he here?”

Mulder steps forward, eyes cast down, and clears his throat. “Hi Mrs. Scully.”

“Fox,” she whispers and rushes toward him, William still on her hip. “You’re okay. Dana and I were so worried.” Wrapping an arm around his waist, she pulls Mulder close and rests her cheek on his chest. William simply stares at him, his eyes large and wary, but curious.

“I’m sor-” Mulder starts to respond when she steps out of his embrace and cuts him off.

“None of that, Fox. That’s between you and Dana. I’m just happy you’ve returned to us. For both your-”

“Foss?” William interrupts, pointing at Mulder. “Foss?”

“Yes, honey. Fox. You know all about him, don’t you?” She turns to Mulder. “Dana wrote story after story about you for me to read to William. He loves them.”

Mulder looks to Scully and tears cloud his vision. When he blinks them away, she’s smiling at him. He loves her so much it hurts.

“Foss! Foss!” William squeals, bouncing and clapping his hands.

Mulder turns to his son and smiles. “Hi,” he says quietly.

“Hi,” William all but shouts and grabs at his nose.

iii.

“Scully, are you sure you want to do this?” Turning toward the mirror, he knots his tie. “We can wait for a night when your mom is available.”

The bathroom door opens and Scully sticks her head out.

“Mulder, for the last time. We. Are. Going. Out. You’ve been back for weeks and hardly left the apartment.” She opens the door, revealing an unzipped, low-cut blue dress and what he refers to as fuck me heels. “Not to mention, I would like a night with you all to myself. To do,” she steps toward him and pulls on his tie, “adult things.”

He swallows. “Believe me Scully, I would like nothing more. But overnight at the Gunmen’s? I cannot picture them changing a diaper.”

She turns her back to him and lifts her hair. “Zip me.” Slowly, he drags the zipper up. His knuckles graze the soft skin of her back, and she leans into him. “They’re very good with William, have watched him countless times with no trouble, and he adores them. Especially Frohike.” She drops her hair, turning to face him. “And Mulder, William is safer there than at my mother’s.” She tugs on his tie again, bringing him down for a kiss, and starts to retreat into the bathroom. “Go get his stuff ready while I finish up, okay?”

Mulder walks quietly down the hall, shoving down feelings of unease at the possibility of erasing the slow, yet steady inroads that have been building between him and his son. For the first time, William had requested that Mulder read his bedtime story. While Mulder sat stunned, his son had crawled into his lap and shoved The Very Hungry Caterpillar in his face.

It feels wrong to leave him tonight, but Mulder knows he’s being irrational. William would be asleep the whole time anyway, he tells himself, as he creaks open the bedroom door.

“Foss!” William is awake and standing in his crib. “Up!” Reaching toward Mulder with one hand, he balls the other and shoves it in his mouth.

“What’re you doing up, little man?” Mulder asks as he lifts his son from the crib. William burrows into his neck and he feels his heart inflate. Rubbing the boy’s back, Mulder sits in the rocker beside the crib. “Are you excited to see Frohike?”

“Hit-ee,” William whispers. Leaning back, he puts his hands on either side of Mulder’s face and smiles. “Hi.”

Mulder smiles back. “Hi buddy.”

iv.

“Fox. Socks. Box. Knox,” Scully reads with William on her lap. Mulder points to himself, the pair of socks on the floor, a box next to the socks and William’s stuffed hippo. “Mulder, you’ve been doing this routine every night for the last month. It’s okay if you want to change it up.” “Foss, Sauce, Boss, Noss!” William squeals and claps.

“No way! He loves it.”

Scully rolls her eyes and smiles. “Your Daddy’s silly, isn’t he?” she whispers in William’s ear, but he just points to the book. “Okay, okay. Knox in box.” Mulder puts the hippo into the box. “Fox in socks.” Sitting on the carpet, Mulder pulls on the socks.

“Foss Sauce!”

“Knox on Fox,” Scully reads, trying mightily to keep William from ripping pages as he flails his arms. The hippo takes his place on Mulder’s head. “In socks in box.” Attempting to step into the box while balancing the stuffed hippo, Mulder’s socks lose traction and he crashes to the floor.

Scully laughs, and William hurls himself out of her lap toward Mulder.

“Foss owie,” William says and places open mouth baby kisses on both Mulder’s knees and then his face. “Aw ettah.” Mulder feels no pain.

v.

William is finger painting in the kitchen when Mulder arrives home from his run. Scully always lets him paint on Saturdays which means the entire area is covered in plastic and William has used himself as a canvas. Mulder kisses his head as he passes on the way to the fridge. Grabbing a water, he pops the top and drains it in three gulps.

“How was your run?” Scully asks, pouring herself a coffee behind him.

“Good,” he replies, striding over to pin her against the counter. “Missed you.” Tucking a hair behind her ear, he kisses her and grabs a coffee mug. “How long has he been at it?”

“Awhile. I’m surprised he hasn’t tired of it yet.” She takes a sip of coffee while Mulder pours himself some and joins his son at the table.

“Whatcha painting bud?” He tries to make out something recognizable but it’s mostly a giant brown blob. “Foss.”

Mulder tries to see any likeness of himself, but it’s the art of a toddler so imagination is important.

“Ohhh, it’s beautiful. It looks just like me!”

William stops painting and stares at him. “No. Is Foss.” “Fox?” Mulder asks, pointing to himself.

“No!” William leaves the table and disappears into his room. Mulder glances at Scully, worried she’s going to freak about a paint covered toddler traipsing around the apartment. She isn’t. She looks wistful, a small smile gracing her lips. William returns with a book and hands it to Mulder.

“Foss sauce.”

Mulder’s confused, he thought he was Fox in socks. Sure, they hadn’t done the routine in a few weeks, but the kid is already replacing him? Sheesh.

He points to himself again.  “Not Fox in socks?”

“No,” William says and climbs in his lap. Brown paint covers his sweats as William points to his chest. “Dada.”

Scully lets out a little sob and Mulder stops breathing.

He points to himself once more. “Dada?”

William grabs his face, gurgles and erupts into a grin. “Dada,” he squeals and burrows into his father’s neck. Mulder smiles, misty eyed, and wraps his arms around his son.

Unnoticed by all, Fox in Socks slips to the floor.

[endgameexecutor]

So my wife, @crazygingerlady, wanted to see how much I’ve changed over the years. So here’s an ask meme I answered ages ago with updated answers. The old answers can be found here.

What was your:

Last drink: Cranberry lemonade, babey!

Last phone call: My wife. OvO

Last text message: (From my sister about a crab she caught): Could be a girl.

Last song you listened to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UJAvPsSeXvg

Last time you cried: Bitch I wish I could cry. It would prolly help me get out all these bad emotions squatting in my body, not paying their dopamine rent.

EDIT: My wife informs me I was crying over how cute baby snakes were last night.

Have you ever:

Dated someone twice: Does dating my wife constantly count?

Been cheated on:

Kissed someone and regretted it: Only once, when I poked Jayde’s eye with my nose.

Lost someone special: I lost my grandmother when I was a child. I couldn’t even comprehend what was going on back then. It hit me like a truck a phew years later and I felt like shit when it did.

Been depressed: Been?

Been drunk and thrown up: Still don’t drink. Maybe if I had something blue and fruity...

In the past year have you:

Made a new friend: Lot’s of them in my college classes. Right now they’re on Discord shitposting about Seto Kaiba.

Fallen out of love: That’s an emotional roller coaster I plan to never ride again.

Laughed until you cried: Every time my wife says something funny. Unless it’s terrible terrible terrible.

Met someone who changed you: See: “My wife.”

Found out who your real friends are: I can trust no one in this filthy world but my cat, Arby.

Found out someone was talking about you: Are they? ...Are they saying nice things?

Kissed anyone on your Facebook list: Jayde were we Facebook friends before or after we kissed?

EDIT: She informs me it was before.

General:

How many people on your FB friends do you know irl?: I’m in a long distance relationship with my wife so that one’s a technicality. All my other IRL friends use Discord.

Do you have any pets?: Four cats. One with anxiety, one doesn’t like me, one’s a sweet angel, and one’s Arby.

Do you want to change your name?: Can I add titles like “Duke”?

What did you do for your last birthday?: Get a surprise visit from my wife who I proceeded to hug for a solid three minutes.

What time did you wake up today?: Nine-thirty. Or at least I’m hoping I woke up. I’ve got errands to run.

What were you doing at midnight last night?: Binging Criminal Minds way past bedtime.

Name something you CANNOT wait for: The fall of capitalism.

Last time you saw your mother: About a week ago. I’m the man of the house for now. Those plants you see outside? I watered them. Yeah, I’m a big deal.

What is one thing you wish you could change about yourself: Hi I’d like to return this depression with the executive dysfunction that came with it.

What are you listening to rn?: The dulcet tones of Jayde’s AC because I’m Skyping her while I write this.

Have you ever talked to a person named Tom?: I was on the highschool math team with one but let me ask this; why Tom? Why is that such and important name to you? Are you looking for a Tom? Did he break your heart?

What’s getting on your nerves rn?: The loneliness that comes with being the only person in this house.

Nickname: My wife calls me Bingus.

Relationship status: In a long-distance relationship, with my wife, @crazygingerlady.

Zodiac sign:  ♉

Pronouns: He/him

Favourite tv show: I am fickle man, but right now the first two to come to mind are Criminal Minds and Star Vs.

High school: No thank you I ain’t reliving that. I think I was even more depressed and self-destructive back then.

College: Actually really enjoying my current degree in graphic design!

Hair colour: Still brown. Also why the “u”? Is this questionnaire some sort of data collection means for British spies? Or did I change it back then because I thought it made me look “cultured”?

It really just made me look like a twat.

Long or short: It was long and curly but then Jayde gave it a trim when I last saw her.

Height: Taller than you’ll ever be and that’s all that I need to say.

Do you have a crush on someone?: Golly gee whoever could it be?

What do you like about yourself?: Apparently I look real good in button-up flannel.

Tattoos: I have a plan to get “ARE YA NASTY” penned right on my cheeks before the year is out.

Righty or lefty: Righty.

First surgery: After a cursory check I have confirmed all my organs are in their proper places.

First piercing: One time I had this really bad splinter does that count?

First best friend: I think it was actually this kid who hit me in the face with a shovel. I don’t think we were friend for too long after that.

First sport you joined: Soccer when I was a kid. Went through a child league or something of the sort and stopped. I was not very good at it and am no better as an adult!

First vacation: Seattle as a kid, pity I can’t remember a lick of it on account of being baby.

First pair of trainers: I still have no idea what the fuck this means. Maybe the OP really was from the UK.

Rn:

Eating: Currently digesting a Taco Bell quesadilla.

Drinking: And a Strawberry Icee from the same place.

I’m about to: I’m not sure, I might go to France’s many vineyards and sample their finest wines. Or I might just finish up this questionnaire. I dunno.

Listening to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iAbNynH35pw

Waiting for: My family to get home and also dreading it a little as well. Sure it was lonely, but it was also quiet.

Want kids: I already have baby names lined up.

Get married: Jayde’s grandparent’s have been looking at rings for us already.

Career: Remember when it seemed like I was going to be an accountant? Me either. Let’s keep going with graphic design like my wife was right about.

Which is better:

Lips or eyes?: If you’re asking what I like in a partner then I’ve gotta ask why exactly you’re making me choose!

Hugs or kisses?: Excuse me while I fucking embrace my wife.

Shorter or taller? I love my short, fat wife.

Older or younger? Older. My wife has a whole year on me! Grandma.

Romantic or spontaneous? I feel like there’s an overlap but I definitely need to plan more dates to surprise Jayde with...

Nose, stomach or nice arms? This still sounds serial-killer-ish but if I’m to set that aside, stomach.

Sensitive or loud? Bitch Jayde’s both. And I love it.

Hook up or relationship? I’m so happy with the one I’m in now. I ain’t ever gonna stop loving her. Bitch.

Troublemaker or hesitant? I dunno, I guess that would depend on trouble for who? Though given the bad ideas I suggest I’m really glad Jayde doesn’t do any of them.

Have you ever:

Kissed a stranger? Only when I pretend not to know who Jayde is.

Drank hard liquor? I’m not sure how to put a funny spin this. Next!

Lost glasses or contacts? I can’t wear them lest they reduce the beauty of my stunning hazel eye-things.

Sex on first date? That one is gonna be a nada for good.

Broke someone’s heart? I have, I still feel fucking terrible about it.

Been arrested? Nope, my record is clean aside from those traffic tickets.

Turned someone down? Yup, I had to tell Arby he wouldn’t get more food because he’d already been fed.

Cried when someone died? Not immediately. I think the “losing a loved one” covers that pretty well.

Fallen for a friend? Story of Jayde and I’s relationship.

Do you believe:

In yourself? On good days, yeah I do. I also might be too confident in my graphic design skills though.

Miracles? Yes, his name is Sirius and he’s Jayde’s baby boy.

Love at first sight? With my wife, but at the time my dumb-ass didn’t realize it. I’m as dense as lead.

Heaven? I’m not sure how to answer that. I mean I won’t fight against it’s existence but I ain’t but all my chips on it either.

Santa Claus? That was explained to me years ago but like hell I’ll ruin it for my kids. How much do red suits cost?

Kiss at first date? I’m not sure so I just kiss Jayde a lot to cover my bases.

EDIT: Jayde says our first “real” date was at the aquarium, and we kissed a lot.

Angels?: Have you seen my wife?

Speaking of I hope this gives a better idea of how I’ve changed over the years. I love you sweetie<3