#when I lived in Michigan I had the same girl do my hair for almost fifteen years | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

truthfulpoint · 4 months ago

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Friends take turns massaging each other

After finishing college, I moved into my grandparents' basement so I could save some money and sort out what I wanted to do with my life. I had grown up thinking I would be the next Stephen King, and I selected my college courses accordingly. Unfortunately I let myself run out of runway before I realized that particular dream wasn't going to make it off the ground. Now was the time to re-group before making my next move.

Most of my friends had vacated our hometown after high school, so I found myself spending my evenings on instant messenger striking up conversations with people I had known and lost touched with before school had even ended—usually after sneaking out into the backyard to smoke a bowl. I was a late bloomer where drugs and alcohol were concerned; I didn't have my first drink until my freshman year of college, and I didn't smoke weed until my fifth year.

I had always been reserved, especially when it came to girls, but I quickly found that the combination of weed and instant messaging worked for me like spinach did for Popeye. Online dating was just starting to become a thing, so I was also honing my skills on sites like Plenty of Fish and OKCupid, but to be completely honest—pickings were slim. I grew up in a small town in West Michigan. Great for raising kids; not so great if you were a dude in your mid-20s looking for a date on a Friday night.

That was how I ended up reconnecting with Larissa. She was in a similar living situation: She had married young and moved back into her parents' house after she caught her husband cheating. Larissa and I had dated in high school. We'd had sex twice when we were both too young for that to be anything but awkward, and our relationship had kind of fizzled out after that. Talking to her now, under such different circumstances, I thought presented an opportunity for both of us to have a little excitement with someone we were already semi-familiar with, and she seemed to be feeling the same way. In fact, it was Larissa who first turned one of our IM conversations toward intimacy and the things that we missed now that we were both single. Naturally, I invited her over to watch a movie—this was back when Netflix came in the mail. I gave her a massage, and we ended the night taking turns going down on each other.

But that's another story.

About a week later, Larissa mentioned to me over IM that her friend Alicia was home to visit her parents for a while. The girls were bored hanging out at Larissa's, and they wondered what I was up to. Of course I had nothing going on, so I invited them over.

I had known Alicia almost as long as I had known Larissa, but I probably could have counted the one-on-one conversations I'd had with her on one hand. She was one of those friend-of-a-friend girls that I was always aware of but never paid much attention to. They were of similar height (roughly 5'5" or so) and body type. Larissa had strawberry blonde hair, cut above her shoulders. Her boobs were bigger than they had been the last time I saw her, and her hips were a bit wider, but she obviously took care of her body. Alicia had been a bigger girl in high school, but she had lost some weight in the years since I had seen her last. She was still bigger in the waist than Larissa, but her chest was a bit smaller. Alicia had dark brown hair that hung down between her shoulder blades, and a round, pretty face.

Both girls knew that I had been pretty straightlaced in high school, so Larissa was almost gleeful when she told Alicia that I had started smoking weed.

"Now I'm a stereotype," I said. "A stoner living alone in his grandparents' basement."

The girls laughed. We were seated on the couch in front of a fake fireplace. It had lights that pulsed and flickered behind a brown, red, and yellow piece of plastic that was meant to look vaguely like fire, but no heat. I was seated on the right side of the couch, Alicia on the left, with Larissa in the middle.

"Have either of you smoked before?"

"A few times," Larissa said.

Alicia nodded. "Only like twice."

"Want to smoke now?"

The girls exchanged a glance, and Alicia shrugged her shoulders. "Sure," she said.

"Let's do it," Larissa said.

Feeling like teenagers, we crept up out of the basement and out the backdoor. I packed us a bowl, and we passed it around. It was pretty obvious that Larissa and Alicia were not regular smokers just from the way they held the lighter, not to mention the coughing, but they held their own.

Soon enough we were back down on the couch. We were seated in the same configuration, but Larissa was closer to me, leaning into me now, with her body facing outward toward Alicia on the other end of the couch and her head resting on my shoulder. Suddenly I was reminded of a night when we were in high school. The three of us were outside the school after what I believe was a talent show. Larissa and I had dated and broken up weeks earlier, and that night was the start of us getting back together. In that moment on the couch, I remembered Alicia saying something like, "Just kiss already."

Now Larissa was resting her head on my shoulder—not the first time she was showing me affection in front of Alicia, though the vibe was definitely different this time.

Sneaking out to smoke had Larissa and Alicia reminiscing about hiding alcohol in their bedrooms when they were in high school.

"Jimmie never did anything like that," Larissa said, as she elbowed me gently in the stomach. "He was a good boy."

"It's true," I said. "My parents thought I was a pothead at one point, but in reality I was just lazy."

The girls laughed.

"The only thing I hid in my bedroom was porn."

"And girls," Alicia chimed in.

"Yeah, I was one of them." Larissa turned her face toward me and winked.

"That is true," I said.

"Oh, I heard," Alicia said. "You two started young."

"Yeah, yeah," I said.

Larissa and I had been sixteen when we were dating, and we'd had brief, clumsy sex on two separate occasions.

"How old were you when you lost your virginity?" I asked.

"Eighteen," Alicia answered. "Summer before college."

I was already starting to feel pretty relaxed, and I could tell the girls were too. Weed always made me feel horny. Combine that with the warmth of Larissa's body leaning into me and the memory of what had happened the last time she visited, and I could already feel my dick getting hard. I would not have pushed the conversation into this territory under normal circumstances, but at this point my typical reservations and discretion had gone out the window.

"When was the last time you had sex?"

Alicia sighed and laughed. "It's been a while. Five months? Maybe six? I'd have to think about it."

"That's sad," Larissa said.

"Tell me about it." Alicia laughed again. "How long has it been for you?"

Larissa responded, "Well, there's sex and there's oral sex."

We all laughed at that point.

"I guess that's an answer," I said.

"Not really," Alicia said. "Both. Either. How long has it been?"

"Oral sex?" Larissa turned her face toward me. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bloodshot. "Last week."

"Ooh," Alicia said, raising an eyebrow. "That sounds like a story."

Larissa laughed. "Not really."

"I want to hear it anyway," Alicia said. "I told you, it's been a long time. Give me some excitement."

Larissa looked to me, and I shrugged. At this point, my dick was as hard as a rock. I was game for anything—but I wasn't exactly prepared for how blunt Larissa's response was.

"He gave me a massage, then he ate my pussy."

Alicia's jaw dropped. Apparently she was not prepared for that response either. "Jesus, Larissa!" She laughed.

"What?" Larissa feigned innocence. "You asked!"

Alicia looked to me. "Sounds like a fun time for you."

"No complaints from me." I winked at her. "I like giving massages anyway. Plus have you seen her naked? Her tits are amazing."

"No," Alicia said, smirking, "but I have seen her in a bikini."

"Just look at these things."

I sat up and took hold of the hem of Larissa's white t-shirt, expecting her to swat my hand away. To my surprise she leaned forward slightly, making it easier for me to lift her shirt. I exposed a few inches of belly and paused for a moment, waiting for one of them to stop me. No one said a word, so I pulled her shirt up over her bra. She raised her arms, and I took her shirt off completely. She was wearing a lavender bra that contained her soft, white mounds perfectly.

I tossed Larissa's shirt to the floor and started massaging her shoulders. Larissa moaned, and her head fell forward.

Alicia laughed. "How's that feel?"

"So good," Larissa said.

We sat in silence for a minute while I kept working on Larissa's shoulders. I had taken a few massage courses in college, and I genuinely enjoyed giving massages, so I felt like I knew what I was doing. I even had some organic oil, which I had used on Larissa the week before.

I was watching Alicia's face. Her cheeks were flushed too, and she was openly staring at Larissa's chest. Her lips parted slightly. I had never thought about Alicia in a sexual way, but the look on her face just now made my cock throb. Suddenly I was thinking about her lips, how plump and full they looked, and how good they would feel wrapped around my shaft.

"How long has it been for you?"

Alicia blinked. "What? Sorry ... "

"Oral sex," I said. "How long has it been?"

"Same," she said. "About six months."

She wasn't even looking at me. Her gaze was still locked on Larissa's tits.

"Do you prefer giving or receiving?"

"I like giving head."

Without lifting her head, Larissa chimed in. "She's never had someone go down on her."

"Really?"

Alicia nodded slowly .

"That's a shame," I said.

My response hung in the air a moment as we fell back into a silent reverie—Larissa sitting there in her bra, me rubbing her shoulders and neck, and Alicia watching us. The sexual tension felt like it was getting thicker by the minute. Part of me felt like I could have asked Alicia anything at that point, and she would answer. I thought about asking when was the last time she touched herself. The last time she had an orgasm. What kind of porn she liked.

At the same time, I was enjoying the feel of my hands on Larissa's skin, and based on the way her body was responding to my touch, I thought she might be up for a bit more.

I leaned forward, put my lips close to her ear and asked, "Do you want a real massage?"

Larissa nodded. "Yes, please."

"Let's go then."

Larissa stood up and started walking toward my bedroom, at the opposite end of the basement from the sitting area where we had been hanging out, and I followed suit.

After a few steps, Larissa turned back toward Alicia and said, "Come on, don't stay out here by yourself."

Alicia raised an eyebrow. "I thought you guys might want some privacy."

"It's just a massage," Larissa said, though her tone hinted strongly that was not the case.

"You can help me," I said. "I'll show you some techniques."

That was apparently all the encouragement Alicia needed. She stood up and followed us to the bedroom.

The bedroom I had been calling home was small, dark, and isolated in the back corner of the basement. The lack of egress window kept the room pretty dark even in the middle of the day; at night, it was pitch black. I turned on a reading lamp on the nightstand that had a warm, orange glow—enough to see by without killing the vibe. The bed and nightstand were the only piece of furniture in the room, so Alicia sat on the edge of the bed while Larissa stripped off her socks and jeans. My cock throbbed hard when I saw when she was wearing underneath—a purple thong, the same shade as her bra. She must have felt the need for some modesty at this point, because she got up on the bed and laid face-down before reaching back to unclasp her bra.

I kept the massage oil in a toiletries bag so as not to raise any questions. The toiletries bag was on a wall shelf, with a few other personal items (most of my belongings were in storage at this point). I took in the scene while I was retrieving the oil: Larissa was topless now, lying facedown on the bed; Alicia was sitting on the edge of the mattress, leaning back against the headboard. I couldn't wait to get my hands on her—which is precisely why I could never be a licensed massage therapist. I loved the bare skin, the gentle curves, the bulge of Larissa's breasts pressed against the bedsheet and peeking out on either side of her chest. Larissa had a great body, but from this angle her ass completely stole the show—especially in those thong panties. Her ass cheeks were big, firm, and the same milky white color as her tits. I wanted to smack both cheeks. No, what I really wanted to do was to get in between her legs, spread her cheeks and lick the thin strip of lavender fabric covering her pussy and asshole. Like Larissa had in hiding her bare chest from view, I kept things modest and quasi-professional for the time being.

I placed the bottle on the nightstand and pumped some oil into my palm. After rubbing my hands together to warm them up, I started spreading the oil over Larissa's bare back, moving from her neck down to the small of her back. I added more oil, making sure there was sufficient coverage, then I knelt on the bed beside her and started the massage.

"I start by going along her spine with my fingertips or my thumbs, depending on how I'm feeling."

"OK," Alicia said, shifting position a little so she could see better.

"From the neck, all the way down her back. My palms make more contact on the way back up, along the sides. Like this." With the fingertips of my hands on both sides of her spine, I traced the line down to the small of her back, getting very close to her panties, before spreading out my hands and moving back up to her shoulder blades. "If I feel any knots, I'll spend some focused time there, but this motion is what I come back to. I try to keep contact at all times, so it feels like a continuous motion."

Larissa moaned in approval as I rubbed down toward her ass again, this time going far enough to briefly touch her panties before coming back up.

I turned to Alicia. "If you want to keep this up, I'll work on her legs."

"Sure," Alicia said. Her eyes were on her friend's body—specifically, I think, her lower half.

"If you feel like you need more oil, go ahead."

I pumped some more oil into my hands and moved down to the foot of the bed. I started by spreading oil on her thighs and made my way down to her ankles. Alicia took my place massaging Larissa's back. I watched her movements as I started working on Larissa's ankles. At first her hand motions were hesitant, but with every pass down Larissa's back she seemed to gain confidence. I found myself staring at Alicia's feminine hands, her slender fingers, her manicured nails with their maroon polish, pushing into, over, and against her friend's bare skin. I knew they had never touched like this before, and I could tell that Alicia was getting more turned on as things progressed. She seemed hypnotized by Larissa's body in her hands—and I could hardly blame her.

I turned my attention back to Larissa's legs and began moving up toward her thighs. Keeping tabs on Alicia's movements in my periphery, I matched her tempo and movements, rubbing in an upward motion when she was rubbing down. In my experience in giving solo massages, I had found that by directing my movements toward the center of the woman's body—by, I assumed, pushing blood flow toward her genitals—I was able to generate a heightened sense of arousal. When I gave a massage, I wanted the girl to be silently begging me to fuck her by the time I finally allowed my fingers to make contact with her pussy. Like I said, I could never be an LMT.

If I was an artist, then I wanted this to be my masterpiece. I doubted Larissa and Alicia had ever been in such a sexually charged situation with another girl before. I wanted to build the tension to the point where they lost all inhibitions.

So I took my time, matching Alicia's movements, with both of us rubbing toward the plump mound of Larissa's ass, retreating, getting close to her cheeks and the lavender thong framing them, retreating again. Larissa moaned in ecstasy beneath us. My fingertips reached higher on her thighs with every stroke. Starting at her ankles, I pushed upward with my hands in C-formation, my thumbs running along the inside of her legs, over the rise and fall of her calves, into the valleys behind her knees, and up the back of her thighs toward her ass cheeks. Before making my way back down, I would trace a semi-circle with my thumbs on her inner thighs. This was where the teasing really intensified, as my thumbs crept closer and closer to that lavender strip of fabric covering her labia.

Our combined efforts were having the desired effect. Each time I reached the top of her thighs, Larissa raised her hips slightly from the mattress, providing a little more access to her most sensitive area. As time went on, as my fingertips drew closer to her masked pussy, she became less subtle about presenting herself to me, until eventually she was lifting her hips an inch or two off the bed. Even in the dim light, I could see that her labia had swollen so much it was visible on either of her thong.

On the next pass, I finally let my thumbs make contact with her pussy, just for a second. Larissa moaned and wiggled her butt when I moved my hands away. She knew what I was doing—but it was still working.

Larissa's thong was my boundary now. With each pass, I let my thumbs trace a little of the fabric border, meaning that I was making regular contact with the outer edges of her swollen labia. Alicia must have noticed that I was touching her thong from the bottom, because her strokes were reaching the waistband of Larissa's panties now, tracing the elastic band from the small of her back at the base of her spine outward to her hips before returning to her shoulder blades.

I moved up onto the bed, straddling Larissa's legs, and shifted my focus to her ass cheeks. I started massaging in circular motions so I was spreading Larissa's cheeks with every pass. I traced the underside of her thong's waistband now, matching Alicia's tempo and movements so we were touching the same places at the same time. As a final push, I let my fingertips slip under Larissa's panties. On the next pass, just as I'd hoped, Alicia did the same thing. We did this a couple more times, until Alicia's fingertips touched mine under the waistband of Larissa's thong.

Then I asked the question that I had been waiting to ask.

"Alicia, would you like a massage?"

Alicia froze for a moment, then nodded her head.

"I'm not gonna lie, that looked like it felt pretty damn good."

Larissa sighed dramatically. "Does that mean I have to get up now?"

I gave her ass a playful spank—not as hard as I wanted to, but I did get a delicious little jiggle for my effort.

"Yup, sorry about your luck. Your turn to help out."

"I suppose it's only fair," Larissa said. With exaggerated effort, she pushed herself up from the mattress and sat on the edge. She made no effort to cover her naked breasts; modesty had gone out the window at this point. She looked incredibly sexy in the dim light, with her breasts hanging heavy on her chest, her dark nipples fully erect.

I thought Alicia might be more reluctant to strip down, considering she and I had never been intimate before, but she proved me wrong by quickly and unceremoniously stripping off her pants, socks, and shirt. I had just a moment to take in her curvaceous form before she laid face down on the bed. She was wearing a gray padded bra and black bikini-cut panties. Her belly protruded a little, and her breasts were small for her frame, but from my perspective in the moment she was sexy as fuck. I was nearing the point of requiring physical restraints. My dick had been so hard for so long that it ached. If and when I finally did get some action tonight, I thought I would probably erupt at the first touch.

Like Larissa, Alicia waited to remove her bra until she was face down on the mattress. Just like that, I had two topless girls on my bed. Not how I thought the night would go when I invited them over, but I wasn't complaining.

Larissa moved to the head of the bed, where Alicia had been sitting, but I had other ideas.

"Actually, let me work on her back," I said. "You do her legs."

Larissa acquiesced silently, and we switched positions. I handed her the oil bottle. She pumped some out in her palm, returned the bottle to me so I could do the same, and we got started. Alicia responded to our touch immediately with a soft moan.

As I massaged her back in the same pattern I had demonstrated for her before, I watched Larissa at the foot of the bed. She leaned forward, running her hands up Alicia's legs, her nude breasts swinging gently. My hope in having Larissa massage Alicia's legs was that she would find as much pleasure in the task as I did, and the lust in her expression told me everything I needed to know. She was breathing heavy and biting her lip, and as I watched she never took her eyes off Alicia's ass. Larissa was the perfect student; she moved her hands up and down Alicia's legs using exactly the same motion I had used on her, moving higher on her thighs with every pass, making semi-circles at the apex with her thumbs, getting closer and closer to her panty line.

I tried to take my time and give Alicia a decent massage, but at this point I was in agony. Each pass with my hands down her back went lower and lower, until I was tracing the waistline of her panties. As Larissa followed my lead, I imagined her thumbs grazing Alicia's labia through the thin black fabric of her panties. Every time Larissa's hands reached up the back of her legs, Alicia released a soft moan.

I started letting my fingertips slip inside the waistband of her panties, and Larissa followed suit from below. Alicia lifted her body from the mattress to allow access when Larissa's hands reached the top of her thighs, but I couldn't tell how close Larissa was getting to her pussy.

It was obvious now that the girls were just as into this as I was, so I pushed things a step further. I pulled at the waistband of her panties.

"Why don't we take these off, so we can give a more complete massage."

Alicia responded with a muffled, dreamy, "OK."

Without a word, Larissa started pulling Alicia's panties down over her beautiful, round ass. She tossed them to the floor along with the rest of the girls' clothes, and we returned to our work. Larissa straddled Alicia's legs, just as I had done to her a few minutes earlier, and started working Alicia's ass cheeks. She was staring down between Alicia's legs, and I knew that with every stroke of her hands she was spreading Alicia's pussy lips. The smell of sex was intense, almost smothering. I focused on Alicia's lower back and the top hemispheres of her ass cheeks.

After a few minutes of this, Larissa looked up at me.

"You know, this isn't really fair," she said. "Jimmie has two girls basically naked in his bed, and he's still fully clothed."

Alicia murmured, "Mmhmm."

"Does that mean it's my turn?" I asked, smirking.

"What do you think?" Larissa spanked Alicia's ass playfully. "Do you think he deserves a massage?"

"I guess if we're talking about fairness," Alicia said.

"Mm, that is true." Larissa winked at me.

Like a dog finally let off its leash, I could hardly contain my excitement. I jumped up from the bed and stripped, adding my own socks, jeans and shirt to the pile. I hesitated for a split second in my boxer-briefs, thinking I should follow the girls' example and feign modesty, but one glance at the scene in front of me killed that thought in its tracks. Alicia had rolled over onto her side, her head propped up on her elbow. She did not bother to cover up her nudity or disguise the fact that she was staring at my body. Her nipples were larger and darker than Larissa's, and her bush was trimmed in a nice triangular shape. Larissa was kneeling on the bed in her lavender thong and nothing else, hands on her hips, still straddling her friend's legs.

My underwear landed on the pile as well, leaving me standing fully nude with my cock erect and throbbing.

Larissa laughed. "Jesus, look at that thing."

"I think he's a little turned on," Alicia said.

"Think you're right," Larissa said. She reached a hand down and stroked Alicia's leg. "Not sure why that would be."

I was unsure how serious they were about giving me a massage—frankly, I didn't care. I laid down next to Alicia and started kissing and licking her nipple. Alicia moaned and turned to lay on her back, as Larissa got up from the bed and dropped her thong, revealing her shaved pussy. I pinched Alicia's nipple and fondled her tits as I watched Larissa, waiting to see what her next move was going to be. She did not disappoint.

Larissa pushed Alicia's legs apart and knelt on the bed between them.

"I've never done this before," she said. "So I don't really know what I'm doing."

With her big eyes on Alicia, watching for her reaction, Larissa lowered her face to Alicia's pubic mound. Alicia's reaction when Larissa's tongue finally made contact was explosive. She had her eyes closed, and she was holding her hands up like she wanted to push Larissa away, but the pleasure was too intense. She let out an animalistic moan, completely lost in the feeling. Eventually she brought her right hand up to her right breast and began tugging at her nipple. I followed her lead on the left and pinched and pulled harder. Alicia responded by reaching out with her left hand and grabbing my erection like she thought she might fly off the bed and needed something to keep her grounded.

I couldn't see exactly what Larissa was doing, but apparently she was going it well. Alicia's moaning grew more intense. She had Larissa's head clamped between her thighs as her hips started bucking.

"I'm cumming," she cried. "Oh fuck, I'm cumming!"

Alicia froze up as her orgasm washed over her. Finally she released her grip on my cock and laid back, panting. Larissa kissed Alicia's pussy lips one last time and ran her fingers lovingly through her pubic hair.

She smirked. "Was that ok for your first time?"

Alicia laughed. "I mean, yeah, obviously. Fuck, that was good."

Then she rolled over onto her hands and knees and looked at me. "Ok, for real. Now it's your turn."

I had a brief second to wonder what exactly she meant before her mouth was on my cock. When we were out on the couch, she had said she liked giving head, now she was putting her money where her mouth was—and I believed it. She wrapped a hand around my shaft and made a corkscrew motion as she stroked, taking me deep into her mouth over and over again. Saliva ran over her fingers and down around my balls. With her free hand she started massaging my balls, then she started stroking the shaft with both hands, making the corkscrew motion in opposite directions. If her goal was to make me cum in record time, she was on the right track. I could already feel my orgasm building.

Then Alicia started moaning around my dick. I looked up and saw Larissa had buried her face between Alicia's ass cheeks and was—not that I could see, but I assumed—eating her friend's pussy from behind. Without missing a beat, Larissa smacked Alicia's ass cheek, prompting Alicia to squeal.

This was just too much for me to handle.

I groaned, "I'm gonna cum."

Alicia didn't slow down until I started shooting off into her mouth. She swallowed every drop, slowly milking my dick with her lips and hands. Then she lowered her face to the mattress, keeping her ass up in the air so Larissa could keep doing what she was doing. I leaned forward and grabbed Alicia's ass cheeks, pulling them apart to allow Larissa more access. Larissa was deep in it now, kissing, licking, and sucking at Alicia's hairy pussy lips while Alicia moaned with her face against the bed.

"Why don't you come up here and let Alicia return the favor?" I asked.

#fanfic writer #sexstory #female writers #hot story #story #writer

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blackwolfstabs · 1 year ago

Text

“You’re my good girl.”

What if Sam was just like Tara before she met Richie? She said the same things but didn’t have anyone there to pull her out of the trap. What if the reason Sam crashed the frat party was because of a deeper reason rather than just being over-protective of her little sister? - - - - - - - - - - “If I could get rid of every damn memory, burn the book with the chapter of you and me, it wouldn’t be so hard in the neon dark, trying to fight what might’ve got the best of me…”

Sam got on Tara’s nerves constantly. She knew that. She always knew that her hounding and protecting and clinginess to her sister was considered overbearing and neurotic. And every time, Tara would shout at her, screaming for her to leave her alone and let her make her own decisions. After all, it was Tara’s life.

“If I wanna hook up with an asshole, that’s my decision! It’s my decision. It’s not about you! I mean, you’re– you’re out of my life for 5 years, and then you can’t leave me alone for 5 minutes.”

She hadn’t been there for 5 years of Tara’s life. She hadn’t been there to help her grow up and show her how to navigate through her adolescent years the right way.

Her persistence to keep her baby sister safe was much more centered than everyone thought. Especially on that night, when Tara almost got herself date-raped.

So she wasn’t around for 5 years to show her how to live life the right way… but she knew how to do it the wrong way. And had she not been so stupid and naive at the time, her secret never would’ve got out, Tara never would’ve been stabbed, and fate wouldn’t have led them here…

Sam slipped in between the crowd of people like a cat, agile and skilled among the neon lights and rowdy partygoers. She retrieved an open bottle of vanilla & honey whiskey and tipped it into her cup, filling enough for two shots, before shooting it in one go. It went down smooth after the countless drinks that coursed through her from that night, but the burn was still as fresh as the first 5 rounds. She shook her head like a wet dog to get rid of the tang, then glanced up as a young man flanked her.

“You’ve been shooting whiskey all night like someone broke your heart,” he joked as he retrieved the bottle of cinnamon whiskey for himself.

She shook her head, “Nah, I’m good!” She had to raise her voice over the commotion of chatting and music. “I find it goes down better, when you got nothing to lose! You know?”

The newcomer nodded in agreement, then took his shot. “Can’t argue with that.” He set his shot glass down and went to fill it up again. “What’s your name?”

“Sam. Sam Carpenter. You?”

“I’m Richie,” he answered, shooting her a glance like a blue-eyed snake. “Richie Kirsch.” He saw her nod, then went on to ask. “Where are you from, Sam?”

There was no doubt that Sam was definitely tipsy, on her way to passing the lines of being intoxicated, but she had trained herself to answer that question no matter her cognitive state. She paused in her inspection of the different alcohols available to give him a short look, which he didn’t catch over his downing of Fireball. “Michigan.”

“Michigan?” he repeated, sounding surprised. “How long have you been in California?”

“A while.”

Richie nodded with a hum and grabbed a beer, then glanced over to her with a second one. “You want one?” He offered it to her.

She gave him a smile and took it, before flipping her hair to leave the kitchen. She knew he would chase after her. The boys always did.

And he kept that streak alive.

“So,” he began, tailing her closely as she weaved through the crowd, “do you have a boyfriend?”

She loved it when they asked her this. “Of course,” she replied confidently, “one for every day of the week.” She made it to the back door and stopped. “Thing is…” She looked over her shoulder to meet his eyes with a smirk, “None of them have me.” And she disappeared into the dark of night.

Richie followed, “Can’t settle for just one?”

“No, not yet!” He had his own charm that he unleashed, and she sensed it by the tone of his voice and the way he looked at her. It intrigued her more than any of the other guys. And that made her frisky. “But I might rush it.”

Her follower picked up his pace to walk by her side, not bothering to keep his touch subtle when he felt-up the back pocket of her jeans. He was winning her over fast, even though they hadn’t even known each other for 5 minutes. “Oh, yeah?”

She was that girl, the kind that all the guys loved with just one look.

“What makes you think that?” he quizzed.

Sam kept her head high as she continued her rehearsed front, “Well, Richie… when you’re footloose and collar-free… you take nothing but the best.”

And 2 hours later had 2 strangers entangled in a mess of intimacy on the side of the house. 1:00 AM and the wolves had come out to partake in reckless, young acts of make-believe love that only took an alpha and an omega.

Sam’s fingers gripped Richie’s ginger hair, while he combed through her long blonde-highlighted locks to tug her head back and deepen their kiss. She gave a soft moan as he did so, feeling his hands leave her hair to glide down her back and slip into her back pockets. He gently squeezed, which made her jump with a small noise.

He broke away from her lips, but she dismissed it.

“It’s fine,” she promised, then nodded. “I’m fine. I want to.”

Richie gave her a grin, and they reconnected. He tightened his grip on her hind end and pulled her pelvis into him, hearing her moan again as he did so. Then, he took his hands out of her pockets to move one further down and the other across her back to reach her side, further pressing her body against his.

She let out a giggle that was muffled, which led him to chuckle seductively as she moved her hands down his neck and to his shoulders, where she eventually let her wrists hang limp. She tilted her head enough to secure his lips again, before gently nipping his bottom one.

He pulled himself away but kept her body close. “You already wanna go that far?” he teased, meeting her big, brown eyes that were bordered with a thick eyeliner and flattered by mascara.

Samantha showed no sign of being shy or embarrassed, expressing more of an alpha approach, even though she knew the omega position was her strong suit. “You say that like you're surprised,” she answered, then slid her hand back up his neck. She jerked him towards her and went to purr in his ear, “Care to teach a stray dog new tricks?”

“Mm,” her counterpart hummed as he turned to purr into hers, “Only if I can give her a home.”

She laughed. “You think you can handle me?”

Richie smirked, “I know I can handle you.” Before she could say anything else, he bent to secure one arm around her waist and the other beneath her hind to lift her off the ground. The unexpected change of positions made her yelp in surprise, and her legs instinctively wrapped around him. This made him laugh at her sudden drop in confidence. “You better hold on tight, Sam the Stray.” He chuckled as he jumped her a little and felt her arms enclose around his neck, “You’re heavy.”

Sam tightened her grip as she felt his hand curl around her side to slip beneath the cropped hem of her shirt. Like everything else, she continued to use a smart tongue when she replied, “That’s why they always like me on bottom.” Her eyes flashed in the half-light of the moon, almost beckoning him to seduce her to that point tonight.

His own eyes lightened as he pressed her against the brick wall of the house. “And bad,” he added to his former claim. He grinned as she did, finally seeing a bit of flush in her cheeks as she glanced down. “You’re a bad girl, aren’t you?” He ducked his head a little to make sure she couldn’t avoid his eyes.

She glanced back up and sighed, the slight raise of her eyebrow and cool smirk speaking for her.

The other leaned in and captured her lips in another kiss. She followed, but when he pulled away, he didn’t give much space between them. “But you can be a good girl, right?” he whispered. “‘Cause you’re too pretty to be throwing yourself away on drugs and alcohol.” He moved to kiss her cheek. “You’re much more than that, Sam.”

These words made Sam pause. No one had ever told her that before. No one had given her a sense of hope. No one had believed in her. Not since she left her life behind 5 years ago…

She’d been nothing, just a reckless stray on the run. She was free to be herself, and she was free to be by herself. That’s what she’d lived by for the last 5 years. But those words made her feel different…

He made her feel different…

Maybe she could be good? Maybe she could be more than what she was? Maybe it just took someone special to help her see that? Maybe it was him?

So, she nodded.

Richie then pulled away from kissing her neck and smiled at her. It was a sweet kind of smile that made her take on a more mellow and submissive position in their roles.

“You’re a good girl, Sam.”

This made her heart want to crack. She wasn’t good. She was the daughter of a serial killer. She was a mistake to her mother. She was a lie to her step-father. She was careless to her baby sister. She wasn’t good. She was born bad. But this man that she met tonight was telling her that she was good…

Could she start over?

Richie pulled his arm out from around her back and let the brick wall support her there, while he used his now-free hand to tuck her hair behind her ear and brush the side of her face.

She blinked up shyly, then was met with another short kiss. A genuine kiss. And then she was staring into deep blue eyes with her forehead and his own touching to hold the moment.

“You’re my good girl.”

And Sam smiled.

Sam cursed that night. Meeting Richie taught her two things—one: everything is not always what it seems, and two: never let anyone see that they get to you.

She knew exactly how stray dogs worked, no matter how far she had come since being one. She was a guard dog now, but she never forgot what it felt like to be footloose and collar-free. To be chased. To be the one that got away.

She was a tramp, but they loved her.

She never loved herself though.

Since her traumatic experiences, Tara had cut her leash and renounced her collar. She had indulged in the life of a stray, but she didn’t know the price that would have to be paid if coaxed into the wrong hands.

And that’s what Sam was terrified of. Tara was so much like her, it wasn’t even funny. She just didn’t want her baby sister to learn the hard way… the way she had to learn. “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

Good doggie, no bone.

— inspired by “Downtown” by Chase Matthew

#scream #scream movie #scream vi #scream 5 #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #richie kirsch #stray dogs #lessons learned #blackwolfstabs #AU: The Way I Am

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just-dino-maggie · 2 years ago

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24 with jack hughes pls <3

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you like it!

24. “I needed you.”

I’m sure that breakups never feel good but I didn’t think it would hurt this bad. Jack and I were that couple in High School. We were all over each other all time. I thought we were in love. But he went to New Jersey and it was hard on us. I couldn’t take it. So I broke it off without looking back.

My hometown feels uncomfortable some days. I’ve always loved it here, I wanted to live here forever. Now wherever I look reminds me of him, even two years after we broke up.

There have been so many times I’ve wanted to call him and beg him to be with me again. I’ve wanted to tell him that living without him is torture. He’s doing so well though. He is crushing it in the NHL, he’s had another serious girlfriend. They aren’t together anymore, that I know of. But it solidifies that fact that he’s better off without me.

I do the same thing almost everyday. I wake up and get a hot chocolate from my favorite Cafe then I head to work and school. It’s simple and calming. I love it. On my off days I still usually go to the Cafe and finish my homework.

I don’t have work or school today. I slept in later then usual and it felt wonderful. I made myself presentable, then I drove to the Cafe.

I’m sitting in my usual spot reading and sipping on a Hot Chocolate when I hear the bell ring signaling that someone has entered the shop. I don’t look up, I’m too immersed in my book. Something quickly pulls me out of it, the sound of a familiar voice at the counter. I look over and I can’t hide my shock. “Jack?” I gasp.

He glances over at me with those stunning blue eyes, “Y/n?” Without thinking I rush over to him pulling him into a hug. Seeing him is making me realize how much I’ve missed him. We were friends then lovers and now strangers. How can that be?

“Jack I can’t believe you’re here,” I whisper holding him with all my strength. After a moment we let go and look at each other. His hair is longer then when I last saw him. It suits him really well. He seems different in someway, older, wiser. I’m not sure what it is but I like it.

“What are you doing in Michigan?” I ask.

He smiles a little, gosh I’ve missed that smile. “I played at Little Caesar’s last night and we have a day off before heading to Columbus. I thought I’d stop and see the family.”

“Oh yeah! I heard you’re crushing it this year! I knew you could do it!” I mean what I say. I always knew he had something special when it came to hockey. Not just his talent but his passion too.

His eyes narrow, “If you knew I could do it, why did you leave?

I’m immediately confused, “What in the world do you mean?”

“You left because it was too stressful because I wasn’t playing well.” He looks at me like I should know this. As if this bombshell is some kind of fact.

I shake my head, “No I broke it off because it was too stressful to be long distance. I thought I was holding you back and I was right. You’ve been great since I’ve been gone. Winning games, dating other people.”

“No I haven’t. I needed you. I was miserable without you. I didn’t want to break up I wanted you to come live with me. I wanted us to grow together but you left. I’ve been playing well because I found my place on the team. That girl was great but I never loved her like I loved you. That’s why me and her ended things.” He pauses and places his hand on my cheek, “Why didn’t you talk to me, give me a chance to fix this?”

I try not to get too emotional, not in public like this. I grab his drink and his arm. I pull him to a booth hoping it will give us some more privacy. “I didn’t want to hold you back. You have something so special, I wish I had half the talent you have. Not only that but you’re hardworking and passionate. I knew if you would have asked me to stay I would have. I couldn’t be the one who ruined your passion, so I left without an explanation. I’m sorry that I did that.”

“Could we try to be in each others lives again? We don’t have to jump right back where we left off but we could talk more.” He suggests. I know that I’ll fall for him again but I don’t care. He owns my heart. Always has, always will.

I smile, “I could go to your game tomorrow, in Columbus. If you want me to?”

The way his face lights up makes my heart melt, “I want you to.” He looks at his watch for a second, “Can I stay here with you to catch up until I have to leave to see my family?”

“Please.” I respond.

We sit and talk to each other for a couple hours, falling back into a familiar banter. Though we are very much the same as we used to be, something feels different. Like we could really last. I hope we can, because I need him desperately and I think he needs me too.

#jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #nj devils #usntdp #usa hockey #hughes brothers

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devereauxsdisease · 2 years ago

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Happy birthday dearest twin o’ mine 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉 For the ask game: 19. If you could write an ideal fic, what would it include? Also, please accept this classic gif of baby Mads making a fool of himself (ft. hot dogs and ice skates and floppy boy band hair) 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

Happy Birthday to you too, birthday twin! I hope you had an excellent day. as for the answer, my ideal fic is almost always one that will live in people's minds. What would it include? For me, I just like writing things that are emotional and funny. I'm out here trying to recreate the feeling I get when I watch The Birdcage for everyone else.

And...you sent me a GIF! So here's a ficlet to go along with it.

Nigel glared at the second hotdog in his hand before taking a huge bite. Fuck Darko and his 'hold my hotdog for one second, fucker' bullshit, Nigel hoped he starved.

The bosses were letting them manage the shipment to New York, the youngest fucking distributors in the history of the group to get that honor. They'd given the product to their American contacts and should have been knee-deep in pussy and coke by now, finding good pizza.

But no, fucking Darko wanted to "see the big apple".

Twat.

Nigel took another bite of both hotdogs. So now, instead of girls and drugs, he was watching his fucking friend, the one he'd seen nearly beat a man to death a week ago, twirling on rented ice skates in the middle of Rockefeller Center. Nigel had fucking refused. He'd put the skates on, he'd taken the disgusting hotdogs Darko had bought them (just floating in water like turds in a toilet), but he'd cut his own balls off before he twirled around an ice rink getting jostled by a group of tourists wearing the same University of Michigan sweatshirts.

"Excuse me."

Nigel turned to tell whoever was bothering him that he would cut their tongue out and use it as toilet paper, but his voice caught in his throat when he saw the most beautiful angel in the world not a foot from his face. The boy had chocolate curls and vivid blue eyes that were darting around as he nervously wrung his little hands together.

It was like the earth moved. In fact, it was just like the earth moved. Nigel didn't realize he was falling until his head hit the ice. Those perfect blue eyes floated over him again as the boy peered at him from the other side of the rink wall.

"Are you OK?"

"Y-yeah, yes, gorgeous I'm fine." He wasn't fine. His fucking head hurt and he was pretty sure he smashed one of those disgusting hotdogs into his last clean shirt. Still, he smiled, trying to look seductive as he struggled to his feet. "What can I do for you darling?"

"Oh, um, your friend over there smacked into me while he was twirling on the ice. He spilled my hot chocolate. He told me to go see you and you'd buy me another or suck my cock..." The boy pursed his lips together. "I'd like a hot chocolate, please."

"You sure you don't want a cock sucking."

"That's not necessary."

"Maybe not, darling, but it's more than welcome."

The boy seemed to consider this. "Maybe after the hot chocolate? It's very loud here, and I find it hard to get aroused when I'm stressed."

"Well let's get you out of here and into some hot chocolate, then, shall we?" Nigel stood. "If you can help me get to that bench, I'll put my shoes on and we can go someplace quiet, drink some hot chocolate and talk about that cock sucking offer."

Nigel held out his arm and to his surprise the boy took it.

"I'm Adam, by the way."

"Nigel. Nice to fucking meet you, Adam."

They toddled toward the skate rental place. Maybe New York wasn't so fucking bad after all.

#Spacedogs #Nigel and Adam in NYC #fics with GIFS #Hannibal #Hannigram #Dev in her ask box #writing crack #Dev fics on her birthday

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tobesoalive · 3 years ago

Text

latch (Sam Kiszka x reader)

hey guys here's the little Sam enemies to lovers smut that was requested! idc if it’s a bit cheesy, I had a ton of fun writing it so please please please send in more requests! I love helping your ideas come to life!

Warnings: Smut (Oral-f and m receiving, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex)

Friday had finally rolled around and you were more than ready. After a long week of classes and work you were more than ready to have some fun tonight. You and your roommates were going to have some people over tonight to celebrate your second year of college almost being over. You had come up with the idea last weekend and quickly made a list of who all should be invited. There was one person on the guest list that you were dreading to see, no other than Samuel Kiszka.

You had met a kid named Danny Wagner in your first class freshman year, and you two became fast friends, sharing many of the same interests and hobbies. Together you and Danny were a dynamic duo, and you always made each other laugh. People often thought you were dating, but he already had a beautiful girlfriend back home. Danny also had another person constantly attached at his hip, Sam Kiszka, you’d almost think they were the ones dating.

Sam was a lanky kid with sharp features and an extremely annoying god complex. He really thought he was the absolute shit and that everyone was in awe of him. Quite honestly many people were, but you saw right through it. You found him to be arrogant and rude, and you were always disappointed to see him when you went over to Danny’s place, even though he was his roommate. Sam would often show up unannounced at your place too, mostly with Danny, but a couple of times he showed up alone. You were always polite, inviting him in like the good host you are, and you two ended up watching a movie together, and much to your surprise, in these times he was almost tolerable. Almost. He would make a snide remark or joke that would infuriate you, but he wouldn’t stick around for long, usually having somewhere to be. That somewhere was usually the bed of another girl, but they probably didn’t just watch movies.

That was another reason you couldn’t stand Sam. Last year you had a crush on him and he would do the thing where he would play with your emotion, hang out with you and flirt with you only to immediately go and fuck random girls. It hurt you, a lot, but you eventually got over it, losing the romantic feelings, or rather pushing them deep down where you’d hope they’d never surface again.

Now people were going to be at your house in an hour and you haven't even showered. It didn’t really matter though, you weren’t all too concerned with what other people thought of your appearance, so what if your hair was a little wet. You quickly rinsed off in a cold shower, then changed into a simple outfit for the night, flared corduroys and a crocheted tank top.

That was the other thing, you’d think you were exactly Sam’s type, he seemed like he would be into girls who were more artistic and down to earth, but all the girls he hooked up with seemed like they spent most of their time thinking about themselves. Not that there was anything wrong with those girls, you weren’t the “pick me” type, but it seemed like Sam would care about that kind of thing. Whatever, you don’t even like him anyways, he’s more of a nuisance than anything.

You had finished a seltzer by the time people started arriving, the playlist you and your roommates curated playing throughout the apartment. Being with your friends always made you very energetic, and people always said they liked being around you. You could get a crowd laughing in no time. People were coming through the doors and when there were about 75% of the people there, your partner in crime finally arrived. “Wagner!” you shouted across the room in a dumb accent, already a little buzzed. “Where art thou good friend?!” Danny yelled back, matching your accent as you two finally made your way to each other, wrapping him in a friendly embrace. “Where’s your obnoxious sidekick?” you whispered into his ear.

“Don’t worry he’s here. I know how you were just dying to see him.”

“Oh aren’t I always?” you responded with a sarcastic smile

“I still think you need to give him a chance, you’d probably really like him.”

Before you could even respond, he was running up behind Danny and lifting him up by his waist.

“Well if it isn’t dumb and dumber!” you exclaim before Sam comes up and wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“Oh come on (y/l/n), you love me!”

“Haha good one Kiszka, now why don’t we do something I actually love.”

“And what would that be?” Danny questions.

“Take a shot and dance our asses off!” you yell. If you were going to deal with Sam you needed to be a little more intoxicated.

You gathered your roommates and the boys and took them to the kitchen and got out the glasses.

“To friendship!” you yelled

Right then you caught danny say something quietly, and it looked like he was saying “Or more than friendship”

That made you stop for a second before throwing your head back and downing the shot.

“Ok let's get back out there” your roommate says as she pulls you by the arm.

You spend about the next half hour dancing with all your friends, taking hits of joints and drinking. You and Danny did a silly little dance you had come up with last year when you would get drunk in your dorms and do dumb shit. Mid-routine he slipped and pulled you down with him, both of you laughing your asses off. You felt someone grab your arm and help you up as the song changed, “Latch” by Sam Smith blasting through the speakers, one of the best party songs probably ever. The person who had grabbed you wrapped their arms around your waist, swaying back and forth with you to the music. You loosened the stranger’s grip and spun around only to be met with the face of that little shit, Sam.

“C’mon kid can’t you at least try to tolerate me for one song”

“Who ever said you were intolerable?” you respond, admiring how the dim light highlighted his features.

He leaned in close to your ear and lowly whispered in it “You think I can’t see it. Whenever you’re around me you act like it’s charity work.”

You pull back to look him in the eyes and say “It wasn’t always that way. Now let's get back to what we were doing. I like this song more than I like you, which is quite a lot.”

He gives you a grin before you start moving your body against him, and by the end of the song he’s staring at you in complete awe.

Once the song ended you broke free from his grasp. “See you later Kiszka” you say with a wink, turning around and disappearing into the crowd.

Your stomach was in knots, and not from disgust. The moment you just had brought up a lot of emotions, mostly about your romantic feelings for Sam but also the resentment you felt towards him. Fuck, you were in deep now. Things would be so much easier if you never had to see him again and all of this could go away. But alas, you needed to suck it up so you could still have a close relationship with Danny. Plus in about twenty minutes Sam would probably be grinding on another girl. Screw it, you were going to have a good time with your friends, you didn’t need Sam to be happy.

The rest of the night you avoided Sam, giving him zero of the attention he was craving. A couple hours later people were leaving your home or asleep somewhere in the living room, bathroom, kitchen you name it. Thankfully though, your room remained empty, you needed some space to think.

Everyone was asleep and the house was quiet, you threw on a pair of boxer shorts and an oversized Led Zeppelin shirt, passed down to you from Danny. You went to the kitchen and drank probably a gallon of water, making one last pit stop to the bathroom to pee and brush your teeth. No matter how tired you felt you knew you'd thank yourself in the morning. Finally you were on the way back to your room when you stopped in the doorway. Sam was standing in there, looking at all your decorations and your extensive vinyl collection.

“You’ve changed some stuff since the last time I was here”

“Yeah, I like to rearrange stuff y'know? keep it new and interesting.” You remarked, rubbing the back of your neck and yawning, trying to hide your obvious panic. This is the last thing you were hoping for, being confronted one on one with the man himself.

“Are you cool if I stay here tonight? Daniel is passed out on the couch and I don’t feel like making the walk home alone.”

“Of course...did you want to sleep in here?” you ask before you could even stop the words from coming out of your mouth. Fuck, you were a dumbass.

“If that’s okay with you, sleeping next to a stranger wouldn’t be my first choice.”

“You never had a problem being in a stranger’s bed before” you mumbled, looking at the floor.

He didn’t say anything, just turned his head to stare at you for a second, his eyes seeming almost apologetic.

“Well you might as well get comfortable” you tell him as you turn off the lights and flick the lamp on.

“Do you have a shirt I could borrow? I don’t really wanna sleep in jeans and a sweaty shirt.”

“Would you like an old one of Danny’s or one of mine?” you tease him, grabbing out yet another old band shirt of his roommate’s.

While he’s changing you turn away and busy yourself with lighting some incense and pulling the covers back, to avoid seeing his bare torso.

“Can I throw on a record? I can never get to sleep in the silence.”

“Help yourself” you say, but he already has a selection in his hands, Michigan by Sufjan Stevens, one of your favorites.

“Wonderful choice, but I imagine you’re a bit biased.” you say to him, both he and Danny were from the same town in Michigan and had to let everyone know.

“I just wanted something calm and serene, compared to all the fast paced stuff we’ve been blasting for the whole night.”

“Well it was a party Samuel, you have to give the people what they want” you tell him as you climb into bed.

Sam grabs for one of the pillows and a blanket, but you stop him.

“Were you gonna sleep on the floor like a dog? I don’t give a shit whether or not we share the bed.”

“I just assumed...I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable...or anything.”

“You might be surprised by this but I actually feel pretty safe around you” you confess to him. Fuck, you were still slightly intoxicated so your filter was off. It’s okay, he was still a little drunk too it seemed.

“Do you mind if I take my pants off?” he asks you with a sincere look on his face.

You can’t help but burst out laughing, finding his awkwardness and the absurdity of the comment quite hilarious.

“I’d prefer it to your rough jeans...as long as you’re wearing underwear.”

“C’mon I’m not that much of a freak” he says as he pulls down his zipper and clumsily kicks his pants off.

You couldn’t help but stare for a moment, he looked gorgeous quite honestly, long hair tangled, old shirt hanging off his shoulders and shark boxer briefs stopping at his mid thigh.

“Okay Kiszka, get in here before I change my mind.”

He pulls back the sheets and crawls in, laying his head on the pillow facing you.

“I’m sorry” he says, looking deeply in your eyes, seeming almost ashamed.

“About what?” you knew you shouldn’t feed into this, whatever was going on here was completely platonic and wouldn’t mean anything in the morning.

“Everything. Being such a dick to you. Leading you on. I promise that’s not me, I just, I honestly don’t know how to act around you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just the one person who actually kinda intimidates me. Or at least my feelings for you intimidate me.” he sighs.

“Is that why you are always fucking other girls and telling people about it when I’m around?”

“God you’re not going to take it easy on me, are you?”

“Why should I?”

“You shouldn’t. With the way I’ve treated you I honestly don’t expect anything from you, I just couldn’t hold it in any longer and I thought this was as good of a time as any.”

“Sam, can I be honest with you?”

“Of course”

“I actually don’t hate you at all like you seem to think. I can’t stand you because I really do like you, but I gave up on anything happening a long time ago.”

“Well you did a pretty good job of hiding it” he says, moving a little closer to you to the point where your noses were almost touching, the feeling of his breath giving you goosebumps. The music hummed softly in the background as you thought for a second.

“Sam don’t hate me but we’re both kinda drunk and I don't wanna do anything right now. I wanna be there for it, like fully there.”

“I was actually hoping you’d say that. I wanna take in every detail and remember it all. You’re not just another drunken hookup.”

You can’t help but give a soft smile, your cheeks going red.

“Well maybe I wouldn’t be opposed to a bit of cuddling”

“Neither would I” he says as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in close as you bury your head in his chest, taking in his scent.

Something overtakes you, and you tilt your head up and press a soft kiss to his collarbone.

“Goodnight Samuel”

“Goodninght kid” he whispers, pressing his lips to the top of your head, and you can feel him breathing in your scent as well, elated to finally feel wanted.

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

You wake up to sunlight streaming through your curtains, turning to look at your clock but instead being met with Sam’s chest.

You were sober enough last night to remember everything that happened, Sam’s feelings for you coming to light and vice versa. It made you almost giddy with excitement, not being able to wait until his eyes opened.

You played with his hair, running your fingers through it and moving it from his neck, replacing it with your lips. Soon enough he’s stretching his arms and yawning.

“Any reason you needed to wake me up at 7 am?” he asked you, looking down at you as the pad of his thumb brushed across your cheek.

“Just couldn’t wait to see you I guess”

“That's a first” he says sarcastically, once again staring deep into your eyes.

You could hear the birds singing outside and a refreshing spring breeze made its way into your room through the open window.

You stared at each other for a second longer before he whispered “Can I?”

You nodded your head yes and he dipped his head down to capture your lips in a kiss. It started off sweet and then your lips started moving in a rhythm, his hands grabbing your legs and pulling you onto his lap. He kept kissing you as your tongue made its way into his mouth, causing his hips to buck up into you. You pulled back and let out a soft sigh, basking in the feeling of him growing hard against your core. He took this as an opportunity to attach his lips to your neck, sucking at the delicate skin and leaving little nips.

“Can I take this off?” you ask him, hands grabbing at the hem of his shirt.

“Please” he groans against your neck.

You pull it off and instantly your hands run along the expanse of his smooth skin, admiring every freckle and mole, fingertips brushing across his nipples. You pull your hands away to pull your own shirt off, blushing a bit, slightly embarrassed to show yourself to him. He takes a moment to stare at the newly exposed skin, pulling you down into a kiss a moment later and mumbling “You’re absolutely stunning” into your lips.

“You’re not too bad yourself” you say with a smile spreading across your face, quickly losing it as you bite your lip when he starts to move his hips once again, his bulge rubbing deliciously against your already wet core.

“I need more of you” he grunts, obviously frustrated.

You tangle your hands in his hair and pull his head back a bit, looking down into his eyes before saying “then have me”, pulling him into a kiss.

In a swift movement he flips you both over, kneeling with his legs on either side of you.

“These need to come off” he says, tugging at the waistband of the boxers you slept in. As he pulled them off and the cold air hit your core, you couldn’t help but drink all of him in, admiring just how gorgeous he looked, as if he was sculpted by the gods himself. That moment ended when you felt his middle finger run lightly up and down your slit. You threw your head back and closed your eyes, concentrating on the feeling of his skin on yours.

“Please Sammy, I need you” you say, surprised at yourself for using that nickname with him.

He looks at you and smiles before lowering his gaze to your dripping cunt, furrowing his brows as he pushes his long finger inside of you. You mewl as he pushes it down to the last knuckle, letting you adjust for a moment before starting to slowly pump in and out.

“Fuck you’re tight. So much better than I imagined.”

“So you’ve thought about this before?” You smirk at him, turning your eyes to look at the sight of his finger pumping in and out.

“Quite a lot actually, I’ve thought a lot about how you taste too” he says before readjusting himself so his head is buried in between your thighs. It only takes a second for his tongue to find your clit as he inserts another finger and starts to pump a little faster.

“Fuck you’re good at this” you say as you let out a breathy moan, hands once again finding their way into his hair. That causes him to moan around your clit, sending vibrations through your whole body. You don’t know how much longer you’d be able to last, with Sam lapping at you like it’s his last meal.

You pull his hair, forcing his lips to part from your sensitive bud, pulling him into a sloppy kiss.

“I wanna taste you too” you say before getting up and kneeling on the floor in front of your brd, motioning him to sit with his legs over the side, facing you. You look up at him as you pull his boxers down, length hitting his stomach. You take a second to admire it, with its pink head, a large vein running up the bottom. It was a nice length, with quite a bit of girth to it, surrounded by a small patch of pubic hair. As you wrapped your hand around it you said “not to be weird or anything but your dick is gorgeous”, causing him to let out a light laugh that was quickly stifled when you wrapped your head around the tip of his cock. His fingers intertwined with your hair, lightly pulling it, not forcing you down on his dick like some guys do. You gently moved your head up and down, taking as much of him as you could in your mouth and using your hand to stroke the rest.

“Fuck I need to be inside of you” he groans, tugging at your hair, causing you to pull your mouth off his dick with a small pop.

“Can I ride you?” you question as you make your way back onto the bed.

“Fuck yes, I can’t promise how long I’ll last though” he says, pulling you in for another kiss as you line him up up with your entrance. You run his tip along your slit a few times before slowly starting to lower yourself down, taking your time to adjust to his size. Once he’s fully sheathed inside of you, he throws his head back, letting out a guttural moan.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“So have I” you say before starting to slowly move yourself up and down on him.

It’s lazy and sweet, not perfect or anything, but nothing about this situation really was. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Fuck” he remarks as he grabs your hips, fingers sinking into your skin,helping you move up and down on his delicious cock.

“You fill me up so perfectly, god you feel so good”

“I guess it was meant to be baby” he says with a grin, putting his fingers in his mouth then moving them down to rub circles around your clit.

“Fuck Kiszka, if you keep taht up I’m gonna cum.”

“That was my goal, I’m close too” he breathes out as he buries his head in your neck.

You clutch the back of his head as you start to move yourself up and down faster, fucking yourself on his cock.

“Fuck Sam I’m gonna cum”

“Me too babe, where do you want me to?” he asks shakily.

The only word you can muster out is “Inside” as you approach your peak, clenching around him once more before tipping over the edge.

It’s complete bliss as you ride out your high, feeling him give one last deep thrust into you before coating your walls with his warm ropes of seed.

You collapse against him, nuzzling your head into his neck, pressing sloppy open mouthed kisses as you both catch your breath.

He pushes your hair to the side, leaving his lips on your temple while he remains sheathed inside you.

“Thank you” he says, still regaining his breath and returning to reality.

“Don’t leave me” you say softly into his ear.

“I wouldn’t for the world, don’t you worry kid.”

You sit up and look into his soft brown eyes, taking in how much things have changed in the past few hours.

“I don’t hate you. Not in the least. I just hated the idea of not being with you.”

“Same here, but we don’t have to feel that anymore. I’m sorry for the way I treated you. You deserve the world, and I want to try my hardest to give it to you.”

“Thank you Samuel, I’ll try to do the same.”

You give him one last long kiss before pulling back, pushing his hair behind his ear and saying “C’mon loverboy, let’s go get some breakfast.”

321 notes · View notes

yandere-society · 4 years ago

Text

The Rabbit Hole

Summary: The Windy City in the mid-1920s is a spectacle of lights and sounds, roaring with the excitement of jazz music and swinging dance moves. Amid the brilliant stars of Chicago nightlife, there is a dark underground of secrets, mainly that being the mysterious Wonderland Ball you've been invited to participate in and be crowned the next "Alice". What you don't know is you may or may not be allowed to leave, per the Mad Hatter and a White Rabbit's desires. So, daring and brave as you are, you decide to take a journey down The Rabbit Hole and come face to face with high society - people - as you've never seen them before.

Genre: Yandere; Historical Fiction/ Fantasy Based In The 1920′s; Smut; Thriller; Alice in Wonderland Inspired

Warnings: Yandere themes, Mentions of drug/ alcohol use with/without consent, mentions of “gangsters”, light talks of selling your soul/ the devil/ religious “themes”?, sedative drugs used non-consensually, vivid dreams/nightmares, maybe light profanity? Smut: Non-protected sex (twice), creampies, oral sex (f and m receiving/giving), slight nipple play?, spanking, marking, bruising, slightly rough sex, use of a sex swing/ sex swing intercourse, f and m orgasms. I think that’s it.

Pairings: Jeon Jungkook (White Rabbit) x Reader (Alice) x Kim Seokjin (Mad Hatter), Side Pairing of Johnny (Jonathan) Suh from NCT x Reader, Johnny x Jung Jaehyun from NCT.

Author’s Notes: This is not going to be a historically accurate piece. As much as I am an advocate for research and learning about the times of old, I am only human and I am short on time researching in between my full time job. I have grown up and currently live in Chicago and I have never written a story about the Windy City before so here I am, writing to you about the wonderful city I call home. I am doing my best to stay true to my writing as well as make it as accurate as one can, but please forgive me if there are faults in this story!

We are not doing a collective Valentine’s Day event this year but the contents of this piece have been weighing heavily on my mind, so I asked if I could write this story for a little something-something. I hope you all enjoy it!

Written By: Admin 💖 @therealmintedmango

Also, who do you think the other boys from BTS are from Alice in Wonderland in this story? I’d love to know!

Stepping out of my very own vehicle my future husband’s family sent for me, I take in the sights and the sounds that Chicago provides this snowy afternoon.

People waltz around one another and mingle about, snow crunching under their feet. The faint sounds of jingle bells float down the streets in the chilly air, it smells of popcorn and roasted nuts as well as the sludge of gasoline tainting the snow. A cold breeze gliding across the buildings nearly knocks me off my feet as I look up to my new place of residence, a new high-rise Michigan Ave. The stars above my head seem to sparkle in the dark sky, or are those just the electric lights from the grand buildings surrounding me?

Curious, I think as I continue to have my sights set above the horizon. I’ve certainly strayed very far from the corn fields of back home. Inhaling the sharp, bitterly cold air around me, I feel a sense of dread almost wash over my senses. I knew what I was signing up for when I came here. Jonathan and I discussed it in great detail over the wire.

The reality of the situation is finally sinking into my layers of clothing.

Jonathan Suh, the grandson of Suh Realtor Industries Incorporated - which owns about one third of Chicago - has asked me to marry him. It was seemingly out of the blue too. I was going to spend the next years of my life trying to marry into the best livestock or vegetable farmer in town, not the filthy rich grandson in a large city. It felt like a dream when he called me and begged me to come as soon as possible. I suppose it pays off to be kind to everyone, especially when it felt like it was yesterday we were both in grammar school together.

I drink it all in, the busy sounds, the cold night air that leaves me feeling bitter and raw standing in the street while snow begins to descend from the blackened sky. It feels foreign to me even though it’s only about two hours away from the farm. The breeze blistering in from the west sends a chill up my spine.

This is a new beginning, I ponder to myself as I stretch upwards in the middle of the sidewalk. This is my chance at a better life, this is way better than being some poor, sad farm girl. That’s right! I’m going to be the wife of my childhood friend who just happened to be some rich playboy who has more money than he knows what to do with.

I’m going to be a Suh!

...Even if the whole arrangement is a sham...

“Miss, you are going to freeze to death outside!” Jonathan’s maids rush to usher me out of the cold quickly, but not before I accidentally bump into someone on the busy sidewalk.

“I beg you to pardon me,” I mumble as I set my sights over my shoulder on a man dressed in a long coat with hair as white as the snow currently blanketing the ground. “You’ll have to forgive me, I am just enraptured with how bright Chicago seems to shine at night.”

The man’s seemingly red eyes expand with my excitement, then soften. “No pardon to beg, Miss…?” He queries, a bloom of warmth spreading across his face.

“Suh.” I smile as the men shout from my car they have finished unpacking. “Well, I am the future Mrs. Jonathan Suh. For now I suppose I am still Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Strange, I didn’t think he… Well, never mind that now.” His eyes linger on mine. “Johnny’s got good taste.” I hear him mumble under his breath in a deep tone, slurring his words together in a string. “Well, I can’t wait to see more of you, future Mrs. Jonathan Suh.” He says as he swings his coat behind himself and takes off down the street, the crowd and the night dissolving him like a pill in warm water.

Curious and curiouser this night becomes, I think as the maids finally have enough of me standing about in the cold.

“Do you know who that was?” I ask the hoard of them, hoping someone has the answer to my bump in the night with a rather odd fellow. My heart is beating but I’m not sure what for. I know my place. I know why he called me… My fate was sealed as soon as I got the wire from my future husband.

The collective flock shake their heads and mutter polite “noes” as they lead me up grand staircases of marble and through dim corridors at this time of night, leaving my brain a drifting piece of snow in the blizzard that will surely accumulate outside overnight.

“Right this way.” A young redhead coos as she parades me up what must be my twentieth flight of stairs I’ve climbed this evening. “Master Suh will be so happy you are here at last!” They lead me into a beautiful room with the most lavish furniture I’ve ever seen in my life! Magazines and pictures certainly don’t bestow such fine items with quite the same honor as seeing such beauty in person.

“Madam Suh has a full schedule for you this weekend.” One of the elderly looking women dares to swoon as she says, “Wedding planning, I’m sure, no doubt.” My coat is taken from me and I am given house slippers to wear.

The flock - or really I should call them a herd of lemmings - all agree once more as a butler leads us through a hallway with objects of fine art, pottery, and paintings. Each item is so uniquely wonderful that it would make my brothers’ and sisters’ heads spin if they saw how perfect and polished everything is. How ornate and lavish! Am I to spend my life with fine, intricate pieces of art from all mediums? I wonder if Jonathan has created any of these himself? Would he allow me to paint? I wonder...

“Master Suh,” I inhale, realizing I am right at the threshold of a beautiful oak door. “Miss Y/N Y/L/N has arrived.” The butler announces.

My body feels all fuzzy and nervous for some reason. It’s been many years since I’ve seen my dear friend from when we were still learning how to hop on a bicycle in the country where his family had a small house and property that butted up against my family’s by the little lake in the middle of a corn field.

“Y/N!” A deep, refreshing voice purrs before he embraces me in a tight hug. “How was your ride? Did the car fair well, unlike the weather?” He chuckles as his tall frame dwarfs mine in comparison. The scent of him is most definitely cinnamon, scotch, and leather, which I’m not surprised. All fine things to smell of for certain.

The maids all giggle and mumble their approval and the butlers look away, anxious to gaze upon a woman in another man’s arms. I suppose his gesture of a greeting is very rude, but I don’t mind. Being smack-dab in the middle of my siblings, I feel like nothing phases me anymore, even the hug Jonathan wraps around me.

“Jonathan Suh,” I simper, pulling out of his embrace, “The ride was not too terrible, and my, how tall you’ve grown! And so dapper too.” I sigh earnestly. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“I hope you say that every day you wake up and I am there beside you.” Jonathan’s brown eyes seem to daze in the glow from the lamp lights in the sitting parlor.

There’s nothing more I hate than an arrogant flirt, not to mention an arrogant flirt with money is all the more trouble. Is this really going to be the rest of my life? Living with Jonathan like this? So contrived and fake… it makes my insides twist.

“I am rather weary though from a day full of travels.” I pretend to yawn, shifting out of his arms bit by bit and heading toward the door. “May I have the delight in seeing you tomorrow?”

“Oh yes, you must be quite tired. I always get sleepy on car rides.’ Jonathan muses as he extends his hand to the door and the staff scramble into place. “Mr. and Mrs. Alan would you please escort Y/N to her room? I will be here but on the other end of the house until we are...you know-”

“Goodnight, Jonathan.” I say almost too quickly after that, leaving almost as swiftly as I’ve come.

Once my hair is down and I am dressed comfortably in my nightgown, I feel like I can take a deep breath again. It feels odd with my hair unpinned, sitting in a brand-new nightgown, overlooking the rocking waves of the lake and the snow that drifts down from the sky. Basking in the sill of my window from the beautiful lights and moonlight shining through my velvet curtains, I hope and pray that every night I spend in Chicago is not as forced and fake as this one has been.

I’m chasing something odd in my dream.

I move between pictures hanging on the walls, through the bellies of grandfather clocks, I emerge through the darkness every time, chasing a little white rabbit with a cottontail through or around objects of grand design. I have never had a dream that felt so vivid and real, like I am actually flying through my thoughts, time of the utmost essence for some unknown reason. I can’t seem to escape a dark feeling looming around me and I feel slightly frightened that I will not catch the little thing.

When I reach for the little dumpling covered in pretty white fur, it lurches forward, propelling my desire to catch up to the little beast.

I descend deeper and deeper, the spotlight in the darkness focused solely on the bunny ahead of me. I can’t reach him, I’m not fast enough, my feet do not carry me quick enough. I call to the animal but it doesn’t hear me, instead it flies between two large velvet curtains.

“Please!” I beg the animal as I pop through the hole in the curtains, shuffling through on my knees. “Where are you taking…me…” My question dies in my throat as I look up to find red eyes, his curly blonde hair waving at me from under a gold top hat, a gold mask from that of a masquerade celebration covering most of his face.

But, I know that soft smirk well now. I’ve replayed it several times already in my mind like the fool I am.

This is the man I met on the sidewalk. I gasp. But, why is he inhabiting my dream?

“Welcome to Wonderland, Alice.” A soft voice wafts from high above the two of us, making me shiver. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Why am I frightened? Surely this is not a nightmare. I was only following a rabbit and now I am here with these two men.

Slowly, my eyes trail up the large mahogany platform, showcasing a very large, ornately plush gold and maroon seat which houses a man in an all green suit of the finest quality. He is also wearing a mask trimmed with greens and golds, his lush lips pinkened like he had just indulged in delicious raspberry jam pulled into a dark smirk. He sits with the side of his pale face in one of his hands, resting comfortably on the arm of the pretty chair. The man from the street sits on a swing that hangs high from the rafters, silently taking me in. An aura of power and class drips tastefully from every fiber of his being, weighing heavily upon me like he is a hammer and I am but a humble nail.

“Good job chasing rabbits.” The man’s smile further stretches, his amber eyes boring down upon me, making my skin want to jump from my skeleton. “The next step is to find The Rabbit Hole.”

My eyes fling open, a train's loud horn blaring in the distance, the golden morning haze filtering from the curtains across the room. I jolt upward in bed, cold sweat beading my body, tainting the beautiful nightgown the Suhs have given me. I throw the sheets off my bed and clutch my forehead, musing the words of the man in all green over and over to myself in a frenzy.

...What a dreadfully vivid dream...

I’ve been here for almost a week and I’ve lost count of the tea parties and luncheons I’ve attended with Mrs. Suh. The people and the houses and families they all belong to are getting lost to me in the wake of planning for a wedding. Though, I’m not sure how much I am actually planning. Merely pointing between two colors of table placemats and napkins or choosing between a flower or two.

Tonight though, it is another snowy evening on the lakeshore, we are attending a jazz concert at the Sunset Cafe to see a wonderful show performed by the talented Cab Calloway and Louis Armstrong who make the most wonderful music. I was practically buzzing when I heard the news that the Suhs would be taking me this evening. As always, Jonathan and his mother have only two options for me to wear this evening and I must make a choice between them. A silver, more A-lined gown that shows off more skin than one should in the winter with a mink-fur cowl or more fluttering, off the shoulder velvet cobalt-blue style of a ball gown with embroidered golden stars falling from the bust in waves of tulle.

Call me old fashioned, but I choose the one that makes me feel like a princess, not the one that makes me fit in. My thoughts wander between which Suh picked out which dress for me to wear and the dream of me chasing a white rabbit.

I can never seem to catch that rabbit nor have I seen the two men since my first dream. It relieved me, but it also scared me.

A shimmering laugh that is made of moonbeams and stars pulls me from my spell of thought that engrossed me.

The Suhs are dotting and cheerful people, always looking out for their only son in this cruel world. They are wonderful and powerful in their own ways, working the men and ladies in the sitting room of the theater with just a glance or smile of their lips. Mr. Suh smokes a cigar and smacks Jonathan on the back as they stand in the corner away from the ladies. Mrs. Suh includes me in all her conversations, never wanting me to feel lost or dissuaded from a million questions by another matriarch of a well-to-do family.

I can see why Jonathan doesn’t want to disappoint them or the good people of his clan’s name before or after himself.

The room is hazy from the smoky cigars that the men all drag on in between their elaborate conversations about President Coolidge and his beliefs while the women discuss lighter subjects such as traveling to Paris and Morocco as well as tennis. I find my thoughts up in the cloud of smoke that hangs in the room.

“Pardon me, ladies,” Jonathan places a hand gently upon my shoulder, “may I steal Y/N away for a few moments?”

“The concert will begin shortly, Johnny.” Mrs. Suh smiles, casting her charms to her son who smiles with reassurance to his dear mother.

“Don’t fret, mother,” Jonathan grins as she calls him his nickname, “I want to show her off to my college chums.”

Her eyes twinkle in delightful mischief as she swirls her glass of sweet liquor in her hand. “Just be sure to return her in one piece. Y/N has a long day ahead of her tomorrow.”

More wedding planning I’m not privy to I suppose? Such is my life now. High society is fun and all but the pressure is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before… No, my brain is captivated once more by the dark aura of the man from my dream, looming and lingering above me, teeth glimmering in the lim electric light of the room from my lucid dream. That was true, pure evil pressure I wish to never partake in the feeling of ever again.

Jonathan says nothing as he turns from her, ushering me away with his hand placed gently on my shoulder. We move silently and quickly through groups who mingle and giggle, alcohol strong in their glasses and upon their breath as we pass through the crowd of rich socialites.

We stop at one group of gentlemen, but I am only introduced to one handsome man named Jung Jaehyun who fondly shakes Jonathan’s hand and winks at me. What an odd fellow, I tell myself as we dive deeper and deeper into the crowd of people loitering in the fancy sitting room.

“I’m glad you wore the one I picked out.” Jonathan says so low that I may only be able to hear his words. Well, that answers that question then. “These men might eat you alive, so stay as sharp as a blade but soft as a lamb, understand me? They will not leave me be until I introduce you to them.”

“Are they your friends?” I query with a whisper as he pulls me to the edge of the room where young men have beautiful young ladies draped on their elbows.

I have never seen a lady look like they do, but I suppose it is fashionable and “kept up with the times”. I am not so appealing as these ladies are with their skin on display and their heels high, they attract my attention before the men who hold them up do. Their makeup is dark, yet shimmering in the soft glow from the electric lights from above. The fair ladies’ hair is cut so short, their sideways hats and feather headbands merely slip off their sleek and shiny hairstyles. I am in awe of the way they look and envy them for behaving and chatting so freely.

“Do not be scared, but they are budding gangsters who run speakeasies.” My eyes widen with his words, but I do what I am told. “Please do me another favor, Y/N, and become the most desirable woman here.” Jonathan whispers to me before we approach the hoard of people in front of me. “I will set you free from this cage as soon as I can.”

I can only nod as my demeanor switches like that of a light switch.

Walking up to these men and women I’ve never met, I invoke the acting spirit of Jane West for Jonathan. I demand my attention. I am the most beautiful creature in this sitting room, if not all of the world. I did not go to college but I am going to show you how well read and cultured I am. I am going to be a Suh and I command you all to bow down to me in this instant.

“Suh!” A tall man with coiffed, sandy blonde locks beams as he steps away from his fair darling on his arm tonight. “You dog! I didn’t think you’d grace us with your presence this evening!” They shake hands and laugh at nothing vigorously as I look between the two before the blonde catches my eye. They are pretty amber eyes that remain half-lidded and surely dazzle in the glow from chandeliers above. He’s not as tall as Jonathan, but he is handsome. “This must be-”

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

A voice from behind the blonde says clearly, setting to be free from the shadow of Jonathan’s friend.

It’s the white rabbit! I think as I try to hold myself together. He looks rather dapper in a white and gold waistcoat with tails, a top hat making him appear to be as formal as one can be. This is the gentleman I bumped into the streets, but I cannot press out of my head. I want to tell him to stay out of my dreams, but I fear he will think me mad if I declare such a bold thing without expressing my thoughts further.

“You know of my future bride, Jeon?” I feel the grip upon my shoulder tighten and breath being held from above me. Don’t fret, Jonathan, I would never tell anyone. I promise. Your secret is safe with me.

The friend with his hair as white as the fallen snow looks at me passively, eyes rimmed red like he can’t sleep a wink either. “I met her on the sidewalk, John, but we’ve never been properly introduced.” He bows and takes my blue-colored gloved hand in his white ones. He kisses the top of my hand and in this ball gown-like dress I am indeed fulfilling my fantasy of pretending to be a beautiful princess. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, future Mrs. Jonathan Suh.”

“Y/N,” Jonathan says, exhaling the concerned breath he’s been holding in, his grip returning to normal as well. “These are my friends from college: Mr. Kim Namjoon, whose family owns one third of the city like mine does, and Mr. Jeon Jungkook, who makes up the triangle of the most powerful families of Chicago.”

“At your service.” Jungkook says with a cheeky grin stretching across his face, kissing the top of my hand once more.

The way he looks up at me makes butterflies trapped in my body flutter and flounce about. But I cannot swoon or succumb to a young man so openly. Jonathan is counting on me.

“I’m delighted to meet Jonathan’s friends from his schooling.” I say in the same charming manner Mrs. Suh has produced all week.

“Forgive me for this is a bold question, future Mrs. Suh, but, will you be getting a gown made?” Namjoon asks me as he sips his scotch on the rocks.

“I think tomorrow I am going for a fitting, yes.” I nod my head, smiling just the right amount.

“Then it should be crafted by the finest in the Windy City, Kim’s Couture on the corner of Washington and LaSalle Street. Have you heard of the establishment before?” Namjoon queries.

“Indeed! I have!” I exclaim happily, my eyes wide as his stay half-lidded as though he is sleepy, though he smiles earnestly.

“Then I must insist you have a treasured wedding gown made by my seamstresses.” He hands me a white business card with only his name upon it. I stare at it until he taps it twice. “They will take excellent care of you, I promise.”

“Oh-ho!” A soft, almost melliferous voice rings out behind me. No... “This must be the infamous bride-to-be!” I know this voice! Fear rattles through me, making me tremble as I look over the shoulder Jonathan is not draped over to look at the mysterious voice. Time is slow as molasses as I face the man from my dream, clad all in a green waistcoat, vest, and top hat, wolfishly grinning at me.

“Ah, this is my eldest brother,” Namjoon muses as the electric lights flash, indicating the performance will begin soon, “Seokjin Kim.”

Kim Seokjin...

I feel like I know everything about this man yet nothing at all. He is the type of man who is a brilliant summer on the outside and stormy winter on the inside. The smile on his lips - that is the color of the inside of a cherry tart - is warm, yet cold all in the same breath. He appears to be a powerful man of high class, wrapped in an enigma of grace and power. But there is a scent of something malicious in the air as he closes the gap between us and gets down on his knee to kiss upon my hand.

I’m not sure what made me do it, but something comes over me, the flight or fight instinct animals possess lurches out of me in this moment.

“Why is a raven like a writing desk?” I ask, pulling my arm away from him.

Seokjin’s bright amber eyes slowly travel up my ball gown, disbelief and confusion colors his good looking features.

Mouths open in shock and my heart drops, but I feign a lie, turning out of Jonathan grasp, and quickly say, “Forgive me, for I feel faint.” I run to the bathroom in the hall as everyone piles into the main room of the Sunset Cafe, heart pounding in my chest and cheeks on fire.

I’m so sorry Jonathan, I did not mean to make a fool out of you. There is just something about the way Seokjin’s gaze is so feral that chills me to the bone.

A hand rests upon Jungkook’s shoulder while he continues to longingly gaze at the door as if he was willing me to come back with his mind. “Don’t worry, Jeon.” Seokjin purrs in his ear, amber gleam set upon the door. “She is the one who chases you every night, not the other way around.”

“I know, hyung.” Jungkook whispers as the brass begins to trumpet through the building. “When do we make our move?”

“Soon.” Seokjin chuckles darkly, guiding the younger of the boys to follow behind him. “Very soon we will have our glorious tea party.”

The subject of marriage has always been an odd one to me, I think to myself as maids and fashion consultants from the Kim’s dress boutique flutter and coo around me.

My parents married but it was never for love. I knew that, my siblings and myself knew that, yet they both loved us all the same. My mother and father married as more of a “good match on paper” sort of situation, than they were truly, madly in love. Still, they never fought, my father never hit my mother, never drank himself silly, never talked to another woman. My mother upheld the same standard and raised us all with love in her hardworking heart. I knew she was aware that I haven’t spoken to Jonathan since we were young children and that I would soon be in the same boat if I accepted his offer.

“A lifetime of money doesn’t equal happiness.” She told me. “You should marry for love, not for any green or gold.”

I agree. I know this full well. I’m not one to be stingy or greedy by any means. I don’t want to be an actress in a picture show or model for a beautiful Channel garment. And though I do want love in my life, I want a secure future. I am the middle child of middle-class farmers. The best match I could have made besides this one was with a cattle farmer or a man who works in the stockyards on the south side of Chicago.

It’s selfish for me to do this not only for myself but to my mother as well.

But, I am here and like my family, I will be fiercely loyal to the man I will call my husband. If not, call me a bold-faced liar and take me and my words to the grave.

Jonathan Suh is not a bad man for who he prefers in the sheets. I know that and have never felt such a way to treat someone less of me if they do prefer the company of one sex over another. I will not break the promise I’ve made to him, but I cannot help but feel like a songbird trapped in a tight, metal cage for the decision I’ve made to help him.

Due to the poor weather Chicago has currently come down with, the wedding has been postponed until further notice.

When I wired my family to tell them the news, my mother answered. I was a bit more than surprised that she almost sounded relieved when I told her the news. I promised I would wire soon and my younger sisters begged me to take them to the city to go shopping at Marshall Fields. My father sounded passive at first when the telephone wire was transferred to him by my youngest brother after he told me the family cat, Cheshire, had gone missing.

Truth be told, I am also more than happy to exhale a breath and not worry about someone questioning me about my upbringing. Or having Mrs. Suh and the don of high-class ladies and waist-coated men galloping around every breath I take.

I can finally relax, I think as I pull out a book in the study as Jonathan reads the Chicago Tribune on the couch across the way from me. We get along well, I realize. Silence suits us both. No tricks, not faking our way through hordes of important people. We have to conserve and save our energy for when we face the people mercilessly wanting to know everything and anything about us, good ole’ Jonathan and I...

No, not Jonathan anymore… I am to be his wife, and he...my…

I peer at him from over my book on flowers, losing interest in the pages.

Can I really pretend we are to be an item forever? Will one of us crack or slip up? It seems like we are stuck in a circle now, both of us floating in a pool of choices we will surely drown in.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Someone knocks at the door, plucking me from my fever of thoughts. I fully peer over the pages in my hands, pretending like I was in fact engrossed in the origin story of an author I enjoyed as a girl.

“Enter.” Jonathan says without skipping a beat, not looking up from his black and white ink. His eyes scan the pages, following the drumming beat of the grandfather clock next to the roaring fireplace. But, now that I study him closer, I’m unsure if he was actually reading or just musing to himself like I was moments ago.

“The post, sir.” Butler James reports as he opens the door, my handmaiden Emily gliding up to us with a silver plate in her hands.

“Thank you, Emily.” Jonathan gives her a half-smile as he takes the single envelope off the tray, slicing it open with trepidation.

I look at the blood-red colored wax seal as he flips the paper, revealing a knight chess piece glaring upside down at me.

Jonathan scans the letter passively at first, his orbs lazily scanning the pages, then suddenly his eyes ignite with rage behind them. “No.” He says softly, red flushing to his handsome face. He rips the paper up into shreds then, aggression and hatred oozing from every pore for some unknown reason. He gets up as he throws the scraps in the fire with vigor as butler James, Emily, and I all stare at him like he’s grown a second head. “Don’t you dare go.” He warns me, irises blaring with unmeasurable loathing. “Those people are dangerous.” Jonathan practically snarls as he exits the room in a fit of rage, stomping down the hall as we look on stunned and slack-jawed at what had just happened.

From what I can tell, Jonathan isn’t one to get upset easily or lash out so that letter must have set him off. But what could it have been?

It really has sparked my curiosity, that’s for certain.

Where wasn’t I supposed to go and who was so dangerous?

I got the answer the next day as I read a book about traveling the jungles of South America.

“Miss!” My handmaiden whispers like a hiss as she enters the study. “Miss!”

“Yes, Emily?” I smile, putting my book down as she flutters to my side in a nervous frenzy. “What is the matter?”

“I snagged this from the post, miss.” She hands you the letter you saw the previous day with Jonathan, the one that he got enraged over. “Please open it quickly, miss, before the butler spots it! They want us to destroy anything with this seal on it!”

I do as I am told, opening up the letter addressed to both Jonathan and myself with the odd wax seal to find an invitation inside.

You Are Cordially Invited To Participate In:

THE WONDERLAND BALL

A Masquerade Party To Determine The Next “Alice”

For Directions Follow Us Down The Rabbit Hole

Knock Thrice For The Door Mouse To Let You Inside

Cheers,

The ‘Mad Hatter’ & Company

“How curious...” I muse as my eyes trail over the letter over and over, wondering what has Jonathan all in a panicked rage. “Well, I don’t even know where “The Rabbit Hole” is so I shan’t be going.”

“Tis’ a speakeasy, Miss.” Emily says her eyes wide as she reads the paper with you. “They say it’s the most fun one in all of downtown!” She giggles. “Shall I fetch you a gown for the ball?”

“No.” I shake my head with a small smile, hanging her back the letter. “If Jonathan said he doesn’t want me to go, I won’t.” I pick up my book as she slightly deflates, wanting to paint me up for the festivities I was invited to. “Please burn this now, Emily, so you don’t get in trouble.”

“Right away, Miss.” Emily bows a little before she heads out of the room, leaving me to daydream in the middle of the study in peace.

“How long must we wait?” Jungkook pesters Seokjin tirelessly who looks down from his wooden pedestal in the back room of the very peculiar club. “I am afraid a letter and her dreams are not going to cut it.” Jungkook snorts, frustration flashing in his red eyes.

“Mm, yes…” Seokjin rubs his chin with his white gloved hand, “Johnny boy has been hiding our little Alice away from our prying eyes, hasn’t he?”

“Yes!” Jungkook stomps his foot like that of a child, fists balled into tight fists at his sides. “And I was promised a maiden for all the hard work I’ve done for you!”

Seokjin laughs darkly then, the sound echoing off the walls of his private chambers. “Jungkook, I’m not sure if you understand that poisoning people and taking out a few smaller families in our beloved city is considered hard work.” He stops then, Seokjin’s usually light voice dripping with malice when he says, “But, I suppose this is one way to end the Suhs and get the last jewel on the crown you are desiring in your attempts to rule the city.”

“Is everything in place for the ball?” Jungkook grits his teeth as he stares up into the man who could end him in one go, but is choosing to help the young gangster. “Your magic won’t fail us now?”

Seokjin winks at him, spending him a flying kiss as he says, “It's going to be dreadfully delightful.” Ending the Suhs, managing to take out some more people in big crime families in Chicago, and adding one more perfect woman to his growing collection of pawns.

Sure, he was mad and about to destroy several lives in the process, but hell if he wasn’t half brilliant and good looking while doing so.

“Mr. Jeon!” I gasp as I peer at the man at my penthouse doorstep, covered in white flakes of heavy, wet snow sticking to his black trench coat and bowler hat. Everyone, even most of the maids were out this afternoon which is why I find myself in front of the door to the penthouse.

“Good evening, Y/L/N.” Jeon Jungkook smiles as he looks down at me earnestly. “Is your future husband not at home?” He whispers as he looks around the empty foyer, red-rimmed eyes glancing over the dim electric lights in the hallway.

I flush. My mind was hazy remembering my kiss with him and the other man that is never far away, Kim Seokjin, from the depths of my dreams. My dreams need to leave me be or I may turn into a codfish with the way they keep my head spinning. They haunt me so, the way my brain demands my nightmares to be replayed over and over like this.

“I’m afraid not, he said he’d be out for the night, taking care of something important at the office.” I say with a fake sigh, shaking my head. Truthfully, he’s been acting very strange lately and I can't quite put my finger on the reason for his odd behavior. Ever since he got that letter… Come to think of it, I haven’t seen any post since that strange night. I’ll ask Emily about it in the morning.

“I see.” Jungkook says softly. The grandfather clock chimes from the sitting room and I am suddenly aware of what time it is. I’m severely underdressed in my baby blue lounge attire, completely ill-prepared for meeting company. Books about faraway lands with princes and kings were the only thing occupying my time this evening and I’m embarrassed to even think that. “In that case, your outfit will just have to do, I suppose…”

Jungkook suddenly steps closer to me in one long stride, closing the gap between me and him. My heart skips a beat, his pupils dilate, my words run dry as he snakes one arm around my back, the other holding my chin with his thumb and forefinger.

“Mr. Jeon-” I stammer, unable to call for help, now that this man has me in his grasp.

“I have been willing you to come and follow me, to give into your darkest desires, but still you resist me.” The young man hisses down at me, brows knit with confusion. “You are the only thing anyone talks about and I cannot stand it any longer.” My mouth hangs open. His nostrils flare as he makes his move. “You will be mine. Not locked away in this tower while Johnny is out and about with another man. You will be our new Alice.”

Before I can say anything, he pours a vile from his pocket into my mouth, holding it above my arms so I can’t smack it away. It tastes like roast turkey and strong alcohol and I try to claw and get away but I cannot as Jungkook holds my mouth open; my tongue feels numb and my arms feel like jelly, going limp in Jungkook’s arms. The only thing I can remember before completely blacking out is the little tag on the side of the bottle that says “DRINK ME”, tied with a pink ribbon hanging from the tiny glass and the smell of his cologne which reminds me of musk with a dash of black pepper.

Faint sounds of brass and strings pull me from my unconscious state in a flurry.

My brain is working hard, producing series and strings of thoughts. Why did Mr. Jeon Jungkook do that to me? Does Jonathan know where I am? In the same breath, where am I? What was that drink? Have I been poisoned? I look at myself on the red heart-patterned bedsheets. I look fine. There is no sign or feelings that I’ve been harmed, no bruises, and most importantly of all, there is no blood. There is no indicator at all that I’ve been harmed at all, which makes me sigh in relief.

But still, where have I been taken? This surely is not a room in the Suh residence.

A room with no windows, a giant bed in the middle of the room, large wooden pedestals with various wax candles lit drip down the sides surround me, red velvet curtains drape the walls making the warm room seem even more dim, and a wooden swing all decorate the space I find myself trapped in.

I can feel the color drain from my face when I realize that I’ve been here before. In fact, I’ve been here many, many times - almost every night. Not in the flesh but in my dreams. The only thing that is missing are the two men I see every night…

All the little hairs on my body stand at alert, worry coloring my thoughts, and I feign a small gasp in the large room.

With a lump in my throat and my heart thumping so hard I fear it might try to escape my chest, I run from the room.

My blue nightgown flutters behind me, time seems to slow as my bare feet carry me through the rooms from my dreams - though it’s backwards this time. I dash like a mad person, twirling and twisting my way through the room with mirrors on every side, seeing myself panting like a dog running so hard in the reflective glass. Though, I am happy to see I have no scratches upon my face either. I run through the room with clocks hanging all over the walls chiming and ticking at different times, springing through the belly of a giant, tall grandfather clock. I trip over the hems of my dress in the room with a long table in the middle which appears to stretch on for miles in this long room. There are various tea sets, cups, and pots along with tea cakes and sweet treats placed in a perfectly chaotic mess on the table as the eyes of various animal heads stare at me from their places hanging on the walls.

As I shimmy through the small door leading to the room with the walls full of water and sea creatures from the ocean, I pause my panting and sputtering as I spot Mr. Jung Jaehyun with his back pressed up against the glass. He is moaning, panting himself, a masquerade mask dangling in his hand, legs wrapped around the waist of a tall man in a vest who is rolling his hips sensually into his. My eyes widen as I figure out what the two of them are doing quickly and avert my attention. My thighs rub together, a strange fire grows in my lower abdomen, and I know I shouldn’t be looking but there is nothing but pure bliss on Mr. Jung’s face.

I can’t stop, I remind myself as my feet continue to carry me through the rooms I know so well.

Slinking away across a far wall full of lobsters without being caught, I hear Mr. Jung Jaehyun mewl one singular name, “Johnny!” I want to turn around, catch my “future” husband's side profile as he makes love to another man, confirm it’s him, but my mind flashes back to meeting Jaehyun for the first (and only) time and how they touched each other so fondly. Jungkook’s words ring in my words as I hear laughing coming from beyond the rooms filled with tanks and gilled beasts.

Keep going. I can make it out of this place from my nightmares.

The next room is filled with more people, though it’s hazy at best in here. There are giant hookah pipes in the middle of floor cushions, people with and without masks on touching each other so unabashedly, some naked, half-nude, or still in their ball gowns all laying over each other in a pleasure-filled party I was slightly jealous I haven’t been invited to.

“Ms. Y/L/N?” A deep yet clear baritone purrs over the sounds of jazz music and groans of love-making. I turn my head to his voice, feet skidding to a halt as I look at Mr. Kim Namjoon in his half-naked glory, navy blue silk robe hanging off his shoulders exposing a lovely chest, half-lidded eyes tracing my form like I am a piece of delicate meat he wishes to indulge in. “What are you doing without your mask?” He snaps his fingers, chuckling lightly as he takes another drag of his long silver pipe. “Twins, get her a mask!”

“Where am I?” I query as I feel the presence of two figures slowly approaching me out of the dim haze. “Who are you people?” It feels wrong to be here, to witness this. It doesn’t feel right. I feel out of place and my body is begging me to run and my legs tremble like a fawn.

His brows furrow as he takes the tube out of his mouth, blowing smoke rings in my face. “Who are you to question me, Y/N?” He snickers as the “twins” catch my arms, placing a mask over my face as I struggle. “You are but another “Alice” to me. Take her to the ball, you two. The rabbit and the hatter are dying to see her, I’m sure.” They tie the mask around me successfully, leading me out of this room into the next one which I know is the one where the floor is a giant chess board.

“Please,” I plead with the good looking twins who march on like the loyal soldiers to this strange cause, “what is all this?” The music and the chatter and maniacal laughing is growing louder as we prance down the hallway with portraits of people who are dressed in all white and all red. “I just want to know…”

“Suppose we ought to tell her?” The taller of the two says after a moment of silence between the three of us.

“Suppose we ought not to.” The shorter one shakes his head as he carries on in the quest to take me somewhere. “Boss will be mad.”

“You are to be the belle of the ball.” The taller one says with a viscous boxy grin.

“The new “Alice”.” The short one with fluffy lips nods this time.

“Everyone keeps saying that, but I don’t know what it means?” I say as I hold my breath, about to waltz into the strange chess-board-like room.

“The most beautiful, wonderful, talented, special, magical-” The taller twin rambles on.

“The most perfect woman at The Wonderland Ball is called “Alice” until the next one.” The shorter one states softly as he inhales a giant breath. They both let me go, pushing me forward as the drapery of the simple heart-patterned curtain gives way and I am standing at the top of a grand staircase while hundreds of people from below all gasp and stare up at me.

As soon as I regain my footing a spotlight hits me and causes me to shield me eyes away from the bright light bearing down upon me. The upbeat music falls silent and I am acutely aware that I am standing here in my loungewear and not properly dressed to be at the forefront of attention this evening.

“And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for!” The voice that makes my hair stand up on end purrs as his lush lips soothe the microphone on the little stage they’ve set up for the jazz band to play on. Kim Seokjin, my eyes lock with his which dance with mischief, his smile greedy, dressed to the nines in a rich green suit. “The crowning of the belle of the ball, the apple of all our eyes, the one that shines brighter than anyone in the picture shows, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N!”

A roar of cheering, clapping, and brass music erupts as a white haired-man with a stretched, gummy smile that doesn’t fade takes my hand and leads me down the black and white staircase. The noises seemingly die in my ears as the man on my arm says nothing, grins like a cat about to catch a mouse in its claws. Time slows, people moving and waving at me become a blur as I see who is waiting at the bottom of the staircase.

Mr. Jeon Jungkook.

The man on my arm notices how tense I am and he ever so slightly turns his head and says to me in a deep voice, “They are not going to harm you. Jungkook is infatuated with you.” My cheeks heat up. “Seokjin is helping him accomplish his dreams because he signed his life away to the servitude of others for as long as he shall live.”

“Signed his life away?” I breathe, eyes never leaving Jungkook in a white waistcoat.

“You can’t get something for free in this world.” The cat-like man growls as we are almost there. “You’ve heard of an eye for an eye, correct?” I node slightly. “A soul of servitude so he can produce strange magic, according to him and the Red Witch of Underland.”

My heart nearly stops realizing what has happened. “The devil?”

“Bingo, babe.” The cat-man chuckles a deep rasp, sliding his arm away from mine. “Have fun.”

“Now you kids have fun chasing rabbits!” Seokjin’s voice crackles through the microphone. “Everyone, enjoy the last few hours of the wonderland ball!” More hooting and hollering echoes in the building as I am exchanged into Jungkook’s strong arms.

“I thought you’d never make it.” He smiles from under his white mask at me. He takes my hand and leads me to be embraced on the dance floor. Seokjin smirks at us as he begins to sing a popular pop song everyone swoons at.

“Would you like to tell me what this is all about?” I query with a sneer on my lips. “Why am I here? Why have you poisoned me?”

“I have not nor would I ever harm you.” Jungkook grips my waist tighter. “I merely gave you a strong sedative so that I could bring you to our wonderful palace.”

“Why?” I question as he twirls me around his outstretched arm.

“Because from the moment I bumped into you, you have been the only thing consuming my mind.” He earnestly tells me, sorrow coating his eyes. “I’m not sure what trap Johnny has ensnared or tricked you in but I very much hate seeing him lock you away from the world.”

“You’re wrong.” I state angrily, glaring at him.

“He doesn’t care about you. He likes to frolic about with diplomats’ sons, not farmers’ daughters.” Jungkook smiles at me.

“That’s not true…” I mumble, my eyes looking away from his red-rimmed ones boring down upon me. “I-I am marrying Jonathan for my own personal reasons.”

“Oh, ho?” Jungkook softly chuckles, leaning over, turning my gaze back to him as he gently caresses my cheek. “Do you really believe that, darling?”

“I do...I do! I-I came here willingly.” I tremble, my facade I’ve been trying to convince myself of this whole time crackling under the pressure of his words. “I l-love…” My words linger as I look beyond Jungkook, looking up to see, “...Jonathan…” walking toward myself in the middle of the dance floor.

“Jeon!” Jonathan says, Mr. Jung Jaehyun trailing behind him, eyes wide and scared when they find mine. The male in the waistcoat holding me turns his head to the noise, the brass music climaxing, the gasps of people Jonathan is stepping between couples dancing in the soft electric light from above - I feel like my heart is going to burst. My future husband pulls his arm back, fists clenched, ready to hurt Jungkook, and with an exhale I close my eyes fearing the worst was about to ensue.

The electric lights in the strange ballroom give out in the same second.

People scream all around me, a loud thud is heard and I feel like something unexpected is about to occur, the atmosphere heavy and full of invisible pressure.

“Release the jabberwocky!” A voice echoes as chaos ensues.

“Come with me.” A voice purrs, ripping me away from Jungkook’s arms. I feel almost empty as shouting and yelling break out in the middle of the dance floor. “I will protect you, Y/N, my crown jewel.” My stomach pits hearing him say my name, tickling my ear like the serpent that led Eve to eat the apple of her demise.

Kim Seokjin.

With a snap of his fingers, we are back in the room I started out this evening in and where my dreams always have me end at. I land on the bed in a huff and he ends up sitting upon the swing, looking at me with a triumphant smirk on his luscious lips. There is a certain air about him now that doesn’t seem so threatening, so serious now for some reason. Perhaps it’s him sitting upon the swing like that of a child? I haven’t the slightest clue.

“Where am I?” I demand, glowering at Seokjin from across the way.

“Curiosity often leads to trouble, my dearest Y/N.” Seokjin chuckles darkly, eyes roaming my body, a knowing look on his features. “I think before your marriage you are looking for a little trouble, if you catch my drift.”

Trouble…

My mind completely spirals remembering the scenes of people entangled with one another, their mouths working in tandem with each other, their slippery pink tongues entwined in a passionate battle for dominance. Mr. Jung Jaehyun’s face twisted in pleasure, moaning and mewling as his lover - my future husband - was thrusting vigorously.

A lightbulb finally goes off in my head.

“You want me to give into you both then my dreams will end?” My voice shakes as I query to Seokjin who continues to lightly push back and forth on the swing. “Then you will let me leave?”

His eyes flicker with a hungry vigor to them, gleaming in the dim candlelight. “Precisely.” His soft voice cuts the atmosphere like a sharp blade, leaving me with a chill radiating down my spine. “Let’s have some fun, “Alice”.”

“As long as you promise I am to be set free from all of...this.” I gesture around the room as he makes a come hither motion with his fingers at me.

“You have my word.”

Somehow, I don’t believe him, but I am desperate for any way out of this wretched place I can find.

So, I will use the body I was blessed with to the fullest extent.

I am a loyal woman. I step toward the man on the swing, my hands coming up to the ties around my chest and my waist. His eyes spark with a ravenous hunger in the depths of his orbs. I know that I am not doing a decent thing. Seokjin snaps his fingers again, all his clothes disappearing but his green top hat, vanishing before my very eyes. I know I am more than what I am succumbing to right now. But my stomach does feel hot and my thighs rubbing together is making me feel faint for some reason. My garments fall to the floor in a soft patting sound and I lose my breath in the same moment.

Don’t tell me I actually want this…?

I stand in front of him on the swing and I can’t help but bite my lip as my eyes roam his pale figure, tracing down his collarbones to his sculpted abdominal muscles he has been hiding. Did he sell his soul to the devil to become handsome too I wonder?

“So beautiful.” He revels looking at me unabashed, a wolfish grin spreading across his pretty face. Part of me wants him to touch me, to caress the underside of my breast, to trace the outline of my hips with his fingertips, but he doesn not.

I have to remind myself this isn’t for me. This is for the man that has been tormenting me.

“Get me ready for you.” Seokjin commands, smirk still spread across his face. I comply, dropping to my knees to be faced with a large member swinging forth from the middle of his legs on the swing. “And you will address me as “Sir”, understand?”

“Yes, sir.” I respond, biting my lip as I look from his eyes to his member once more.

“Suck.” He chuckles lightly, pointing to his middle and I can’t help but follow this simple instruction.

I don’t tease him, though I’m not really sure I know what I am doing in the first place. I swirl the flat of my tongue over his mushroom-tipped head several times. He moans in response, his hands coming off the swing’s ropes to hold my hair from my face as I swallow him further down my wet cavity. My middle aches and pulses, empty, missing something as I steady myself against Seokjin’s thighs.

“Good little girl.” Seokjin hums, his sound voice making me feel appreciated. The sound vibrating through to my own middle, making me groan around him.

I bob my head up and down his long length, enjoying the way he hums and gasps in response to my efforts. It’s a little hard to breathe I think as I continue my pace, nose hitting Seokjin’s pubic bone, smelling the most intimate part of him.

My dominant hand grabs his member at the base, working him in tandem with my mouth. Up and down his thick member I go, reveling in every twitch and rumble that flies out of his throat. The swing starts to sway with my rhythmic movements, bobbing him back and forth with vigor, tears climb to my eyes. The tip of him hits the back of my mouth, making me gag and choke on his wonderful cock. The heat was pooling in the middle of my stomach and I fear I am going to lose my mind. I pick up the motions of my mouth and hand, tears skating down my pinkened cheeks, his grip tightening around the base of my skull, digging into my scalp.

It burns… But, I also enjoy it. This feeling...so wet and tight and I feel so evil and sinful but the pleasure is driving me mad.

“Baby girl.” There’s warning in his tone as I pop off his cock in an instant, looking up to him with big worried eyes. His head was leaned back, not focused on looking directly at myself, but the feeling of my lips and fingertips. “Up.” He commands once more, head twisting back to a comfortable position to stare at me.

I scramble to my feet, missing the feeling of him in my mouth already, not to mention aching for him in the middle of my legs. I rub my thighs together for some easy friction, knowing that it won’t help me much at this point.

Seokjin moves his hand to stroke against his giant member in his palm and I lock my orbs in place on the slit of his cock where a clear liquid was oozing out. My mind is truly hazy at best, as I just stand there and watch him stroke himself up and down in a lazy fashion. I bite my lip once more.

I do want this. I am almost ashamed to admit that I want this man.

“Are you going to be good and let me use you?” Seokjin’s dirty words make my middle pool and contort with more of a raging fire.

“Y-Yes, sir.” I say again, cheeks hot and damp from sucking his cock moments ago.

His nostrils flare, his cock twitches in his grasp as he motions to sit upon his middle. “I bet you’re so wet for me.” He chuckles, smile darkening with his words.

Seokjin eases me down on his thick member, my hole so wet, so slick, allowing him to stretch my clenching walls in an easy motion. I gasp, eyes popping out of my head. My nails dig into his shoulder blades, back arching with his giant, twitching dick tight inside of me. I wrap my legs around his lean waist, his pale skin flexing in the candlelight with his movements as he stills, letting my hips sink down into the base of his cock.

“Baby girl.” Seokjin purrs, breath tickling my ear as he throbs inside of me. “I need you.” He growls, littering the crook of my neck with sloppy kisses. He positions us just so on the swing, readying us to begin when he deems necessary.

“P-Please use me, s-sir-r!” I mumble in the base of his neck, feeling high on this pleasure-filled pain.

“I live to serve.”

I gasp as he starts moving his hips inside of my center, bucking up into my body with a fevered pace instantly. The swing moves back and forth and I feel like the motion is going to make me feel his body sliding in and out of me too well. I cling to him for dear life, my grip surely bruising him or harming him in some way as he slides in and out of my slicked out center at a brutal rhythm.

Tears find my eyes again as he nips at my neck, marking me up with tender love bites. I’m a howling, moaning mess, losing my sanity. I am finally full of Seokjin’s girth, filling me up beyond desire.

Seokjin kisses my lips then in his, melting our mouths together in a hurry. He holds my face in his palms, grunting and groaning for me, and only me. His tongue enters my mouth in search of something unknown, moaning into my lips laced together with his hot mouth connected with my pink tongue. He rolls his saliva coated tongue into mine in haste, need seeping into my senses, consuming my thoughts as he thrusts up in me, using the swing as a propellant to ease us forward and backward.

“Feels...so-o..good~!” I moan in between our passionate kisses.

Seokjin just growls like a feral animal in response. The tip of his cock kisses my cervix continuously, brushing past a spot inside of me that instantly makes me quake. He rockets himself against me, rutting his body against my core in sync with his hips slamming into mine. Seokjin expels filth from his mouth about filling me to the brim with his seed, seeing my stomach swollen and full of his children, his warm breath hitting my ear making me shudder in response.

I can’t focus, my climax getting ready to pop at any moment. Wet noises fill the dark room, as Seokjin’s rough speed of his length in and out of my molten, wet center continues. My erect nipples swirl on his pale chest, circling quickly as he bounces me up and down his giant cock, swinging through the air like some sexual trapeze artist.

“Are you going to be good to me?” He asks me, smirk present in his tone, pace almost blinding now as he pushes in and out of me with a need so heavy and strong I can practically smell it rising from his skin. “Are you going to let me fill you up, my little doll?” Seokjin snarls into my skin.

“Pleaseeeee!” I practically scream, eyes flying open as he hits my center at just the right spot that makes me see white.

“Ah-ah!” He tsks. “What do we say?”

“Please, sir!” I mewl and gasp, thighs quaking in his hold, my juices squelching out of me as he continues to thrust into my sensitive molten core. “Seokjin!” I cry while he growls into the scorching skin of my neck inhaling sharply as he slams his hips into my shivering body. “Sir!”

Seokjin grunts, cock spurting his seed into me with a need so raw, so feral he finds his footing hard to maintain on the swing, stilling us from moving about, holding my hips tightly down upon him. He sucks harshly on my skin as he too shudders and grunts, biting down on the crook of my neck, stretching my clenching walls around his member as he fills me with his hot white seed.

My cries of pleasure fill the small room, my pleasure-filled haze coming to a close as Seokjin shifts us - still joined together - to the bed in the middle of the room. I hold onto Seokjin as he keeps his seed inside of me, feeling like I just had the ride of my life on top of him. My climax dies down, my first high fading away, fog around my brain being lifted temporarily as my nails rake over shoulders I’ve definitely marked up.

A cool, damp towel appears with a wave of his arms, stroking my middle with it delicately cleaning up the mess I’ve made. “How does it feel to be connected with the devil?” Seokjin sneers as he pulls out of me, making my center ache and twitch for him.

My eyes grow wide and my lips part but before I can say anything Jungkook bursts in the room.

“Am I late?” Jungkook pants as he looks awestruck by me on the bed.

“For a very important date.” I gaze back to Seokjin who is now fully dressed, smirking that soft, playful smile like he usually does at Mr. Jeon. “Don’t worry, I was just getting her ready for you, Jungkookie.”

Jungkook eyes him with narrowed orbs, but buys the lie Seokjin is selling and proceeds to strip himself of his white waistcoat. “What is on the menu tonight?” His red-rimmed irises bore into mine and I feel self-conscious suddenly. He circles the bed in the manner like that of a wolf would as he finishes stripping himself of any dressy garments, though his slacks remain on.

“The one you most desire out of everything in this world.” Seokjin purrs, stepping up to take his seat on his pedestal high above us.

Is he going to watch us?

“Fuck,” Jungkook growls, dropping to his knees in front of the bed suddenly. He pulls me closer to him by my ankles, throwing my thighs apart so my center is exposed to him in the rawest form. He stares at my glistening middle as I try to close my legs with a little, pathetic whimper.

“Don’t.” The rabbit-like man moans wantonly, holding onto my ankles loosely. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful, you know that, right?” His hands glide up my thighs achingly slow, holding me in pace for his eyes to ravage as they please.

The fire in my lower stomach has returned, hungry and ready to go for more.

His warm fingertips make it to my inner thighs, kneading the flesh there tenderly, so close to my throbbing core that I almost beg him with a cry to dip down into me, but I refrain, hanging on to every trace or brush of his hands against my scorching flesh.

“What do you want, my darling?” He groans into my inner thigh, lips ghosting my sensitive flesh there, inching closer to my heated skin with his upper body.

“Please.” I finally ask, begging, almost choking out the word, forgetting Seokjin watching us from above.

His dominant hand finally finds my nether lips, tracing them up and down with his two longest fingers but not exactly touching me where I am aching quite yet. “Please what?” He teases, stroking me up and down slowly, holding his feral gaze in mine, amber eyes seemingly on fire.

“Please, Jungko-“

He slaps my middle with little force or malice behind it, but I jolt, mewling aloud, wanting him to secretly do it again.

Jungkook goes back to tracing my lips in the middle of my body, smug smirk seated on his devilishly handsome face. “You are so wet, darling.” He slaps me again, though this time I want it more than I’d actually care to admit.

“Jung-” I choke on my words.

He slaps me again, this time with slightly more force behind his fingertips. I hiss out a breath, staring at him with my mouth slightly ajar, brows turned up, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes already.

“I have to have a taste.” He kisses my inner thigh as he slowly traces his thumb over my slicked out folds.

I let out a wanton cry as he hums into my thighs, growling low and deep. I swear there’s a smile in his voice as he works with his mouth and fingertip in tandem. “Mine.” He breathes, sucking on the sensitive flesh of my innermost thigh, marking me with a throaty growl.

“J-Jungkook..!”

I am a mess. I let loose a series of pants, breathless moans as he works my coil in the pit of my stomach tighter with every brush or groan he grants my hot body. I am melting under Jungkook’s touch, my body feeling sticky, arousal dripping from my middle while he circles my delicate clit.

His thumb was increasing his pace of gliding over my bundle of nerves, still slow, still making my breathing become erratic, but the desire for Jungkook to do more was driving me insane. I’ve had a taste of sex and look at me wanting more. I didn’t know if I could be in the position to ask for more. But I wanted him to place those perfect, beautiful sinful lips on my molten core. Jungkook’s breath fans over my middle as he continues to stroke me down there.

I miss the twitch confined to the middle of his pants from the man watching us from above with eager need.

As if sensing my need, his tongue swipes a slow stripe through my folds, the cool of his muscle against my exposed center making me black out for a moment, the sensation far too much for me to bear with right now. His snort of laughter brings me back to reality as he swirls his pink tongue at my empty entrance.

Jungkook laps at my folds as if he is a starved man, hungry, desperate for his next meal. I keen, gripping onto the base of his golden torso as laps at me. I’d think grounding myself on top of Jungkook’s head would make me saner, gripping his strands of hair as he goes to town in my middle. But really, it makes me feel completely mad, like I’ve gone insane.

The feral, untamed animal-like noises that escape his throat drive me absolutely wild, my skin on fire with need and want. My nails cling to his scalp, dragging him closer to my middle as he ravages my core. He maneuvers his two longest fingers through the glossy slick, lubing his digits to breach my entrance.

“Jungkook!” I gasp, choking on my words as he makes a come hither motion with his fingers, splitting my velvet walls to open for him.

Jungkook swirls his tongue over my little pearl of sensitive nerves, lapping and sucking my flesh like he's never eaten a thing in his life. He continues his very audible growling and moaning, husk in his voice incredibly thick.

“Let go, baby.” He coos into my middle as I jolt and shake, his digits brushing past the most delicious spot deep inside of my clenching walls. “Give me your release.”

His words finally tip me over the edge.

I tighten my hold on him, gritting my teeth in the process. My head falls backward on the sheets, eyes screwed closed as Jungkook slurps every inch of my middle clean, not leaving anything to go to waste.

“Kookie,” I sputter out, the feeling of his tongue and fingers becoming too much for me. “I-I’m c-c-cumming-!”

As I say the last of my words, the world comes undone around me for the second time today, my tight coil finally popping. Blinding white stars coat my vision for a second, my body shivering and shaking as I drip out onto the flat of Jungkook’s tongue.

He laps up my sensitive hole up with more snarls, more feral noises escaping his body. Tears flow down my face as I unhinge my nails from his silky blonde strands, trying to push him away from my overly sensitive flesh with pathetic mewls of protest escaping my throat.

More. My brian prompts me to continue to sate my undying lust burning inside of me. I need more.

“Jungkook,” I beg while his tongue still explores my throbbing hole, giving my sensitive skin rapt attention. “Jungkookie. Please. I c-can’t.” I tug at his blinde hair gently, trying to get him to stop teasing me with his tongue.

He doesn't stop and I can only think of one thing to ask before I lose my damn mind with him between my thighs.

“Jungkook.” I shudder, high building up once more. “Please fuck me.”

Everything in the room stills, the only sound heard was our heavy breathing.

He looks up from my sensitive core, brows knit together as he looks into my eyes with such a passionate gaze of uncertainty. My juices were coating the bottom half of his face, his blonde hair is in a state of disarray, as he proceeds to slowly rise to his feet, looking over me on the bed.

“What?” He questions incredulously down at my fucked out form. Jungkook looks at me as if I am the most fragile thing in the world, as if I would burst into flames at any moment. “My darling, my love, there’s no going back if we-“

“I know.” I smirk up to the gorgeous gangster in all of the Windy City. “I want this too.”

His nostrils flare, his eyes widen, and his gaze softens. Jungkook looks down at me with something akin to lust, which makes my heart rate increase...

“Up.” He commands, raw husk pouring out of his tone as he starts to undo his pants, the zipper noise almost jarring in the quiet of the night.

I do as I’m told. I’ve fallen far down the rabbit hole now, I think as I shift on the bed. Standing was a little difficult as he’s just given me one of the best feelings I’ve ever had. I keep my eyes glued to Jungkook. His hands travel sensually down his tiny waist to his slacks he unbuttons. I am gasping, unable to take my eyes off the very beautiful sight of his thick cock bouncing, finally free from the confines of his dress pants. The tip was red and angry, a bead of precum adorning the slit of his mushroom-like head. He was long, girthy, and I want nothing more than it inside of myself at this very moment.

Jungkook grips the base of his cock with his hand while he steps out of his pants, giving his shaft a few pumps up and down while I watch with an open mouth.

“I’ve dreamt of this moment for so long.” He confesses softly, reaching for me with his free hand. I inch closer to him, gliding my hands over his defined body, admiring his lithe, yet sturdy frame. My fingers hungrily trace every ridge, every contour of his golden torso. Jungkook was so warm, so wonderful, and I am slightly kicking myself for not giving into him sooner. “To have you,” he continues, kissing up the side of my neck.

“Please.” I beg him again, eyes flickering back and forth between his.

“Turn around.” He leans in to kiss me with passionate need. His lips molding into mine as I cling to him for more. I taste my essence on his tongue which makes me whimper into his strong hold. “I’m going to fuck you now, my love.”

Again, I don’t need to be told twice as he guides me to where he wants me, bending me at the waist so my fingers dig into the unkept sheets below, my backside open and exposed to him.

“So pretty for me.” I hear the grin in his deep rumble. Jungkook slaps my bottom, granting him a hiss to escape my throat. I whine when he does it softly several more times, making my head soar.

I hear him spit before I feel the extra saliva lubricant coat my backside, the cool of his juices combined with mine was driving me up a wall.

“Jungkook!” I gasp.

He groans when I call for him, pushing his fat head of a cock at my aching, empty hole, wanting him to finally join the two of us.

“Darling,” he sounds like he’s straining to hold back. “Baby, please, fuck!” He grunts, splitting my walls inch by agonizingly slowly. I moan as he stretches me wide, entering me like he owns me.

He thrusts inside of me all the way with one snap of his hips suddenly. A cry leaves my lips along with a strangled one from the man inside of me. My eyes widen as I realize that he’s not going to go easy on me tonight, he’s going to fuck me on his terms. I was in for a wild ride this evening.

Jungkook leans the front of himself over my sticky back, pressing our heated flesh together more, growling to the outside shell of my ear, nipping the flesh under my lobe while sliding in and out of me with a brutal pace he’s set.

“Baby…” he moans in my ear, the deep purr vibrating throughout his body making my breathing hitch and sob. His hips snapping into mine with a rhythm, I swear, no human man could ever achieve. Liquid was flowing down my eyes as the push and pull of Jungkook slamming his giant cock into my velvet folds repeatedly already had me tearing the sheets in two with my nails.

“Jung! Ah! Kook!”

Seokjin glides his hand over his cock from above the bed, matching the rhythm Jungkook’s hips produce, enjoying the wonderful show.

I gasp this over and over like a prayer falling from my lips. My eyes are squeezed shut, my body hot with the raw purpose to feel Jugnkook inside of my heated center. His cock pushes in and out of me at a fevered pace, making my vision blur, seeing far too many white stars.

My brain is fuzzy as he hits the spot inside of me that blinds me, pleasure swimming in my veins. My third climax was surely on the way.

“Baby,” Jungkook grunts, one of his arms snaking up my torso, his long fingers finding one of my bouncing breasts. He starts pinching my erect nipple, holding on to me tighter as we slide back and forth off of one another.

My coil was wound so tight, I don’t know if I’d be able to last much longer. Especially not with Jungkook’s fingers attaching to my hardened nipple, his lips to the crook of my neck, and his cock slamming in and out of my clenching middle with a fevered need.

He bucks into me faster, my walls clamping down on him, my coil about to pop, about to burst forth again. I can’t hold myself up any longer, my legs shaking violently. My knuckles are turning white with how hard I am clawing at the heart patterned sheets.

“Jungkook! I-“ I mewl, but I don’t get to finish my thought.

In a split second, Jungkook pulls out of my middle, flipping me over and letting me fall onto my back so I could be face to face with him. Jungkook climbs on top of me quickly, wanting to resume his feverish pace immediately, hunger and need in his amber gaze. He settles between my legs, pushing himself back into my slicked out center easily, restarting from where he last left off.

I gasp when he enters me, clinging to his shoulders, holding him while the lewd squelching noises in the room continue to grow, faster, louder. He grips onto my hips, guiding me at a blinding speed I didn’t know he could achieve. Is he a victim of the devil as well?

Sweat was pouring off our bodies, my brain unable to produce a sane thought as he grunts and moans my name, his red orbs never leaving my face as he rockets his cock into my folds like it was his job.

It happens again, the very right feeling deep inside of my body, the one that makes me grit my teeth, that makes me see hundreds of tiny white stars.

“Jung! Kook~!” I scream into the quiet room, tears flowing from my hues as I card my fingers through his blonde strands, trying to make a purchase on his roots.

My hands travel down his backside as he snarls, “I’m going to make you my wife! Not some wannabe from the Northside!” Jungkook huffs, his movements slowing down, one of his thumbs finding my folds again, circling my aching clit in hurry - a stark contrast to earlier. “I’m going to claim you as my own.”

Seokjin smiles like he’s just won the lottery, masturbating to the sight of both his clients intertwined, fucking onto each other with unbridled lust. He comes then watching his new toy’s back arch, breasts in the air, Jungkook’s frame pounding into her with hungry trepidation.

I grab onto the ample flesh of his bottom, feeling the world come tumbling around myself once more. Letting my body shake and quake on top of the sheets, my third orgasm taking me by force. I feel complete - feel whole for some reason. I am so completely taken aback with the storm rippling through my body in pleasureful tremors, one right after the other, I cannot even begin to breathe properly.

He lets a feral snarl rip through his body as he pumps into my leaking middle a few more times, my whole being consumed by Jungkook. He leans over me, sucking my neck colors of purples and dark reds and I scream as his cock swells inside of my velvet walls, releasing his own essence into my womb, holding him there like a vice grip as he spurts his seed deep inside of me.

Once our highs come to a close, I run my fingers through his hair, his throbbing cock still joined inside of my middle. We both pant, holding the other for dear life, finally together, and fulfilled with one other. Jungkook kisses along my jaw, moaning my name, telling me what an amazing baby doll I am as his cock finally softens inside of my aching cunt.

“Bravo.” Seokjin claps as he walks down the wooden stairs. “You both did very well!” He chuckles darkly. I squeak in surprise. I forgot he was there and I scramble to cover myself with the soiled sheets.

“Okay, Kim,” Jungkook says as he kisses my nose, pulling out and picking up my clothes and handing them to me. He dresses in his undergarments and dress pants quickly, buttoning them up as he turns to the man all in green. “You had your show.” I listen as I dress myself with haste, back turned to the two men. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked: invested the money overseas, gotten rid of the competition and family in this lovely city, got you a new “Alice”, and even let you watch us play ball. I think it’s time to set us free.”

“Yes,” the mad man snickers, darkness clouding his tone, “you both have served me well. But nobody is leaving my perfectly curated speakeasy.”

I turn around and my heart is dropping to the floor. Shock is written all over Jungkook’s face as I clench my jaw in guilt.

“But, I’m afraid you both made a deal with me, and I don’t give up my new toys so easily.” Seokjin caresses Jungkook’s face in his pale hand, while holding my gaze with a sense of gentle anger. “You can’t always get what you want. But hey, look on the bright side: at least you have each other.”

---

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this trip down the rabbit hole! Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!

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bumblebeeswrite · 3 years ago

Text

The Wrong Side of Right | J.TK. | 1

The Beginning of The End

summary: Jake and Atlas have been head over heels since the first look in Freshman year. When Atlas is forced to move away four years later, and after months of no contact, a strange letter arrives for Jake. He and his brothers, and Danny, begin the trip of a lifetime to find her.

Chapter summary: Key and important events of the relationship and history between Jake and Atlas, as well as the friendships that bloom with Josh, Sam, and Danny.

warnings: swearing, drug use, explicit sexual content, angst, abuse from a parental figure (18+ minors do NOT interact)

playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1L1Z4nQpuYKdygToGZBx8c?si=97561d4fb55443f3

to be added to the taglist for this series, send me a message or an ask!

tagged: @artriba @maddie-gvf @joshsnostrils

word count: 8k+

Growing up in foster care was less than desirable, but when it's all one knows, it's not so bad. Each day was the same routine, and it was easy for Atlas to fall into. But when a military couple stationed in Charleston came, looking for a perfect family, her world was swept upside down.

James and Olivia Callaway adopted Atlas, changing her last name from Thompson to match theirs. She didn't even get the chance to settle into a new home before they were up and moving again. She'd never traveled outside of the state of South Carolina, so cold Michigan was a whole different world. Public school, though, she thought that was one place she could feel comfortable. She'd been in public school her whole life, so it was a little something she'd gotten used to.

The school was much smaller than her last, and the freshman class of Frankenmuth High School was only 137- now 138 students. The air around her new home was awkward, still thick with the tension of not knowing and trusting this couple and younger sibling she'd come to live with, so Atlas was thankful to actually be able to go to school the next week.

It was a small school, and it didn't take her longer than a few days to memorize the layout of the school or where her classes was. In a way, she didn't feel disadvantaged. Most freshman didn't know these things either, unless they had older siblings. But it was a small school, people were quick to notice the strange new girl with wild blonde curls.

For the first week no one approached, no one spoke to her unless it was necessary for work. Atlas's lunch was right smack in the middle of her third period, and she didn't normally eat school food. Instead she'd tiptoe down to the auditorium, through a door that she discovered that was normally unlocked. While exploring during that week of lunch periods, she'd found an old guitar stashed away behind the stage in the storage closet.

The strings were old, probably needed to be replaced, but for the forty five minutes of lunch, it would do. Another week passed and Atlas had learned a couple of scales from a shitty guitar book she'd borrowed from the band teacher, and she always looked forward to those moments of peace in between a hectic day.

But today that peace would be interrupted, even if she didn't know it when she slipped through the unlocked door. The chair she'd dragged out to the right wing of the stage was still there, guitar propped up against the wall.

Atlas had just sat down when she heard footsteps, her face draining of all color. She'd been caught, for sure. Someone was going to be mad. The slight jingle of keys sealed her fate, she was surely dead.

But instead, a boy with brown hair popped his head around the corner, finding her eyes almost instantly. "I don't think you're supposed to be back here." His face was rather serious, but only to be taken over by a huge smile and a fit of laughter a moment later. "Oh my god! Your face! That was priceless."

He stepped from around the corner, twirling a very obvious set of teacher's keys around his pointer finger, brushing past her to search for something in the storage closet. "I'm Josh, by the way. I think we have the same last block. Atlas, like the map, right?"

His voice was a bit echoey from the small walls of the closet, but she stood up, leaning against the door frame. "I don't really think you're supposed to be here either." She shot back, a slight tone of annoyance to her voice. In response he picked his head up from a pile of papers he was looking through, jingling the keys in her direction. "Drama teacher sent me to look for some scripts. I'm completely legal, baby."

Josh made an exclamation of success, finding a stack of thin orange booklets, doing some impressive looking jumps around piles of stuff until he was standing next to her. Even though he wasn't the tallest person in the world, he was still a good 5 or 6 inches taller. He stuck his free hand out, extending it to her in a handshake. "Well, Miss Atlas, I will see you next period. Good luck with learning. Remind me to introduce you to my brother sometime, he's obsessed with the guitar."

The rest of the day passed in a blur to her, and now she was standing outside, jacket wrapped tight around her body, hat pulled down over her ears. Compared to South Carolina, Michigan was cold. Not only that, but it was well past an hour after dismissal and she was still standing outside of the front doors, waiting for her new parents to pick her up.

A red car drove past several times, windows slightly tinted, making her narrow her eyes. Did they have a car she hadn't seen yet? When it finally stopped next to her, the passenger window rolling down. It was Josh, smiling widely. "I thought that was you! Do you need a ride? My mom said she doesn't mind."

Normally she wouldn't have jumped into the car of someone she had only had a conversation with, but she was sure she was losing the feeling in her fingertips. After a long moment of contemplation, she put on a grateful smile. "Yeah, that sounds amazing, actually. I live just around the corner. Sunburst Court."

Josh reached around, opening the back door for her. Slinging her backpack onto the floorboard, she noticed a younger boy in the backseat. Was this the brother Josh had said something about? Josh looked back at her from his place in the front seat as his mother drove away.

"Atlas, this is my mom, Karen Kiszka. Mom, this is Atlas. Atlas, this is my younger brother Sam, Sam- oh wait he's not listening." Underneath his longer hair, Atlas could see earbuds attached to an ipod, his eyes staring at the cars in the parking lot.

"My other brother, well my twin brother, Jake, he's hanging around with some friends today. If you stick around you'll meet him eventually. He's the guitar obsessed one I told you about earlier." Truth be told it was a lot of information at once, so she tried to label each name to a face.

"It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Kiszka. Thank you for the ride, I truly appreciate it." From the driver's seat, Karen gave a warm smile, telling her not to worry about it in the slightest.

In the five minutes it took to get to her house, she had both Josh and Sam’s phone numbers, although it was only Josh to wish her a goodbye as she climbed up the front steps of her house.

It was clear in the coming weeks that Josh was a bit too outgoing for her to keep up with, but she did get along quite well with Sam. He was the perfect mix of quiet and stupid, just like she was. Her friendship grew with him more than it did with Josh, but that didn’t stop her from hanging out with Josh during lunch and Sam after school, and she still had yet to meet Josh’s twin, despite Sam saying they were attached to the hip.

Atlas felt her phone vibrate in her pocket during first period, and she excused herself to the bathroom to check it. To no surprise, it was Sam, his funny little contact name she’d set for him lighting up the screen.

Samuél:

My mom and I want to know if you want to come over for dinner, mostly mom though. She said she can give your parents a call.

Atlas:

As long as they say it’s cool I’m down!

Samuél:

Ah, cool. We’ll pick you up after school regardless.

At lunch, she was actually very surprised to get the thumbs up from Josh, silently telling her that they were on for dinner. With the way her new parents seemed to watch her every move, she was surprised they hadn’t shut the idea down immediately. Karen must have done some serious sweet talking.

The rest of the day passed without incident, and when the bell rang, she was climbing into the backseat of the car beside Sam. Josh made an excuse for his twin, once again, claiming that this time the upperclassmen he’d managed to befriend had offered him a ride home instead. Atlas laughed at that. Of course any freshman would take a ride with an upperclassman rather than their mom.

She’d been over to the Kiszka house only twice before this, but it still filled her with a strange sense, a sense that she wouldn’t be able to place until almost ten years later. It was the feeling of love and warmth now, a feeling that one could physically breathe in the air. Coming back as an adult, Atlas would simply call the feeling home.

She and Sam wandered down to the basement for a movie before dinner, almost the exact same thing they had done the other two times she’d come over. Really, they laughed about the terrible acting skills or cheesy lines more than actually watching any of the scenes. Just over halfway through, Karen called down from the ground floor of the home that dinner was ready, forcing the teenagers to pause their movie.

“Bathroom?” Atlas asked Sam, looking both towards the ground floor hallway and the stairs upward. “Closest one is right down the hall and to the left, can’t miss it.” She nodded, rounding the corner to the hallway. It would have been fine, except that she got the breath knocked out of her lungs. She’d slammed into someone, someone who had caught her from falling completely onto the floor.

He looked undeniably like Josh, but instead of his weirdly parted hair, the brown locks were styled into a sort of swoop over his forehead, backwards hat keeping it in place. Atlas dared to look him in the eyes. His expression faded quickly from ‘annoyed’ to the same look that she had.

People talk about moments where time slows down, where the world around you stills, and all you can hear is your own heartbeat and breath. This was one of those moments. All either of them could do was stare. His hands still held her waist, her body still bent halfway towards the floor. Even in adulthood she would call this her defining moment. These seconds of wonder and adoration, and pure love, would shape the rest of her life, even if she didn’t know it just yet.

How long they stood there she couldn’t recall, but it wasn’t until Sam rounded the corner to look for her that they were broken from the trance they were in. “I see you-... met Jake.” Sam took Atlas gently by the shoulders, standing her up straight, assuming a sort of protective stance between her and his older brother. “This is my friend Atlas. Atas, Jake, Jake, Atlas.”

She thought she managed out a slight “Nice to meet you.” With a red face and flushed cheeks before Sam was pulling her away, back towards the kitchen. As a young teenager, she wasn’t sure how to describe the feeling. But to everyone else it was quite plain, they were simply head over heels.

Even across the dinner table they both tried to steal glances when the other wasn’t looking, which wasn’t overlooked by his mother. Karen seemed to love the idea and even mentioned to him that he should give Atlas a guitar lesson sometime, as she was trying to learn all by herself.

By the end they had each other’s phone numbers, although she was positive she’d never text him first. She thanked Karen a hundred times over as she was dropping her back home.

She’d never before had such a sleepless night, his beautiful eyes painted over the back of her eyelids. But it wasn’t an unwelcomed vision. It was one that settled butterflies in her stomach, thinking of a million different excuses to talk to him the next Monday at school.

The schedule of classes changed around the time of those pesky midterms, with two days of the week being only half days. Those half days, everyone had lunch together, meaning Atlas was sandwiched between Josh and Jake, the twins' friends on the opposite side of the table. She’d never been much of a talker in school, but she did try and jump in on the conversation when it felt right. Her face had flushed when someone asked her about her parents.

What did she say? What was an adopted girl supposed to say? There was the truth, yes, but she’d already witnessed the odd stares and looks she got when talking about it. Atlas was lost in her own head until she felt a light touch to her outer thigh, making her eyes flick downwards.

As soon as she saw Jake’s knuckles brushing the material of her jeans, her eyes found his again, a questioning expression across her face. In reply, he simply moved his hands once again, this time his fingertips brushed over her knuckles before intertwining with her fingers.

Josh must have noticed her red face, as he tapped her on the shoulder, questioning the state of her wellbeing. “I’m fine, thank you. Just tired, I think.” But her hand stayed with Jake’s for the rest of the lunch period. Occasionally his thumb would stroke across the back of her hand, like he might be trying to memorize the pattern of her skin.

But it never happened again, and neither of them spoke about it. But Atlas was sure they both thought about it quite so often. She felt a twinge of jealousy when she would catch sight of his arm draped over another girl in the hallways.

Josh always made the joke that this was who Jake was. Was she just imagining the glances they exchanged in the hallways or the longing stares from across the library? Maybe she was getting all hopeful in her head about something that didn’t exist.

When January rolled around, Atlas was practically an honorary Kiszka. Every weekend was spent in their basement, even once she’d snuck out to hang out in their backyard. Her, Sam, Karen, and Danny all spent the morning at the Clothesline Thrift Store, a staple of the town he had been dying to show her.

She came back with two sweaters and a pair of boots, completely satisfied with the worn look to all of them. Atlas had never really owned anything new, but that made her think about the history things had. What had the threads seen or the leather tasted?

Back at the Kiszka’s, Danny and Sam each held a controller in their hands, trying to smash their way through the newest version of Mario Kart. Her head was in Sam’s lap, feet in Danny’s as she watched the screen, trying not to laugh at the insults they threw at each other. The intense competition continued for half an hour before Sam’s concentration was broken by a vibration from Sam’s pocket right above her head, clearly his phone.

Some low profanities fell from his lips when he died, pausing the game to pull his phone out. If he was frowning before, he was really frowning now. He seemed to reread the text on the screen several times before speaking. “Jake wants to talk to you, At.” She blinked several times, sitting up to face him fully. “He wants to talk to me?”

He seemed annoyed at repeating it, so instead, he countered with “He’s up in his bedroom. Go see what he wants so I can whoop your ass at this game next.” Rolling her eyes, Atlas stood from her spot on the couch, trudging up two flights of steps. Jake’s room had some old poster on the front of the white wood, an old indie band she didn’t recognize. The door was ajar, and Atlas paused for a moment to fully absorb what she was seeing.

He was hunched over his desk chair, cherry red guitar in his lap. He’d gotten it for Christmas from Kelly, and he was still working at finding the perfect angle to play at. His foot slightly tapped against the hardwood floor to the beat of the song until he heard the floorboards creak under Atlas’s weight.

“Don’t just stand there, At. Come in.” His voice was a little firmer than it normally was, obviously laced with whatever emotion he had been contemplating over the notes of the guitar.

Truly, Jacob Thomas Kiszka could stand it no longer. He hated feeling so close to this girl but so far away. Both of them knew they wanted to be closer, but neither said a word.

“Close the door, please.” Jake’s eyes followed her small hands as they pushed the door closed with a soft click. “Sam said you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yeah, I do.” His guitar was carefully on it’s home on the stand before standing up from his chair, arms folded over his chest.”We both know what this is about, Atlas.” Atlas swallowed, looking anywhere but at the figure in front of her. It was either he felt it too, or he didn’t and he thought she was weird.

“I see the way you look at me, and I know you see the way I do too.”

Jake was quiet for a long moment, letting his words fully sink in before he reached between them, taking her hands in his own. “And I want to be closer to you, Atlas, in every way. I want you to keep looking at me like that because it gives me feelings I didn’t even know I had. It’s so stupid, I know.”

Her lack of reaction spoke volumes to him, a slightly pained expression flickered across his features. Jake began to retreat, afraid he had now crossed a line they couldn’t come back from.

But Atlas held his hands tight, pulling him closer until they were mere inches apart. “Kiss me and tell me I’m yours.”

They were always together after that, in the hallways in between classes, at lunch, walking home from school, little weekend trips. Instead of the Kiszka twins, it was the Kiszka twins and Atlas, and they all wanted it to stay that way.

Josh slowly grew on her, understanding that he was an important piece of Jake’s life, they were almost never apart. And after several hours of questions about her hair texture, Josh had begged his mom to let him get a perm. What a surprise it had been to her to show up to school to see him with a head of curls much like her own.

Now she was sitting on the edge of Jake’s bed sandwiched between the twins, her phone held out in front of her. Josh was making some strange face with his tongue out, Jake’s face was smushed against her own at some attempt at kissing her cheek.

The shutter went off and she lowered her phone, holding it close so they could all see it. The quality was grainy, typical of old phones, but it made all three of them smile. “That’s gold, look at my beautiful face.” Josh grinned, knowing that Jake couldn’t disagree, they basically shared a face. “That’s a keeper, for sure. First picture. I think I’ll put it as my wallpaper.”

The picture ended up printed out, framed for her desk with a heart sticker at the bottom of the frame. For Jake it ended up folded up in his wallet, a reminder that his two favorite people were always with him.

Atlas got her learner’s right at fourteen and nine months, the twins shortly after. And so began the hunt for a vehicle to fight all five of the friends and their musical equipment when needed. Every penny of savings she’d kept stocked up since she’d began getting an allowance worked wonders, buying them an old and beat up volkswagen van.

The entire summer they spent gutting the inside and installing couches and rugs and even a little mattress in the very back. With the help of Kelly, of course. He replaced every part that was rusted over, helped them with tools. The five of them had to have worked at least three hours a day for the entire summer, but a week before school, it was in running condition and had the vibe they were all looking for.

The floors had been replaced with shag carpet, battery powered lights behind the couches, plants hung in the windows, even a little mini fridge behind the driver’s seat. But there was still something missing. The next day Atlas showed up with a pack of ‘travel’ stickers and several cans of paint. That day was spent in the driveway, covering the back window in stickers and painting very cartoon looking flowers, big bubbly letters naming the van ‘flower power’ against the light blue metal. Cheesy, sure, but they loved the van and it's name.

Over the years it took them everywhere. School, midnight adventures, forest parties, bar concerts, music festivals. Although it was always Atlas that drove, she didn’t trust any of the boys with something they’d put so much time into.

This van, and the girl who drove, later inspired the song named after the van, a song still sung by the band in the present.

That October, she was introduced to the Kiszka's annual family cabin trip, just when the air began to cool and the leaves turned orange. Truthfully, Atlas thought she’d be wishing Jake a goodbye for two weeks, but Karen had been quick to invite her along.

She’d told the curly blonde that this was the place the four friends came to write. They wrote more music here in the span of two weeks then they did in a whole year. Josh said it was all about the inspiration that came with being so deep into nature.

The boys insisted they drive the van and follow their mother for the two hours. She drove, Jake played music from a tape they’d burned, Sam passed around snacks, Josh shared a pack of cigarettes they’d bummed from Kelly, and Danny was there to settle the Kiszka’s back down when they got a little rowdy.

At some points they were laughing so hard they were crying, screaming so loud along to the music that they could barely hear themselves think. The joy radiated through the van the whole time, and none of them could help the smiles on their faces.

The cabin was quaint, tucked in the woods next to a small lake, homemade hiking trails winding through the trees surrounding the property. Atlas hadn’t even been inside yet, but she knew she would love being there.

The fresh air surrounding it gave her a new breath of life. This was something she had never had the pleasure of experiencing before, and Atlas was so pleased to be able to share it with the people she loved most.

Atlas bunked with Ronnie, taking the top bed. The days were spent outside, wandering the wilderness, exploring places none of them had gone yet. They even had their first high in a little clearing of grass right off of the path, well out of sight of the house.

The kids crept back into the house with red eyes and that thick scent around them, all scrambling for a shower and change of clothes before Karen and Kelly could suspect anything.

The nights were either spent around a large bonfire or in the basement, but either way Jake had some sort of guitar with them. Atlas sat next to him, watching his fingers dance along the neck, creating endless melodies in his mind.

On the nights where they couldn’t sleep, Jake and Atlas would creep onto the porch, guitar in his hand. Jake would sit behind her, guitar in her lap, teaching her everything he knew, which was quite a lot.

For Christmas that year, when Jake had deemed her just past intermediate, he and his dad bought Atlas her first guitar. It was an Axion Label, Ibanez edition, in the color Blue Chameleon, a beautiful shift from green to blue to purple. He claimed that it brought out her eyes.

Atlas joined the Kiszka’s on every Cabin trip for the next four years, and Karen even let them go alone in their senior year. It was like a ritual for them, and it was in that very basement that some of their most iconic songs were written and played out.

Atlas, Jake, Sam, and Danny all pulled into the school parking lot just after the sun had set, throwing the van into park outside the front doors of the school. Josh, once again, required a ride home from school after the rehearsal for the spring musical.

“I want ice cream.” Josh said, shutting the sliding door hard behind him. Atlas rolled her eyes, tossing her sunglasses off the top of her head and into Jake’s lap. “Yeah, well, I want a million dollars.” After only a moment Sam joined the chipper of wanting, Danny not far behind him.

With a deep sigh, Atlas drove in the direction of their favorite ice cream place, a little hole in the wall on the outskirts of town. “Hey, sunflower, listen to this song I found today. It makes me think of you.”

Oh, Ophelia

You’ve been on my mind girl since the flood

Oh, Ophelia

Heaven help the fool who falls in love

Oh, Ophelia

You’ve been on my mind girl like a drug

Oh, Ophelia

Heaven help the fool who falls in love

“Play it again, Jake.” He obliged, but this time they both hummed along softly, Jake’s hand on top of Atlas’s on the gear shift. “I think this is our song, Jake.” “Oh, yeah, petal?” She nodded in response, watching the road as she stopped at a redlight.

The air was silent for a minute, just filled with music until Sam broke the silence. “You guys are so cute it’s disgusting. Stop.” This made Jake raise his free hand, flipping his younger brother the middle finger.

“I’ll remember that when you get a girlfriend, Sammy.” It was Josh who interjected then, starting with a low chuckle. “You forgot Atlas, Sam will never have a girlfriend because he’s too strange.”

The whole van burst into a fit of giggles as they pulled into the parking lot. Once they all had milkshakes in their hands, life could not have been more perfect for any of them.

Daniel Wagner was a saint. Jake and Atlas had been dying to spend the night in each other’s arms, but it was almost impossible, being right out of tenth grade. But late on a saturday night, Danny had called Jake and told him to park the van in the driveway, as long as they were out by noon.

It was well past the time of busy streets, so Atlas didn’t take any hesitation in going a couple miles over the speed limit to pick Jake up. So the first time Jake and Atlas had ever fallen asleep next to each other, they were tangled so close that one might think they were just one form.

Even after almost a whole year together, neither of them had uttered those words of admiration. Perhaps they just didn’t feel the need, knowing exactly how they both felt about each other.

Neither of them wanted to sleep, even though both pairs of eyes were burning with the need. They laid facing each other on the small bed in the back of the van, fingers gently tangled in each other’s hair.

This was truly something beyond any physical pleasure they could have brought each other in that moment. This was something that completed the soul, and Atlas was fairly sure she’d never be able to sleep alone again.

“Would it be crazy to say I love you?” Atlas whispered, her gray eyes wide and completely enamored by his own. “No, because I would say I love you too, sunflower.”

They both knew what sex was, of course they did. They had cheeky makeouts after school or in the basement, even went a little farther in the dark at the movie theater, in the back row, but they’d never actually done it.

As much as their friends joked about them sneaking away, it simply wasn’t true. Were they probably too young to be having sex? Probably. But did that stop any highschool teenager who wanted it?

“Daniel,” Jake began, in the sweetest voice he could muster so early in the morning. “Do you think At and I could borrow your driveway tonight?” “It’s a school night, Jake.” “But that just means we can pick you up first. You won’t have to fight Sam for your favorite seat on the couch, right next to the fridge.”

Danny looked like he was seriously contemplating the offer for several long moments before blowing out a sigh. “Fine, just don’t get me in trouble, yeah?”

During lunch, he slid beside his girlfriend, throwing his arm around her shoulder, greeting her with a lingering kiss to the cheek. “Plans tonight, sunflower?” Atlas thought for a moment before replying. “Just chem work, otherwise I’m all open.”

This made Jake grin, leaning in close to her. “Movie night in the van at Danny’s?” With a soft laugh she agreed before pulling out a large bag of chips from her bag for them to share.

Atlas made sure her parents were fast asleep before going to pick Jake up, who was truly grinning ear to ear about their night together, even though they had been getting tons lately. Right as they pulled in front of Danny’s house, she cut the engine, moving to flick on the strings of light on either side of the walls.

It was a peaceful atmosphere, one that Jake took advantage of by kicking his shoes off and stretching out over the mattress with that same wide smile he’d had all evening. “Move over, Kiszka.” Atlas took her own shoes off, tossing a balled up sock at his head. “Anything for you, sunflower.” He moved towards the back doors of the van, settling himself under one of the blankets draped over the mattress.

“Jake?” She asked, coming to lay next to him, head tucked into his chest. He hummed in response, tangling their legs together as he pressed a kiss into the top of her head. “Why do you call me that?” Jake moved his head back just a bit to peer down at her, almost like she was silly to ask that, like she should have already known the answer.

“Well, you’re like a sunflower. You’re beyond beautiful and you make me feel so warm inside. Sunflowers also represent admiration and loyalty, they can bring good luck and happiness, and that’s everything you are to me. Therefore, sunflower is a fitting name, I think.”

Atlas blinked a few times, almost in disbelief. She’d always chucked it up to boys naming girls after flowers because it was the normal to do so. But Jake had actually put effort into making sure it was the right flower for her. “I love you.”

It was a quiet declaration before she tilted her face up to kiss him, just slowly at first. Her hands cradled his face, drinking in the closeness of him. Like all kisses of impatient teenagers, it didn’t take long to get heated, hands wandering lower than they should, slipping underneath the hems of shirts. Jake’s hands never strayed from her stomach, although it was clear he was itching to take it off. “You can touch me, you know, Jake. I don’t mind.” His eyes were questioning, like he knew if he did so they might go farther than she liked. “Are you sure, petal? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable?”

In response, Atlas partially untangled her body from his, pulling her shirt up over her head, laying the fabric on the carpet beside the bed. His eyes raked her body, cheeks flaming with red desire. A moment later his shirt joined hers on the floor, his body moving to sit up, legs dangling off the side of the mattress, pulling her in between them.

This kiss was deeper, more desperate, full of roaming hands and softs sounds. Surely, with how hot they both felt the windows must be fogging up. Pulling away, Jake was breathing hard, fingertips pressing into the skin just above the waistline of her jeans. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

But she did. She absolutely wanted to. Sure, she could have written it off as being a hormonal teenager, but the truth was she just wanted him closer. And they were, in every way except this one. “Stop overthinking it and take your pants off.” She breathed softly, moving from in between his legs to do what she’d asked of him as well.

Jake gently took Atlas’s hand, pulling her back down into the mattress, hovering above her. “You’re very beautiful, have I ever told you that?” His eyes moved over her features, down the curly mess of her hair, across the valleys and peaks of her collarbones. “You tell me all the time, Jake.” “Well I mean it.”

Neither of them knew a thing about foreplay or what one was really supposed to do leading up to sex, but they’d both probably seen enough porn to know the general flow of things. Underwear was shed, bodies close, eyes full of adoration. “Are you sure, At?” Atlas kissed him as a reply, pulling him close by the back of his neck.

She couldn’t deny the burning pain as he pushed into her, but the heavenly sound that fell from his mouth was enough to distract her. Jake was courteous enough to keep his hips still, although his eyes were screwed shut in deep concentration.

Even unmoving he was muttering words of praise and adoration down to her until she was comfortable enough to whisper the okay for his movements. Jake pulled his hips back, not all the way out, before pushing back in, his hands fisting the sheets beside her head.

Atlas watched his face carefully, the pure bliss across his had her cheeks a dark red, her own hands tangling into the hair at the back of his head, tugging him closer. “Fuck, I love you, At.”

“I love you too, more than anything.”

When it had first happened, Atlas thought that James simply had an off day. His tone was sharper than usual, and Atlas had dared to step in the house ten minutes after she was supposed to be home.

She thought the harsh grip on her hair had been a passing gesture, but it was not. It escalated every day, each toe she stepped out of line only made things worse.

Apparently, she had forgotten to get the mail out of the box on the way home, and for some reason it didn’t seem to sit right with the man.`As Atlas moved up the stairs and towards her room, James stood right at the top of the stairs, arms crossed over his chest, an angry flush to his cheeks. “What was the one thing I asked you to do today?”

Her eyebrows furrowed, trying to rifle through the day's events. “Oh! Gosh, I’m sorry James. It totally slipped my mind. Let me just grab my jacket and I’ll run out and get it.”

“We took you in, out of a shit hole, and you never do anything but hang out with that Kiszka boy. You’re an ungrateful bitch, you know that?” Her jaw hung open at his words, not understanding where this was coming from. She’d simply forgotten the mail.

“Alright, I’m sorry, jesus. I told you I’d go get it.” James let her past and into her bedroom, where she did in fact throw one of Jake’s hoodies over her frame. She stepped back into the hallway, where James was still standing by the stairs.

“Be back in a minute.” She promised, foot coming down on the top step. A harsh shove, and she was tumbling down the flight of steps, hurtling towards the ground floor. She landed with an exclamation of great pain, hand coming up to catch the blood she could feel dripping down her nose.

Atlas sat there for a long time before looking up towards the top of the stairs, just catching a glimpse of James walking away, a smug look on her face. The pain hit her a moment later, making breath a little harder to come by.

She fumbled for a moment, trying to get her phone from her pocket. The corner of the screen was cracked, but still functioning. Of course she dialed Jake’s phone number, bottom lip trembling with tears as he picked up. “Hey,” She began, voice unsteady and unsure. “I know you just dropped me off a little while ago but I really need you to come back and get me.”

Jake agreed quickly, assuring he would be there in ten minutes, questioning her tone. When Atlas made her way down the front steps, he threw his car door open, hands cradling her face to wipe the blood from her top lip. “My petal, what happened? Are you okay?”

“I just fell down the stairs, I’m okay.”

The music was loud in the basement of the Kiszka house. They were in the process of writing songs for their first album, to be released sometime in the twin’s senior year. Although the process was slow, she thought the progress was amazing to watch.

The guitar stopped short, Jake chewing on his bottom lip. “It’s missing something.” Josh raised his eyebrows, hands on his hips. “Is writing a song about your lover not good enough? Literally, this is the third song all about Atlas. We’re going to have to put her in the credits at this point.”

Atlas cracked a smile, tilting her head. “He’s right, you know. Can’t just write a song with the words ‘you’re the woman that I love’ and not credit me just a little bit.” Although Jake was smiling, he was still deep in thought.

As he was strapped up to his guitar, which was plugged into one of the amps, Jake gave Atlas a sweet smile. “Will you run up and grab my slider from the desk drawer?” She made some comment about not being a maid, but got up anyway.

Jake’s room had the lingering smell of cigarette smoke, even though he was always careful in blowing it out an open window, coupled with the faint smell of the cologne he wore on special occasions, an intoxicating scent that she’d come to know so well.

His room was normally clean, spic and span, but he’d been spending so much time focused on writing that he seemed to had forgotten his daily cleaning routine, for several days. His floor was littered with discarded clothes and school papers, broken guitar picks and his extra straps. Atlas sighed a little deeply, knowing that it probably bothered Jake when he went to sleep at night. She wasted no more time in grabbing the slider out of his desk drawer and toeing back down the steps. “Hey, mama?” Atlas called to the woman sitting in the living room, looking over something on her phone.

“Yes, dear?” Karen looked up as Atlas passed her the little copper slider, all scratched up from years of use. “Could you take this down to Jake? I’m going to clean up his room a little bit.” The warm smile she gave told a million stories, stories that she could see in Atlas and Jake’s future. The woman knew that this wasn’t just some puppy love, the couple was coming up on three years together. “Of course, thank you for that. I know he’ll appreciate it.”

Back in Jake’s room, Atlas gathered the clothes off the floor and put them into the hamper, tossed empty soda cans into the trash can, organized his school papers inside of his backpack, and fixed the blankets on his bed. She even went so far as to bring the full laundry basket downstairs to start the load.

When the clothes were clean and warm, Atlas took them back upstairs to fold. Jake walked in, guitar carefully cradled in his hands, but stopped short at the door. “What are you doing?”

Atlas looked up from folding one of his shirts, a sweet smile painted on her face. “I just cleaned up a little bit. Your wardrobe was getting a bit thin because all of it was on the floor so I did some laundry. I know you’ve been busy with the album lately.”

Jake stared over at her from the doorway, unsure of what to say. Atlas was always so considerate and sweet, so much more than he could have asked for. “Thank you, At. You’re a saint, I swear.” Atlas giggled, putting the shirt down to approach him, gently placing his guitar back on the stand.

“I know of a few ways you could say thank you, Jakey.” There was a suggestive tone that made Jake raise his eyebrows, moving quickly to lock the door behind him. “Why don’t you show me, sunflower?”

Jake asked her to senior prom over dinner. It was a casual affair, the friend group sitting around the local diner munching on hamburgers and fries after another one of Josh’s successful shows. It was a little sad, knowing that he would only have the spring musical left in his highschool career.

But the album was only months away from being released, leaving all of them rushing to put finishing touches on the songs. “Hey, petal. I have a question.” Atlas looked up from dipping her fry into some ketchup, eyebrows raised with question. “Will you go to prom with me?”

Atlas breathed out a laugh, reaching a free hand across the table to rest on his. “I didn’t think you had to ask, but since you did so nicely, of course.”

Atlas had chosen purple, a long dress, even going so far as to sew flowers around the bottom hem. A pair of strappy purple heels were worn, glued on butterflies adorning the ankle straps. Her curls were more defined than usual, piled on top of her head, spilling down the sides of her head and down her neck. Jake, or she rather thought his mother, had gotten her a purple and white corsage.

Jake had admitted he could never see himself actually attending prom, but with the girl he loved on his arm, he couldn’t imagine a more perfect night. He had, of course, chosen a black suit, one which Atlas had taken home and tailored for a month, beading decorating the sleeves of the jacket. They spent the night dancing and laughing, sipping on some of the alcohol he’d managed to sneak in. They’d even smuggled Sam and Danny through a back door, despite the explicit instruction not to do so.

They were stuck tight to each other when one of the teachers stepped up onto the makeshift stage with a microphone, intending to announce prom court. Atlas and Jake hadn’t been in the running, or so they thought.

Josh had secretly been spreading the word around school, telling tales, some highly exaggerated, of their love. And people took notice of that love, apparently. Because the names over the speakers were Atlas Callaway and Jake Kiszka, surprising them both for sure.

She stared up at him with wide eyes, silently asking him if this was real. And real it was. They both received stupid cheap sash’s and crowns, getting their picture taken for the newspaper and yearbook.

Jake moved away from her side, now facing the teacher holding the microphone. He started to wrestle it away from the older man, mumbling under his breath about needing to borrow it for a minute.

Once it was firmly in his grasp, Jake moved back towards Atlas, speaking into the device as he did so. “Excuse me, everyone. Can I have your attention, please? Thank you, thank you.” His eyes turned towards Atlas now, wide grin on his face. “Petal, I just have to ask. Will you marry me?” She’d honest to god thought he was joking, but even past the smile there was no hesitation or joke in his eyes. In that moment, she saw her life flash before her eyes. Not in the bad, life ending way. But in a way that she knew this was the life that she wanted, a life with him.

Atlas gave the biggest yes she could manage in her breathlessness, and Jake made one last “I’ll get you a ring later, promise.” comment into the mic before handing it back over. His brother’s jaws were on the floor, as they hadn’t been at all expecting it. Hell, Jake hadn’t even been expecting it.

Jake made good on his promise a week later, presenting her with a ring, metal shaped like a branch, small moonstone gem in the center. They had a plan, one went over carefully with Karen. Jake would turn eighteen in April, she in August. And on her birthday, they’d all make a trip up to the courthouse and sign the papers, making a real wedding out of it later.

And she couldn’t wait to be his wife.

She told Jake they needed to talk. Atlas had known for two weeks now, and she was still trying to find the heart to tell him. She was desperately trying to find any other way, a way to stay, to not have to go.

They were laying side by side in his backyard, enjoying the coming warm weather that came with early April, staring up at the sky, fingers intertwined between them. Both were quiet, waiting for the other to speak. “I love you, Jake.” She said, voice barely above a whisper, taking in a large deep breath afterwards. But she knew it was true. Atlas loved him as much as she knew how to love. They might both be young, but she knew what she wanted.

“I love you too, sunflower. Please, tell me what’s wrong. I know something is bothering you.” Atlas laughed softly, knowing that after a little over three years together, Jake knew her like the back of his hand. But this was the dreaded question, the one she hoped he wouldn’t ask.

“I’m trying to find a way out of it, I truly am.” Atlas let the words hang in the air for a long time before sitting up to look down at him. “We’re moving to California in two weeks, Jake. I’m trying to find anyway to get out of it but I’m running out of time.”

The tears she’d been so desperately holding back came flowing down her cheeks now, with no heart to try and hold them back. Jake’s body flew up immediately, pulling her flush against his chest, eyes wide with panic and bewilderment. “Atlas- no,- you- you can’t! We’re getting married in August. You can’t just leave!”

“I don’t have a choice, Jake. I’m not an adult yet, neither of us are.”

Her last box was packed into the back of the moving truck, hands shoved deep into her pockets, the fabric of Jake’s Led Zeppelin tee-shirt spilling over the top. Jake was hovering behind her, the keys to the van that she’d just handed over closed in his fist.

“I have something for you, Jake.” Atlas turned around to face him, tugging something out of her pocket. It was a creme colored bracelet, made of several braided chords. “It’s a sailor’s bracelet. It means you’ve left someone at home when you go out to see. I wanted you to have it to remember that I’ll be coming back in August. It’s a little big now but it will shrink when it gets wet.”

Jake took the thing with gentle hands, looking it over like it was the most precious thing he’d ever received in his life. “I love you, so much, At.” His voice broke in the middle, a telltale sign that he wasn’t holding up as well as he hoped. “I have something for you too.”

His hands produced a little black box, inside a thin silver chain, a dainty sunflower pendant on it. “Although it’s certainly not as special as yours. It’s a sunflower for my sunflower.” Jake gently moved her hair out of the way, placing the necklace on her so the flower sat at the base of her throat.

They both cried after that, holding onto each other like it would be the very last time. “Hurry up and go so you can turn eighteen. Then you come straight back to me, understand, petal?” There was a plethora of emotion behind his voice, eyes staring straight down into hers. She nodded, a bit more vicious than she should have. “I promise, Jake. I’ll always come back to you. I love you so much.”

Jake watched her drive away, Atlas turned her head out the window, gripping his hands until the car was moving too fast for him to keep up. He stopped, tears flowing, breathing heavily, in the middle of the road, watching his fiance drive away, months before he would ever see her in person again.

#josh gvf #jake gvf #sam gvf #danny gvf #gretavanfleet #gvf fic #jake kiszka fic

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dulafer · 3 years ago

Text

REHAB

Another old one where I only posted links to another site. Twin brothers, one with great career and drinking problem. The other fills in for him. It’s long, detailed etc....

The Favor

I haven’t seen my brother Marcus in years but he needs a favor, so of course he called. He didn’t provide any details, just that he needs a ride to Cleveland, Ohio and for me to watch his car for a few weeks. Marcus is my identical twin, down to a tribal band tattoo we got on spring break in college. Even our initials are identical thanks to our mother’s naming us ‘Michael Robert Thomas’ and ‘Marcus Robert Thomas’. Growing up, our parents could never tell us apart and many times we’d trade places even through college.

We both graduated from University of Michigan with a degree in marketing but I took a minor in finance. After graduating, he craved the big city, high pay lure of Chicago while I stayed in Ann Arbor working for a trendy web marketing company. We haven’t been close since graduating from college.

Personality wise, let’s just say Marcus is the charming, outgoing twin and I’m more of a wall flower. In high school and college he was always getting the girl, or guy and sharing with me. He’d do all the work and I was happy with sloppy seconds. Many times we dated the same person without them knowing—that’s how identical we are. Nowadays, we talk occasionally and on our birthday. He’s got his life, I’ve got mine, and I keep up with his via his very active Instagram and Twitter accounts. I’ve got enough ‘marketing’ in my life so I’m more of an online stalker, never posting anything.

According to his Instagram, he just got promoted vice president at Coleman Marketing—a very prestigious firm in downtown Chicago. Someone tagged him in videos from last night celebrating his promotion. He’s raking in the money while I just got laid off. Not that I’m worried as I got a nice severance package and have a few leads on jobs. I was head of a marketing department for an automotive trim manufacturer. Truthfully, I was the marketing department completely.

Marcus pulls up to my house just after 7 am looking exhausted getting out of his BMW. It looks like he’s dressed in what he had on last night. He's wearing a great black leather jacket. His hair is gelled and spiky, and he’s clean shaven. I’ve let myself go lately, not shaving in days and no haircut in weeks. I’ll worry about a haircut and shave when I get a job interview. I greet him on the stoop.

“Marcus, when the hell did you leave Chicago? I was expecting you at lunch. Since when do you get up before noon?” I mock him.

“I was on a high, celebrating my promotion and couldn’t get Chad, my boyfriend, to come home with me. So I didn't sleep, packed up my things, jumped in the car and drove right here. Got coffee?”

“Sure, plenty, help yourself. You look beat bro.”

“You look like a bum bro, what’s with the scruff and hair?” He angrily fires back.

“Using up some vacation time here, getting things done around the house. Love the BMW bro, awesome machine.” I cover for my job loss and change topic.

Marcus walks in, heads straight to the Keurig and makes himself at home. “I just drove 4 hours straight without stopping. You’re driving the rest of the way.”

“Nice, I love BMWs. So what in the hell is in Cleveland, Ohio? Nothing that I know of.”

“I’ve been court ordered to check into St. Joseph Rehab Center.”

“Jesus, what the fuck did you do?” I act shocked but I’m not.

“I had an accident, totaled my car and someone else’s, there was alcohol and drugs involved and it’s my fourth offense.”

“Is everyone okay? Are you okay? You look fine?”

“Yeah, other car was parked and empty, My Land Rover crumpled like paper but it really protected me.”

“Wow, you were lucky bro. I always told you—“

“Shut up, I know, I know…. So I go into rehab for a few weeks, get the doc to sign off that I’m fine and no one is the wiser.” He grabs his head like its pounding.

“A few weeks? Tammy went to rehab for six months!”

“She didn’t have my lawyer.” He boasts.

“So I drop you off, pick you up?”

“That’s it. Keep it quiet, call into work for me Monday, take a few weeks off due to the death of our father.”

“Our father who died seven years ago?”

“Exactly, be all broken up about it. Shed some verbal tears. I have your script written, who to talk to, what to tell them.”

“Why don’t you call them yourself?”

“Once I check in, there’s no phones, computers or visitors allowed.”

“Jeez, sounds like a prison but you’re dressed like you going to a club bro, love the jacket.”

“Yeah, I’m a little over dressed. I came straight from the bar. They said to just bring sneakers, jeans, sweatpants, hoodies and t-shirts. The jacket is Coach, got it a few weeks ago shopping with my boyfriend Chad on the Mag Mile.”

I feel his jacket. “Can I borrow your jacket while you’re locked up.”

“Well, you are driving the rest of the way.” He takes it off, hands it to me and I pull it on over my t-shirt.

“Looks better on me bro.” He snickers at me. “It’s not meant to pair with a t-shirt. Mind if I take a quick shower? I was out all night with friends, haven’t showered yet.”

“Sure go ahead.”

He takes his coffee into my bedroom. The shower turns on while I find the keys for the BMW in his jacket I’m still wearing. I head outside and unlock the sleek black metallic M8 with a stunning red interior. Behind the driver’s seat is his briefcase and in the trunk is a large suitcase. I jump in, hit the start button and she roars to life with a powerful purr. It’s a remarkable car and I can’t wait to drive it.

Back inside I snap a pic of myself and finish up my coffee. Marcus steps out of bedroom, refreshed, wearing a pair of my jeans, a University of Michigan t-shirt and my new Nikes.

“Hope you don’t mind bro. I’ve been in the same clothes since happy hour last night, needed a change.”

“Not a problem, I’ll have my manservant launder and press your clothes.”

“I was sorta overdressed for this place.”

“You think? Now you look like someone with the drinking problem.” I laugh.

“I look like you doofus!” He heads to kitchen and has another cup of coffee.

I grab my hoodie and toss it to him to wear. “I love this jacket bro, you can wear this. Since you won’t be needing anything this nice in rehab, I’ll just borrow it for a while.” I order him.

“Bro, it’s a $1100 jacket. You're not keeping it.”

“Fuck bro, no wonder it feels so soft.” I feel it more. “What you’re wearing now is more appropriate for the Betty Ford Clinic, or wherever the fuck you’re going.”

While he’s rummaging through my kitchen for something to eat, I head back to my bedroom. His outfit is tossed on my chair. I quickly strip out of my sweats pants and dress in his clothes. He’s wearing my best sneakers and favorite t-shirt, I want to try out his look on me. I slip into his Polo Chinos, tuck in his dress shirt, fasten the belt, step into his driving shoes, then check myself out in the mirror. I try fixing my hair like Marcus’ but it’s too long.

I walk out to the kitchen, feeling my new pants, his eyes pop out seeing me. “Damn bro, I’ve never worn pants this soft.”

“Polo, all I wear, got them at their flagship store—“

“On the Mile.” I interrupt him, already knowing the answer. “Cole Haan driving shoes? Really? A bit pretentious if you ask me.”

“They match the jacket and belt man plus they’re so comfortable. You’ve been living in bumfuck Michigan too long, shopping at Walmart. You need to get a sense of fashion. You look presentable now though.” He snidely responds.

“What are you talking about ‘Michael’, I have a great fashion sense, just look at me.” I smile, assuming his identity then confidently pull back on his jacket and hand him my baseball caps.

“Don’t get too comfortable in them, I’ll be back in a few weeks.” Marcus warns me while putting my baseball cap on backwards.

“We’re still identical after 29 years bro.” I look in the mirror seeing a scruffy Marcus staring back, my brother comes up behind to compare.

“You just need a decent haircut, some hair creme and shave. Hey, since you’re the scruffy one, you should do rehab for me.” He jokes.

“In your dreams bro. I’m not the one with the drinking problem.” I shoot him down.

“Whatever ass wipe, you probably can't get a decent drink within 30 miles of here. It’s no wonder you don’t drink. I can take an elevator from my office on the 19th, up to the 95th floor, to the best bar in all of Chicago.” Marcus brags, thinking I’m impressed.

“Oh I drink but not to the point of not getting home, almost killing myself and getting a DUI. You’re the pathetic one.”

“Whatever bro, just remember—dad’s death, then vacation time to get his affairs in order. I have plenty of time to do this without anyone finding out.”

“So call into work for you, lie to them, drive your car around and pick you up in two weeks. Easy.”

“That’s it, by the way, you’re driving since I’m not legally able to. Keys are in my jacket” I pull them out and toss them in the air.

“Great! Just great. Guess I should be grateful I’m not bailing you out of jail.”

Road Trip

We leave Ann Arbor and he talks the entire trip about his accident, how he was drunk and high, driving home from Chad’s place, paying an expensive lawyer, promotion at work, buying this new BMW cash and how he’s going to change. I’ve heard this since college. He’s so self absorbed that I barely talk about myself and don’t mention my job loss or hunt. I’m actually very jealous—his career is exploding even with his fuck ups and mine is imploding. I feel like a loser but driving this new BMW, in his expensive clothes, at least I look like a winner.

As is typical for Marcus, his coffee consumption has me pulling over at a rest stop on i80 not even an hour after leaving my house. I glance in the vanity mirror and start fussing with my hair, thinking of his comment. He’s right, we’re still identical—a haircut and shave would make us indistinguishable. I could have fun as him for a few weeks I think to myself and grin. His phone rings while I’m sitting in the car waiting, so I answer it.

“Hello?”

“Marcus, are you on your way? You’ve got to check in by noon today.” ID shows Stephen Backes.

“Yeah, I’m making good time, according to GPS, I’ll be there about 11am.”

“Please tell me you’re not driving.”

“No, a friend is driving me.”

“Okay, so I have some bad news for you. The judge didn’t agree to two weeks like I thought he would. You’ll be there three to four months, sorry man.” This has to be Marcus’ high price lawyer. “I’m so sorry. Are you there?”

“Fuck!!” Is all I could say while thinking of me needing a job.

“Believe me, we’ll get you out sooner, I won’t stop fighting for you. I’m pushing for a reduction already.”

“So what can I do?” I’m stunned as Marcus will be.

“There’s nothing you can do. Check in today, do all they say and don’t make a scene. I’ll keep in contact via the staff there. I can’t visit and you can’t call out. Get yourself clean. On the bright side, the Alexanders aren’t pressing charges for the property damage, which is great news.”

“Silver lining.” I mutter.

“Okay, don’t worry, I'll get you out in no time.” He hangs up.

I sit there as a crazy thought forms in my mind—Marcus away for three months. I need something to do and who knows about his rehab stint? It’d be fun to step into his life for a while. We did it all the time growing up and in College. During summer break just before graduating from college, we traded places for a few months. He went to Daytona Beach with my boyfriend while I stayed home and partied as him. It worked out great because I was sick of Jonathan’s flaming personality. Marcus’s boyfriend was hot and he was bored with him. It was a great summer being my douche brother, fucking his boyfriend, partying with his friends and living his life. I didn’t want to swap back. Even our parents never figured it out, we were so identical. I stare in the vanity mirror and check myself out, turning my head from side to side, playing with my hair. I’m certain I can pull it off. Just then the car door opens up, Marcus jumps in and startles me.

“Lets get moving bro, I need to be there before lunch.”

“We’ve got plenty of time. So who at work knows about your DUI and rehab visit?” I start to question him to make sure I can step into his life.

“No one, not even my best friend Jason or my boyfriend Chad know. I just got a huge promotion and Coleman was not happy with my last DUI. This one I managed to keep quiet but if I get caught, bye bye career. I called my lawyer right away and was out in hours. I told everyone I bought the BMW to celebrate my promotion, not because I totaled my Range Rover.”

“So you’ll just tell them you’re taking care of dad’s affairs, email them a few times over the next few weeks and no one knows.” I question him.

“Oh fuck, bro, never thought of it that way. I’ll be cut off from the world. You’ll have to check my email and answer my phone for me too, respond to some of them. Tell them you’re having a hard time with mom and she doesn’t have internet or good cell service in northern Michigan. Just adopt my bullshit attitude and tell em you’ll get back to them.”

The more he talks, the easier it’s getting to pull this deception off. “Wow, you haven’t thought this through. Where is your computer? Log in? Phone?” Gathering pieces of his life if I want to go through with this game.

“I didn’t have much time, my lawyer called last night during happy hour, told me to get to Cleveland today. Work computer and files are in the briefcase right behind you. Password is first 4 letters of our last name and last 4 numbers of my social security, 1785. Got it?” He points to the iPhone charging on the center console.

“You better write that down.” I propose. He reaches behind me, grabs the portfolio from his briefcase and starts jotting down notes in it.

“What if someone calls about something specific, like an account or proposal?” I fake concern for more details.

“They’re all on my desktop in folders. You’ll have to email the Ballis Automotive powerpoint to Gary McClintock on Monday so he can handle presentation for me.”

“You always do this Marcus. One little favor blows up into a cluster fuck, just like one little drink for you.”

“I promise this will be easy. I start the position Monday, there is a great marketing team to manage, it’ll run itself for a few weeks. They’ll feel bad contacting me during such tragic times.” He laughs at his deviousness.

He continues to talk the rest of the way, filling me in on his career, telling me what I should be doing, and bragging about his success. He’s quite in love with himself, talking about his recent bonus, how his $2,000,000 condo is now worth $2,500,000, and his $500,000 salary. I know I can do his job in a heartbeat based on our discussion.

When we get off the Cleveland exit I pull over for gas. He has to use the bathroom again but I put my hand out for his wallet.

“Wallet, PIN number?” I ask.

“0394.” He gives it to me without hesitating but it’s the same PIN he’s been using since college.

I fill the tank and jump back in, tucking his wallet in my back pocket where he keeps it.

We make excellent time, getting there at 11:00 am. He grabs his suitcase from the trunk and we head in. The receptionist just stares at us.

“I’m Marcus Thomas, checking in.” He walks up to the receptionist.

“Yes Mr. Thomas, we’re expecting you. Welcome to St. Joseph Clinic, please fill out these forms. We need to check your bags for any substances. Also we discourage any valuables as things tend to go missing or are used to bribe staff.” A bright energetic nurse greets us.

He looks at me and shrugs his shoulders.

“Here, take these, put them in my car.” He removes his watch and ring, and I put them in my pocket.

“I have your wallet.” I pull it out of my pocket.

“You won’t need a penny here Mr. Thomas. In fact we keep your wallet and money locked up to discourage any sorts of bribes. I just need to verify your ID.” The nurse says.

I open his wallet and hand her his ID. She hands it back to me and Marcus waves it away for me to keep it. They have Marcus fill out some forms and he puts me down as emergency contact person. Security rummages through his bag, pulling everything out and even checking the lining. While he is signing things, I take out my phone and sneak pics of his hair, making sure to zoom in on all sides.

“Okay Michael, thanks for the ride. Take care of my baby. Everything for Monday morning is in my briefcase. Cya soon.” A large male nurse grabs his luggage and escorts him to his room.

Heading Home?

Walking out to the BMW, I reach in my pocket and feel my brother’s watch and ring, then feel his wallet in my back pocket. In the car, I flip down the vanity mirror and start playing with my hair again, then adjust it down to admire my outfit. It would be the ultimate deception to step into his life like I did in college—fucking Chad, doing his job, fooling his friends and spending his money. All his personal belongings are in my possession. Marcus even said so himself “You just need a decent haircut, some hair creme and shave.”

I grab his phone and the facial recognition opens it right up for ‘Marcus’. His entire life is in my fingertips. I scroll through his calendar, texts, email and social media. His schedule is full of meetings and appointments, including the Ballis Automotive presentation coming up on Friday. Twitter and Facebook are filled with political rants and chats with friends. Instagram is full of pics of his recent work promotion celebrations. There are videos of him suited up, celebrating in a conference room yesterday, and more at some bar late last night wearing this exact outfit. No wonder he looked like crap this morning. I respond to some of the comments with various emojis as Marcus would, knowing his twisted sense of humor.

After 10 minutes of sitting in the parking lot, I start driving back—straight to Chicago. I haven’t been to his place in almost three years after he moved in and wanted to show it off. His GPS has his home address set for me. It’ll be fun to step into his life for a few months and assume his identity. He’ll be pissed but it’s an opportunity I can’t pass up. I’ll frame it as saving his career when he finds out months from now.

A few miles down the road I spot a ‘Great Clips’ hair salon in a strip mall and pull in without hesitating. They’re not busy and get me in right away. Using the pics from my phone, I ask for the same haircut. A young girl cuts my hair, shaves me, adds creme to my hair, and completely transforms me into Marcus. I stare in the mirror, grin then casually rake my hand through my hair per my brother’s habit. I feel my clean shaven face and the back of my neck. It’s perfect and I tip her heavily from my new wallet. I pull on my new Coach jacket and check myself out in the bathroom before leaving the salon. From my pockets, I pull out my brother’s ring and watch and put them on. I look exactly like Marcus did when he walked into my house earlier today.

Back in ‘my’ BMW, I take my old wallet and phone, and lock them in the center console. I’ll use my driver’s license if I get pulled over. I slip on the sunglasses my brother wore then glance in the vanity mirror seeing Marcus Thomas, vice president at Coleman Marketing. “Marcus Thomas, nice to meet you.” I say to my new reflection.

I’m doing this—taking over Marcus’ life for a while. It’s payback for him fucking my boyfriends growing up, behind my back without me knowing. I grin in my mirror, then check my Tag watch. It’s 12:30 and my Nav system says I’ll be home in Chicago by 5:30 pm.

During the long ride home, ‘my’ buddy Jason calls—It’s show time.

“Hey buddy, where you at? I stopped by your place and you weren’t there? Thought after last night you’d still be passed out?” He harasses me.

“Sorry, didn’t I mention I had to go see my brother in Ann Arbor?”

“Hell, you never even mentioned you had a brother. Hopefully he’s better looking than you and can hold his liquor.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m definitely the better looking one but he controls his drinking better. We’re not that close but he’s having an engagement party tonight and wanted to see him.” I laugh and play Marcus perfectly.

“So I’m guessing no Sidetracks tonight or golf tomorrow?”

“No, sorry, won’t be home til tomorrow night.”

“Any word on your Merit membership?”

“Nothing yet.” Not sure what he’s talking about, will check into it.

“Okay, don’t forget next Saturday, for sure at Harborside.”

“Didn’t forget, its in my calendar.”

“I need to run here. See you at work bright and early Monday Mr. Vice President.” He chuckles and hangs up.

That went extremely well. I’d love to go out tonight but I need time to learn about my new life. I open up my Facebook while driving, look up Jason and recognize him from my party pics last night. There’s pics of 'us' doing shots, looking wasted. He’s a good friend and didn’t suspect a thing. Five minutes later ‘my’ boyfriend Chad calls. I’m a little nervous but answer it, thinking to myself ‘you’re Marcus Thomas’. My new boyfriend has no reason to doubt my identity.

“Chad, how you doing?

“You sound good after last night.”

“Yeah, good sleep. How you feeling?”

“Great, just got back from picking up sister, then lunch at Brewser's, getting her settled in. You up for meeting her tonight?”

“Oh, I’m in Ann Arbor, my brother has a surprise for me, having a little party.”

“You never mentioned a brother.”

“Yeah, we’re not that close. I’m betting he knocked up his girlfriend and is getting married.” I chuckle.

“Oh great, that should be fun. When you getting back?”

“Late tomorrow I’m thinking.”

“Oh, you’re gonna miss my sister.”

“I’m sorry, this came up a few hours ago with no warning, so here I am cruising to Michigan.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll survive driving the Bimmer, just don’t get a speeding ticket. I’m sorry about last night but I had too much to drink and wasn’t feeling good.” Chad chuckles.

“Don’t worry about it, it happens.”

“I’ll make it up to you Monday babe.” He promises.

“I’m holding you to it.”

“You better hold ‘it’ to me.” Getting suggestive and laughing at his joke.

Chad goes on and on about his sister, her abusive husband and all the drama in her life. I give him my sympathetic ear while he does most of the talking. He doesn’t notice anything different about his boyfriend. I like the sound of his masculine voice which matches his rugged scruff image on my Instagram. I can’t wait to get him into bed but I need some ‘Marcus’ time to learn about my new life.

I drive the rest of the way back to his condo without pulling over. It’s a long ride but the BMW M8 is one sweet machine and makes it pass quickly. Marcus has great tastes in automobile. I’ve never driven a car like this. According to my brother, it has 600 hp and it feels like it. I’m cruising 80 mph but feel like I’m doing only 40 mph. I admire my new car, outfit, ring and watch as I’m flying ‘home’.

Making Myself at Home

The hardest part was finding his assigned parking space after pulling into the garage. This causes me to drive around in circles. I stroll in carrying my brother’s briefcase and find the elevator. Finding my new condo is easy because of my visit a few years ago—Marcus bragged about being just below the Penthouse on the 78th floor. Tucked in my wallet is my access card that gets me into my new home.

I’m immediately in awe of ‘my’ place. It looks like something from ‘Architectural Digest’ magazine. The living room, kitchen and dining room have unobstructed corner view of Lake Michigan. The view is stunning, eliminating the need for any art or focal points in the living room. I take off my jacket, toss it on the sofa, grab a beer and make myself at home. There’s a dividing wall between the kitchen/dining room and the living room with a huge flat screen TV and see-thru open fireplace underneath it. All the furniture is clean, square and contemporary. On the built-in wall unit are pics of mom and dad and other friends but only one of us taken at Halloween where we look nothing alike. A lot of his personal items, like artwork, pictures and music collection reflect both our lives and tastes. There are pics of me but anyone who’d see them would just assume it’s Marcus.

The bedroom is large with a huge master bath and two connected closets full of my new wardrobe. The closets are his and her but he has them set up for work and casual. On the wall in between the two closets is a large built in jewelry chest containing a Rolex, a few Omegas and Tags, and an Apple Watch on a charging stand next to it. There’s also a nice selection of cufflinks, bracelets and other miscellaneous items. Underneath the shelf are drawers full of underwear, jocks and socks. On the wall behind the jewelry box is a safe that opens up after trying a few variations of his social security number. Inside is a gun, cash, passport and his birth certificate.

In my new bedroom, the suit Marcus wore to work and celebrated in yesterday is laying on a leather chaise lounge with his untied shoes nearby on the floor. I pick up the suit coat and try it on—a perfect fit as would be expected. Everything he wore, that defined him yesterday is there to transform me into him. A devious thought crosses my mind—heading out to the 95th for a bite and getting familiar with my work place, in his work outfit from yesterday. I rush to the bathroom to freshen up and check out ‘my’ toiletries. A little bit of hair creme, brushing my teeth, a quick dab of deodorant, a spray of cologne and I’m the epitome of my brother.

Back in my bedroom, I quickly strip out of my brother’s bar clothes and start pulling on his black Tom Ford suit. His cuffed pants still have his belt in as I pull them on. His white dress shirt with monogramming have the cufflinks still in place. It’s tapered and hugs my body as I tuck it into my pants. His black cap toe shoes are still tied and broken in, for me to wiggle into. In the mirror I perfectly knot his silver textured tie as our father taught us when we were 14. Pulling on his suit coat completes my transformation and in the mirror staring back is Marcus as he was at work celebrating his promotion.

It’s 8pm and I’m starving and decide to stop by ‘my office, then grab a bite at the 95th since my brother is a regular. ‘My’ office is on the 19th floor, so that’s my first stop since it is necessary for starting my new job on Monday. In the mirror I check my hair, and tuck my wallet, iPhone and keys in my pockets.

At his office, finding his parking spot is just as tricky as at the condo, taking me 10 minutes to locate. My RF card operates the elevator, taking me to the 19th floor, where I easily find my office a few doors down from Robert Coleman’s corner office. The view isn’t nearly as spectacular as my condo but it’ll do for a work space. I spend an hour sitting at the desk, exploring drawers and files, and learning the layout so I’m up to speed first thing Monday morning. I didn’t think to bring my computer or I would have stayed longer.

Learning my way around this building is complicated—figuring what elevator gets me where. I have to take the business elevator to a public lobby and take the express elevator up to the 95th. The hostess recognizes ‘Mr. Thomas’ and asks if I’m meeting anyone. I just tell her I’m grabbing a drink at the bar and she leads me to the bar where ‘Tony’ also knows me and hands me a Gin and Tonic without asking.

“Thanks Tony. Busy Night?”

“Not really. Jimmy said last night was insane. You hungry?”

“Yeah it was busy. I’m starving.”

“The usual?”

“Yeah, that’ll do.” I have no clue what I’m getting but I’ll eat anything.

I then head to the men’s room, taking my time to learn the layout as Marcus would know. Based on ‘my’ Instagram account, I’ll be spending many happy hours here in the coming months. There’s a steak tenderloin sandwich waiting at the bar for me when I get back. Tony rambles on and on about my brother and his friends, talking about Jason striking out with the redhead from J.P. Morgan last night he heard about from Jimmy. We’re quite the regulars here and I’m glad I stopped.

I get home after 11pm, exhausted from driving all day. Just like Marcus, I climb naked into his messy, unmade bed and pass right out. The first thing I do after waking up is jump in the shower, using his body wash, shampoo and conditioner. I don’t hesitate to use his electric toothbrush, deodorant or other personal items as my own. The final touch is using my brothers hair creme and styling it as he would. I grin and say to myself “Good morning Marcus.”

Standing in ‘my’ bedroom, I go to the closets and slowly finger all of my new clothes. I pull open doors and drawers and familiarize myself with the contents. I pick up a sweater from the top of the closet and can smell the scent of the real Marcus Thomas. I start to think of my new identity and of the months ahead of living here and wearing all these clothes - ‘Marcus Thomas’ clothes. Silently I think, “you know what they say about clothes making the man!"

I walk around taking it all in, noting how it’s organized. From his drawers, I pull on a pair of his black Under Armour briefs. From the casual closet, I grab a pair of tan Polo chinos and a baby blue cashmere v-neck sweater I recognize from his instagram. His Cole Haas chukka boots and matching belt from yesterday go great with my Sunday outfit. A gold Omega watch and his black/titanium ring complete my very Marcus look. I’m the embodiment of my brother. Once dressed, I go through my work closet and explore.

His work suits are at one end, organized by color. I scan them, pull them apart to inspect and try on a few. They’re all very high-end Tom Ford, Brooks Brothers, Brioni or Hugo Boss and the fit is impeccable as to be expected. These are easily $5000 suits, compared to my $300 ‘Men’s Wearhouse’ specials. Next to his suits are dress shirts in all colors and styles, many of them custom with monogramming. His ties, belts, and shoes are concealed in the wall via very unique organizers that rolls out from the wall. These pull out organizers separate his outerwear like topcoats, trench coats from his dress shirts and suits. There’s one empty ‘Coach’ hanger that must be for my leather jacket that I wore yesterday.

Back in my bedroom, I pick up my clothes from yesterday and toss in the hamper, except my old pair of Calvin Klein underwear—they end up buried deep in the kitchen garbage can. There can be nothing to reveal my real identity, no connection to my brother Michael.

The kitchen is contemporary with high-end cabinets and appliances—sleek stainless steel, beautiful teak wood cabinets and marble countertops. Breakfast is K-cup coffee and a power bar. On the counter is a note from a Trudy, informing ‘me’ that she’ll begin thorough cleaning on Tuesday. So I have a housekeeper, of course I do. During breakfast, I familiarize myself with the kitchen, learning where things are, what’s in his fridge and cupboards.

I take my breakfast to his office and his home computer wakes up with no password, showing me bookmarks for his banking, retirement and other accounts. His Wells Fargo checking account has $50,000 in it and his spending is very revealing. The account reveals a $15,000 check that paid for his lawyer, a $5000 check went for his DUI fine, another $40,000 check for St Joseph rehab. Keeping his DUI secret wasn’t cheap but it didn't dent his finances at all. There’s a $1012 charge from Coach Chicago, and in ‘my’ emails is the receipt dated a few weeks ago. His checking account reveals his dry cleaner, ‘lovely home’ cleaning service and all his spending habits. I’m definitely going shopping today on the Magnificent Mile or ‘Mag Mile’ as we locals call it.

His $24,000/monthly deposits from Coleman provide a great lifestyle but there’s numerous deposits from ‘Cayman National Bank’ of $100,000 going back years. Something doesn’t look right—there’s a lot of money moving around. A Fidelity account reveals diverse investments worth $3m. There’s also a J.P. Morgan account for his Palladium VISA that ‘I’ used to buy my new BMW weeks ago. I don’t have a thing to worry about financially as Marcus.

I open up his work laptop and easily log in as him. There’s a few new emails to review, then I spend hours reading through his old ones, getting up to speed with Ballis and other key customers. Thanks to his email history, it’s easy to respond to a few new emails as he would. On his desktop are all the files he mentioned, that’ll help me to learn his work issues. The Ballis presentation looks to be complete, ready for me to give on Friday but it looks boring. Some things seem odd or missing—I’ll have to look at that later.

My First Performance

It’s now lunch, I’m hungry and grab my new leather jacket to go out shopping. With my phone, wallet and keys in place, I head down to my car to start my first day. My first stop is the Burberry flagship store where I buy a tan classic trench coat that I didn’t find in my closet. I’ve always loved that classic look but they’re $2700—a little steep for my brother Michael but not me. Across the street is the Under Armour store that I shop at monthly and just have to check out. Half an hour later, I’m leaving with new underwear and some workout gear. I walk into the Coach store and I’m immediately accosted by the salesperson who sold ‘me’ the leather jacket I’m wearing. To make his day, I purchase a black hooded leather jacket that catches my eye for $1200. As I’m loading everything into my BMW, the phone rings and I don’t hesitate to answer it.

“Hey Liam.” I love caller ID. I’m able to answer like I’ve known him for years.

“Hey Marcus, what are you doing?”

“Was out shopping, looking to grab lunch now and need to work later.” Reminding myself that I need more time in the office before my first day on the job.

“Where you at, I’ll join you.” He offers.

“On the Mile near Burberry.” I respond eagerly but think of the test of fooling ‘Liam’.

“Great, meet me at Capital Grill in 30 minutes.”

“Sounds like a plan.” My brother’s usual lingo, or it use to be.

Capital Grill is a few minutes away, giving me plenty of time to dig up information on Liam. Based on text messages and emails, he is gorgeous with short brown hair, an amazing six pack, blue eyes, stubble and is definitely a love interest. It looks like my brother and him were hot and heavy during the summer, with trips to Saugatuck and Holland Michigan on weekends. According to recent emails, he moved to Detroit for a big promotion with Bank of America. ‘My’ Instagram is full of beach parties, bonfires and drinking on a beach. My phone is even better with pics of him naked in my bedroom. Nice one bro!

I’m sure I’ll fool him easily. He shows up 30 minutes later with a big wet kiss for me. I’m instantly hard seeing him and from passionately kissing a hot stranger. During lunch he’s teasing my legs with his toes and reaching across with his hands, touching mine.

“How’s Detroit treating you?” I start with what I know.

“I hate it! It’s dirty, the bars suck and no there’s no shopping like here.” He teases my legs constantly.

“It’s a big change I’m sure.” I can’t help but stare into his blue eyes.

“Are you seeing anyone?” He probes.

“Not really, a few dates, you? Been busy with work and my promotion.”

“We need to celebrate that, I saw your Instagram posts and would have come home a few days earlier had I known.” He has his foot in my crotch, feeling my hard-on with his toes.

“We could celebrate privately now back at my place.” I smile and take his hand.

He grabs mine, pulls me up and we head back to ‘my’ place. Once inside, I press him against the wall, ram my tongue down his throat then drag him back to my bedroom and rip off his clothes. I push him on the bed.

“Fuck man, your horny Marcus.” He reaches into the drawer, easily finds a condom and pulls me into the bed. In seconds I’m on my back, the condom is slipped on and he’s straddling me, riding my throbbing cock.

“Oh my god Liam.” I scream out in ecstasy and explode in him.

It was a great afternoon, especially when he screams out “Fuckkk Marcus” and I pump him full of cum.

“Man, you’re incredible as always.” He cries out exhausted.

“It feels like it’s been years, I’ve missed you so much. You’re so hot.” I collapse back with my hands behind my head, totally thrilled with my performance as Marcus.

“You’re one horny fucker, it must have been a while for you. You seem different, more relaxed, laid back?” He shocks me, then giggles and I join in.

“That was months of missing you.” I kiss him deeply and get hard again.

He takes my stiff throbbing member in his mouth without asking, getting me off again in seconds. Fuck, my brother really should keep this one—he’s hot, smart, funny and great in bed. Men like that are tough to find. We shower, scrubbing each other and making out. I’m grinning in the mirror, seeing Liam walking up behind me with a look in his eyes. He hasn’t notice anything different about ‘Marcus’.

“You look handsome as ever, babe,” he says, reaching his arm around and grabbing my stiff penis. “You sure you have to go to work?”

“Sorry but tomorrow is my first day as Vice President, I have a lot of prepping to do. When do you leave?” I turn around and kiss him gently.

“Wednesday morning, let’s do this again Tuesday night. I have a business dinner tomorrow.” He whispers in my ear.

“It’s a date.”

He pulls off the towel from around my waist, wraps his arms around my neck and starts deeply kissing me. I brace myself against the counter and pull him tight cupping his ass in my hands. Minutes later, he dresses and says goodbye with a peck on the cheek. I grab my iPhone and duplicate a pic that’s in my camera of ‘me’ from a few weeks ago, with only a white towel around my waste. My build and six pack appears to be identical to my brother’s. I grin knowing my new identity is perfect. I’m dressing in front of the mirror, thinking of the best sex I’ve had in years. It’s incredible being Marcus with all the benefits—hot men, great wardrobe and incredible condo. It’s off to work here though. I need to be up to speed tomorrow. I need to know exactly what I’m doing.

No one is in the office on a Sunday afternoon and I have the whole place to myself to explore. My office is very impressive, very high-tech looking with a great view. There lots of plants, large conference table, hidden closet and great desk with two large monitors that automatically sync to my laptop when I open it. I’m there for hours logged into the system learning the layout, looking up files/people and my dashboard. By the end of the night, I’m responding to emails as Marcus would and planning my week. As I’m leaving, I glance my image in the window and smile as satisfaction sweeps over me. I’m ready for my first day as vice president.

Work Day One

I get to bed at 11 pm but I’m up after midnight studying the social media of fellow employees. I drift in and out of sleep all night long. The excitement of being Marcus Thomas has me up at 5 am planning my day—my 1st team meeting to review projects at 9 am, lunch with MedTech CMO and Ballis review at 3 pm.

I crawl out of bed a little apprehensive about pulling off this charade. Then I remind myself how easily I passed for my brother with Liam, his coworker Jason and his lawyer. Since no one knows about Michael, there’s no reason for anyone to suspect I’m not Marcus. A long shower calms me down and using Marcus’s body wash gives me his base scent. All his personal hygiene items, including his Polo cologne which he’s been wearing since college are on his counter. I’m not a big fan of hair wax and creme but Marcus is. I put a dab in my hand, warm it up in my palms and work it through my hair. Running his comb through it, gives me his flawless style, identical to the photos in my phone. I use his electric toothbrush, spritz on some Polo, lift up my arm and make a few passes with his deodorant. My brother’s scent is now mine.

Marcus has alway been anal with his appearance and style—planning and laying everything out before dressing so I adopt the same habit. I’ve reviewed his Instagram and photos looking for some guidance on what he likes to wear. They’re a wealth of information on his tastes. His charcoal glen plaid Tom Ford suit catches my eye and looked great on him a few weeks ago. I pair it with a white french cuff, spread collar shirt, purple textured tie and white silk pocket square. The Tag is fine for weekends and casual days but knowing my pretentious brother, I’m certain Marcus would wear either the Omega or Rolex watch for work. I select his white gold Rolex and a pair of matching cufflinks. His black cap toe Allen Edmond shoes finish Marcus’ outfit for the day.

In front of the closet mirror, I pull on his, no, my socks, underwear and t-shirt, then cuffed pants and custom shirt. His cufflinks and tie are next. His Allen Edmonds are luxurious and broken in for me. The way everything fits, it's clear we're still the same size. Finally I pull on the suit coat, add watch and ring, then tuck phone and wallet into my suit pockets. I’m watching my transformation in the mirror, pleased with every detail that confirms I’m Marcus Thomas, new vice president of marketing for Coleman.

It’s hard to believe how completely different ‘my’ life is now–looking in the mirror, my reflection isn’t my own any more, I’m Marcus Thomas. I reach up and rake my hand through my thick hair. I love being Marcus—his style, his money and sex life so far are great. I straighten and adjust the knot of my tie with a smirk. “I’m Marcus Thomas,” I say to myself as my new reality is settling in.

I drive to work even though I could easily walk but there’s emails from HR about my new assigned parking space. Knowing Marcus, I’m certain he’d be driving everyday to show off the BMW M8, even with his DUI issue. This version of him will do the same but in case I’m pulled over, my original wallet is locked in the BMW console. I find my new parking spot, shut off the engine and mentally prepare myself. “I’m Marcus Thomas, vice president at Coleman” I repeat to myself many times.

I pull out my new coach wallet and work ID with RF chip, then I notice ‘my’ driver’s license. It’s the one detail I need to assume Marcus’ life in Illinois—his driver’s license. Marcus’ drivers license is suspended and if I use it for a traffic stop, I’ll be in jail. I can’t call his lawyer to fix it and they probably wouldn’t restore it until rehab is complete and he’s free. Then the perfect solution hits me—first, I’ll change my name in Michigan from Michael to Marcus then ‘move’ to Illinois using my new name and Marcus’ address. I’ll have a valid ‘Marcus Robert Thomas’ driver’s license that’s perfect with a clean driving record.

A quick check of myself in the vanity mirror reflects Marcus back at me, looking very sharp as usual. I get out and stroll in with my briefcase ready for my new position. People are greeting me, congratulating me and asking about my weekend. Everyone knows about my party Friday night at McGee’s. I need to thank my team member, Richard Zeppa for that tidbit of information I was lacking.

I hang up my new trench coat but leave on my suit, not sure what the dress code is for upper management. On Friday everyone was in a suit jacket during the office party for my promotion. At the coffee machine, the office gossip, politics and small talk comes easy. It teaches me a lot about the company, helping me fit in. Back in my office the day begins with email and prepping for my 9:30 am review with my team. Marcus was kind enough to do the prep work for me, outlining all the issues and his concerns. It’ll be like he’s actually there. Come to think of it, he is here and I’ve got to think of myself as my brother completely.

Jason shows up at my office looking even better in person. He walks in, shuts the door and jumps into one of my chairs. Too bad he’s not gay or I’d be all over my new best friend.

“Look at you Mr. Vice President, all professional looking and in early. New tie? You look rested and ready to go.” He notices.

“First impressions are important, especially with a new team to impress. Nah, I’ve had this tie, just wanted something that pops.” I notice he’s keeping his suit on.

“How was your weekend, when did you get back?” He asks and I’m ready.

“It was good, I met my brother’s fiancee, drank too much, a lot of family was there and pressure is now on me to tie the knot. I got home about 10 pm and crashed. What did you do?” I explain.

“You tie the knot? You can barely tie your shoes.” He mocks and laughs at me. “Crashed all day Saturday, went out with Christine to some comedy club, sex and golf with Ted and Will yesterday.”

There’s a knock on my door and I recognize Adam Trappe, Coleman’s President. Jason jumps up from chair and welcomes ‘Adam’ into my office.

“Adam, Come on in, we’re just catching up.”

Adam comes right in, I stand up as a sign of respect. “Marcus, Ready for your first day?”

“Sure, anxious to tear into the job.” I smile as he has no clue this really is my ‘first’ day.

“Don’t forget lunch with Andy Kramer from Medtech. We need to tag team him on his spend.” Adam reminds me.`

“Adam, with the proposal I have planned, he’ll be begging to give us more money and buying us lunch. I promise.” Doing my best impersonation of my arrogant brother, having memorized his talking points for lunch today.

Adams smiles. “I’ll drive, just stop by my office about 11:30. Kristi made reservations at Gracy’s.”

Jason and Adam leave and I review ‘my’ notes for my first team meeting. Apparently, Marcus’s rehab stint was a last minute event because he has the next few weeks planned out and prepped for. Everything is right at my fingertips to be him.

The whole day was easier than I expected. For the project reviews, it was new for all everyone so I followed my standard practice and raised Marcus’ concerns from his notes. Lunch was a huge success as Kramer loved my proposal and agreed to increase his marketing budget. Adam’s only complaint was him having to pick up lunch for us. I spend the rest of the day with my new team in and out of my office, and catching up with a flood of emails. Overall, It was an incredible day.

Jason stops by my office for happy hour and a few of us head up to the 95th. The view of the city from up there is amazing but I try to ignore it since it would be familiar to Marcus. Jimmy automatically hands me ‘my’ usual Gin & Tonic. We’re there for a few hours, drinking and having appetizers. Unlike my brother, I know when to stop which Jason notices.

“You’re different Marcus, something wrong? You’re not drinking.”

“Rough weekend thanks to Friday night and you, then driving to Ann Arbor. Then starting new position today.”

“So why aren’t you drinking?”

“Because of Friday night and you.”

He laughs at me. “Did you invite your boyfriend? Chad just came in with ‘Alex’ and is heading this way.”

Shit, Marcus mentioned Chad and something about the accident. I open up my phone and run to the bathroom quick. “I’ll be right back, beer is kicking in.”

“What beer?” He gets cocky with his best friend.

In the bathroom I quickly review text messages from him, trying to piece together their relationship. The early text messages are about partying and clubbing at some trendy spots. Later messages are about sex, going out for dinner and hanging out. I’ll just have to wing it, can’t hide in the stall all night. I splash cold water on my face, stare in the mirror and think to myself ‘you’re Marcus Thomas, just look at you’. After straightening my tie and running my hand through my hair, I head back to the bar. One thing is certain, he’s hot and if he wants to have sex, I’m in. Chad comes over to me with a big hug followed by a tender kiss. I’m hard in a minute like I was with Liam yesterday.

“I knew I’d find you here babe. I’m sorry about Friday night, I just had so much to do Saturday and Sunday with my sister in town.” He pouts.

“Don’t worry about it. I forgot about a family event in Ann Arbor I had to go to.” I lie.

Jason whispers in my ear. “Don’t want to say the marriage word do you?” Then chuckles.

“I’ve missed you.” Chad says while his friend Alex gives me really dirty looks. I’m not sure who he is, if they’re related, friends or what.

“I’ve missed you, can I get you a drink?”

“A vodka cranberry would be great, Alex, do you want something?” He asks his friend.

“Vodka cranberry would do the trick.” He says queerly. I get a very jealous vibe off him.

I head to the bar and pay with my new Amex then return. Alex is hanging up his phone, excited because his boyfriend got home early and is waiting for him. He guzzles his drink and runs, leaving Chad with me and my friends.

I play Marcus’ friends convincingly and no one doubts my identity. I make sure to take lots of selfies with Jason and Chad and post them on my Instagram and Facebook, using clever hashtags and comments. Instead of my usual Ultra beer, I’m drinking Marcus’ gin & tonic and notice that Jason is a Yuengling drinker. In the mirror behind the bar, I glimpse Marcus and his best friend drinking and getting shit face.

I’ve known Marcus my entire life while Chad has known him only a few months. After a few drinks, he’s grabbing my ass and kissing me. I lean in and kiss him deeply back, loving the credibility he gives me as my brother, accepting me so easily, loving it when he calls me Marcus. I want to fuck him so badly. We hurry back to my place and I fuck him in my brother’s bed. As I make my way down his body, I slide his underwear off, then delicately lick his perfect penis. He’s been here before as he has no problem finding my condoms and slipping one on me. I slip into him slowly and push in deeply, making him moan louder and louder. When he calls out ‘Marcus’, I climax immediately and he follows a minute later. I spoon him to sleep with my hands wrapped around his waist.

I wake up to my shower running and him running around the apartment.

“Don’t get up, it’s early and I have a shoot at 6am with Charlie Matthews. He’s gorgeous.” His voice full of excitement.

I grab my phone off the charger and quickly google Charlie Matthews. “Not as hot as what you had last night.”

“Hot and sexy. I had a great time, let’s do this Friday night and we can sleep in Saturday.”

“Let me text you on that, Friday is really busy and I have a golf outing with Jason really early Saturday. I blew him off last weekend, can’t do it again.” I explain.

“Let me know then.” He comes over to the bed and kisses me deeply. I keep my hand on the back of his head and try to keep him from leaving.

I’ve been Marcus for two days and have had sex every day—more than I had in the past six months as Michael. His life is better than expected and I wouldn’t change a thing. I wonder who else I could fuck, or hook up with Liam again since he is still in town. Marcus has been living the good life for sure. I then remember seeing Grinder on my brother’s phone, grab it and start swiping for some possible action for tonight.

Work Day Two

In the shower, I grab my semi-rigid penis, think of my new sex life, rub one out then follow my routine. I’m in love with Marcus’s life—the sex, job, friends, car, and condo. Stepping into his life it has been easier than I ever imagine. I’m really appreciating his closet, especially his suits. When we were growing up, he always had a more ‘put-together’ preppy look, paying attention to details. I was more grunge and laidback. It was the only way our parents could tell us apart. He’s taken his preppy look to the next level. He has a subscription to GQ and collection on his closet shelf going back years. I never knew he was such a metrosexual.

His appearance is easy to duplicate with his complete wardrobe at my finger tips. Thanks to his Instagram, there are years of pics and videos of him during and after work at happy hours. There are pics of him in a light gray window pane suit that catches my eyes. It’s dated a few months ago and it looked great on him. It’s a Hugo Boss suit that I easily find in his closet. All the details except the shoes are easy to find and pull together. As Marcus does, I lay everything out on my bed to perfect.

My second day starts with Jason waiting for me in my office.

“Where were you bro?” He demands.

“What?” I have no clue what he’s referring to.

“Hello? The gym? Did you forget?”

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry man. I hooked up with Chad, was ‘busy’ all night and over slept.” Thinking quick because I had no clue about Marcus working out. I did notice a gym bag on the floor in the closet but didn’t think about it.

“I didn’t see you leaving with him?”

“Because you were busy with Cathy.” I give him one of Marcus’ devious smiles, like he ate the canary.

“All is forgiven oh great one.” He jokes, bows and twirls his hand as a sign of respect.

The rest of my day is easy, getting into account and proposal details, working with my team. Jason is in and out of my office talking about anything and everything—I really like the guy and being his friend. We do lunch together at the Big Pig just across the street. According to my debit account, it’s at least a weekly occurrence if not more. Marcus eats anything so there’s no need to worry what I order. The only questionable choice was me getting a Coke instead of a beer. Jason commented and told him I drank too much again last night. It seemed to quiet him quickly.

As we were finishing up, Liam called about getting together tonight and I don’t hesitate to say yes. I pick him up at his hotel, take him to Ghezzi’s for Italian. I ply him with wine while staying away from it. The wine doesn’t affect his ‘foot work’ in my crotch fortunately and I’m throbbing hard all through dinner. We skip desert and I he ends up with my penis as ‘desert’ and loves it. I’m now three for three with sex so far this week. Liam doesn’t stay so he can catch his early morning flight back to Detroit tomorrow.

Work Day Three

Two days of work have gone fairly smooth. There’s been a few glitches, like Marcus’ gym habit or not knowing things off the top of my head, that have been out of character. There will be more missteps and I’ll just respond the best I can.

To sort out the gym routine with Jason, I start with his gym bag where I find his gear but also his gym ID card and dry cleaning slip in the end pocket. He’s a member of John Hancock Center Fitness, and also uses the Hancock dry cleaner. On my calendar are blocked off areas for ‘gym’ on Tuesday and Thursday morning at 7 am. There are still a lot of blanks I need to fill out so I head to work early for a quick stop at the gym.

I’m greeted by ‘Gina’ the receptionist at the entrance. “Marcus, we missed you yesterday, Jason was looking for you too.”

“Yeah Gina, he tore into me in the office for it.” I laugh.

“What can I do for you?”

“I think I may have lost my ear buds here, did anyone turn a pair in?” I ask.

“Not that I know of but let me check.” She heads into the manager’s office while I head to the men’s locker room to find my locker. There’s a number on my ID card that leads me to my locker and opens it right up for me. Marcus has his complete bathroom duplicated in here—Polo products, toothbrush and extra gear. There’s a clipboard showing a routine that he hasn’t used it in a year per the date but it does give me an outline of his habit.

I grab my earbuds out of my pocket and head back to Gina.

“It looks like you’ve found them.” She notes happily.

“Yeah, left them in my locker like an idiot.” I laugh. “Hey was Jason in today?”

“No but then again, he never comes without you except on Sundays once in a while.”

“Oh you have his attendance history?”

“Sure, going back years to when you both joined.” She turns the monitor around for me to see. Right there is what I needed—Jason and I work out every Tuesday and Thursday like clockwork at 7 am, leave about 8:30 am, grab a coffee at the Starbucks per my spending alerts and head to work.

“Thanks for your help Gina, see you tomorrow.”

“No you won’t, remember Ron is on Thursday.” She corrects me.

“Oh yeah, it feels like Monday for some reason.” A plausible recover.

My gym routine is set for tomorrow morning with my best friend.

After a few days as Marcus, my life is already becoming routine. I’m using ‘I’ll get back to you’ a lot but I do get back to them after I research the issue. This helps with learning the job and customers. No one has questioned my identity but then why would they with my looks.

Late in the day a young kid with a man bun knocks on my door and walks in. I have never seen him before.

“Mr. Thomas, hi, I’m Gavin from IT services. Are you having computer problems?” He asks.

“No, why?” I respond not thinking I have any issues. I’m in the system and seem to have full access.

“Well, we track logins and you haven’t been using your biometric scanner, just your PIN.”

Damn, I did see a fingerprint scanner on the desk and haven’t bother with it even though it blinks when I open up my MacBook. I tried it once then it turned red and rejected me.

“It didn’t work on Sunday so I’ve just been using my PIN. Isn’t that okay?” I explain.

“The PIN should only be used when you’re traveling, working remotely. The fingerprint is much more secure, prevents hackers from gaining access. Mr. Coleman wants his senior staff more protected.” Gavin explains.

“Understood, I just wasn’t worried about it.”

“Shut down and reboot and try it.” He directs.

After it boots up, I try my fingerprint and it beeps red.

“Hmmm, your fingerprint file must be corrupt. We’ll rescan and reconfigure it for you. It happens now and then.” From his bag he pulls out his computer and hand size scanner. He hooks everything up and the scanner glows blue for him.

“Now just place your right hand on it and don’t move till it glows green.”

I’m nervous wondering if this will compare old and new, and alert him to the difference. He removes my hand, then types away at his laptop.

“Okay, now reboot and try any finger.” He orders.

It boots up, I try my index finger and it approves.

“All set Mr. Thomas. Next time it happens, call me right away. Also, we’ll be adding biometric scanners to all the executive offices and lobby entrance in a few weeks. You’re all set for that now.”

“Thanks Gavin, I appreciate the help.” Gavin doesn’t realize how much he’s helped me. I’ve been looking at that scanner all week, wondering how get my fingerprints recognized and afraid of asking for help because of fear I’d be discovered. I’m now Marcus Thomas with security.

I skip happy hour with my friends and head home to prep for tomorrow’s big presentation. On the way I stop at the cleaners and pick up a bundle of laundry, suits, ties and shirts. The elderly woman greets ‘Mr. Thomas’ and thanks me for my business. At home I review my dry cleaning as I hang up everything in my closet. There’s a sharp 3 piece charcoal suit that’s one of my favorites based on Instagram and will be my outfit for tomorrow.

I work in my home office till 9 pm reviewing the Ballis files, meeting notes and account details. Marcus’ Ballis history spans almost 2 years. It’s obvious the quality of his work has vastly improved over those years. There’s a maturity to it now. I pull up the Ballis presentation and practice it for Friday’s meeting. The one difference between myself and Marcus is that I’m the better public speaker. There are a few videos of him giving presentations in his account files and we’re about equal now.

TGIF

I’m awake very early, planning my outfit for today’s big presentation. I’ll be wearing one of my brother’s, I mean one of my favorite outfits—I’m all Tom Ford today. I checked my shopping receipts and found that I purchased a ‘Tom Ford Windsor 3-piece peak lapel suit’ for $7200 a few months ago. That was just for the suit—add $300 for tie, $50 for a pocket square, $600 for a custom dress shirt, $2000 for a pair of English Tan leather shoes, $75 for black underwear, $145 for t-shirts and a stunning $4950 for ‘striped’ cufflinks for a total of $17,000. They must love me at Tom Ford. It takes 30 minutes to find all these items in my closet.

It’s amazing slipping into $75 boxer briefs that hug my ass. I never liked wearing t-shirts but Marcus always does so I pull on a brand new $145 Tom Ford t-shirt. For socks, I find a crazy colorful bright green pair with golf balls on them—for a pop of color. He showed these off on his Tiktok account which I’ve yet to use. I pull on the cuffed pants and add a belt, using the same hole as he has a few times. His custom shirt tapers to my waist. The striped cufflinks are a bit tricky but look like a million dollars. The tie decision is tough but I stick with the gold paisley Tom Ford he wore with this suit before. His tan dress shoes look great but are not yet broken in, but he left them tied so I just wiggle into them. I’ve never worn a 3-piece suit in my life but the vest adds an image of authority as it goes on. I remove the suit jacket and confidently pull it on, adjusting the cuffs and tie in the mirror. ‘My’ Rolex and ring complete my transformation into Marcus Robert Thomas.

In the mirror is Marcus Thomas, vice president at Coleman Marketing, running his hand through his hair, checking every detail of his appearance. My new Burberry tops off my identity.

Friday cements my new identity. The Ballis presentation is flawless and after 5 hours, their marketing team awards Coleman a huge contract worth $5m. My biggest challenge was quickly learning the names of the key players since my brother had a number of meetings with them. Robert Coleman congratulated me at happy hour on the 95th. He pulls me aside and says. “keep doing this and you won’t be VP for long.”

Jason, who wasn’t in the meeting, comes up to me and I have Mark take a pic. “Marcus, you’re the buzz of the entire office, even Adam is praising you.”

“Buddy, Ballis was just ripe for a new marketing direction and it all fell into place.”

“Well, it was your best work according to everyone in the room.” He adds.

“Robert quietly told me I wouldn’t be VP for long, so he’s either firing me or promoting me.” I smile while Jason jumps up and down hugging me.

“You better not be stealing my boyfriend.” Chad shows up, puts his hand around my neck and pulls me in for deep kiss.

“Babe, you’re late.” I note.

“Yeah, last minute phone call with California. I’ll make it up to you later.” He smiles.

Jason chimes in.”don’t keep him up all night, we’re playing Harborside bright and early.”

“I didn’t forget.” I assure him.

After Chad discretely reaches in my pocket and fondles my cock., we excuse ourselves, grab dinner and head back to my place. We fuck all night long, including in my shower, early the next morning. As soon as Chad leaves, Jason calls to make sure I’m up.

He offers to pick me up and drive. I’m grateful since I’m clueless how to get to Harborside. Marcus’ golf clothes are in the casual part of my closet and his clubs are in one of my spare bedrooms along with his other toys. Marcus was always a better golfer than me and I haven’t played in years. Again, I use instagram to select a typical Marcus outfit—Under Armour shorts and shirt, Adidas cleats and his leggings since it’s chilly outside. He has a great set of Callaway clubs and bag but it doesn’t help. Jason points out that I suck more than usual but I blame it on not sleeping last night and not playing in weeks.

The best part of the day is Jason driving me back to his place to help him move some furniture. I now know where my best friend lives. We hang out for hours, watch some college football, and drink too much beer the rest of the afternoon. That night we hit up “Sides” and I get wasted for the first time in 7 years. My new friends are great and clueless they have a new friend.

Sunday is set aside as a ‘me’ day to celebrate my first incredible week living my brother’s life. I dress in my usual Polo Chino, a sweater and my favorite leather jacket. For breakfast I take the M8 north along Lake Michigan and find a little diner to eat then head back to the city to shop. Even though I mock the ‘Mag Mile’, there’s no better place to shop and that’s my plan. My net worth is north of $5 million now and I’m going to spend some of it. At the Polo store I’m recognized, kissed up to and end up spending $2500 for sport coat, pants and casual shirt. At the Rolex Boutique I spend $13,000 on Rolex Daytona, putting it on my Platinum VISA. The serious damage is done at Tom Ford where I spend $20,000 on a few new suits, suspenders, shoes and ties. One is a double breasted, the other is a 3-piece suit and I haven’t seen anything like them in my closet. Everything I purchase reflects Marcus’ style and tastes, not Michael’s.

Back home, it takes two trips to unload the car. Chad comes over for dinner and spends the night. He’s shocked to learn I can cook but I keep it simple with some steaks on the grill, potatoes and salad. He’s up early to go to work and I decline an invitation to join him so I can sleep in. I really enjoy spending time with him, especially the sex.

The next week flies by like the first with long hours, working out and happy hours with Jason and friends. Robert has given me the AMP account to conquer next, bypassing Adam. My love life is insane. Chad fucked me in the bathroom on the 95th, Liam wants me to spend a weekend with him in Detroit. Merit approved my application for membership so Jason and I will be taking the AMP management team there for a round before the season end.

I can’t believe how easy it’s been stepping into Marcus’ life and how much I’m enjoying it. His routine is now my routine—whether it’s working out, or happy hour or work. I’ve replaced him and no one has a clue. When someone says ‘Marcus’, I instinctively respond to ‘my’ name without hesitation. My fear now is losing it back to him and ending up back in Ann Arbor building websites and working for another little company.

Visit Number One

Marcus’ rehab clinic called, letting me know I can visit on Saturday and take him off campus for lunch. I confirm I’ll be there at noon and to let him know. On the way there, I stop by my house and change from his clothes into my typical Levis and t-shirt but keep the leather jacket on. I also wear my Michigan baseball cap to hide my new haircut. Marcus’ clothes are put in a duffle bag and hidden in the trunk to change back into later.

There are a lot of rules to agree to before Marcus is allowed out for the afternoon. He’s limited to a 10 mile area and no alcohol, drugs or cigarettes of any kind. A big male nurse brings him out to me and we jump in the BMW.

“You’re not getting out?” Is the first question I ask.

“Fuck no, I’m stuck here for 90 days at least according to my therapist. My fucking lawyer says it was a last minute change and that he even told me. I was so drunk the last time we talked, that I probably forgot the conversation.”

“Great, I was confused when the clinic called about lunch, figuring they meant taking you home. What about work? They’re expecting you on Monday.”

“I know, I know, I’ll lose everything I’ve worked for with Coleman. I was thinking we could swap places and you stay here but this ankle bracelet doesn’t come off.” He lifts his leg to show me.

“Jesus, you’re under house arrest bro. I could have, would have. I was laid off from my job a few days ago. We were bought out by Tyco months ago and when I refused to move to Philadelphia for them, they laid me off.” He’s not the only good liar in the family.

“So what are you going to do?” Marcus asks.

“Well, I got a 9 months severance, even have some leads on jobs, so I’m in no hurry yet.”

“Bro, this is perfect! Go into work as me, cover for me.” I knew he’d come up with that on his own. Internally I’m smiling but outwardly, I look gravely concerned.

“Oh come on bro, this isn’t college, this would be your life. This would be for months. How do I learn your job by Monday morning?”

“Michael, we’re both marketing majors, you have all my files on my laptop, all you have to do is clean yourself up, put on one of my suits and go in. It’ll be easy, like when we swapped for the summer in college.”

“You’re comparing this to college? We swapped boyfriends for a few months.”

“Yeah, it’ll be easy. I’m starting a new position with a new creative team that barely know me.”

“What about your coworkers, friends, neighbors and boyfriends? Your phone has been going crazy with people calling, offering condolences and wanting to send flowers. I spoke to Liam and Chad a few times, they’re worried about me, I mean you and our dad’s death. That lie traveled really far and fast.” I’m as good of a liar as Marcus.

“Oh, it was probably my buddy Jason, he’s as bad as a woman.” He chuckles.

“So Jason knows you really well, right? As soon as I fuck up, he’ll figure out I’m not you.”

“No, he has no clue I even have a brother, let alone a twin. He’ll have no reason to suspect you’re not me.”

“What about everyone else?”

“I’ll write down everything you need to know about my life. Pull into that Dollar Store and grab a tablet. Do you have my computer with you?”

“No, it’s in my living room along with your phone, wallet and jewelry.” I pull into the store and we grab all that’s needed. I throw everything at him and he starts writing feverishly while I look for a place to eat in this little town. We settle on a Sonny’s BBQ and get a table in the corner away from everyone. I keep my baseball cap on so Marcus doesn’t notice my haircut that actually looks better than his’.

He’s quietly chatting and writing the entire time, only taking time to eat his BBQ ribs and drink some ice tea. He’s drawing floor plans, scribbling names with notes and paragraphs of information.

“Ok, here’s everything you need to know.” Marcus announces proudly and pushes papers towards me. “It’s in groups of work, friends and boyfriends.”

“Great, tell me about my new boyfriends, tricks or ‘friends with benefits’.”

“Ha, Let’s start with the important people, those closest to me.”

“Do you have a little black book I can use?” I beg.

“Focus! Jason is my closest friend, followed by Mark. We do happy hours, work out, work together, golf, road trips, and watch football on weekends.” Marcus gets very serious.

“I need to have a little ‘fun’ bro.” I whine.

“Here’s everything you need to be me with them.” He responds with attitude then passes me sheets labeled ‘Friends/Boyfriends’. He has their names listed, how they met, quirks, habits, hobbies, interests. Then he hands me a ‘Coleman’ sheet.

“For work, Robert Coleman hired me, mentored me and I’m like the son he’s never had. He’s been easing out of the business, letting Adam Trappe assume more responsibility. I’m next in line for Adam’s President position next.”

Marcus has detailed notes for all managers I’ve been interacting with for weeks. This gives me even more information that only the real Marcus would know. I use this to fire off more questions about my new life and the information just flows from him to me.

“What about ‘my’ sex life bro? I need a boyfriend or boytoy. You have to have one based on texts and phone calls I’m trying to respond to. Oh, and the pics in your phone, fuckkkk.” I smile at him.

“No serious boyfriend so you’re safe. Chad, who you’ve talk to is latest. We met at an art showing for our common friend Peter. I fucked him in the back office of the gallery the first night and hook up weekly at least. He’s great in the sack.”

“I looked at his pics on your phone. He looks amazing.”

He goes on about Liam, Jim and Dennis, filling in a lot of blanks. Then he talks about Jason and his straight guy friends. About half the information is not new to me but the rest is great. Marcus fills in a lot of personal history about people, things like how they met, jokes they share, likes/dislikes and habits. A lot of the little things Marcus knows, are now part of my identity and strengthen my identity as Marcus Thomas.

“So how is the Clinic treating you? Making progress?” I ask.

“The last two weeks was me shaking, having withdrawals and night sweats. I would kill for a drink right now. There’s group therapy every day before lunch, then after lunch are the one-on-one sessions. Dinner is at 6pm and the rest of the day is ours. There’s TV and complete library but no phones or internet.”

“What about your lawyer, record and trial? How does that work?” I probe.

“I get a weekly, 10 minute call. He says the 3 months of treatment may be counted as 3 months of jail time but I could still get real jail time of up to 5 years.”

“What about you driving? You’ll have a record.”

“It’s too early to know. I’m hoping I do 3 months here, have limited driving rights and no jail time. He’s also working on getting the arrest record expunged.”

“You have a lot riding on this lawyer, do you want me to contact him?”

“No, but check my mail for any of his bills and pay them. My bank login information is here, but it should be saved on my iMac.”

“What if I’m caught?” Not that I would but just want to play up my concern.

“Are you joking? You won’t be. With all this information and your looks, you’ll pull off my identity easily. Have fun at work Marcus.” He hands over his life to me.

I drop Marcus off but don’t go inside. It’s another 6 hour drive home with a quick stop in Ann Arbor to change into Marcus for another month. The entire drive home my mind is spinning with what just happened. My brother has turned over his life to me and I don’t have to worry about the last two weeks. Once I’ve changed back into my ‘Marcus’ outfit and driving the BMW, I only think of myself as him. I start thinking of work and upcoming projects, working out with Jason and lunch at Merit using my new membership.

The Better Marcus

The Ballis Automotive rebranding campaign kicked off a few weeks ago to rave reviews. Robert storms into my office all excited because we’ve been nominated for a number of Association of National Advertisers B2 awards. Just to be nominated is a huge honor even if you don’t win. The Ballis campaign was nominated for the categories of ‘Web Presence’, ‘Branding’, ‘Employer Branding’ and ‘Product Relaunch’. The B2 award gala will be held at the end of the month, at the Sheraton Grand which is less than a mile from our office.

Marcus may have done the initial work on the overall proposal, but I’m the one who reworked the website and branding portions at the last minute. I’ve always been the more creative one. Robert is convinced this will catapult Coleman to the top for Chicago marketing. When Robert leaves, I look out the window, overlooking Michigan avenue and look at myself in the reflection. A deep sense of accomplishment and satisfaction hits me—I’m a better Marcus for sure.

“Is your head swollen? Will it fit through the door?” Jason comes running into my office after hearing the ANA news.

“No, you better call building maintenance so they can enlarge the door so I can get out.” I turn around, he high fives me and I smack the back of his head for his comment.

“Ouch, you fucker! We’re heading up to 95th.”

“For sure, just give me a few minutes to finish up here. I’ll meet you there.”

I finish up some emails, then think about Marcus getting all the credit for my hard work. He’d have no problem sitting here with the award on the desk, showing it off, bragging while not having a clue what went into it. Thinking of this, just pisses me off. I’m not going to let him do this, he’s been taking things from me our entire life.

Happy hour is insane and even Jason notices I’m back to drinking ‘like a ho’. The whole office is here including Robert and Adam. Robert pulls me, Gary, and Adam aside to let us know that we have a table for the black tie gala, we’re all attending in a few weeks and it’s black tie. It’s a huge celebration for just the simple nominations.

I text Chad and he joins us then drives me back to his place for the night. This helps a lot since, like Jason, I had no clue where he lives. Sex with him is great. I don’t even mind him being a screamer, especially when he’s screaming out ‘Marcus’. Fucking him as Marcus is such a turn on for me, that I usually explode upon hearing my new name. I figured out, based on emails that Marcus dated him for about 6 weeks, and I’ve been at it for 4 weeks. Like everyone else I interact with, he’s clueless to the switch.

Two weeks later ‘team Coleman’, as we’re now calling ourselves, is at the Gala dressed to the nines. I spent about $9,000 at Tom Ford for a new Tuxedo and accessories. There is a Brooks Brothers tuxedo in the back of my closet but wearing it would be out of character for Marcus. It was a brilliant night for Coleman and Ballis, winning ‘Web Presence, Employer Branding and Branding’—all areas that I created, not Marcus. Robert hands me one of the awards and has me talk about the web presence concept. Chad films it for my Instagram. We go back to my place to celebrate with more sex but I leave early for my lunch with my brother tomorrow in Cleveland.

The next morning I spend hours at the DMV getting my new Illinois drivers license. I walk in as Michael Thomas from Ann Arbor, Michigan and walk out as Marcus Thomas of Chicago Illinois. I managed to find the same shirt Marcus used for his license, and wore it for my new pic. Putting both side by side, the only difference is the license number itself. At home I log into all of my accounts, like banking, work, travel and update them with my new drivers license number. My old wallet and my brother’s license are locked in my safe and I change the passcode. The new driver’s license replaces the old one like i’ve replaced Marcus.

I’m shamelessly using ‘my’ Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat and TikTok just like my brother. Whether I’m at happy hour, the gym or out on a date, I’m posting and bragging about my life.

Visit Number Two

Six weeks have passed since my brother went into rehab and I assumed his identity and life. I’m firmly in place as Marcus, acquiring his friends and career—basically his entire life is now mine. I’m a better version of Marcus Thomas. This time I don’t change my clothes or identity to visit him. On purpose, I’m in one of his favorite outfits, that was well documented on his Instagram. I’m there early and he’s waiting in the lobby for me. He jumps up when he sees me.

“Michael, you’re early.” Using a name I haven’t responded to in weeks.

“Come on bro, let’s go, I’m starving.” I sign him out with the front desk.

We jump into the car and head to the Sonny’s again. I bring in my briefcase and computer into restaurant with me, to have him help me with some account information. The hostess looks at us oddly, probably wondering if we’re twins. Marcus looks horrible with an overgrown stubble and long hair while I’m the epitome of Marcus Thomas.

“Wow, don’t you look all spiffy in my clothes.” Marcus stares at me.

“Yeah, I didn’t realize you were such a fashionista but I’m starting to appreciate it. You approve of my outfit?” I adjust my sleeves in my suit coat.

“Ah yeah, because it’s one of my favorite outfits—Hugo Boss, my Omega watch and even my Prada shoes. Why so dressed up?” He notices the details.

“Yeah, I saw it on ‘my’ Instagram and loved it.” I’m wearing his Hugo Boss tan glen plaid suit with wine color dress shirt, and Prada lace up derbies. I duplicated it exactly from his pics on Instagram. “I thought I’d show you how much I look like you with hair done, in one of your outfits you. Don’t worry, I take off the jacket and hang it in the car while driving.”

“Just make yourself at home, in my home and my life.”

“Actually it’s my life Michael. Your friends and coworkers haven’t noticed anything different about me. It’s been really easy being Marcus.” I smile at him, giving him my identity and he doesn’t say a word.

“I can see why. You’re the spitting image of me, even the hair now.” He acknowledges.

“Yeah I had to get a haircut of course. Learning your job, friends and life was challenging but I’m you.”

“What about Chad?” He questions.

“Oh my god, I’ve had more sex as you than I had in the past year. You’re still dating Chad and Liam visited. They’re both incredible in bed.” I grin devilishly at him.”

“You’ve slept with both of them?”

“Yeah, Liam was in town for work, called and we had lunch, then sex but he’s back in Detroit. I’ve been ’dating’ Chad regularly and he’s blast too.”

“Wow you have replaced me. I’m so horny and jealous. They didn’t notice a difference?”

“Only that I was better in bed!” I boast.

“Oh shut the fuck up!”

“So how is it going with rehab? Making progress?” I ask sincerely.

“I would give you a million dollars for a beer right now. I finally started sleeping normally but the cravings don’t end. The other day I had an incident with my doctor when I rejected some pills to calm me down. I threw the bottle in a fit and pills flew across the room. They ended up injecting me with a needle instead and I was out for 12 hours.”

“I never noticed your drinking issue. In college you were no different than anybody else.”

“It happened after college with the job, daily happy hours and binge drinking.”

“I can relate now because Jason wants to do the 95th every night.”

“How is he doing? I miss hanging out with him.” Marcus sadly asks.

“He’s doing great, seeing a girl he met at a football game. He claims she’s the one.”

“Ha, yeah he says that with every new girl. I give it 4 weeks max.” He laughs a little.

“What’s the lawyer saying?” I ask seriously.

“It’s not good.” He’s down again. “He’s trying but not having any luck. He also says I have ‘at least’ three months here, that it could be longer.”

“Jail time?”

“3 to 7 years.” He says soberly.

“Fuck bro! Fuck!!” I was a little loud and some people heard me.

“Yep, I’m fucked for sure. Even 3 years in jail will kill me.”

“I’m sorry bro. I don’t know what to say.” I respond very quietly.

“It’s out of my control, nothing I can do. I just have to hope my lawyer is worth all the money I’m paying him. I don’t want to think about it.” Marcus sighs in defeat. “How is my life, you certainly have my look nailed.”

“The first few weeks were sketchy, learning your job, habits and people who know you. You didn’t mention your gym membership and working out with Jason. He noticed that when I missed our ‘normal’ workout. Then I messed up when I was clueless about Nikomahs Casino, your first major success.”

“But has anyone discovered you, questioned you?”

“Look at me.” I lean back in the chair and run my hand through my hair in a typical Marcus gesture. “If our parents couldn’t tell us apart, do you think your friends can? They don’t even know you have a twin, so why would they think I’m anyone but you?”

“That is amazing but I shouldn’t be surprised, it was alway easy for us to swap.”

“I’m you, living your life and loving it. I’m doing one hell of a job.”

“No glitches or problems with people or issues?”

“Not a single person has questioned my identity but there has been some slip ups on my part. The worst moment was my lack of knowledge about the changes to the Nikomahs casino account over the past 6 years, that ‘I’ personally handle. I was so embarrassed but Robert jumped in and filled in the blanks. Afterwards he pulled me aside and asked what’s wrong, that I was not myself. I pulled the ‘mom isn’t well and I can’t focus. It seemed to work but that night I spent hours in the office reviewing every document and email about it.” I confess but lie.

“You can’t possibly know my career history or little details.”

“That’s why you’re going to fill me in on the details. You’re going to fill in the blanks of your life for me.” I pull out his computer from his briefcase.

“Sure, you’ve got 6 more weeks to cover for me.”

“I have to ask…what if you go to jail? What do I do?”

“I don’t know. Resign my job, sell my condo and put everything in storage? Make up some lie, like I’m starting my own business and moving to London.”

“Throw everything away? What if I keep your identity? Robert loves you like a son, and Jason loves you like a brother. They’d be devastated.” I toss it out there to see his reaction.

He gets pissed at me for saying it, I see his anger. “Then fucking live my life, you’ve always been jealous of me. You can be me! It’s the opportunity you’ve been waiting for.”

“Well, I hate to tell you this but I’m definitely doing a better job of it.” I get cocky back with him.

“Yeah right, your vast experience of job hopping and creating dinky webpages really qualifies you for my job. Looking like me and actually being me, are two different things.”

“Fuck you. I’m crushing it as you. Robert has noticed a positive change in you since I cut back drinking and even Jason has admitted it’s time for us to drink less.” I fire back at him.

“Fuck you, you may be sitting at my desk, doing my job but you’re not me.”

I open up my acceptance speech video from last night and shove his iPhone in his hand. “I’m actually better than you after only one month. Watch the new Marcus Thomas, ANA B2 award winner.”

He’s just watching in silence, mouth open in disbelief. “You accepted my award for Ballis?”

“No, it’s my award for my work. The meeting was delayed and I reworked about 75% of your proposal, which are what the awards were for.” I boast, he has nothing to say after that.

I open my notebook, pull up the Ballis proposal and shove it towards him. He scrolls through the entire thing, totally silent again.

“So you built on top of what I created. If I had more time, I would have done even better.” He proclaims after reviewing the presentation.

“Oh, give me a fucking break. Your proposal put me to sleep the first time I went through it. Gary and Adam loved my new concept and Ballis was onboard before the meeting ended. Coleman never saw that happen. You’re welcome.”

“I’m not thanking you for shit.” People heard that. He’s going thru his social media on ‘my’ iPhone stunned. “You’re living my life.”

“Like my new Tuxedo? It’s Tom Ford. I didn’t want to wear ‘my’ old Brooks Brothers tuxedo I wore for Mark’s wedding.”

“What did that cost me?” He snidely questions.

“Michael, not your concern little bro. I wanted to look my best for my 15 minutes of fame.”

"My 15 minutes of fame!" He barks again.

“Like I said, I’m being you, including your stupid TikTok and Instagram. It’s what you wanted and it’s exhausting being a narcissist, keeping your ‘fans’ happy.” Actually I’m enjoying the attention and comments but I’m not letting him know.

“Your TikToks are great and I can’t tell the difference in our posts and pics.” He calms down.

“Duh! We’re twins, you do realize that? You better hope I just don’t walk away tomorrow from your life. You’ll be screwed career wise. You’ll be designing dinky websites and taking crappy jobs.”

“You’d never do that, my life is so much better than your’s and you know it. You should be thanking me.”

“Try me. I’m the one doing you a huge favor, remember that!” I threaten him.

I’m in charge after that and we spend hours reviewing files and his work history. He doesn’t hesitate to answer any of my questions. After some quick shopping for clothes for him at Dick’s Sporting Goods, I drop him off at the entrance and head home. The long drive home gives me time for reflect on my new life. I'm really enjoying everything about it. After only 6 weeks, I don’t want to give it up.

More Control

I'm living life exactly as Marcus would. The only difference is that I drink half as much as him. I love hanging with Jason and Mark, golfing, playing basketball and working out with them. I've slipped easily into his circle of friends. There's been a few incidences where I didn't quite catch a joke or references but they're usually drunk and don't notice. In Ann Arbor, I had work friends but outside of that I was a loaner, occasionally dating but nothing ever serious.

Other aspects of his life have fallen into place. I keep his appointment for a haircut with Steve at Halo, a hair salon not far from my place. It was a combination wash, haircut, manicure, eyebrow trim and hand job! As I was leaning back over the sink, he’s massaging both my heads at the same time. I’m wasn’t sure how to react but he whispers in my ear that he gets off at 8pm and he’d get me off by midnight if I pick him up. I play it cool as he makes out with me at the same time.

When I leave Halo, I post my shocked looked on Instagram. I pick him up at 8, take him out to eat, then back to my place. This is a regular haircut for my brother since he leads me back to my bedroom, wraps a condom from my drawer on me and rides it all night long. Marcus’ sex life is way better than mine and Steve doesn’t notice a difference just like Chad and Liam. I call Jason to apologize for blowing off Side Tracks but as soon as I say ‘haircut’, he calls me a slut and tells me how jealous he is. I’m grateful to Steve for the sex and for tidying up grooming details like my eyebrows and cuticles.

I'm officially 'exclusive' with Chad but having too much fun with all this new attention. I’ve scheduled a trip to Detroit for a weekend with Liam. What can I say? He’s tight, fun and just my type. Chad thinks I'm going to a marketing conference in Detroit. Chad is great eye candy for my management to see me with and he’s as fun as Liam in bed. He’s been dating me longer than he did my brother but I don't see much of a future with him. Chad adds credibility to me as Marcus and I still explode when he screams out 'Marcus' as I ram his tight hole. The sex is awesome.

My job is going so well. I believe, no, I know I'm being groomed to be president, taking over Adam's spot. At least once a week, I do lunch with Adam and Robert where we talk about the future of Coleman and of Robert stepping back. They've both notice a change for the better in me, saying I'm more focused, more of a leader and creative.

Financially, I'm spending more than Marcus normally would but I did need a new tuxedo for the ANA, and joining the Merit Club wasn't cheap but it is a legit business expense for my taxes. I met with my Fidelity advisor, Andrew Gingerich, which is something Marcus never did in person, and never took an interest in his money. Good old Marcus, as usual, he only cared that he was making money. My advisor was happy to meet with me and help with diversifying my portfolio. In just the last month, my costs have dropped while my returns have increased significantly.

One thing no one at Coleman noticed about the old Marcus is his embezzling of corporate funds over the years. We're talking about $500,000 per year that magically moved from marketing to his own personal Fidelity checking account via a Cayman account. No wonder his could just plop down $120,000 for his new BMW and $30,000 for his Merit Club membership. My brother would have eventually been caught and really ended up in jail. It took a while to unravel the money trail but then I returned it to Coleman, making sure it looks like a simple accounting error. My net worth has dropped by about $2m but more importantly, I have leverage over my brother.

Visit Number Three

It’s going to be a day of reckoning for my brother. I’ve been him for 10 weeks, making this our longest identity swap and also a lot more complex than when we were in college. I pick him up and head to our usual Sonny’s BBQ. Marcus doesn’t say a word during the short drive and he looks good but not happy at all.

“So what’s with the silence?” I carefully ask.

“Oh nothing really, just another month of rehab followed by 3 to 7 years in jail.”

“What? What the hell happened?”

“My worthless lawyer and a judge, with a stick up his ass for 4th time offenders.”

“Wow, I didn’t expect jail time for you. Can you appeal it?”

“Yes, and I could get parole in a few years.”

“When do you go to jail?”

“In about two weeks.”

In a small way, I feel bad for him then I think of his previous incidents, and him embezzling from his employer who adores him. He had it made financially just on his salary alone with no need to steal a penny. After a few fleeting thoughts like that, reality comes back and I think he’s not getting close to what he deserves. I’m also thrilled at the thought of keeping his life for myself.

“So you go straight to jail? No probation, no time in between?”

“The police will pick me up right here, the prison is in Jackson, Michigan. It’s for white collar criminals and addiction with continuing counseling.”

“Fuck man, fuck! What are you going to do?” I vent.

“How about we swap places and you do me a little favor.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds like a plan, especially with that nice ankle bracelet you’re wearing. Do you still have urges to drink?”

“In all honesty, after I got the news of jail time, I wished I was at the 95th, downing shots with Jason.”

“Well, it’s quite a lot to accept. That’s normal.”

“You’ll probably be let out early. It’s not like you killed someone.”

“Yeah, my lawyer agrees with you on that, but still, three years in jail.”

“What about your life and job?”

“Just quit my job, pack everything up and put it in storage.” He says it too easily.

“Throw it all away?”

“Yeah and when I get out, I’ll be doing websites and marketing for ‘Sammy’s Garage’ in Ann Arbor like you.” He laughs at his put down.

“Maybe you will be, in fact, you probably will, but I won’t. I’ve grown accustom to your life.”

“You’re moving to a big city and getting a real job? Oh yeah, I so see that happening.” He mocks me.

“Already a done deal bro, not giving it up.”

“Are you saying, you’re keeping my life?”

“Why not? I’m the better Marcus, my coworker Adam says I’ll be promoted to his spot in a few months when Robert retires. Look at me bro, I’m you without the drinking problem. I’m set for life—great salary, boyfriends, great friends, awesome condo and hot car.”

“Why not? Why not? Are you fucking insane? First, it’s not your life, it’s mine. Second, I won’t let you do it.”

“I’ve been thinking about this and it makes complete sense. I need a job, I’m perfect for it and I’m a natural. No one has a clue I’m not you, thanks to my looks and your coaching.”

“I’ll have my lawyer make sure you don’t, you’ll go to jail for fraud. I’ll claim I had no clue what you were doing.”

“I don’t think so bro, unless you want to spend more time in jail for embezzling funds.”

“What?” He looks shocked.

“I know you have millions hidden in accounts all around the world. I bet Coleman would love to know how you screwed them.”

“How did you find out?”

“Oh come on bro, I’m not stupid. I looked at your tax returns and even if you saved every penny, you’d be lucky to have $3m in the bank. Then there’s mysterious deposits from and to an account in the Caymans. It took a little sleuthing but with my degree in finance, it started to make sense. Then when ‘my’ buddy Javier called from the Caymans, it all fell into place.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I told you, I’m taking over your life. As you mentioned, it’s pretty sweet, I’m good at it and you were right, I was a little jealous.”

“You fucking bastard.” He curses under his breath.

“Calm down bro, it’s not too bad. You can’t use it, you won’t need it for a few years. It’s going to be our little secret from now on. Oh and it’s permanent too, so even when you do get out, don’t come asking for your life back.”

“You won’t get away with this.”

“I have gotten away with this for months now. By the way, if something happens to me, I’ve made arrangements to blow this wide open and you will be back in jail. Also, Javier is no longer helping me, I put an end to your scheme.” His mouth is hanging up.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to your own brother.”

“Ha! Seriously, you’re playing the brother card? My brother who calls once or twice a year, who I haven’t seen in years and who keeps me secret. Nice try.” I laugh and mock him.

Marcus just sits there saying nothing, staring at his ribs. I can see he’s seething and thinking of his options. He’s just got to realize it’s checkmate and accept it.

“Bro, I’m doing you a huge favor. Your reputation remains intact and it’s actually gotten better with me in charge. I’m now well known in the marketing world. It’s best for both of us but it’s only fair that I benefit the most. When you get out, I’ll be here to help you get on your feet, hell, I’ll give your plenty of start up money and as me, you can create your own company even. You’ve got time to plan it.”

“Fine!” He blurts out defeated.

“Bro, I’ll come see you in prison, keep you updated on things. You’ll be fine, we’ll both be fine.”

We finish our lunch and he doesn’t say a word the entire drive back. We pull up front, I walk him in and give him a hug.

“Cya bro.” Are my last words to him. I take my time driving back to my new life in Chicago.

THE END

#twin #stolen identity #imposter #body switch #male body swap #body swap #bodyswap #gay men #impersonation #transformation #transform

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kahlsflannel · 4 years ago

Text

The Summer

Part One: Mr.Rogers

Summary: (Y/N) (L/N) lives with her parents at their exquisite mansion, tucked away somewhere in the midsts of Michigan. Summers are always dull, and usually spent by her lonesome. However, when her parents invite a few choice friends from college to spend the season with the family, (Y/N) gets the chance to meet good ole Steve Rogers, and realizes this summer isn't going to be like any others.

SERIES WARNINGS: age gap (reader is 18, Steve is 40.) eventual smut

CHAPTER WARNINGS: none, except for hot Steve Rogers.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (Modern!AU)

Word Count: 1,500

A/N: Hi hi hi. My hiatus is technically still going but I had this idea and wrote 1,500 words and my brain is still going brrr so please enjoy. Btw, the Steve in this is based of Infinity War Steve. Big man. Beefy man. Wow. Anyways, I hope you enjoy <3

Summer heat was always her least favorite. As she neared the lake house, a humid gust of the wind blew upon the nape of her neck, wetting the small baby hairs, sticking them to her skin. She hated it. Hated all that came with the season. Scolded the wasps as they bounded around the fruit trees, dipping their sharp bottoms into the dainty flowers, pink like soft flesh flushed with blood. Summer typically brought nothing but toughened soles and dinner parties, lonely nights and cold waters. Summer was her least favorite. She hated how her birthday feel right at the end of the spring, catapulting her into being grown during the quiet lull of the year. Eighteen was a strange age. It carried a heavy weight upon its brow, giving all the responsibilities of a seasoned adult without the years of tiresome experience. She compared to a game of dice, rolling and rolling, hoping to get the right numbers, but usually coming out plain wrong, and having to try and try again until fingers became nimble enough to angle the squared pieces in the right way.

Shoes pressed into the thick, muddy sand by the murky waters of her father's prized lake. It spanned across their property, hosting a family of mallards and several types of game fish that her father would brag about during events, pointing to taxidermied trout plastered on the wall of their dining room as he went on about how many swam the depths of the body outside. She had never cared for fishing, finding it tedious and tiring. She also despided the idea of prying a barbed hook from the mouth of a fish, just to release it and let its blood pollute the waters. Alas, she came from a family of hunters and fishermen, so she was not spared the sights she so greatly detested. As she looked across the rippling surface, her name was called in the all too cheery voice of her mother, who was making her way over.

"(Y/N), the guests are here," she said happily, eager for the distraction from her crippling marriage. Her father was always a little more kind when others were around. He replaced his typical cold demeanor with soft eyes and kisses to her mother's cheeks, pleasantries he often refused to offer. The younger girl nodded, a tight lipped smile shot towards the woman as she allowed her mother's soft hand to find a place on the small of her back and lead her towards the main house. A large black SUV was parked in front, the driver stepping out from the front to open the backdoor. Out stepped a woman with auburn hair, the color of a burning log. Her eyes latched onto (Y/N)'s own, making her blink quickly as the dark green irises seemed to burn a hole into her. Her attention was quickly diverted to the other door opening on it's own, followed by a large frame filling her vision.

Broad shoulders pressed against some kind of silk fabric that stretched over obviously toned muscles. The white sleeves were rolled half way up his arms, showing off his tanned forearms, which were decorated by soft blonde hairs and what she assumed to be an expensive watch, looking similar to her father's Rolex. Her eyes travelled up, landing on his face. She quickly realized he was by far the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes upon. His jaw was hidden under a well manicured beard, and his eyes were left under sunglasses, some designer's name branded harshly onto the side. His hair was swept back, held in place by some sort of product, but lacked the typical shine of a gel. He was stunning and (Y/N) almost didn't register she was being spoken to by her mother.

"Why don't we show the guests to their rooms? You can take Mr.Rogers to the one beside yours and I'll name Ms. Romanoff to the one by my own. We'll meet back in the dining room for dinner in around," her mother lifted her arm, glancing at the watch face before continuing, "half an hour?" Suddenly, she started speaking to the guests. "Welcome welcome! Natasha! it's been so long." The auburn woman smiled, extending her arms to receive a hug. The pair began talking, and (Y/N) figured she was supposed to welcome the man. She took in a deep breath before walking over towards him. He was leaned cooly against the car, large hands holding his phone in one and large bottle of wine in the other.

"Excuse me," (Y/N) piped up, feeling small under the sudden gaze directed at her. "Hello," she continued, fishing a smile onto her features. He returned it, allowing her to talk. "I'm (Y/N) (L/N), it's nice to meet you." She extended her hand, a courtesy she was taught young. He quickly shoved his phone into his front pocket and offered his own hand.

"Steve Rogers," he spoke, his voice a sweet timber. She blinked slow, taking in the feeling of his hand as he shook her own. Once disconnected, he drew up the same hand to push his glasses onto the crown of his head and handed her the bottle of wine, the label telling her it was an icon level red. She was suddenly sad she wasn't able to drink yet, always enjoying the bitter smell of the liquid. She thanked him quickly before furthering their conversation.

"I'm usually familiar with our guests. Can I ask how you know my parents?" She questioned, watching as he moved to grab his suitcase out of the back of the car. Her mother and Natasha, as she recalled, had already made their way inside, leaving the pair alone. As she led him into the house, he began speaking.

"I went to college with your father. That was, wow," he paused at the entryway, shaking his head before continuing, "That was over 20 years ago. Well before you were here." He shot her a smile. She nodded, giving him a small grin back as she handed the bottle of wine to the kitchen maid who greeted her from the entryway.

"I see. My father's been having a lot of old college friends here lately. Your room is upstairs, by the way. Do you need any help with your luggage?" she asked, not sure of where to take the conversation. He shook his head once more, picking up the suitcase by the handle with ease.

"No thank you, sweetheart. I've got it," he spoke easily. "You lead the way, I'll follow you." It was her turn to nod. She moved up the stairs easily, from many years of practice, and led him to the twist of the hall. Her room, the second guest room, and a bathroom were placed obscured from sight, tucked into a lonely corridor at the far left of the house. She had always enjoyed the privacy, her room far enough away from her parents that she could blare music as loud as she wanted and only disturb the cracks of her walls.

Once at the door of the room he would be staying, she twisted the knob to revel the space. her mother took pride in the looks of the guest rooms, insisting that they make the rooms just as nice as their own. A large bed filled the middle of the space, as well as two lounge chairs situated beside a table at the window. A hand carved entertainment unit hosted a television, and the floor was decorated with a large shag rug. All the linens and laces were white, and matched the walls.

"Alright, this is you. I'm right next door if you need anything. I sometimes play music a little loud, so if it ever bothers you, just let me know and I'll turn it down. Your closet is through that door by the bed, and the bathroom is across the hall." She was speaking fast, aware of his breath on her neck as he surveyed the space from behind her.

"Perfect, thank you so much, sweetheart. Show me around the rest of the place later, will ya?" She nodded, looking up at him before removing herself from the room. Questions were pounding her head as she watched him set his suitcase gently onto the duvet.

"Do..do you need anything else from me?" she asked, not wanting to be a rude host out of fear of her mother.

"I don't think so. When is dinner? I'd like to get the airport smell off me before we eat," he said, tugging a bag of toiletries out of the large space.

"Oh, at 7:30. That's when we alway eat," she spoke, moving back so he could exit the room.

"Perfect. I'll meet you all down there then. It was nice meeting you, (Y/N)." He spoke her name gently, held the letters on his tongue in a distinguished way. Not in the typical condescending manner of her father's other friends.

"You too, Mr.Rogers," she said, looking up at him through her lashes. He smiled, glancing over his shoulder as he entered the bathroom.

"Just call me Steve, sweetheart."

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader smut #steve x reader #steve #jensonwrites #i hope this i okay #i really like the concept

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bordeleaubeau · 4 years ago

Text

my ex’s best friend - trevor zegras

wc: 4212

trigger warning: talks about the loss of a parent and being walked out on.

based on my ex’s best friend by blackbear and mgk:)

“god i cannot wait for jack to be here!” jordan gushes as she runs her hand through her hair, messing up her curls just enough. “it’s been so long, and i know he’s definitely gone to parties back in michigan, but college parties are so much more better. not that he’d know that though.”

you laugh louder than you mean to, but you can’t help but agree with your best friend. jack and you had grown up together in michigan and you were so close that you were basically ellen’s honorary daughter. it also helped you had played for little caesars girl’s team, so you’d occasionally see the youngest hughes every now and then. with that, you got a scholarship offer from harvard and the rest was history.

now, this is where things get more interesting. you introduced jordan and jack, instantly thinking that jordan would be nothing other than a hookup. but jack had taken a serious liking to her and vice versa, which eventually led to them dating after just two months of them knowing each other.

and now here you were, standing in your best friend’s boston university dorm room waiting for your childhood best friend to arrive for the start of his road trip. “he should be here any minute now, jo. newark isn’t that far and-”

you’re cut off by a squeal coming from the brunette, and she’s popping up from her bed. “he’s here!” and just like that, she’s gone and leaving you to sprint after her down the hall to let jack into the building.

you’re laughing following after, no doubt driving the people on the floor below you insane by the sounds of your feet thudding against the carpeted floor. the two of you race down the stairwell until jordan throws open the side door where the first overall stood, a glowing smile on his face at the sight of his two girls.

you stand back, allowing jack and jordan a moment. the two exchange a few words followed by a brief peck to the lips before they release each other from their hold. then it’s your turn, and you’re smiling as you wrap your arms around jack.

“hi jacky,” you mumble into his chest, feeling him quickly kiss the top of your head.

“hey kid, how’ve you been holding up?” god, you wish you didn’t know what he was referring to. but you knew right away.

behind you, jordan is frantically shaking her head with wide eyes trying to take away from the topic. you draw away from jack, trying to find the words. “it still, it still hurts, i guess. but i’m okay, promise.” you give jack a weak smile, one you know he sees right through seeing as he knew you for almost all your life. “are we gonna go or what?”

“yeah jacky, i think it’s time you experience a real party, not one of those dumb little high school parties.” jordan teases her boyfriend and you smile, watching as she links her arm with his. “plus, y/n goes to that smart person school that like, no one has ever heard of before and i heard they don’t know how to have a proper party.” she throws you a smile over her shoulder and you roll your eyes with a smile on your face. if anyone could poke fun at you like that, it was jordan. jordan and jack. and that’s why they made such a perfect couple - jordan was just like jack, so when you didn’t have jack you pretty much had the girl version of him right at your own disposal.

the three of you walk towards where the party of the night is at, letting jordan lead the way seeing as she was the only one that knew where she was going. you knew you’d definitely have a few friends there, and some old ones as well.

“is uh, is you know who going to be there?” you hear jack quietly ask and you swallow hard. you knew he was just trying to be nice by not saying his name, but not saying it only made it feel more real.

“um, i don’t know. i don’t think so. i talked to dom in econ today, they had a big game tonight so they’re probably tired. but i’m not sure, i haven’t talked to him in the past few days.” you cross your arms over your chest, looking to the right towards the street to try and blink the building tears in your eyes away. you shouldn’t feel this way. it was your fault anyway. right?

you keep quiet, trying to distract yourself in any way you possibly could. what you had said was true - you did prefer bu’s parties to harvard’s. there was something about going to a party and being that mysterious girl that could hook up with any guy and him not know anything about you. he couldn’t find you in classes if he was that interested. you couldn’t exactly do that at harvard, being so well known on both campus and the ice.

maybe that was what you needed. a distraction for the night. you were certainly dressed to earn some turned heads, and you were sure you were going to end up using that to your advantage at some point that night.

the three of you walk into the party a few minutes later and right away you have a bad feeling. at that moment you feel like you should trust your gut and just walk away, but you know you can’t just ditch your best friends like that.

jordan turns, yelling over the music. “what do you want to drink? whiteclaw good? me and jack will grab it and then we can all meet up by the living room?”

you nod, giving her a thumbs up not exactly feeling up to yelling over the music. you already felt sick to your stomach, and you weren’t sure the effects of the alcohol would help with this one.

“y/n!” you hear your name being yelled and you quickly turn to see a familiar blonde, and a smile graces your face.

“hey ry!” you move in to hug her, your arms wrapping around her quickly. you met ryley through jordan, of course, and she had to be one of the sweetest girls you had ever met. she was always willing to go the extra mile if necessary. “how’ve you been, babe?”

she shrugs, followed by an exaggerated eye roll. “same old same old. you know how it is. but how are you? you look hot by the way! i’ve already seen like, five guys that can’t keep their eyes off you!”

“i’m doing alright, just waiting for jack and jo. jack’s in town to play the bruins, so he came up for the night to see jo.” ryley nods along with your words, and before she can respond you see jack and jordan walking up from behind, two white cans in jordan’s hands and a giddy smile on her face.

“ryley!” jordan squeals, throwing her arms around the blonde. “ryley you’ve met jack before. don’t have to worry about that one.” you let out a laugh and jordan hands you the mango flavored seltzer and you thank her. “i think jack and i are gonna go play beer pong if you wanna find a partner and play us?”

you purse your lips, trying to think for a second before you ultimately decide to shake your head. “nah, i’m all good. i might play later though.”

“come dance with me and some of the girls then!” ryley smiles, gesturing her head towards the living room where there are plenty of sweaty bodies dancing on one another. you nod your head, accepting her offer.

“i’ll find you in a bit jo! go have fun you two.” jordan smiles at you, blowing you a fake kiss before she pulls jack towards one of the back rooms where you’re sure she’s already scoped out a beer pong table.

you know pretty much all the girls that are all dancing together - there’s amber, then there’s hayden, bella, and then maddie. all fairly sweet girls that you had had multiple encounters with and they were friendly each and every time.

“hi y/n!” bella grins, grabbing your hand and pulling you right into their little group. she glances down at your hand and she gives you a look. “honey you haven’t even-” she stops herself, grabbing your whiteclaw right out of your hand and she cracks it open. “just for that you’ve gotta chug, babe. sorry i don’t make the rules. you’re already slacking.”

“bella!” you laugh, most of it being drowned out by whatever soundcloud remix was being played, but nonetheless you still take the can from her and lift it to your lips, tilting your head back as you drink as much of it as you possibly can.

“that’s our girl!” ryley cheers you on, along with the other girls, and as soon as you empty the contents of your can you’re in a fit of giggles, shaking your head at the girls in front of you.

“you guys are too much, i swear.” you say, setting the empty can on a table behind you that was already littered with plenty of cans. one extra wouldn’t hurt. “you guys are so much better than my harvard friends.”

“which is exactly why you should transfer!” maddie exclaims, her hands going up to emphasize her statement along with a smile.

you jut your bottom lip out, and before you can say anything ryley beats you to it. “she plays a sport, mads. it’s not exactly that easy.”

“nu uh! wait a damn minute, but didn’t you have an offer from bu?” bella puts her hands on her hips, raising one of her eyebrows at you, and you can’t help but laugh at the feeling of being interrogated. if only they knew the whole story.

“i go to harvard solely for hockey. i can’t help that i liked harvard’s staff and coaches better than bu’s!” you defend yourself, but bella isn’t having any of it as she raises one of her hands to your face. “bella, come on.”

“no, no, i don’t wanna hear it. wanted to go to school with snobby rich kids instead of snobby cool kids! i get it!” all four of you are laughing, but it’s probably the alcohol making the situation funnier than it actually was.

you give bella a quick look, “if i wanted to go to school with snobby cool kids then i would’ve gone to bc.” your fit of laughter only intensifies at the look of pure betrayal. bella raises her hand, finger pointing behind your shoulder.

“the door is that way. i think you got lost. don’t let the door hit you on the way out, y/n. actually, i hope it hits you. maybe it’ll knock some sense into your head.” you can only giggle, and it only takes a few seconds before bella’s mean facade falls and she’s laughing as well.

“bel, come with me to grab another drink.” you gesture for her to follow you and she does, singing loudly - and poorly - to ucla. you only join in with her, laughing as the two of you make your way into the backyard where the coolers were. “god, it feels so much better out here.” you grumble, opening one and grabbing a whiteclaw for bella before grabbing one for yourself.

“we can stay out here for a bit, i don’t mind.” bella says, cracking the top of her can and taking a quick sip. “how have you been? after the whole… yeah. and with jack being here, i wasn’t sure if-“

you cut her off and shake her head. “i’m okay. everyone thinks i’m not okay but i, i am. we weren’t together long anyway.”

bella’s eyebrows raise, “y/n. you and trevor were together for over a year, it’s okay if you’re upset! no one would blame you, not one bit. besides, you were really happy with him. everyone wanted to be you two.” you purse your lips, eyes glued to the ground. you met bella the week of the break up, when everything went down, and you had spilled practically everything to her, maddie, hayden, and ryley. and of course jordan.

“i promise bel, i’m doing good. never been better, actually. might just go and hook up with one of his teammates if one’s here, honestly.” bella laughs, nodding her head to agree with your statement. “let's go back in. we’re probably missing, honestly god knows what.”

you go to walk in the house, but bella grabs your wrist to pull you back. “seriously, y/n/n. if you ever need to talk, and you can’t tell jordan because of jack being friends with him, please just know i’m here. right across the river, quite literally, too.” she gives you a soft smile, one that you return.

“thank you bel, i appreciate it.” with one last smile the two of you walk back into the house. “i’m gonna use the bathroom, but i’ll be right back, okay?”

bella nods and the two of you disperse, you heading one way and her the other towards the living room. you end up in the back room, walking towards where you’re assuming the bathroom is, but get stopped by jordan who’s hanging off jack’s arm. “oh y/n/n!” your best friend sings. “dom needs a beer pong partner and i think that you’re the perfect candidate!” she slurs ever so slightly, leaning more into jack. part of you wants to decline, but dom is giving you a cute smile that you just can’t ignore.

“fine.” you sigh, walking over to the table, “long time no see, dom. thought you guys had a game tonight?”

dom shrugs, “we won, so some of us decided to come out and celebrate. probably won’t stay out for too long, you know?” you nod along with him, taking a sip of your drink.

“i get it. and i don’t blame you. i’m dead after games, so kudos to you.” dom chuckles, motioning towards the table.

“we’ve got to come see a game some time. heard you guys aren’t half bad.” you nearly choke on your drink from trying to hold your laugh in, which just makes dom laugh. “what! i’m telling the truth!”

“not as good as bu, that’s for sure. so you’re funny, fensore.” you smile into your drink, eyes glancing behind jordan’s shoulder, and that’s where your entire world comes crashing down.

the second dom said some of the guys were here, you should’ve automatically assumed he’d be here. that’s just the type of guy trevor was - big win? celebrate with a party and end up getting laid by the end of the night. you weren’t surprised.

your initial glance turns into a full on stare, and trevor must feel it. he looks over the shoulder of whoever he’s talking to and his eyes meet yours - and the words you never spoke? he could see them in your eyes. everything you never said was practically laid right out on the table.

“i swear to god, i never fall in love, but, but then you showed up and i can’t get enough of it.” trevor’s words make you freeze, and upon feeling your body go stiff on top of him his hand that’s running up and down your side freezes as well. “y/n?”

“what did, what did you say, trevor?” you ask, picking your head up to look down at the brunette, a look of pure confusion on his face. the poor boy had no idea what he had done wrong - he didn’t think he had done anything wrong in fact.

trevor swallows hard, sitting up more so his back is resting against the wall of your dorm room. “i said that i love you, y/n.” he lets out a soft chuckle. “i thought that was obvious by now, i mean, we’ve been together all this time and i just-”

“we weren’t official for a few good months, trev,” you shake your head as you speak. “and that was because of you. you didn’t want to be official for like, five months.”

“which is -” he cuts himself off. “i don’t even know what’s going on. do you not believe me? what’s the deal here? because the fact we’ve been together this long and this is the first time i’m saying it, the first girl i’m ever saying it to, that should just support everything.”

you just couldn’t get yourself to say it. internally, you knew that every single bone in your body was desperately in love with trevor zegras. dozens of journal pages had ink scrawled on them, gushing in detail about all the lovely things he had done for you that day. but mentally? mentally you couldn’t let yourself believe you loved him. you couldn’t give him the willpower to absolutely destroy you if he ever so pleased. not after your family had come crashing down, and especially not after your mother had walked out. how could a mother walk out on her own blood that easily? her own child, that she claimed that she loved with all her heart.

“y/n do you not, do you not love me?” the pain in his eyes absolutely shattered you and had your heart aching. you wanted to tell him. but you couldn’t form the words. your silence, however, spoke volumes and trevor nods. “i can’t be with you, then.” he scoffs, shaking his head. “i can’t be with someone that doesn’t love me. not when i’ve put all my energy and love into them, and i’m, and i’m not getting any of that in return.”

“trevor i’m sorry.” those weren’t the three words he wanted to hear. they were three words, of course. but they weren’t the right ones. it’s a miracle you can even apologize to him, voice cracking as the tears form in your eyes.

trevor shakes his head, pushing himself up from your bed. “i’m done. i’ll see you around, y/n.”

you stumble backwards a few steps before completely turning around and leaving the room quickly, the sounds of all three of your friends calling after you drowned out by the ringing in your ears.

you see bella and ryley start after you, but you make a b-line for the backyard in an effort to try and ditch some of your friends that you knew were most likely trying to follow you out. but you weren’t sure if you could handle that, and you sure as hell were sure you wouldn’t be able to handle the breakdown that was about to happen.

as soon as you’re outside you lose it. you’re bawling right away, and you’re sure those around you thought you may be absolutely insane for breaking down in tears that quickly. your vision is blurred, but you see a figure walking towards you. you may not be able to make the figure out, but as soon as they pull you into their chest you know who it is.

“shh, you’re okay, y/n. i’ve got you, okay?” jack coos quietly, his hand combing through your hair trying desperately to calm you down. “i’ve got you, i promise. god i’m, i’m so sorry. we didn’t know trevor would be here. jo didn’t realize he was right there either, y/n/n.”

you can’t get any words out, sobs wrecking your entire body as you cry into jack’s chest. all he can do is run his hand down your back and try to reassure you that you’re okay, but it would take a lot more than that.

“y/n can we talk?” your whole body goes rigid and jack’s hand on your back freezes. you pull away from him, looking over his shoulder to see trevor. when he sees your tear stricken face, his eyes soften. “please. can we talk.”

jack looks down at you, a questioning look on his face asking if it’s okay. you nod, and jack presses a kiss to your head. “i’ll be right inside if you need me.” once again, you nod, and jack gives you one last squeeze before he’s walking inside. right away you cross your arms over your stomach, suddenly feeling chilly and more exposed than you had inside. your cropped cami and ripped jeans weren’t doing it anymore.

trevor hesitates, his lips pursing for a second as he steps a few feet forward. he’s trying to find the words to say, and finally, he lets them out. “jordan told me.” you take in a sharp breath, feeling your bottom lip start to tremble, trevor takes a few steps forward, and you let him wrap his arms around you. “i’m so sorry, god i am so, so sorry, y/n. i was a dick, i should have talked to you about it before just breaking up with you, i just, god i’m so sorry.”

you melt into him, arms slowly wrapping around his torso as you cry against him. his voice is genuine and sincere. you nod against him, letting him know that you’re okay - as good as you can be - and to let him know it’s okay.

“can we go talk? somewhere in private? i was just about to go back to my dorm if you’d wanna come.” you were lying if you’d say you weren’t hesitant. because you were. it was probably going to be a bad idea, but nonetheless you go against your better judgement.

“yeah. yeah that’s okay.” you manager to croak out and pull away from trevor’s chest. you don’t get very far however, his hands go to your cheeks and his thumbs run underneath your eyes to catch any tears.

trevor then lets his hand fall to yours, intertwining your fingers and pulling you into the house. “we’re gonna go back to my dorm, to talk.” trevor says, looking at jack. his eyes move over to yours, silently asking you if it’s okay with you.

“it’s okay, j,” you reassure him. “we’ll see you guys tomorrow or something, okay?” jordan and jack both nod, and trevor is leading you out of the house towards the street.

it’s quiet for a few moments, and you don’t blame him. it’s the first time other than social media that you’ve seen him in four months and it wasn’t necessarily under the best conditions. you would’ve liked it to not be at a party - but it is what it is.

“i understand why you didn’t tell me, y/n.” trevor breaks the silence, and you glance over at him to see him staring straight ahead. “and i don’t blame you for it, either. i knew your mom wasn’t in your life, and of course i didn’t want to ask why. but i wish you had told me. god i just, i want to show you the love you deserve, y/n. i want to love you. i do love you. i just, i need to prove that to you and i’ll take as long as it takes.”

you squeeze trevor’s hand, and you’re thankful that trevor’s dorm is only right down the street. the night is chillier than it was when you first left for the party and you were cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket. “i know you do. i just, i panicked. you’re the first boy i was ever serious with, and no one other than my parents and friends of course told me they loved me. i never felt like i was capable of love, because, how could my own mom claim that she loved me, but then one day just disappeared from my life? her own child. that she gave birth to. she never loved me, trev. not if she did that.

“then it’s her loss, isn’t it? wherever she is, she’s gonna see your name, y/n m/n. she’s gonna see the amazing, incredible, phenomenal girl that you’ve become. the same girl that’s going to change the world some day. and i hope she’s kicking herself everyday for walking out on you and your dad, but god you guys are so much better without her in your lives. i love you, y/n. i never stopped.” trevor halts in his tracks, making you come to a stop as well. “and i want you. i want all of you. your good days, your bad days, the days you don’t feel lovable. and it is perfectly okay if you don’t say you love me back, because we can work on that. i’ll stay. i promise. you have my word.

you practically throw yourself into his chest, arms wrapping around his neck and your fingers curling in his hair. “i’m gonna hold you to this, z.”

“do you wanna stay the night?” he asks quietly, his hand running through your hair. “we can do more talking, if you’d like. i’ll listen to anything you have to say.”

“i’d like that, trev. i’d like that a lot.” you answer quietly, looking up at the boy that’s already looking down at you.

the boy that you love.

#trevor zegras #trevor zegras imagine #nhl #hockey #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine

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whiskynottea · 4 years ago

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An Interruption in the 1st Law of Thermodynamics Ficlet -- All the Time in the World

A/N: @wickedgoodbooks came to my inbox yelling ‘GOOFBALLSIES’, so here they are! Another thermodynamics ficlet. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

AO3

(You can find the main story here and on AO3)

~~~~~~

“How is she?”

My voice came a bit too loud, my breath too short. Before I had time to walk into the room, Jamie rushed to me and crushed me against his chest in a smothering hug. We had hung up less than ten minutes ago but I wanted to make sure that nothing had changed while I was trying to find my way to the waiting room.

“So? Do we have any news?” I asked again with the little breath I had left, wiggling in his arms so I could see him. His auburn locks were falling haphazardly on his forehead and the lack of sleep was evident in his eyes.

He’d come back from Michigan a week ago, determined not to miss Jenny’s delivery, and I joined them during the weekend. We spent the majority of our time with Jenny and Ian, following Dr Haffer’s orders and taking long walks in the city, but kept the nights to ourselves, locked into the small guest room of Jenny and Ian’s apartment. Time seemed to expand in the little room, like every time we eliminated the space between us. We lived in every second, every minute, drinking in each other -- the murmur of our voices not coming through speakers, the caress of breath on bare skin, the feel of our bodies coming together. The feeling of being home.

When Sunday night came and Jenny wasn’t in labour yet, Jamie walked me to the train station because I couldn’t skip Monday’s practical. I saw him raising his hand through the window, mouthing ‘I love you’ and once again, I left a part of my heart with him. The biggest part, if I was to judge by the way my chest was caving in and my irregular breathing. It was always like this when one of us had to go and I supposed if I wasn’t used to it yet, I never would.

However, here I was again, only two days later, after receiving a call from a Jamie in the middle of the night. Hovering between excitement and panic he informed me way too loudly that they were on their way to the hospital. I had taken the first train to Edinburgh.

Jamie was a lot calmer now and he was tracing lines on my shoulder blades to calm me as well.

“Nah,” he smiled and planted a kiss on my forehead. His gaze moved to my lips and a moment later his mouth was on mine. When we broke apart he was smiling. “We’re still waiting, but any time now…”

I couldn’t stop the grin from my face. “You’ll be an uncle,” I finished his sentence.

“Aye,” he beamed. “Jen will have wee lad. Can ye imagine, Sassenach?”

I thought of the thousand speculations we had made with Jenny over the phone during the last seven months. It was ridiculous, really, how the image of the baby changed according to our whim. First, it had Jenny’s blue eyes and Ian’s brown hair, then Ian’s warm eyes and Jenny’s elegant nose, after that Jenny’s black hair and Ian’s cheekbones. Jenny always ended up saying that she only wanted their baby to be healthy. Healthy and happy. I couldn’t wait to see the amazing mum she’d become.

“A little boy,” I murmured, biting the smile on my lips. “It feels like a miracle.”

Jamie grimaced. “Ian told Jenny so, about two hours ago. It didn’t go well.”

I laughed before cringing at the thought of my friend’s ordeal. “That bad?”

“‘What a miraculous pain indeed’, were her exact words.” I chuckled because that did sound like Jenny. “She was almost there once, but nothing. She got a bit disappointed after that. But the doctor said ‘tis normal for a first-time mum to labour for fourteen to twenty hours. We’re still at fifteen.”

“She going to make it and once she holds him in her arms she’ll forget everything else.”

“You think so? She’ll forget all about the pain?” Jamie doubted as he took my hand and lead me to the chairs.

“No,” I said, sitting down. “Science doesn’t back up the claims that women forget the pain of childbirth. It’s a myth. What I meant was that she won’t care anymore.”

“I dinna think she cares for the pain that much now, either. She just wants the baby to be okay.”

“That’s our Jenny.”

It was at that moment when Jenny’s scream pierced the air. Jamie shot out of his chair and started pacing back and forth.

“Babe,” he said in a low voice after a minute or two, coming to a stand in front of me. “I was thinking…” he trailed off. “Now that I know…” He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair. “Ye ken…”

“What?” I stood up, alarmed. “Jamie, what is it?”

“I ken we’ve never talked about that and I’m getting ahead of myself. I dinna think that’s the place where we should talk about it for the first time either… ‘Tis hardly romantic. But… Seeing Jenny… I dinna want ye to go through this pain, mo chridhe.”

“What do you mean?” I took a step back, frowning.

“Jenny is a tough one and yet ye heard how she just screamed... I dinna think I’ve ever heard her screaming, apart from when she attacked Ian and me like a wee banshee at Lallybroch when we were children.”

“Screaming is good,” I tried to reassure him. “It releases tension.”

“Aye, maybe. But ye, going through this? I dinna think I can bear your pain, Sassenach. It will tear right through me.”

“What are you saying, James Fraser?” I said, my tone ominous and my hands on my hips. “You mean to say that your sister is tougher than I am? That I couldn’t handle giving birth? What is that supposed to mean?”

Jamie’s eyes got wide, then wider, black eating up the blue. “No, I didna mean… I hardly thought of comparing…”

“Well?”

“All I meant to say is that I don’t know what I would do if it were you screaming in there. I wish I could protect ye from this pain but I won’t. I can do nothing about it. So I was thinking…”

“Jamie,” I interrupted him. “You could be in there, with me. Like Ian is with Jenny. You could hold my hand. You could brush my hair off my forehead or wipe off my sweat or whatever else husbands do when their wives are in labour. You could be by my side. You could be there.” I cupped his face, forcing him to look down at me. “I don’t care about the pain as long as I can crush your hand with every contraction.” I paused, thinking, then added, “And as long as you won’t say that you know what I’m going through.”

He laughed. “Aye, I can do that.”

His smile was sweet as I pressed my lips on his. Our kiss was tender, a promise for a future resembling a vague painting -- the colours intermingling, the figures taking every form we could imagine.

“So I take it that you want children?”

“Aye,” he said and the light blush on his cheeks turned him to an insecure teenager, uncertain if he’d said the right thing to his first love. “You?”

“Yes,” I smiled and kissed him again. “Just not yet, okay? We have our degrees to get and, you know… Live on the same continent.”

He laughed and shook his head. “We have all the time in the world. I just want you to know that that you don’t need to go through this if ye don’t want to. If we want children we can adopt…”

I ran my fingers against the stubble on his cheek, the smooth cheekbone, marvelling into the man he was becoming. “We could have children and also adopt one. To give them a home and the love they deserve.”

Jamie beamed and leaned into me to kiss me again when an awkward cough broke us apart. I turned reluctantly around to see Brian carrying three cups of coffee.

“Welcome back lass,” he said with a nod as he handed me a cup.

“How are you?” I asked as I took two coffees from him, giving one to Jamie.

“Impatient.” His eyes twinkled with mirth. “Any news from our girl?”

“Apart from a scream, no. Nothing yet.” Jamie’s countenance changed again, his concern coming forward as his eyebrows almost touched above his nose. He was adorable.

“Dinna fash, lad. ‘Tis normal. Yer Ma was in labour for eighteen hours before Jenny came to the world.”

The mention of Jamie’s mother remained suspended in the air, vibrating with anguish and loss.

She should be here, I thought. The tall woman who read The Cricket on the Hearth to her children and smelled like almonds.

I saw the pain on Jamie’s face before he retreated further into himself, as he usually did when guilt attacked his common sense over the loss of his mother and brother. I grabbed his hand and squeezed tight, in a desperate move to bring him back to the present. I wanted him to know that he wasn’t alone. He should stop punishing himself for what wasn’t his fault. He gifted me with a sad smile that wasn’t enough but was better than nothing.

I kept his hand in mine, trying not to sigh. Once, at Lallybroch, I had vowed to Ellen to take care of her red-headed lad. I breathed in deeply and renewed my promise, extending it to encompass all the Fraser family. To love them more, for her.

“Jamie, lad,” Brian said in a soothing voice as he moved closer to his son. “We’re here together and your Ma and Rob are with us because we carry them in our hearts every day, aye?”

It was a sweet thing to say, but when I looked into Brian Fraser’s eyes I realised that he believed it. Each word. He’d never lived a day without Ellen because he carried her with him. Because he saw her in their children. He was living proof of love, of devotion.

We sat in silence, the two Frasers lost in memories of a past forever gone and I, trying to introduce a new subject to discuss and failing miserably.

“He’s here! He’s here!” Ian burst into the room, laughing, and crying, and hugging us all before we had time to react to his announcement. “Ten fingers and ten toes, with a tuft of black hair and a wee numb for a nose.” Tears were streaming down his cheeks but he didn’t seem to notice. “He’s the bonniest lad ye’ve ever seen. A bit on the red side and covered with --” he stopped, shaking his head. “And Jenny,” he said, turning to Jamie. “Man, if I dinna find myself the bravest lass. She’s so fearless it sometimes scares me.”

“Can we see them?” Brian asked, eyes darting from Ian to the door, as though he would run down the corridor to his daughter and grandson the moment he got confirmation that he was allowed to.

“Aye, in a bit. They haven’t finished yet.”

We were all standing, grinning like fools as we bounced on our feet, having nowhere to go but being too hyped to sit down again.

Ian’s announcement had broken the heavy silence that hung above our heads a minute ago, planting its cracks with a bright, pulsating feeling of anticipation. Life always surprised me in those moments; the moments that show us that nothing ever ends, that we are as complicated as we are simple. No matter what we are facing, we keep finding reasons to go on, to see the beauty, to honour our chance in this world.

“I’m going back to her,” Ian said and a moment later he disappeared, leaving us alone in that waiting limbo.

“He has Jenny’s hair,” Brian said, still gazing at the door.

“Yer hair, Da,” Jamie added before he hugged the older man, whose black head was now featuring a few grey hairs as well.

I looked at them, observing how same they were, how different. Wondering if Jenny’s little man will have the Fraser charm as well.

“Congratulations,” I said to both of them when they turned to look at me. Brian thanked me as Jamie walked to me, wove an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer.

“Congratulations to ye too, Sassenach,” he whispered in my ear. “Ye’ll be his auntie, ye ken. His fairy auntie Claire.”

I laughed at that and kissed him on his cheekbone. “Auntie Claire,” I murmured, claiming a role in the little baby’s life as well. I looked forward to corrupting the little lad with treats and gifts and love.

When we finally got to see Jenny and the baby, we were like children opening gifts on a Christmas day. Jenny looked exhausted, but when her eyes met ours the sweetest smile curled up her lips. She was glowing. It was like I could feel her wonder at her little human, her happiness.

“Come see him,” she bid us and her gaze trailed back on the little bundle she was holding.

Brian moved first, unable to take his eyes away from his daughter and grandson. Jamie took my hand and I felt my feet following him towards the bed.

“He’s like a miracle, Da,” Jenny repeated Ian’s words that had vexed her with teary eyes, looking up to her father.

“Aye, my wee lass. Like the miracle ye were, for me and yer Ma. And now ye’re giving me yet another gift.” The voice wavered but his gaze didn’t move an inch away from his daughter’s face. I squeezed Jamie’s hand and he squeezed mine back.

Sometimes, I loved these silent conversations more than our audible ones; this secret code kept only for the two of us.

Jenny pulled her father down to kiss him. “Thank you, Da.”

“She would be very proud of you, Janet Flora Arabella.”

Jamie and Ian barked out similar laughs that almost covered Jenny’s exclamation, “Da!”

“And now that we come to names…” Ian started but stopped, waiting for Jenny to continue for him.

She nodded. “His name is James Robert Brian,” Jenny said with a grin. “Continuing this ridiculous family tradition and all.”

Jamie swallowed so hard I could hear it.

“Jen…” he whispered, looking at his sister through wide eyes.

“Brother, ye ken that ye mean a lot to me. As you do, Da. And wee Rob… I dinna want him to be forgotten.”

Jamie rushed to her, speechless, and bent over her, planting a tender kiss on his sister’s forehead.

“Thank ye, Jen,” he said, his accent heavier than it usually was. “I… Thank ye,” he repeated lamely, all other words having left him. “Can I hold him?”

Jenny extended the little bundle to his waiting arms. The baby’s head was smaller than his hand and a tiny hand was raised as though to touch him, to feel this new world.

“Hello wee one,” Jamie cooed. “Welcome to the world. Welcome to the family. I promise I’ll always be there to take care of you, even when ye’re a wee rascal and ye make yer Ma and Da mad.”

I chuckled and moved closer, peaking at the baby. He was still reddish, with swollen brown eyes and a tiny nose, just like Ian had said. Without thinking, I reached a forefinger and felt his tiny little fingers against mine. My heart banged in my chest, so full of emotion I thought it would burst.

“And this is auntie Claire,” Jamie introduced me a moment later. “And we love her, just so ye ken.”

“Valuable information,” I mocked, somewhat shy.

“‘Tis.” It was not Jamie, but Jenny that spoke from the bed, looking at as with a sweet smile.

“How do you feel?” I asked, leaving Jamie to have a moment alone with his nephew.

“God, I’m tired. But I canna close my eyes because I want to look at him and I canna do that while being asleep, ken? I dinna think I will draw anything else apart from him in the near future.”

“Nobody is going to take him from ye and ye’ll need yer strength lass,” her father advised. “Life is never going to be the same now.”

“Sleepless nights? Crying?” Ian asked, eyeing the little one who was, for now, calm and quiet.

“Aye,” Brian chuckled. “Lots of laughter too, son. Can I hold my grandson now?”

He’d barely got the baby from Jamie when a nurse dashed into the room, informing us that it was time for the mother to nurse her baby.

“Oh, aye.” Brian reluctantly handed little James back to his mother, clearly lamenting that he hadn't asked for him before. Jenny took him with tender moves, poked at his nose and started murmuring, asking him if he was hungry.

“We’ll see you later Jenny. You too, Ian!”

They both nodded, barely sparing us a glance before their gaze fell on their son who was blinking at his Ma.

“They’re so sweet together, aren’t they?” I asked once we left the room.

“A real family,” Brian replied, wistful and happy together.

“Are ye happy, Da?”

“Aye, son.” Brian’s voice was mellow and smooth, spreading around us like butter on bread. “You’ll never know how much happiness Jenny and ye have brought into my life until ye have yer own children. Then, ye’ll understand.” He reached out and ruffled Jamie’s hair as though he was a little boy and not a man more than six feet tall.

We left the hospital feeling that the world was a little bit better than an hour ago. In the car, on our way home Jamie leaned into me and whispered in my ear, “So… Two of our own and an adopted one? Let’s say… Two girls and a boy?”

I turned to look at him incredulously but the way he was looking at me made my heart stop and my mind go blank.

“Maybe,” was all I managed to whisper in response before I broke into a wide grin.

“We could name the boy Dalhousie.”

“You must be out of your bloody mind.”

“Fergus?” Jamie gave me one of his lopsided smiles and I rolled my eyes.

“Jesus!” I shook my head in disbelief before I turned forward, only to see Brian through the mirror, smirking.

“I dinna think Jesus is a good name for the lad, Sassenach. Too much weight on his shoulders.”

Brian was now holding back a laugh. These Frasers.

I elbowed Jamie and huffed indignantly. He took my hand in his and squeezed until I turned to look at him again. He kissed my temple then, whispering, “We’ll think about it. We have time.”

I smiled, thinking what Jamie had said in the waiting room. We wouldn’t start a family any time soon, but we had all the time in the world.

Two girls and a boy didn’t sound like a bad combination either.

#thermodynamics #the first law of thermodynamics #jamie x claire #jenny x ian #high school AU #college AU #outlander fanfic #thermo ficlet #all the time in the world #outlander fanfiction

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puckingbitch · 4 years ago

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a sense of euphoria ✧ johnny beecher

word count - 1,722

this is my first fic so don’t bully me to much. also i know the ending sucks 🧘‍♀️

Summertime was never an uneventful season for you. When you were younger, summer consisted of family vacations, bike rides, and begging your parents to let you stay outside for another hour. As you got older, summer started to become even more. You began to find your true self, explore new places, and along the way, make new friends. Now a 19-year-old who just finished their first year of college, you have made a lot of new friends and gotten to begin the adventures of becoming an adult. However, you never seemed to be alone in these unique experiences, the high school friend group you had never seemed to drift apart.

Even though you all were in different places, you always seem to find each other. So it wasn’t a shock when you guys decided to all go on vacation in the same place. The group chat was filled with ideas of where to go, but all of you ultimately decided to rent a lake house. Consequently, a few days later, you were throwing anything you could find into a suitcase. With such short notice on when you were supposed to leave, you panicked and had to find someone to ride with quickly. Everyone else seemed to have someone to ride with, so when Johnny answered your text saying you could join him, you had to jump on the offer. It’s not like you and Johnny are each other’s sworn enemy; you guys just had a past together. It all started his first year living in Michigan. You guys would see each other everywhere; you had the same classes, lived in the neighborhood, and not so shockingly had mutual friends.

There was always a tension between you two, but a serious relationship never bloomed. You’ve drunkenly hooked up in the past and have done things in acts of desperation. He even was your date to prom, however, you never went out of your way to spill your feelings to John. You pushed them down as far as you could, and if he felt anything for you, he did the same. The last few times you’ve seen him it has become harder for you, ‘J’ always seemed to have an arm wrapped around you or made advantages to take you out. You at first were torn with what to do---afraid your true feelings would become exposed through all the touching and words that would spill out between you two.

—

You woke up to the sun shining brightly into the skylights that are placed on the ceiling of the room. You groaned at how bright the sun was; it was blindingly bright and seemed to hit sun rays all over. Tiredness is still raking through your body as you patted the space around you to try to find your phone. You felt the cold screen against your hand and dragged it towards you, pressing the side button of your phone and flipping it over to check it. The time ‘9:30’ is bannered across the top of the screen, accompanied by texts from some of the girls telling you the game plan for the day, which is a day filled with lake activities. You respond quickly and roll out of bed so you can get ready for the day.

—

The door of the room you’re staying in creaks as you push it out. You looked both ways down the hallway to see if anyone was around, and no one seemed to be around. While closing the door behind you, you felt hands slid around your waist.

You shut the door in shock and hear a laugh and a voice behind you, “a little jumpy, eh?”

You felt butterflies in your stomach and a quick touch of joy-filled you. Your hair flew around your shoulders as you turned around to look at Johnny. His hands started to slide down your body while you place your hands on his chest and look down at the floor before bringing your eyes back up and smiling towards him. You feel his hands slide under your shorts, and a sly smile takes on his face.

“Looking good sweets,” he compliments you as you pull away and start to make your way down the hall.

A little smirk falls onto your face knowing how the bikini you are sporting always seemed to catch his eye.

“You don’t look that bad today, J. Loving the confidence though,” you say, giving him a backhanded compliment.

He scoffs and playfully pushes you when you make it to the bottom of the stairs. You let out a laugh and walk ahead of him to get into the kitchen. Johnny trails behind you and seems to linger right by you like a clingy dog following their owner.

“What are you doing?” You ask, confused by his sudden movements--not used to John being like this. You are used to Johnny being on his own time--he never seemed to go out of his way to follow a random hookup here and there around. He is a sweet boy but never seems to want to settle down. Johnny shrugs his shoulders to your question and continues to follow you around as you grab an empty cooler to fill with drinks. The kitchen was filled with silence until some of the boys trampled in. Alex, Patrick, and Trevor also seemed to be fond of Johnny’s unexpected ways--shocked.

“Johnny boy is being a simp once again,” Trevor speaks out as laughs start to fall out of their mouths. J's face turns a bright red, not realizing they would seem to notice--and if they did, they wouldn’t mention it. Alex and Patrick add in a few chirps, and you let out a few laughs as Johnny seems to be flustered by them. However, he doesn’t budge, and only after the boys left the room, he began to speak.

J places a few kisses to your cheek and tells you, “come to my room later.” You watched as he walked out of the kitchen and to the backdoor to join a few people on the deck. You shake your head while closing your cooler, understanding exactly why he was acting the way he was. You let a smile on your face as the feeling creep back upon you. Euphoria is how you would describe your feelings towards John. The happiness you feel, and the butterflies that seem to swarm your stomach made you feel like you were high. A sense of euphoria could equivalent to being high-- feeling elevated from your mind and quick touches of anxiety--like your heart beating heart faster than it should. As you heard footsteps approach you--you push the feelings back down. Yes, they knew it was more than an attraction of his looks for you, but not to its full extent. If anyone knew your true feelings, they would laugh and say you sound like a middle schooler who just gained feelings for their first crush. So due to this and a few other reasons, you decided to keep it to yourself--your little secret.

—

As the day went on the more questions and teasings started to rise. It was now a known fact that Johnny was following you like a lost puppy--of course, the boys told the rest of the group, but they got to see it first hand as Johnny would do everything you would do. Water tubbing? He was joining you. Wakeboarding? He was at the back of the boat, watching as you tried to keep your body stable on the bumpy ride. Everyone seemed to have their own opinion--the girls found it cute and wanted to know what exactly was happening between you two. On the other hand, the boys found it funny how John seemed to change his whole persona towards a relationship with you overnight.

“Friends, just friends,” he would say as he brushed off or acted annoyed by their comments and sudden jabs towards him. But they would only return with the response of “liars” and more remarks to get under Johnny’s skin. The more words that came out of their mouths seemed to annoy J, so by the time they started to pick on you; he was turned away from the subject--a closed door. So with his reaction came your front, in your head, you kept telling yourself “friends, you were just friends, only friends.” You acted as if the comments were funny--as if they didn’t bother you but you felt a pang in your heart as you watched him brush everyone off. So to put a bandaid over his cut--you forced yourself to agree with his words.

—

As the hours passed, you and John seemed to lose each other, the once clingy--standing as close as he could to you--boy appeared to have wandered away from you. You tried your best to ignore it, to act like it didn’t bother you but your mind wandered. Not understanding exactly why it bothered him so much but you kept reminding yourself you are here to have fun with friends—enjoy your summer, not worry over a boy.

You began to ponder and let your mind try to pick pieces from the day that stood out as you made your way back to where you started your day. The morning replayed in your head as you did your best to figure out what John told you. You looked at the window—at the now dark sky—remembering what he told you earlier.

You gain the courage to go see him, at least to try to talk. You pushed open the door and right as you were about to walk into the hallway you backed up. Hiding behind your almost fully closed door as you see Johnny's busier than you thought he would be. He seemed to be busy stumbling around the hall with a tall blonde who seemed to be enlightened with the state that John appears to give to every girl he lays his hands on.

You shut the door, quietly, not wanting your presence to be known. Your back is pressed against the door as you let out a sigh. The euphoric feeling didn’t feel unique to you anymore; as now you know every girl gets it with him. They all get that sense of euphoria, the high you thought was special. The high you thought was yours.

#johnny beecher #john beecher #umich hockey #umich #usa hockey #usa ntdp #ntdp #ntdp imagine #ntdp boys #universty of michigan #alex turcotte #jack hughes #cole caufield #trevor zegras #im scared #this is so bad #someone help me

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steppedoffaflight · 4 years ago

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Summer’s a Knife - Chapter 15

Catch up on Chapter 14 here

You’re kicking yourself for taking these last months for granted, for thinking that that was what it meant to miss a busy Van. Pining and pouting over a Van that you basically saw once a week? That wasn’t so exhausted from back-to-back shows that he made time to call, or at least respond to your texts? Who spent enough time in one place that you could actually go visit him on tour?

You’re missing your best friend like crazy.

Word count: ~3.3k

A/N: I can’t believe there’s only two chapters left after this! Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who’s taken the time to read this, and endless thank you’s to everyone who has reached out with feedback ❤️

Chapter Fifteen September 2019

Fall in California doesn’t look the same as it does in Michigan, but you wish it did. Although you’re glad winters here only involve mild weeks in the fifties and sixties, you do miss the atmosphere of gray, rainy September days, leaves shriveling up and falling off of the trees, and changing out your wardrobe into something cozier. Sure, the pumpkin spice trend is still active, but pumpkin spice lattes don’t taste the same with eighty degree temperatures and the shining sun.

Maybe you’re homesick because you’re desperate for your surroundings to match your insides.

Van wasn’t kidding about the band’s workload this month. You’re kicking yourself for taking these last months for granted, for thinking that that was what it meant to miss a busy Van. Pining and pouting over a Van that you basically saw once a week? That wasn’t so exhausted from back-to-back shows that he made time to call, or at least respond to your texts? Who spent enough time in one place that you could actually go visit him on tour?

You had been so naive. So, so, fucking naive. And September was absolute torture to prove it. And it would feel much, much better to slog through this month on rainy sidewalks crusted with damp leaves, a crisp breeze trying to sneak through the seams of your coat.

But instead the world just spins on, leaving you behind. September is a new beginning for many people, who gladly chatter about it everywhere they go. UCLA students are starting to return to the area, bouncing around in their backpacks with iced coffees, and at work your co-workers are returning from their eventful summers refreshed and ready to end the year with a bang. There are back-to-school sales on everything, from spin classes to puppies in a petstore window, and the happier everyone is about the new season the more alone you feel.

Because that’s a great way to sum up how you feel, really: alone. It was the fucking worst. You’d never been someone who had a problem being alone! You’d purposely decided to live alone; you had practically skipped for joy down the sidewalks when you’d broken up with your last boyfriend. You had a nice friend group with the other girls at work, and of course you had Mary, so what else could an independent woman like you need? Certainly not a boyfriend or a girlfriend to make you feel fulfilled. Things wouldn’t even be different if Van was your boyfriend, you try to convince yourself. He’d still be busy. You’d still be rooted in L.A.. You’d still be just as depressed as you are right now.

You don’t believe that one bit.

Got that reservation, Van texts you one night after a rare phone call. You’d asked him to try and get Mary and Theo a table for their anniversary, and apparently he’d pulled through. You beam to yourself as he sends another text with the reservation information, and then decide to give Mary a call.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Is Mary’s greeting. “Has Van kidnapped you?”

You don’t have the heart to tell her it’s the opposite, actually. You’re so trapped in your lonely self-pity you don’t really have the energy or desire to socialize with others right now. In your heart right now, it’s Van or bust.

“Maybe,” You joke, although you feel like you don’t sound very convincing. “Speaking of Van, he might happen to have a reservation next week that he can’t make…” You grin as your voice trails off, “And maybe he accidentally made the reservation under your name?”

Mary audibly gasps down the line. “He got us a table?” She squeals, but you can hear she’s trying to hold back her excitement until she knows for sure.

“I might have called in a favor from him,” You laugh as you listen to Mary’s excitement at your confirmation.

“He is an absolute angel,” She gushes. “You need to marry him, like, now.”

You’re sure that this time your laugh definitely sounds hollow. You’ve never admitted your love for Van, even though Mary questions you about it regularly and never seems convinced with your denials. While you usually tell her everything, your feelings for Van have always felt like a giant bruise, something best not exposed. You don’t think you could stand the teasing, or Mary’s typical meddling. And right now, considering your heart is one oozing wound, you’re thankful for your own secret-keeping.

“I just wanted to let you know,” You start to wind down the conversation. Your phone has pinged with another text from Van, and you don’t want to waste this opportunity to catch up with him. “I’ll screenshot the reservation stuff and text you.”

“Tell Van I said thank you! We said thank you. Like, seriously. He’s amazing.”

You two say goodbye and you relay the message to Van over text, before responding to the message he’d just sent. Sam Fender’s album was out tomorrow, and there would be a huge bash at his Hollywood house the following weekend, which the band wouldn’t be in the States to attend. Van was clearly bummed about the whole thing, and you were too. You wonder if Sam and his friends remembered you from the party, or if you’ve faded from everyone’s memory. You wish there was a way for you to reach out to him and congratulate him.

Get your cheque yet? Van asks when the conversation about Sam has run its course.

Right. The insurance check. Yup, you respond, frowning to yourself in dismay. A whole $5,000. Yippee.

You couldn’t believe that’s all you’d received from the insurance debacle. You’d purchased the car for $12,000 from a dealer, worked your ass to pay it off over the years, and now the insurance company had awarded you less than half of the cost of the car to somehow give you the means to buy a new one. And it’d be almost impossible to find something in good shape for that price that was also an automatic, because you grew up in Michigan, where people were not obsessed with driving stick shifts.

Least you’ve got the rover.

Right. The Range Rover. The one scrap of Van you could cling to during this awful time.

The next time you have to pass that stupid petshop with their stupidly cute puppies in the window on your walk back to the office after lunch, you decide to send a pic to Van: Yes or no to me getting a puppy.

Which one?

Holy fuck, he responded in less than twelve hours. It’s your lucky day.

I’m thinking that little fuzzy gray one.

I’d be supremely jealous. He’s cute and I love dogs.

Van is a terrible influence. You’re ashamed to admit you stall in front of the window for longer than necessary, looking at the little gray puppy with the pointed ears bounce around in the playpen before forcing yourself to move along. A puppy would probably be good for you, honestly, but that’s not a decision you should make on impulse.

Miss you, says another text from Van. Then another: Might be in town on Tuesday? Fingers crossed the flights work out.

Unfortunately, they do not.

The flights do, however, work out for Thursday. That’s a fact you only discover after coming home from work and heading into your bedroom to change, only to trip over two rolling suitcases and realize there’s a Van-sized lump sleeping in your bed.

“What’re you doing?” Van mumbles, peeking his head out from under the blankets as you swear up a storm.

“What are you doing?” You shout, your toes throbbing. You’d accidentally kicked one of his rolling suitcases across the bedroom hardwood, and your toes were aching from the impact. On its way across the bedroom that suitcase had bumped the other, causing it to fall like a domino. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

A slow grin spreads over Van’s face. “I wanted to surprise you!”

“By making my room an obstacle course?” You huff, lifting the fallen suitcase upright and rolling both of them out of the way into a corner.

Van’s sleepy state inhibits him from arguing, and he tucks his head back under the comforter.

“God, you scared the shit out of me,” You continue, your adrenaline still pumping from the fright and the pain. “I regret making you a key. I want it back.”

“Shut up,” Comes Van’s muffled voice.

“You shut up,” You bite back, but as the throbbing in your toes die down your irritation is replaced with the realization that this is reality, that Van is actually in your fucking bed at this moment. “I missed you,” You announce suddenly, your voice a lot softer.

Van peeks his head out again. His hair is a ruffled, oily mess as he beams at you. “I missed you more.”

“Bet you didn’t. Bet you forgot about me while you were doing cool band stuff.”

“Oh, did I? Wonder who I was texting Sam about, then.”

At this your jaw drops. “You did what?”

“I told him I was sorry I was leaving town tomorrow, and you said congratulations. And he asked how you were. Bond and him wanna do a celebratory pub night down in Newcastle.”

“No fair!” You pout, stomping your foot like a child. “You’re gonna celebrate without me?”

“Get your passport!” Van cries, throwing one of his arms up in exasperation before flopping back down on the bed. “Come with us!”

Getting your passport is a pain you’re reluctant to go through. You sigh. Maybe you’d try during the holidays back in Michigan, where the lines at the post office weren’t practically out the door everyday. Even if things with Van are over by then, Mary’s been trying to talk you into an overseas vacation for a while.

“You’re leaving tomorrow?” You decide to narrow in on that fact, pushing passport thoughts aside.

“Tomorrow night,” Van confirms. “Drop me off after work?”

“Of course.” If you only had him for these twenty-four hours, you were gonna milk every second you had.

Van is completely wiped from touring, and spends his entire time at your place in the same sweats. He gets out of bed the next morning to shower and have a cup of coffee with you, but other than that he’s glued to the mattress, getting some much-needed rest.

But even when he’s tired, Van is fun to be around. When you’re exhausted from work it means that your job has sapped every last bit of joy from you, leaving you without any desire to be creative, go out with friends, or try to be in a good mood. With Van, it’s like he would keep going if his body allowed him. He talks about tour fondly, still expresses excitement about starting on the new album, and still manages to pluck at your guitar from his nesting spot in bed. He’s the same Van; the only difference is the constant yawning and the way the lines around his eyes are more defined. Oh, and the lack of energy for any fooling around.

That last part doesn’t even cross your mind until you’re on your way home from the airport. You were so content just to have him around that you totally forgot how much you’d been using your vibrator lately.

But even with how content you were for that blissful twenty-four hours, as soon as you’ve stepped in the door to your empty house the aching in your heart returns. In your time apart all the little details about Van had gone fuzzy in your mind; his scent on your pillow, how it takes a cup of coffee in the morning for his voice to stop cracking. But remembering them makes everything sting with a vengeance, and you’re left feeling shittier than you have all month.

There’s been a nagging feeling creeping around the edges of your brain like a fog, and as much as you’ve been trying to deny it, it’s hard tonight. It’s just that everything with Van has started to hurt, and you’re not sure it’s ever going to go away. His schedule over the summer was flexible, but even after this intense bout of touring he’d be busy with recording. And then the band would be vigorously promoting and touring that album, and so on, forever, because Van would never stop making music, you were sure of that.

The tears well up in your eyes even thinking about not having him around. Despite your crushing adoration for him, he really is your best friend, and the idea of losing his friendship makes your heart clench in agony, the tears spilling over. But it’s not really a fair friendship when only one of you is crying about it, is it? Van doesn’t have to hurt like this, because his heart isn’t invested in you like yours is in him.

You allow yourself an indulgent self-pity cry as you make your bed, rumpled from Van’s napping, and climb in. You figure if you’re going to have a pity party for yourself you might as well do it right, and switch your pillow out for his so you can smell the smoke he leaves everywhere he goes. You know that as happy as you are when he’s around, there’s no way you can keep crying over someone when leaving is as much of their job as sending emails is to yours.

That’s why when Van pops in for another impromptu visit the following Tuesday, you’re not as happy to see him as you usually would be. It’s the same way that the idea of next morning’s hangover can ruin a night out, except with Van there’s no magical way to handicap your brain from thinking about the future.

The sex comes close, though. As soon as you two get to your place after picking him up he tosses his backpack aside before cornering you against the front door.

“I fucking missed you,” He practically growls in your ear, and holy fuck it’s been so long. You two rush for the bedroom, peeling off clothes as you go. Van is too impatient to worry about unbuttoning his shirt and simply peels it over his head, while you unclasp your own bra to avoid the delay. Before you know it you’re on your back, the blankets falling away from Van’s shoulders as he thrusts into you with all he’s got, your headboard banging against the wall so loudly you almost worry about damaging it. When you come it’s intensely satisfying, and you pull Van’s hair ridiculously hard to prove it. In retaliation he bites down on your shoulder as he comes, the same as he did the first time you ever slept with him.

The whole world feels right for that magical half hour, and then as you both lay on your backs trying to process what’s happened it all starts to shift again.

“When are you leaving, again?” You ask the ceiling, your voice stiff.

“Thursday morning,” He croaks. “Gotta get to Salt Lake City.”

You start to roll yourself up, heading for the bathroom. “Right.”

You feel Van’s body tense under the sheets next to you. “You alright?”

“Yup,” You tell him, emerging from the bed. You’re not convincing in the slightest, and Van can clearly tell. You don’t give him time to question you before leaving the bedroom.

“What’d I do?” You startle when you hear Van’s footsteps following behind you to the bathroom.

“Nothing.” You almost laugh at how ridiculous you sound.

Van hasn’t even bothered to throw boxers on, leaning in the bathroom doorway with his softening dick on display. He sighs. “Wanna step out for a smoke?”

You’re actually craving the fuck out of a cigarette, but you’d rather just go to bed and have this night be over with. Maybe tomorrow you’d be more able to enjoy Van’s presence, rather than pouting over how it’s rapidly coming to an end as soon as it began. “I’m fine,” You tell him. Your voice sounds less sharp and more resigned. It wasn’t his fault, after all.

Van shakes his head. He uses the toilet when you’re done, tosses on the sweatpants he had rolled in his backpack, and heads out onto the porch alone.

In his absence you scold yourself for acting like this. What the fuck were you doing? Ruining the two nights you had him, because of something that wasn’t anybody’s fault? You remake the bed, mentally giving yourself a stern talking to.

“You wanna talk about what’s wrong now?” Van’s voice makes you jump out of your skin.

“Nothing’s wrong,” You insist again, but your voice betrays you.

“Something is,” Van argues. “I’ve been watching you fluff that pillow for ages.”

At his words you realize your hands are still gripping the corner of your pillowcase, and you unclench your fists.

Van steps into the room, and to your mortification you feel your eyes heat up with warm tears.

“It’s been a long day,” You lie. It’s been a long fucking summer. “And I’m PMSing.”

Van frowns in sympathy, starting to climb back into bed. “Need a cuddle?”

A cuddle sounds like the equivalent of doing an entire round of shots by yourself when you’re already dreading the hangover.

“Yeah,” You sniff. “I do.”

On Thursday morning Van gets you up even earlier than your alarm clock, one of his hands nudging your thighs apart. You expect him to get on top of you once you’re more fully awake, yawning and wiggling around to get more comfortable, but instead you feel his calloused fingertip press against your entrance.

“Oh,” You sigh in surprise as he slips into you, searching out your good spots by touch alone. When he slips a second finger in, angling himself right, you clench down on instinct. “Yeah,” You breathe, blinking up at him sleepily. He’s watching your face intently, and if you were even slightly more awake you’d be horrifically self conscious. “You got it right.”

You can’t remember the last time you were fingered as the entree of the sex, rather than the appetizer. It’s appallingly intimate to have Van’s face so close to yours, breathing in any noises you make and watching every slight expression change in the darkness of your room. You’re also appalled at how you’ve been completely robbed of his talents; he can sense exactly where you’re throbbing for him, your clit twitching against the pad of his thumb when he applies pressure right where your body has been screaming for it. It barely takes any time with his thumb working in tiny circles and his fingers pressing into you hard before you’re gasping for air, drowning under the waves of your orgasm that feels like it’s radiating from both areas, whimpering Van’s name helplessly.

As soon as you’re flinching from his touch he pulls his hand away, his fingers slipping into his mouth so he can clean them off.

“Holy shit.” Your lungs are still desperate for air, but you haul him in for a sloppy kiss, paying no attention to the taste of yourself on his tongue. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Van lets out a deep, throaty laugh at that, but you’re already pushing him backwards so that he’s laying flat. You’re way too sensitive for sex, but you jerk him off and let him come on the soft skin on the inside of your thighs, as a treat.

After you drop him off at the airport, both of you looking slightly disheveled due to having to rush to get ready, you sigh to yourself in the empty car. You hated how weak you were when it came to him. One minute you’re convincing yourself you need to stop hanging around him, and the next you’re telling yourself there is absolutely no way you can give up the best sex you’ve ever had.

It was quite the conundrum.

#summer's a knife #catfish and the bottlemen fanfiction #van mccann #catb #catb fic #vanfic #van mccann fic #van mccann fanfiction #Catfish and the Bottlemen

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