#where they ask pam to pick between two pictures

[aparticularbandit]

Gives the same energy as Yara Martinez reading chat comments and "Who tops? Luisa or Rose? OH. LUISA DOES." And then she and Bridget Regan chatted about which character does what in their ship.

They are the same.

"It is a queer show and there is a lot of energy and tension." - Kathryn Hahn

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 13

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 13

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1513

Summary: The reader has another dream with Dean, where he emphasizes how he feels in a variety of ways.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, s l o w  b u r n, this section has a little smut, oblique mention of suicide

           The last lingering kids are leaving the other side of the playground as the golden hour streams through the trees, likely going home to their families for dinner and homework and whatever else normal kids do on fall afternoons like this. Sunlight seeps into your jeans even as the air has a touch of chill to it, and when you pump your legs the balance feels amazing.

           “What’re you, trying to go all the way around?” Dean laughs, looking impossibly overgrown in worn shit kickers on a swing meant for children next to yours. You throw your head back to laugh, feeling the wind through your hair as you soar past him. When the chains start to jump a little you back off, letting your momentum wind all the way down until you’re swaying back and forth lazily together. You reach over and slip your index into a new hole in the knee of Dean’s jeans. He links his fingers into yours loosely, play-coy. “You always did love these, you little minx.”

           “What can I say? I like as much of your skin as I can get.” You give him your best Dean Winchester wink and he bites his lip through a chuckle. For a long minute you sit just like that, feeling the warmth and calm soak into your pores. “What should I do, Dean?” you murmur.

           He swipes his thumb across the back of your hand. “He needs time. It’s going to be okay, I swear. You know Sam he’s just—he’s in his head.”

           You nod to yourself. “It’s that we’re happier, right? Is that how this works, how you can come be my Friendly Neighborhood Freddie Krueger, or whatever?”

           “The way Cas explained it was ‘closer to true serenity and self-realization’ so whatever the hell that means. You are, though, right? Happier?”

           Meeting his eyes made you feel even more relaxed, steady and reassured regardless of how bizarre it was to tell him, “Yeah, I really am. Dean, I—I miss you so bad it still sometimes feels like I’m going to puke. But yeah, I’m happier with Sam. I love him, baby.”

           Dean’s gaze goes fuzzy with affection around the edges. “Well, he’s pretty damn lovable. Runs in the family, what can I say?” He kisses the back of your hand. “Good.”

           “Good?”

           “It’s not a trap, babe. You’re still my girl.”

           “I love you.” It’s all you can say, all you can think, really. You watch his profile for a moment as he squints against the low afternoon sun, casting beautiful sunflower light over his freckles. “What happens if I don’t wake up?”

           “Your subconscious will kick me out and you’ll wake up automatically. I don’t think you can really control it.”

           “No, I mean, like, if I don’t wake up?”

           Dean turns toward you, jaw set hard and nostrils flared. “That’s not fucking funny.”

           He tries to pull his hand out of yours but you tighten your grip. “What’s the point though? If you’re, you know, okay, can’t we just—”

           “No, we ‘can’t just,’�� he scowls. “All the bullshit I���ve done over the years to keep you two alive, but fuck it, who cares? Let’s throw in the towel, really make the whole thing worth it.”

           “I’m—Dean, it’s not that. I just don’t understand what we’re waiting for. It’s not like Sam and I are even hunting anymore, there’s no more ‘bigger purpose’ to our lives, why be separated—”

           “The ‘bigger purpose’ is you fucking being alive. That’s the bigger purpose. Forget it, off the fucking table.”

           “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but it’s not really your call.”

           Dean finally yanks hard enough to get his hand out of your grip and braces his elbows on his knees to hold his chin. The serious angles of his anger look out of place as he sways slightly, boots in the playground mulch where he sits on his swing. He looks back at you after taking a deep breath. “Kid, please. Just, please? I’m—that’s all I want, is you guys getting old, really getting out. I can’t have—I can’t have Sam’s whole life be only hunting, he deserves more than that.”

           You scoff, half a derisive laugh. “Making his decisions from beyond the grave, that’s good, even for you.”

           “Is it really that bad? All I’m asking you to do is wait. You’ll get here soon enough.”

           “Yeah, it really is. It really is that fucking bad. And honestly, who are you to ask me that? You’re not here, Dean. How can you ask us to do it without you?”

           “It’s not like you two are fucking here with me! Do you think I’m loving every minute of it, getting grapes fed to me by 1992 Pam Anderson all goddamn day? I’m alone. It’s heaven and I can, whatever, visit Bobby or our folks, get so blasted I can’t see and wake up with no hangover, but you two aren’t there. Do you get that? So I get some glimpses of you guys and I know you’re taking care of each other and I can fucking wait, because that’s the way things are supposed to be.”

           He’s trying hard to keep his voice level but it’s coming out like a growl, and you know him, know from that clench of his jaw that he’s barely keeping it together, on this stupid swing set in this stupid gorgeous park, whose attached memory you can’t even recall.

           “Hey,” you breathe, getting up out of your swing to stand in front of him, taking each of his hands and putting them around your hips as you slot one leg on either side of his waist and settle on his lap. This close you can practically count each of his eyelashes where they graze his cheekbones and you take one hand to tilt his face up to yours, your toes just barely grazing the ground behind him. “Okay. I’m sorry. Okay.” You curl forward into him, catching the plush of his lips and kissing Dean in apology. He snakes a hand into your hair, winding his fingers in it and kissing you back, and you feel the twinge of desperate frustration, meeting him there with everything you have, shifting all your weight onto his center of gravity and working as best you can to weld your body to his. Dean’s other hand slides to your lower back, under your shirt, the callused tips of his fingers digging into the skin and he’s just as hungry for you as you are for him, grabbing at his chest hard enough that you’re at risk of ripping his shirt, pink lines from your nails marking up Dean’s neck.

           The hand in your hair tugs back, firm enough to be rough, and the noise you make is halfway between a moan and a whimper as he bites your neck, the sound hardening Dean through the denim under you and then he’s tearing at your shirt, not bothering with the obstacle of your jacket at all as he tries to shuck both off at once.

           “We’re in a—Dean, we’re in a fucking playground,” you hiss, about two inches away from not caring.

           “Babe, it’s a dream, we’re not really in a park,” he mutters along your jugular, the moist slick of spit turning ice cold in the fall air.

           That’s all the permission you need and you lean back to let him rip, flicking open the metal of his belt buckle and button, unzipping his jeans. “Fuck—kid, careful with the zipper,” Dean grunts, diction poor as you bite his lower lip.

           “I don’t want—to wake—up—before—" you murmur though fevered motion, licking and nipping along Dean’s jaw, and the realization gets Dean with the picture. He stands up fast, picking you up and crushing you into the metal pole of the swing set, practically shredding your jeans as his start to slump around his hips, worn plaid of his boxers covering the fast-thickening length of him and you turn to lean your chest against the pole, ready for him before he spins you hard.

           “Need to see you,” he says, almost quiet and gentle as his hands are moving roughly against your body, and you see the touch of wetness at the base of his eyelashes while you try to stand on one leg and yank the other out of your pants as fast as you can.

           It’s sloppy and goofy and unbelievably, gut-punchingly hot, wrapping your bare thigh around Dean’s hips as he shove-slides inside you, his hand protecting your skull from getting rammed into the metal. “I love you I love you I love you” you’re humming into the crook of his neck and Dean kisses you again, slowing down.

           “I know, baby, I know,” he says, pace no longer frenzied but rhythmic and building.

           You press a palm to his chest and Dean pauses for a beat, stretch of him buried to the hilt so perfect it’s almost distracting but you still have to ask, “When am I going to s—”

           “Hopefully soon.”

           And then he’s gone.

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 14

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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[noladyme]

My Only Sunshine - Chapter 5

Liv is as human as they come – faults and all. After a dark experience in her past, she is determined to live life on her own terms, and never let anyone claim her as theirs again. This becomes an issue, when she meets a 1000-yearold vampire, who is dead-set on claiming her as his own.

CHAPTER 4

Every person I met on my way back to the elevator, looked away from me, as if I didn’t exist. Once I entered the elevator, I drew in a stuttering breath. My clothes felt sticky from the spilt TruBlood, and I was shaking.

Taking a deep breath, I entered the suite, where Pam was going through some official looking papers. She looked up at me, and seemed confused. “TruBlood”, I croaked. “He’s in there”, she said, and nodded towards Eric’s room. The door was closed. “On the phone with your other boss”. “Bill?”, I asked. Pam’s lips drew up in a smirk.

The doors to Erics room opened, and he came out, with my old phone to his ear. “… That’s between you and miss Sunday”, he said into the phone, before looking up at me – suddenly frowning. “I’m fine…”, I muttered. “She’s back now, if you want to speak with her”, he said into the phone; before handing it to me. Before I put it to my ear, he wiped his thumb down my cheek, and then put it in his mouth to taste. He seemed to relax when he found that the blood on my face had in fact come from a bottle.

“Bill?”, I said into the phone. “Liv…”. It was Sam. “Sam… hi”, I said. “What the fuck? You said you were taking a vacation… Then Sookie tells me you’ve gone to Dallas with… him? You know what you’re getting yourself in to?”. “I’m ok, Sam… I’ll be back in a few days”. “Liv’, you’re a walking, talking hamburger to those people. Come home!”. He sounded angry.

I walked in to my own room, and went to stand by the window. It was 2 am, and I knew Merlotte’s was closed; but I heard talking in the background – figuring he and Terri were cleaning up after the evening service. “I’m perfectly safe”, I lied. “No one’s fed on me without…”. “Without what? You mean you’ve been letting that fanger suck on you?”. “That’s none of your business. I’m a grown woman”. Sam sighed deeply. “Just… Don’t come home with any visible marks on you. I don’t wanna scare away the costumers”. “That’s mean, Sam…”, I croaked. “I know… I know, cher’; I’m sorry. I just care about you, is all”. I heard him moving around some glass. “I got something in the mail today, you should know about. It was a picture of you…”. My breath hitched. “You… what?”. “You didn’t tell me you used to dance… if you can call it that”. “So, now you’re shaming me for my former job? Tell me, Sam. How much student debt do you have?”. “I’m being an asshole, aren’t I…?”. “Yeah, you are… Am I fired?”. “No… Of course not”. “Good”, I said, a little more edge to my voice than I had planned. “Was there a return address on the envelope?”. I noticed Eric entering the room behind me, and coming up next to me by the window. “No… It was just sent to Merlotte’s. Is someone trying to make you look bad?”. “Is it working?”, I muttered. Sam chuckled. “Hell, no. You look hot as fuck”. “That’s inappropriate, Mr. Merlotte”, I smiled. Eric tensed up next to me. “Only if I was flirting with you, cher’. I’m just stating facts”. Gazing up at Eric, I decided it was time to end the call. “Sam, I gotta go. I’ll be back soon, no marks and in one piece”. “Be careful… and call me if you need anything. And call vampire-Bill. He’s worried as well”. “I will. Take care… And could you let me know if you get anymore pictures?”. “Of course. Talk to you later”. I hung up, and went to drop the phone on the bedside table.

“Shifter-daddy is worried”, Eric muttered. “He’s just protective…”, I said. “Why were you on my phone?”. “The ringing was annoying”, he said. “Why are you covered in O negative?”. “Because Rose thinks humans are cattle, and wants to start a civil war…”, I said. I was surprised to see that Eric didn’t even flinch at my words. “I expected as much”, he said. “Tell me what happened”.

I spent the next 20 minutes retelling what had occurred at the meeting between Carl on Rose. Eric and Pam sat still as statues as I spoke. “This just confirms what you’ve been saying”, Pam said. “We always knew Stan was power-hungry, and that Rose was a cunt. Now we got proof. Liv just has to…”. “She can’t… They’ll kill her”, Eric said. His eyes were focused the table in front of him, as if he was far away in thought. “So…?”. “Thanks, Pam”, I sneered. She smiled sarcastically at me. “Why would they kill me for telling the truth?”. “Rose tried to glamour you. A human that can’t be glamoured won’t sit well with vampires on any side of the fence”.

“So, what do we do?”, Pam said. “Stan as sheriff… that’s bad for business”. “You’re worried about money?”, I asked. “She was talking about humans like nothing but… animals! Who is running against you in Area 5?”, I asked. “No one”, Pam said, before Eric could answer. “They’re all too afraid of Eric, or too lazy to pick up the mantle”. Eric nodded agreeingly. “There’s no one willing to take it on”. “Seems like Area 5 politics are quite different from the rest of the country”, I said. “But at least you’re one of the sheriffs that don’t just see my kind as meals”. Eric gave me a smirk as if he was undecided. I rolled my eyes.

“With Stan taking the post, civil war won’t just be a possibility. It’ll be an actuality”. He looked at me seriously. “And it won’t be good for vampires or humans”.  He took another moment to think. “We do nothing. For now… I will speak to Isabel; tell her you heard some rumors about Rose working with Stan”. Pam frowned. “Me? But I’ve been with you all night. I haven’t been talking to anyone to make that believable”. Eric raised a brow at her; and Pam looked even more disgruntled. “That means I’ll have to… mingle”. Her master smiled slightly. “I’ll buy you a new dress”, he said. “Two”, Pam sneered. “You owe me one for the one you ruined last night”. She left the room, leaving me alone with Eric.

“Are you going to ask me about Godric?”, I said with bated breath. “No”, he replied shortly. “Why?”. He looked at me, as if I was from a different planet. “Don’t ask me questions, you wouldn’t understand the answers to”. Feeling chided, I cleared my throat, and looked down at my blood-stained clothes. “I’m gonna get cleaned up… Unless you have any more spying for me to do”. I got off the couch, and headed back towards my room. “You can use my tub”, Eric said. I stopped in my tracks, and looked over my shoulder. Eric got off the couch, and held out his hand to me. “You’re giving me whiplash, with your mood swings… Don’t you have some tanning-salons to see to?”, I asked. “I have all the sunshine I need right here”, he said. “Come”. I sighed, and put my hand in his outstretched one, letting him lead me towards his own room.

There was a large, freestanding tub in the middle of the large bathroom; which – save for the tub – looked like the one connected to my own room. I went over to look in the mirror by the sink, and drew in a stuttering breath. My face was covered in specks of synthetic blood, and my top was beyond saving. Without even thinking about the fact that Eric was standing in the doorway, I pulled it over my head. The blood had seeped through, and I looked like I’d been in a fight, except for the fact that there wasn’t a bruise or cut on my body; other than the fang-marks Eric had left there.

“You look delicious”, he said. “That’s creepy”, I muttered, and rubbed at a stain on my neck. “I’m a creepy vampire. You’ve told me more than once”. He walked over to the tub, and turned on the water. I opened the button of my pants, and kicked off my shoes. “My clothes are ruined”, I said. “Then it’s good I prefer you naked”.

Eric came over to me, and hooked his fingers into the waistband of my pants; tugging them down. “Sit”, he ordered, and I sat on the edge of the tub. He pulled the pants down, and off me; throwing them in a corner. I realized even my underwear was soaked through. “Taking this job for you, has ruined all my good underwear”, I said. “You only have to two sets of good underwear? Maybe you should just go without…”, Eric smiled, and raised me to stand, by taking my hand again.

Eric leaned down to kiss my cheek, and when I found him running his tongue down my jawbone, I realized he was licking up the splatters of TruBlood. “Are you hungry?”, I asked, finding the situation kind of strange. “I could eat…”, he breathed, and ran one hand down between my legs, letting his index finger trace the edge of the fabric of my panties there. Feeling my walls begin to quiver, I grabbed his wrist. “Do you want me to stop?”. “I want to take a bath”, I whispered, looking up into his eyes. I unhooked the bra on my back, and took it off. Eric hooked his fingers through the fabric of my panties, and pulled them down; letting me step out of them. As he crouched in front of me, he put his hands on my bottom, and buried his face in my curls. “Eric, please…”. Eric stood back up, looking quite unhappy. “I’ll leave you alone”, he said. I grabbed his hand. “You don’t… You don’t have to go”, I said. “With everything that’s happened tonight, I don’t want to be alone”. “If you’re looking for conversation, why don’t you call Sam Merlotte?”. His voice was cold.

Feeling suddenly uncomfortably exposed, I grabbed one of the large fluffy towels by the tub, and put it around me. “Should have known that was all you wanted from me. I was stupid to think…”. I couldn’t finish my sentence, but in stead made my way to the door. “You know what I want from you”, Eric said, his voice level. “Yeah, you just made that abundantly clear”. Eric suddenly stood in front of me, blocking my way out of the bathroom. “Get in the tub”. “Fuck you”, I snarled. “No, you’re apparently not in the mood. Get in the tub”.

I pushed at Erics chest, to no avail. He stood firm in front of me, and looked down with a raised brow. The towel had fallen from my body. “Fine…”, he said; and flung me over his shoulder, carrying me back towards the bathtub. Before I knew it, I was dropped into the water; which instantly turned pink from the blood on my body. “Asshole!”, I yelled. “What the hell is your problem?”. “You’re my fucking problem!”, Eric roared; a hint of an accent showing. His face was contorted in rage, and he grabbed on to my shoulders to keep me from standing up. “You put yourself in danger by disappearing for hours, and then you mouth off to one of the most powerful vampires in existence. You won’t be mine… You won’t even take the bath I’ve drawn for you. Why can’t you just behave and göra vad helvete jag säger!”. “English!”, I screamed in frustration; and smacked him across the face.

Eric sprang out of the bathroom at vamp-speed. I heard crashes and roars from his bedroom; but didn’t dare get up. I sat hugging my knees for a few moments, before Eric returned in the doorway; a somber expression on his face. He met my eyes; his own looking almost pained. “I’m sorry…”, I said. “No you’re not”, he retorted. “Yeah, you’re right… You deserved that. You have no idea what I went through for you today…”, I croaked. “The people I had to face”. “You were never in any real danger”, he said. “You don’t know anything…”, I whispered, and wiped away a tear running down my cheek. “What he did… You don’t know”. Eric tensed up, and took a hesitant step forward. “Carl?”, he said. I looked up at him; and he suddenly looked like I’d struck him across the face again. “Godric…?”. “No… not Godric. He is… He never hurt me”. Eric came over to the tub, and crouched to my eye-level. “Then, who?”.

I’d said too much; but there wasn’t a chance Eric would let me leave the room, before I answered his question. Depending on my words, I could bring danger on both him, and the rest of his family – because that is what they were. His family. “That photographer…”, I rasped. “He’s the one who hurt me in San Diego, a year ago”. Eric pulled out his phone immediately, probably about to call someone to find Thomas. “Please, let me finish”. Eric visibly tried to calm himself. “Talk”, he demanded. “He’d been coming around Sugar and Spice, to take promo-shots for the owner. He asked me out, and I went on a date with him; but I wasn’t really interested. He kept coming around the club, telling anyone who got too close to me, that I was… his”. Eric straightened his back slightly. “One night, he came up after I’d just performed. Asked me to have a drink with him. He swore it was just a drink – that he was gonna back off, and leave me alone – he just wanted to have a drink as friends. So, I said yes”. “And you shouldn’t have”, Eric said. I shook my head in agreement. “He put something in it… drugged me. I blacked out”, I said. The water in the tub looked the color of the Watermelon Margarita Thomas had gotten me that night, before he took the picture of us together, that had been sent to my house. “When I woke up… We were in the back alley, and I tried to fight him off, but he was so strong… I think he’s on V”. “He… hurt you”, Eric growled. “I fought like hell, but he got a couple of hits in… He didn’t have a chance to go any further”. “Why?”. I began trying to wash off the TruBlood from my arm. “A vampire stopped him. In return, I let him have my blood. I had a gash in my chest, and he fed from there”.

Eric stood back up, and began pacing the floor. “This happened in a dry state…”, he said. “Who was the vampire?”. “I don’t know…”, I lied. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the consequences of letting him know the truth on that matter. “But… he glamoured Thomas to forget me… At least he was supposed to”. “The pictures…”, Eric snarled. “Merlotte told me about the one sent to him”. “He shouldn’t have”, I muttered. “It’s my problem”. Eric shook his head. “Not anymore. I put you in danger, by having you go see him”. “You didn’t know”. “I know now. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it”, Eric said, his voice cold. “What’s that supposed to mean?”, I asked worriedly. “That he’s a dead man”.

Eric pulled out his phone again, and went to leave the room. I sprang out of the tub, and raced after him; almost slipping from my wet feet. “No, Eric, you can’t!”, I said. I pulled at his hand; trying to pry the phone from it. “He wouldn’t want you to!”. “Who?”. Godric. Godric wouldn’t want you to. “Just… please. Leave it. I just want to forget about him”. “He hasn’t forgotten about you”, Eric said. “He’s been sending you pictures”. “I don’t know that he has… When I saw him today, it was like I was a complete stranger”. “Then who sent them?”. I shook my head. “I don’t know… Maybe someone’s just messing with me”. Eric turned the phone around in his hand. I took him by surprise, when I put my hands on his cheeks; forcing him to look at me. “Please, Eric. Don’t…”.

As series of expressions travelled over Erics face. Indecision, anger, and finally determination. “He could still come for you”, he said. “From now on, you don’t leave my side. If I’m not around, Pam will be with you”. “You need me for things during the day”, I said. “I’ll get someone else for day-tasks. You stay in this suite, unless one of us are with you” “You can’t keep me locked up here…”, I scoffed. “I can, and I will. I made a vow to protect you”. I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. I only opened them again, when I felt Eric put his hand on my cheek; and his forehead to mine. “I’m going to keep you safe. Please help me do so… Do as I tell you”. “Ok”, I whispered. “I’ll try…”. Eric raised a brow at me. “I said I’ll try!”.

Eric picked me up again; this time, carrying me bridal style into the bathroom. “What are you doing?”, I asked. “Taking you back to your bath”, he said. I looked down into the bathwater, and recoiled. “It’s all… yucky”, I said. Eric shrugged and sat me down on the floor again, before sticking his harm into the water to drain the tub. As I stood by, he opened the tap again, to refill it.

“Bubbles, this time”, I said. He looked at me, and smiled slightly. “There’s my greedy human”, he said. “Still not yours… Not like that”, I muttered. “Så envis”, Eric muttered, before meeting my disgruntled eyes. “Stubborn”. “You know it”, I said.

After pouring some soap into the rising water, Eric began undressing. I couldn’t take my eyes of him as he did. “What are you doing?”, I asked. “What does it look like? I’m taking a bath with you”, he said, and removed his underwear. I began covering my body with my arms. Eric stepped forwards. “You said you didn’t want to be alone”. “And you said that if I wanted conversation, I’d have to call someone else”. Eric stepped in to the tub, and reached for my hand. “I was wrong. We just had a very long conversation, and that turned out fine”. I raised a brow at him. “You call that long?”, I asked. He smiled leeringly at me; and with a firm grip of my waist, he lifted me into the tub – getting me to sit down. “Long… and very hard”, he said, and sat down in front of me.

Putting a hand on the back of my head, and an arm around my back, Eric pulled me up to straddle him. “How do you do that?”, I asked, and looked down at his fully developed erection. “I mean, you don’t have a natural blood-flow… Is it like magic?”. “Do you care?”, he asked, and caught my lower lip between his own. The blunt tip of his penis was already probing my entrance, from the position we were in. The only thing keeping it from entering me, was the fact that I was on my knees over it. “Not really, I guess”, I smiled. “Then sit down”.

I bit my lips, and turned off the faucet behind him; raising my breasts to his eyelevel. He caught my nipple in his mouth, and tugged at it with his teeth. I pulled at his hair, to get him to unlatch from me. “We were supposed to be taking a bath”, I said; and sat back in the tub – moving my admittedly quivering folds from the Viking-penis. Eric furrowed his brows at me. “Are you saying no again?”. “I’m saying… Bath first”.

Eric sat back, and smiled at me. “Bath first. Then we’ll get back to my magical erection”.

---

I was drying my hair, bundled up in a lush robe and seated on the edge of the tub; while Eric was draining it, nude as the day he was born – the first time, that is. He opened the sash on my robe, and pushed it off my shoulders. Putting his hands on my bottom, he lifted me to straddle him, and walked us towards his bed; where he laid me down. Though he was fully hard, he didn’t go for the home-run yet. Instead – as I traced his back-muscles with my fingertips, he kissed his way down my belly. “Did you eat?”, he asked. “Yes…”, I croaked. That granola-bar had to count for something. “Good. I don’t want you passing out on me”, he smiled, and kissed my clit; flicking his tongue over it. I let out a gasp, as his long middle finger entered me; and another, as he grazed his teeth down my inner thigh. The finger in me crooked, and stroked against the spot inside me he had found gave me the most pleasure. Going back to suckling my nub, he looked up at me – his light-blue eyes warm in spite of the cold color of them. “Another…”, I whimpered, and Eric let his index finger join the one inside me. I was quivering already – Eric was a master of getting me to my climax quickly, I’d learnt that the night before – but it seemed that he wanted to draw out my pleasure now, because he unlatched from my clit; and began kissing his way down my thigh. I let out a dissatisfied whimper, to which Eric smiled. Once he’d brushed his lips over the inside of my knee, he put it over his shoulder; forcing my leg upwards as he went back to my folds.

All the while, Erics fingers had been working inside me – stroking and prodding. I was feeling the coil in my lower stomach tense to the point of snapping, when Eric looked at me again, and lifted his head – baring his fangs. His eyes grazed over my inner thigh, near my groin; before they met mine, asking for consent. “Do it…”, I said, almost as a plea. Two sharp pangs of pain hit my skin near my warmth. As Eric began suckling at my flowing blood, his fingers sped up their movements; and I unfurled – feeling every beat of my heart and spasm of my climax, send my blood flowing in waves, into Erics mouth. I didn’t understand how something that was dangerous, painful – at least in the second it took for him to bite me – and should be so wrong, felt like it was the single best thing in the world. After what seemed like forever, and at the same time, only a second of intense orgasm, Eric licked over his bite, and pulled back. I realized he was healing the fang-marks, when I felt the familiar tickling sensation on my skin, where he’d bit me.

Crawling up to lay over me, I once again found that Eric’s temperature had changed. “You’re warm…”, I whispered. He placed himself between my thighs, and immediately pushed himself in to me. “It’s your blood”, he breathed, beginning to thrust slowly. “It’s moving in me”. I let out a soft whimper, as Eric kissed my neck gently. “Does that always happen?”, I asked. “Not like this”, he replied; moving his head, to nuzzle his nose against mine. “Your blood… it’s so alive”. I kissed him deeply – tasting only a small hint of blood – and put my leg around his hips. We moved together, with Erics hand on my thigh, to hold me in place around him; so that we were never out of sync.

We moved like this for the longest time; kissing and touching ever part of the others body we could reach, as Eric thrusted in to me. “I want to look at you”, he said, and flipped us around, so I was on top. I sat up, and looked smilingly down at the admiring Viking; without moving. Lifting me slightly by my waist, Eric thrusted in to me once; letting me know he wanted me to move. “Who’s greedy now?”, I grinned; but instantly gasped, as – with a firm grip on my hips – he began moving me back and forth; grinding against him. I tried to move faster, but he held me steady, moving me so that I was riding in a calm, steady rhythm on him. “Slow…”, he said. “Like this”. “Are you asking me to be gentle with you?”, I smiled. “Always”, he breathed, an almost pleading look on his face. I looked in wonder at this suddenly fragile figure under me.

Leaning down to kiss his soft lips gently, I then sat back up; taking his hands to put them on my breasts. I rolled my hips back and forth, letting Erics groans guide me as to how to pace myself. The constant grinding of my clitoris against him, made me once again see stars. I wanted to move faster, so that I could reach the explosion of pleasure I knew was waiting; but he moved his hands to my hips again, holding me in place. He was forcing me into drawn out, waves of pleasure; instead of mindlessly screwing me to a final climax. I collapsed on him, and grabbed on to his hair; kissing and nibbling across his collar bone. “Please, Eric… Please”, I rasped breathlessly. “You’re doing so good. Don’t stop…”, he whispered in to my ear; and raised me up to sit again, by my shoulders. “Don’t stop”.

My whole body shaking, I began raising and lowering myself; fucking myself into oblivion on Eric’s cock. As his eyes buried themselves in mine, he helped me move; while my quivering thighs were getting too weak to do the job on their own. With Eric’s help, my pleasure kept dragging out, filling my entire being. Eric stared at me, almost in amazement; as I threw my head back, and cried out in extasy; from the longest, most intense orgasm I’d ever had. Eric lifted me slightly and pistoned up into me; roaring a series of words I didn’t understand, and finding his own release from my clenching walls. In that moment, my body gave in. I didn’t have the strength to control my limbs. Quickly but gently, Eric wrapped his arms around me, and laid me down on the bed – pulling out of me in the process.

Reaching over to press the buttons for the blinds, Eric then wrapped his body around mine. The action was a strange one from a vampire, I thought; but I supposed this was as close to human as Eric got – full from a feast of blood, and blissed out from a session of mind-blowing sex. At least it had been mind-blowing to me. “Do you… I mean, did you enjoy that? As much as I do?”, I asked, a little worried about the answer. “You mean, did I come?”, Eric smirked. I frowned in embarrassment. “I guess I shouldn’t be asking questions, and just… enjoy the magical erection”. Eric chuckled softly, and pulled at me to lay with my head on his shoulder. “You can ask. I want to tell you”. He seemed almost excited about talking about himself, the smug bastard. I couldn’t help but smile. “It’s just… You can’t really let yourself go with me”, I said. “You’d hurt me”. “I won’t do that”. “I know… That’s what worries me”, I muttered. “That you’re not… getting as much out of it as me”. A rumble of laughter went through Eric’s body. “You’re joking… I’ll add funny to the list of things you are”.

I moved out of his hold, to grab at the duvet; wanting to cover myself, and disappear. I felt like Eric was laughing at me, in my most vulnerable state. Once he realized, what I was doing, Eric put his hand on my cheek. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad… Look at me”, he said. I shook my head. “Liv… Look at me!”. I tentatively met his eyes. “Part of being a vampire means, that I see, smell, taste and feel much more intensely than a human. The only thing you should feel bad about, is the fact that you don’t get as much pleasure from sex, as I do”. I pondered his words for a moment. “It’s really that good?”, I muttered. “Because that… was pretty great”. “It is…”, Eric said with a smile. “With you, even more so”. I felt my cheeks flush red, and he kissed my temple.

Erics fingertips grazed the fang-marks on my neck. “If you still want me to, I can remove them”, he offered. “No… It’s fine. Just do it before we go back home”, I said. “Why didn’t you feed from me, when I first offered it?”, I asked. Something unreadable ghosted his face. “I swore I wouldn’t force myself on you”, he said. “That night… you didn’t want it. Not really”. “I wouldn’t think that should be a problem for a vampire”, I said, remembering Rose’s words. “It’s different with you…”, Eric said. I bit my lip, and began playing with a lock of my hair. “You’re fidgeting…”, he said; and pulled my hand away – merging his fingers with mine. “I’m thinking!”, I said. “It’s just… You say you can’t sense my emotions, but then how could you know that I didn’t want it? I didn’t even know”.

He turned me slightly to meet my gaze. “When we have sex, I bite you; because it’s part of the pleasure for both of us”, he said. “At least, you seem to enjoy it”. He put a hand on my cheek, and brushed his thumb over my lower lip. “I do…”, I smiled. “I didn’t see any lust in your eyes that night, just fear. And that wasn’t how I wanted that experience to be; for either of us". “That’s strangely human”, I said. Eric frowned a little. “Yes, it is…”.

I suddenly yawned, surprised at my own exhaustion. “You need to sleep”, Eric said. I groaned in frustration, and tried to crawl on top of him; kissing my way across his chest. “I need to sleep. The sun is coming up soon, and if I try to stay awake, I’ll get the bleeds”. I sighed heavily, and latched my pouting lips to his nipple, while running my fingers down his torso. Eric growled, and grabbed my wrists, to stop my wandering hands. Holding them up over my head, he looked seriously but mischievously into my eyes. “Liv, I have to rest… Or else, in about five minutes, you’ll be going from nymphomaniac to necrophiliac”. “It’ll kill you?”. “The bleeds won’t kill me; but combined with you sucking the life out of me through your vagina…”. “Fine”, I sighed. Eric pressed his lips to mine, hungrily devouring me in a kiss. “Don’t worry. I’m not done with you”, he breathed against my lips; backing up the promise in his kiss.

He laid his head back on the pillow, and closed his eyes. Soon, the breathing he’d been doing to be able to speak to me, stopped.

---

I must have slept all day, because when I woke, Eric was gone. When I pulled the covers off me, and went to get out of bed, I winced in pain. My hips had hand-shaped bruises; reminding me of my session with Eric.

The vampire in question was fully dressed in a bespoke suit over a black tank top; seated in the living room, going over some papers. I had wrapped myself in a robe, and gave him a slightly self-conscious smile on my way to my own room, to get dressed. Eric raised an amused brow at me. “Sleep well?”, he asked. “Like a dead woman”, I said over my shoulder, and walked over to my suitcase; which was still laid on the bed – that so far, I hadn’t slept in. “Far from it”, Eric said, having moved from his seat, to lean against the doorway. “Did you know you snore?”. “Sorry…”, I muttered. “Don’t be. It’s cute”, he smiled. I found it an interesting word for a 1000-yearold vampire to use. I began to unwrap myself from the robe, but stopped when I saw Eric didn’t divert his eyes. “Are you just gonna stare at me?”, I asked. “Yes”, he smiled; his arms crossed across his chest. I sighed, and took off the robe.

For a moment, Eric just looked at me appreciatively, before his eyes met the bruises on my hips, and they went dark. “I hurt you”, he said quietly, his voice pained. “I’m fine… It’s just a little bruising”, I said. Eric walked over to me, and stroked my hips gently. “I don’t want you walking around in pain, because of me”. I felt a warm sensation stream through my body; which was soon switched in for slight disappointment, when I realized something. “Then I guess my fantasy about you ravaging me again is off the table…”, I muttered. Erics lips twitched into a sly smile. “Ravaging… I like the sound of that. I think that can still be arranged… Come here”.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, and pulled me down to sit sideways on his lap. The cool fabric of his suit, sent goosebumps across my naked skin. “What are we doing?”, I asked. Eric extracted his fangs, and bit into his wrist. “Bottoms up”, he said. I looked at the wound for a moment, before suddenly it closed up again. “Really? Just take the blood. We already know it won’t create a blood-bond”. He bit in to his wrist again; and with a frown on my face, I put my mouth to the wounds – sucking at them. His blood tasted as delicious as it had the last time I’d had it; full and nourishing. With his free arm, Eric stroked my hair; and nuzzled at it with his nose. “That’s enough”, he whispered. I pulled back, and made a final swallowing movement. Looking down, I saw that my bruising was completely gone. “As long as you let me heal you, I see no issue with ravaging you as much as your hearts-desire… You don’t seem to get high of my blood, as other humans do".

I felt for the fang-marks on my neck, but they were gone as well. “Now everyone will know you’re giving me blood… or they might think I’m free”, I said. Eric shrugged. “I could bite you again…”, he said. “Ok”, I said. Eric was taken aback. “Really? Just like that?”. “Yes… Bite me”, I said.

He looked at me disbelievingly, before he finally accepted that I was serious. He grazed my jaw with his knuckles, before kissing me deeply. I put my arm around his shoulder, and savored the feeling of Erics tongue against mine. Eric squeezed my knee, then pushed at it to spread my legs slightly, on his lap. Agile fingers stroked up my inner thigh, and as they found my folds – warm, wet and wanting – I let out a whimper against his lips. Tugging at my lower lip one final time, Eric kissed his way down to my neck. Flexing his middle and ring finger, they entered me at the same time as he bit into my neck.

Erics fingers began moving up and down, and the heel of his hand rubbed against my clit. He wasn’t forceful, simply moved his hand to the rhythm of my heart pumping my blood through my veins, and in to his mouth. I felt Erics penis stirring under my butt, and let out a pleased whimper. Eric took this as a signal to speed up his movements inside me. I grinded against him, and Eric growled against my neck. It felt like my core and my neck were linked by pulses of electricity. Fisting the front of Eric’s tank-top, and grabbing on to his hair; my whimpers turned in to loud moans. Eric never relented; simply moved his hand faster – stroking and pushing me, inside and out. My walls tightened around Eric’s fingers, and as I cried out from my orgasm, he unlatched from my neck.

I was shuddering with after-shocks in Erics lap, as he gently licked over the two new fang-marks. I looked down at myself, and realized the mess we’d made on his lap; both coming from my juices, and – from the look of Eric’s blissed out expression – his own. “I’ll have to change…”, he smirked. “Woops…”, I croaked Eric lifted me off him, and got up to stand. I went to stand myself, but immediately stumbled. Eric caught me, and had me sit down. “You’ll have to wait a while, before you let anyone feed from you again. I might have gone a bit overboard…”, he said. “I’m not going to let anyone else feed from me…”, I said. A strange smile ghosted Eric’s face, and he walked towards his own room, shedding the layers of his clothes all the way; once again letting me have the pleasurable view of his naked form.

Pam barged in to the room with Carl in tow. I quickly put on my robe. When he saw our visitor eyeing him, Eric disgruntledly put on a pair of black sweatpants; that hung so low on his hips, I was having trouble focusing anywhere else than there.

“I see I’ve interrupted breakfast”, Carl said, and raised a brow at me. “Sheriff Rockford has something he wants to speak to you about. You should hear this…”, Pam said. Eric went over to sit on the couch; while I went to stand in my assigned spot by the window. “Have a seat, Carl”, Eric said, plastering on the fakest smile I’d ever seen. “TruBlood?”. “Still not sharing?”, the other vampire asked, and looked towards me. Eric looked at me with hard eyes. “Pamela, take Liv up to the restaurant. She hasn’t eaten”, he said; before moving his eyes to Pam. “Stay with her”. There was no room for questioning him in his tone.

I apparently didn’t have time to get dressed, because Pam grabbed my arm, and dragged me out of the room, in nothing but my robe. “What’s going on?”, I asked, once we were in the elevator. “It’s an N.Y.B. situation…”. I looked at her questioningly. “None of Your Business”. “Fine…”, I muttered.

---

At the restaurant – which, to my luck, was open 24 hours, save for during private parties – I ordered a pasta-dish the size of my butt. Pam looked at me, like the sight of my eating was sickening. “I can’t believe I used to do that”, she said. “You probably used to poop, too”, I smiled. A shudder went through her body, and I smilingly popped another penne into my mouth.

“Why do you hate humans so much?”, I asked. “I don’t hate you all… Some of you are delicious”, she said. “So I’ve been told”, I muttered. Pam’s eyes went to the fang-marks on my neck. “Yeah, well; Eric says you’re off limits, so I’ll just have to imagine how you taste”. “Guess so…”, I said. “Seriously, though. It’s like we’re all just meals to you. You must remember what it’s like to be human; and to have someone you care about”. “Humans didn’t exactly show themselves from their good side, when I was alive, either…”.

I picked up my napkin, and began separating the layers. “Stop fidgeting. It’s annoying”, Pam said. “There’s that family resemblance”, I muttered. “When did you two meet, anyway?”. Pam raised a brow at me. “What, are we girlfriends now?”. “Just making conversation… Come on, you can tell me”. Pam brushed a non-existing piece of lint of the shoulder of her pink power-suit. “Back when I was a madame. 1871. He was a costumer”. “Of yours?”, I asked. She smirked at me. “Are you asking if you and me are phallus friends? Penis pals?”. “Well… yeah”, I admitted. Pam sat back in her chair, and narrowed her eyes at me. “We fucked. It was good. We don’t anymore”. “Because you prefer women?”, I said. “Because even Viking-dick gets boring after a few decades…”, she said. I raised a brow at her in disbelief. “Yes, because I prefer women. I don’t think any dick-lover could ever get sick of Eric”. “Huh…”, I said, and returned to my meal.

Pam suddenly smiled at me. “I just told you that I used to have sex with Eric, and you’re acting like it’s no big deal?”. I remembered what Godric had told me about Eric and Nora being former lovers. “Your ways are just different, I guess…”, I muttered. “I also told you, I used to screw for a living… You didn’t even wince”, Pam said. “Was I supposed to? Sex-work is work”, I shrugged. The vampires eyes seemed strangely warmer. “You are different”.

I finished off my drink, and poked at the food on my plate. “So… You had sex… And then, he turned you? Why?”. “Because I asked him to”, she replied. “Why? You worried he’ll turn you?” “Are you?”, I retorted. Pam shrugged. “Maybe I like being an only child”, she said. “Stop talking. Eat your… food”.

For a good while, we just sat there, before another shudder went through Pam’s body. “I didn’t even say anything!”, I said. “No. Eric’s calling for me… Us, I guess”. “Well, I’m finished”, I said; and we left the restaurant.

---

[birdsandspades]

I Get A Kick Out Of You (A Bakugou Oneshot)

-Pro hero Bakugou and you are on a mission to the past. How will they navigate a day in 1959, will they even find the guy they are after. Maybe a movie, milkshake, and some dancing will help them get to the bottom of it.

Word Count - 6,069

-As you can imagine I Get A Kick Out Of You by Frank Sinatra inspired this, and also the need to go dancing with Bakugou. I had a lot of fun writing this, I hope you like it!

—-

“Alright, so you two know who you’re looking for?” The chief of police handed you a manila folder, looking between you and your partner as you stepped onto the platform.

You nodded, “I’m sure someone like Cryptid will stick out in a crowd.” You looped your arm through the one next to you, pulling them closer. Your other hand pulling down your visor on your helmet.

“Let’s just get this shit over, I fucking hate traveling…” Bakugou groaned, trying to pull away from your hold as he clipped the latch closed on his own. 

The chief took a step back, giving you a brief nod. “I expect you back here tomorrow, don’t be messing around. We don’t want anyone noticing you two are from the future.” 

“Don’t worry, i’ll keep Bakugou in check!” You tugged him back, gloved fingers digging into his jumpsuit. 

“You’ll do what?” He was jolted forward, space and time quite literally bending around him as he clung onto your arm for dear life. Everything around him moved at a dizzying pace. Life itself rewinding as he stood in the middle of it all. Buildings deconstructing, days winding back, people retracing their own steps as they moved back to their very beginnings. 

All at once it stopped. Bakugou clutching your arm, fistfuls of your suit in his hands as he tried to steady the shaking in his knees. It all rushed up, breakfast. He pushed you away, throwing off his helmet as he keeled over. This always happened. 

You soothed your hand over his back, cooing as you shifted the backpack off your shoulder. “Bakugou you ok?” 

“No, I’m not ok. Your quirk fucking sucks!” He stood up, wiping his mouth. 

You offered him a water bottle, his feverish hands snatching it before you could even utter a word.

“Well, looks like we made it ok..ish. I think we can change out of our travel suits back here before heading to the street.” You pulled out a shirt from your bag, looking around the alleyway. You were behind some kind of group of restaurant, the street just ahead. People rushed past as they went about the day. You had arrived, 1959 Boston, Massachusetts. 

Bakugou had collected himself enough, leaning back against a parked pontiac. “So where is this asshole?” 

“The file says somewhere in this suburban area.” You turned back to him, handing him the file. “They marked some places on the map, we spotted him in a few newspaper clippings all dated for today. So we just need to hit up every location until we see him.”

He nodded along, flipping through the pages. “So what are we staging as this time?”

Everytime you went to a new time you always had an act set up. Something to help you blend in as you went about the mission. Sometimes it was siblings, sometimes total strangers. It all depended on the mission.

“A teenage couple out on the town!” You beamed, pulling out Bakugou’s disguise. 

“What the fuck is this shit!” He took the bright striped button up, nose wrinkling in disgust. “And the pants, what asshole would wear these?” He ripped the bright blue pleated slacks from your other hand.

“You will.” You layed out your own outfit on the back of the Bonneville, a knee length full cherry red skirt, and a white cotton button up. The typical fashion of a 50’s teen, you had done your research.

“This is the last time I let you pick out this shit. I should have told you to fuck off after those bellbottom pants last time!.” He complained, unlacing his boots. 

“Hey! Those were amazing pants you asshole!.” You kicked off your own shoes, pulling off your socks. 

“They were fucking pink y/n, baby fucking pink.” He unzipped his suit, letting it slide down his back.

“You just have no taste in fashion Bakugou.” You unzipped your own, shimmying it down your shoulders.

“Hey!” He turned around, face red as he caught sight of your exposed back. 

“Turn around!” You screamed, covering yourself.

He did as asked, chuckling. “I have plenty of fashion taste.” He stepped out of the suit pants, throwing it towards the open bag.

“Yeah, whatever you say fanny pack.” You were tucking in your shirt into your skirt, feet slipping into your white kitten heels. 

“Why do you always bring up that fucking fanny pack, it was one time!” He buttoned the last button on his shirt, tugging at the crotch of his pants. They were too high, sitting just under his belly button. The shirt was comfortable enough, way too bright for what he usually wore. The red, yellow, white and blue stripes ran vertically along the short sleeve, all fighting for space on the small print. “Why are these pants so fucking high up?” He pulled at the material again, turning around to complain to you. He stopped, eyes wandering over you as you smoothed over your hair. A smile tried it’s best to pull at his permanent frown, and it almost won. But you just had to talk.

“What?” You glared, brushing off your skirt.

“You look stupid.” He spat, walking over to shove his helmet into the backpack. 

“Asshole, I’m putting in for a new partner when we get back.” You grabbed the bag from him, zipping it closed. You threw it in a box by a dumpster, safe until you returned.

“Yeah you always say that. But guess who’s still here.” He ruffled your hair, pushing your head away as he walked ahead of you.

You ran to catch up, eyes going wide as you stepped onto the open street. You had been almost everywhere at this point, seen almost everything. But this, this was something else. You looked down the street, cars parked along the buildings in every pastel color you could think off. Teens walked past, laughing as they enjoyed their Saturday out of school. You could hear the newest Ray Charles record playing from the store across the street, What’d I Say, an absolute classic. A group of boys ran out of the front door with penny candy in hand, pushing through a group of women waiting outside a newspaper stand next door. It was simple, quirkless. 

“Hey idiot, where are we going?” Bakugou nudged you, giving you a judgement look. 

“Oh, um. The first place marked is called Pam’s. It says it’s a restaurant. He was photographed outside in a picture submitted for a photo contest in the newspaper…” You turned the map over in your hand, trying to make out the lines from the line? This was all starting to look the same.

Bakugou pulled the map from your hands, folding it as he pointed down the road. “That fucking Pam’s?” He gave you an angry smile, shoving the map into his back pocket. 

You returned the look, grabbing his arm. “Well let’s go smartass.” You walked together down the road towards the dinner, couples passing by. They held hands, leaning against one another as they talked. Smiles bright, love in their eyes. 

You looked between Bakugou’s clenched fist and your own empty hand before scowling.

“What is that ugly face for?” He looked ahead, not sparing you a glance.

“Were supposed to be a couple, hold my hand like that.” You pointed to the couple exiting the dinner doors.

“No, we’re already here. Now fuck off.” He held the door open for you, watching as you walked under his arm.

“Two?” The lady smiled from over the counter, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Yeah please.” You nodded.

“Follow me hun.” She lifted up the flip top, walking you both down the rows of red and white booths. She stopped at one by the back of the diner setting down two menus. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.” 

You slid into the plush seat, Bakugou sitting across you. He took a menu, pushing the other to you as he looked over the burgers.

“What are you getting?” He looked over the top of the laminated sheet, already decided. 

“I think just a shake, and maybe some of your fries…?” You set down your own, smiling innocently.

“Get your own fucking…” He was cut short, your server walking back up to the table.

“Decided yet?” She pulled out a pen and pad, looking between the two of you.

“I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries.” Bakugou handed her the menu, eyes squinting as he looked over at you. 

He was daring you to say it.

“And i’ll have a strawberry shake.” You smiled at the women, handing her your own menu.

“No food?” She clicked the pen, folding the menus under her arm.

Bakugou glared your way, shaking his head. 

He just wanted you to say it.

“No thank you.” You turned to face him, smirking. “I’ll just share with him.” 

He sank in his seat as the waitress walked away. “You always do this shit. You’re going to eat all my fries again.” 

He was right, you probably were. 

You leaned over the table, rolling your eyes at the temper tantrum about to ensure. “Stop crying, we aren’t here to eat. We have to find Cryptid, so keep an eye out.

“What did he even steal again, some stupid blueprints?” Bakugou turned his head, looking over the occupied tables.

“Yeah if by some stupid blueprints you mean the one for the bomb they were planning on sticking under UA.” You greeted the couple passing by before turning back to your partner. 

“That quirk eradicating thing?” He sat back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, the one Chisaki was making. Something like that would deviate the school.” You sat up, the waitress approaching with your order.

“Here you go honey, one cheeseburger. And a strawberry shake, two straws.” She winked your way before leaving to attend to another table.

“Two fucking straws, why would you need two straws?” Bakugou frowned at the shake, picking up his burger. 

You looked behind him, cheeks heating up. The couple leaned over the table, forehead pressed together as they sipped from their shake. The same shake, two straws. You cleared your throat, pulling the glass closer. “I don’t know…”

Bakugou gave you a weird look, turning around in the booth. “That, that’s what’s got you so worked up?” He pointed a thumb towards the booth, chuckling as you sipped your shake.

“No, it’s not like we have to share the fucking thing. Eat your food and shut up…” You tried to hide the flush creeping up your skin.

“What if I want some?” He smirked, you didn’t hide it well enough.

“Then you can drink it without me attached to it…”

“Hey baby, your date here giving you trouble?” A tall man pressed his hands on the table top, eyes glued on you. His friends leaned against the bar top a few tables behind snickering.

“Oh no thank yo…” You looked across the table, Bakugou’s fingers digging into the wooden sides.

“Because if he is, I wouldn’t mind sitting with you.” He leaned down, blocking your view of Bakugou’s contorting face.

“I’m fine, no thank yo…” You could see small glimpses of Bakugou’s face over the man’s shoulder darting back and forth as he tried to see around him.

“It’s a shame, I would sit with you. Maybe share that…”

Bakugou stood up, pushing past the man as he shoved himself into you. He slid the both of you further into the booth, grabbing the shake from your hands. “Fuck off, it’s my straw.” He took a drink from your shake, glaring as the man walked off.

“Hey! Don’t drink all of it!” You ripped the shake from his hands, setting it down on the far side of the table.

“I don’t see the guy, let’s just go to the next location before some other fuckwad comes over.” He frowned, throwing some money on the table.

“I want to finish this.” You frowned, picking up the shake to take a drink.

Bakugou watched you taking small sips from the straw, groaning loudly. “Jesus let me help you with that grandma.” He took the other straw, lips connecting with the plastic as his forehead brushed yours. 

You could have sworn you saw a hint of pink brush his cheeks, but all thoughts of that were erased when his crimson eyes met yours. 

“Stop looking at me with that ugly face…” Bakugou pulled away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can we just get going already?” He grabbed your hand, tugging you out of the booth.

You watched as he pulled you along, staring at his hand tightly wrapped around yours. Bakugou had never been one to get jealous easily. But maybe he was just playing the part well today.

“Where are we going next?” 

“The next picture is of the movie theater. It’s opening night for The Mummy, they got him in the shot of the crowd lined up.” You rushed behind him, feet dragging behind you as he pulled you out of the restaurant.

“Well let’s go, I want to get this over with. These pants are riding up in places pants shouldn’t be.” 

You groaned loudly, you didn’t need to know that.

You walked behind Bakugou to the theater, his hand still wrapped around your own. His pace had slowed down once you left the diner, but the tension in his shoulder reamined, tightly wound as he stomped his way across the street.

Passerbys watched in horror as he trudged up to the ticket booth. Were you in need of help, who was this gorilla of a man dragging you behind him. You apologized as he pushed through the line, angry looks following you as he aggressively shoved a bill into the ticket slot. 

“Two tickets for that.” He pointed to the poster, glaring at the teller. 

The man pushed the change and the tickets through the slot without another word, relaxing once Bakugou mumbled and groaned his way into the building. 

“Hey hot head, you’re drawing too much attention. If you’re not careful you may set off your quirk.” You harshly whispered into his ear as he walked up to the concession stand, his hand dampening in your own.

You knew him well enough to know that the angry he got, the more prone he was to slip ups. 

You pushed past him to the front of the counter. “What do you want hangry? I’ll buy it.” 

Bakugou huffed, pointing to the bag of atomic fireballs. 

“Can I get a bag of those, a popcorn, and a coke please.” You hand the lady at the register a few dollars as another worker prepared your snacks. “Thank you.” You took the popcorn from the counter and the soda, leaving the candy for Bakugou to grab as you walked down the hallway to the theater. 

“You shouldn’t be so nice when people are bothering you F/N.” Bakugou mumbled behind you, more aggravated than mad now. 

“We have a mission, I can’t just tell people to fuck off Katsuki. Trust me I would have loved to…” You added, pushing open the door.

He stared at you, shaking his head. A small smile tugging at his lips as he walked down the aisle behind you. You were something else. 

You sat down a few rows back, Bakugou sitting beside you as he took the popcorn from your lap. “So we just hang out here and wait for him to show up?”

“Yeah, he came to this show. He should be here somewhere.” You took a sip of your soda, watching as the seats filled up around you. 

“I don’t see him F/N.” Bakugou leaned in to whisper in your ear, the lights turning off as the movie started.

“He’s here. Just give it some time.” You leaned up against his shoulder, settling against him as you watched the movie. 

Bakugou wanted to protest, you were on a mission. But letting you lay against him like this wouldn’t hurt, just for a little bit.

Soon a good portion of the movie had gone by, your popcorn bucket empty as you reached your hand inside.

“Katsuki, i’m going to get more.” You shook the empty popcorn bucket, standing up.

He nodded, eyes glued on the screen. He was enthralled. 

You slid past him into the aisle way, making your way out into the theater hallways. You walked back up to the concession stand, waiting your turn as the line moved forward.

You looked over the room, doing a double take at the front door. The man turned around, the same familiar weasley features you had been looking at all day. 

He made eye contact with you, eyes going wide as you stepped out of the line. He looked around before booking it out of the theater, pushing over a few men as he ran out onto the street. 

You chased after him out the door, watching him run down the street towards the roller rink. “Shit.” You cursed, walking back into the theater. You rushed down the hallways, pushing the theater door open as you walked over to Bakugou.

“Katsuki, I saw Cryptid. We have to go.” You leaned over his shoulder, turning his attention away from the screen.

“You saw him?” He stood up, people yelling from behind him to sit down. He put two hands over your ears, glaring at the people behind him.

You watched him shout, unable to hear a thing through his hands. People threw popcorn, angrily yelling back from the looks on their faces. Bakugou pulled you out of the theater, people booing him as he pushed you out of the doors.

“What did you say?” You looked at him, eyes going wide. You had heard him say some vulgar things, but never anything that had warranted that kind of reaction. 

“I ruined the ending.” He looked around the theater, eyes landing on you again. “Where did he go?”

“Oh! The roller rink, I chased him out of the theater and he ran down the road.” It was now your turn to pull him behind you, tugging the blonde along as you ran out of the theater and towards the roller rink.

 “You chased after him. F/N you should have just come and got me.” Bakugou contested, his fingers slipping from your grip. He always had a problem with getting sweaty when he got worked up, and the thought of you running off alone after a villain was making his heart race. He laced his fingers with your, a better alternative that would keep him attached to you.

“I did come get you, but he saw me and took off. I didn’t want to lose him…” You slowed to a stop outside the roller rink doors. It was already getting dark outside, the sun starting to set behind the skyline. You would have to catch him here, if you took any longer you were going to run out of options. 

You walked up to the shoe counter at the front of the building, stepping up on the platform as you waited for someone to come out.

“Hey folks, welcome in! No rollerskates tonight, we close down for dancing on Saturdays, but you’re welcome to head on in!” A younger gentleman popped his head out of the office door, pointing towards the roller floor. 

“Let’s just take a look around, he may be hiding in the group.” You thanked the man, walking behind Bakugou to the crowd of teenagers below.

“I am not dancing.” He turned to you, shaking his head slowly. It was his one rule on missions, no dancing. He hated it, hated the attention. It was a useless skill and he didn’t want to waste time doing it, especially on a mission.

“Katsuki I know you hate it, but we are going to stick out just standing here. Let’s just do one song, work our way through the crowd. If we don’t see him we can leave.” You pleaded with him. The mass of people was thick, too thick to see everyone inside it. You would have to sift through them to even get to the other side of the building.

“No, i’m not saying it again. You can go find someone else to dance with you in that shit.” He folded his hands over his chest. He didn’t mean that, he would probably knock anyone who touched you’s teeth out, let alone let them hold onto you for a whole three minutes.

“Katsuki, if we don’t catch this guy we will fail this mission. Do you want to fail the mission?” 

He groaned, throwing his hands up. He hated dancing, he hated seeing people touch you, he hated that look you were giving him. But he absolutely despised failing a mission, the paperwork was atrocious.

He took your hand, practically throwing you onto the dance floor as he trudged behind you. Can it just be a slow dance, something simple and easy. 

The music changed, the beginning notes of In the Mood started. The mass of people opened, each couple their own space as everyone settled into the beat of the trumpets. It was swing, a form of dance he sadly knew well.

Bakugou had been cursed at birth with parents who loved more refined things in life. He from a young age was introduced to piano, male fashion, and dancing. Stupid fucking dancing. His parents made him take classes until he started at UA, they said it would help him in becoming a great hero one day. He had taken a liking to swing early on, it was something he could see himself using in his training one day. 

He did in fact see a difference in his hand to hand combat skills after he got the technique down, but fuck him. He was actually going to have to use it for its original purpose.

“Do you even know how to swing?” He groaned, taking your hand.

“A little, we practiced it for fun during ballet.” You leaned in, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

He had forgotten about your musical upbring, you had suffered through almost as much as he did. 

“Just don’t fall on your ass…” Bakugou started to move his feet, he would take it easy for your sake.

You mirrored him, holding onto his hand tight as he swung you around. 

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. You couldn’t help but giggle, beaming as you danced around the hall. 

He wanted to complain, but you looked so happy. It was rubbing off on him, that bubbly feeling of just being in the moment with you.

“Want to try something?” He yelled over the music, lifting his arm to twirl you.

“Yes!” You shouted, smiling as you came around.

He let go of one hand, swinging you out. He reeled you back in, his free hand coming under you back as he swung you to one side, then the other as you did a full roll over his shoulder. Your feet touched back down on the ground as he spun you out again. 

You laughed, absolutely shocked. “The girls in my class were never strong enough to do that.” You took his other hand again as he chuckled.

“You’re a lot easier to dance with compared to the old hag that taught me.” 

You very seldom saw this side of Bakugou, the soft side of him. The happy side. He had been assigned to you as a partner years ago because of a broadcasting incident. The poor man was always so wound up, a ball of nerves. It was only a matter of time before he punched a cameraman for getting in his face. You were a low contact hero, someone who worked behind the scenes. Hell you honestly never got recognized for what you even did. It seemed like a match made in heaven, a quiet hero looking for a partner, and a hotheaded pro looking to get out of the spotlight.

It started as a punishment, something to cool his head for a month or two. He went on a few missions with you, nothing too far back. But the anger and tension practically melted off the guy every time you went out. He liked it, the lack of pressure. No one knew who he was, no one expected anything of him. He could just be a hero, just save the day. No reports, no news casts, no civilians screaming at him. 

You were his only concern, to keep you safe. You never expected him to do anything more. Before long he had asked to be assigned to you. It was a demotion honestly, he was one of the top 10 heroes after all. But most day’s it felt like he was everyone’s favorite punching bag. Not even a hero in society’s eyes, just the person they loved to hate. But you, you never did that. Sure you would argue with him, and he had to admit it was fun to have someone who was just as snappy as he was around. But you never blamed him, never accused him, never labeled him.

He was just Katsuki Bakugou to you, and maybe Ground Zero when he was being an asshole. 

The song ended, everyone easing to a stop around the dance floor. A good section of the group made their way off the dance floor, breaking for water.

Bakugou looked around the room as he took a deep breath. “Now’s the best chance to find the guy.” 

You nodded, the next song starting. You turned to walk off the dance floor, a warm hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Hey, where are you going? You won’t be able to see him from up there.” He pulled you back, resting a hand on your hip.

“I thought we agreed on one song?” You tilted your hand, letting your hand fall on his shoulder.

“You said it yourself, we’re going to have to work our way through the crowd.” He took a step back, swaying with the music. 

You opened your mouth to protest, just smiling instead. You laid your head on his shoulder, scanning the crowd behind him. Why not kill two birds with one stone.

Bakugou did the same, leaning his head against your own. He looked for the uncommon top of silver white hair. Cryptid blended in with the people back home, but here his look was uncommon. He had gotten his name from how easily he disappeared into a crowd, almost as if he had never been there at all. But he had made the mistake of traveling too far back in time. The gene pools were smaller, more predictable. No one had bright hair, unnatural eyes, quirks. 

“Hey man, what do you think you’re doing!”

You lifted your head up, turning towards the sound of commotion coming from the front shoe desk.

A man was chasing someone out the front doors, “That guy stole my wallet!”

You looked at Bakugou before running off the dance floor and out the roll rink doors. Cryptid stood across the street, his eyes locked onto yours as he took off down the alley behind him.

You tried to run after him, Bakugou grabbing your arm as a car passed by. “Do you want to get hit?” He yelled, tugging you back.

You watched the villain disappear between the rushing cars. You sighed in defeat, this guy was pretty good at this vanishing stuff.

“We can just catch him at the next location.” Bakugou frowned.

“Yeah…” You reached for his back pocket, patting only fabric. You turned him around, patting at his ass.

“Fuck F/N, stop touching my ass!” He slapped your hand away, his face growing hot.

“Katsuki, where is the map? You had it last.” You looked at him, panic growing. Without that map you had no way of knowing where he would be next in this massive city.

“I put it in my back pocket…” He patted the space, eyes widening. “When did I lose it?”

“You took it from me before me went to Pam���s…it could be anywhere…” You sat down on the side of the road, pedestrians staring as they walked past.

“Do you remember where he went next?” Bakugou sat down next to you, rubbing his temples.

“No, because someone took the map from me when I was looking at it.” You glared over at him, mood souring.

“Well fuck F/N, do you remeber anything we can use?” He complained, scowling at the empty alleyway.

“Maybe…I remember seeing something about a stolen car found on the top of the hill. It was supposed to be an extra tip just in case.” 

“It’s worth a try, get up.” He offered you a hand, pulling you to your feet.

“What are you doing? We won’t be able to walk all the way there.” You followed him across the street, walking back into the alley you came from.

“We aren’t walking. Grab the bag.” Bakugou walked up to the parked pontiac, jiggling the handle.

You pulled the backpack out of the empty box you had left it in, walking over to the car.

Bakugou gave it a few more tugs, ripping the handle off of the car door. He pulled the door open, leaning under the steering wheel.

“Katsuki we can’t steal a car!” You harshly whispered, looking around for watchers.

“Why not, they are going to find one up there already, why not just leave this one too.” He connected the wires unearth, the car stuttering a few times before it started. He stood up, turning to you. “Or do you have a better idea?”

“…I guess not.” You threw your hands up, walking over to the passenger side. 

Bakugou got inside the car, leaning over to unlock your own door. He pushed it open, sitting back in the driver’s seat. 

You sat down, throwing the backpack in the back seat. “Do you even know how to drive one of these?” 

“It’s a manual, not a spaceship.” He pressed down on the clutch and shifted to first gear, his other tapping the accelerator as the car moved forward. 

This man never ceased to amaze you. 

Bakugou pulled out of the alleyway and onto the street. “Where are we going?”

“Up there.” You pointed down the road, your fingers landing on the distant hill on the horizon. “It’s called a look out point I think.”

“Gross.” Bakugou’s face soured. Intimacy, disgusting. 

You chuckled, leaning forward to turn on the radio. You clicked through the stations stopping a few in. “Hey, I know this song.” You looked over at the irritated blonde, rolling his eyes. It was Frank Sinatra I Get A Kick Out Of You, something you had heard in a taxi a long time ago. 

Bakugou tapped his finger along on the steering wheel as he rounded the road up to the top of the mountain. It was catchy. He glanced over at you, face pressed against the window as you looked down at the city skyline. It was close to dark now, the tips of the sun barely brushing the tops of the lowest buildings. The street lights were kicking on all around the city as he drove up the dark dirt road, the soft light of parked cars peaking over the top.

He pulled into the lot at the top, parking a few open spaces down from the full rows of cars. He turned off the engine and shut off the lights, the night stars popping out one by one as your eyes adjusted to the night sky.

“Hey what does this button do?” You pressed the button on the roof back, the top clicking off as it moved back into the trunk space.

“Hey, don’t be fucking with things!” Bakugou groaned, trying to stop the top from tucking away. He looked at you, hand lowering.

The sky had opened up now, the shine of every star filled the empty space in your eyes as you stared at awe. You filled his as he sank into his seat, watching you gush over the sea of lights above the both of you. 

“I’ve never seen this many. We usually never stay this late…” You laid back in your seat, counting every twinkle in the sky.

There were perks of living in such an advanced society, but there were also drawbacks. One major one being the light pollution. You had never really seen the stars, not like this. The city was too bright to see anything but the north star and the moon. But this was everything in between, the last dying breaths of the constellations above. 

You reached a hand over, brushing your fingers over Bakugou’s. “Katsuki I think that one is Mars.” You pointed up, looking over at him.

“What one?” He leaned over trying to line up his site with your extended finger.

“That one.” You pointed again.

“I don’t see it.” He leaned over a bit more, shoulder brushing yours.

“That red one!” You grumbled as he leaned over you.

Bakugou rested his hand on the side of your head, leaning down to brush his lips over your own. He pressed in you, kissing you sweetly. 

You tangled you fingers with his shirt as he pulled back, a smirk adorning his face.

“Hey, we’re working!” You blushed, covering your face with your hands.

“We are working.” He laughed, sitting back in his seat. He looked out the window, no sign of new cars.

“Do you think he will show up?” You sat up, looking at the row of cars.

“Maybe, we just have to wait and see.” Bakugou squinted at the movement coming from the car a few spots down before turning away. 

“What’s wrong, did you see him?” You leaned over, trying to get a better look.

Bakugou threw his hand over your eyes, pushing you back into your seat.“ You don’t want to see.” 

Your cheeks heated up, he was probably right.

You heard a scream come from the direction, both of your heads whipping around as you pulled his hand down.

“Hey get your hands off my girlfriend!” 

You saw a man get out of the car, pulling someone else out behind him. He was in his underwear, hair messy as he threw the man on the ground.

“That’s Cryptid!” You shouted, pointing to the man trying to stand up.

The other man swung his arm, knocking the villain out in one punch. He crumpled to the ground, limp in the dirt. The other man got back into his car, starting the engine as he drove off.

Bakugou unlocked the car door getting out, you scrambled behind him as you crawled over the seat. You both walked over to the unconscious man, turning him over to see his face.

“Yeah, he’s out cold…” You touched the man’s chest, making sure he was still breathing.

“He must have seen us and tried to hide in that car.” Bakugou picked up the man by the back of his shirt, holding him like a wet cat. 

“Well…that was convenient.” You walked back to the car, pulling the bag out of the back seat. “We should get him back before the chief throws a fit. It’s getting pretty late.”

You pulled out your jumpsuits, slipping it on over your clothes. You handed Bakugou his, trading him from the collar of the villain as he got dressed to leave.

“Let’s just say we did it, don’t need the chief knowing we let some highschool football player catch this idiot.” Bakugou reached out a hand, pulling you into his side.

“Looks like the mission is done.” You wrapped an arm around him, holding him close. 

“Yeah.” He took the man from you, shaking his head. “Can we go home so I can stop pretending to be your teenage boyfriend, I like being your adult fiance more.” He flashed you a small smile before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Yeah, we still need to talk about wedding cakes tonight.” You smirked, handing him his helmet. You clicked down your visor, as he slid his on.

Bakugou groaned, “We can’t just do it in the morning?” He was jolted forward, the both of you vanishing from the hilltop parking lot. 

[frogoat]

Friday the 13th: Mrs. Voorhees Had Help!

I think if you’re in any way familiar with the horror movie genre, you’ll have heard of the Friday the 13th franchise. And even if you’ve never watched the series, Scream gives away the fact that Jason Voorhees isn’t the killer in the first film; it’s his mother Pamela Voorhees who does all the slashing. Or does she?

Lets look at the instances of murder that the film tells us Mrs. Voorhees committed. First we have the two camp counselors in 1958, Barry and Claudette. They sneak away to do the nasty but are confronted and killed shortly afterwards. Note that they don’t appear surprised to see the killer and in fact try to lie about what they were doing, suggesting a familiarity with the assailant. As we know Pamela previously worked as Camp Crystal Lake’s cook, so we can attribute these two murders to her.

Next we have the super nice Annie, who’s been hired as the new Camp Crystal Lake cook. Annie is given a lift to the crossroad half to Crystal Lake by truck driver Enus at the suggestion of Trudy, a diner waitress. Along the way Annie learns of the ‘death curse’ from Crazy Ralph and is warned about going by Enus who recounts the troubled history of the Camp. Undeterred, Annie starts walking from the turn off toward the Camp, only to be picked up by a passerby in a vehicle. This is clearly intended to be Mrs. Voorhees driving as we see her ‘arrive’ in the same vehicle at the films conclusion and it still contains the would-be Camp cook’s lifeless body. 

But how did Pamela just happen upon Annie at the right moment? Was she really just passing by and saw an opportunity for a secluded kill or did she get a tip off? Notice the interior shots of vehicle show a radio handset. I suggest Pamela was perhaps tipped off by Trudy the diner waitress, as the two share a common vocation and could plausibly know each other well. Whether or not Trudy knew what would happen when she mentioned a girl had arrived in town talking about a re-opening Camp Crystal Lake is up for debate, though she is does go from sceptical to helpful very quickly when suggesting Enus drive her to the turn off.

Here it’s worth mentioning that despite Mrs. Voorhees being a middle aged woman who doesn’t demonstrate any exceptional athletic abilities on-screen, still catches up and kills Annie. I concede this was likely intended to be Pamela, perhaps without her iconic pale blue sweater and is possibly just the stuntman being glimpsed on-camera. If it is Mrs. Voorhees, then it begs the question who is lurking behind the trees watching Alice in a scene prior to Annie’s dive from moving vehicle. It can’t be Crazy Ralph because we know he was travelling by bike and couldn’t have outpaced Enus’ truck. Therefore, there must be a second person already onsite at Camp Crystal Lake, either an accomplice or Mrs. Voorhees herself. Whomever kills Annie wields the knife in their right hand and has a prominent ring on the ring finger of their left hand. We see Mrs. Voorhees has a ring on the same finger and wields a knife with the same hand in the climatic battle at the end of the film.

Time passes and the camp owner Steve Christie heads into town while the Camp Counselors take a swim in the lake, kill a snake, encounter a motorcycle police officer and meet Crazy Ralph who promptly leaves after delivering his doomsayer speech. Ned spies on lovers Jack and Marcie and is in turn spied on himself. Spotting a person in a hooded black raincoat entering a nearby cabin, Ned approaches the cabin, asking if they want help. We don’t see exactly what happens but we later see his body on the top of the cabin, his throat slit in the same fashion as Annie’s. This obscured figure could be Pamela’s accomplice, Pamela or both killers working together to lure Ned into a secluded spot to kill him.

With a heavy storm about, Jack and Marcie shelter in a cabin and get down to business, unaware that a deceased Ned is just a few feet above them on the upper bunk and a murdered lies inches beneath them. When Marcie leaves to use the bathroom, Jack is skewered through the throat as his assailant holds his head in place. This killer uses their right hand to hold Jack and strikes with their left hand. We also get another glimpse of the plaid long sleeve shirt.

Seemingly at about the same time, Marcie is followed into the bathroom block. Hearing someone approaching, Marcie calls out playfully to Jack and goofs around in the mirror until hearing more movement nearby. This time thinking it’s Ned trying to prank her, Marcie approaches the shower cubicles only to be killed with an axe blow to the head. We don’t see anything to identify the killer but shortly after when Brenda uses the bathroom, we get a glimpse of a hand behind the shower curtain, suggesting they were unable to leave with Marcie’s body until afterwards. Given that it was a downward axe swing, it’s possible the killer here was taller in height, but this one is unclear. Either way, they were stuck in there with Marcie for a while, presumably holding her upright to avoid detection.

Brenda is watched from outside her own cabin as she settles for the night, only to be drawn outside when she hears what sounds like a child’s voice calling for help. This is most certainly Pamela herself providing the voice, leading Brenda to the archery range where she is blinded by the spotlights and attacked. The left hand we see flip the spotlights on is again adorned with a ring and appears to be wearing the same black raincoat as before, which further corroborates the idea this is Mrs. Voorhees. But who grabbed her while she was blinded by the light? We’ll see Pam use the blinding tactic again, too. As is evident later, Brenda is not actually killed here, because we see her moving feebly later when she is tied up and thrown through a cabin window. More on that later.

Alice and Bill go to Brenda’s cabin to investigate a scream only to find the bloodied axe in her bed. Given the short period of time between Brenda’s scream and the duo’s investigation, I think it’s more plausible the accomplice planted the axe immediately after Brenda exited her cabin before approaching her from behind while she was blinded. Finding no one, Bill and Alice try the phones and the car only to discover they’ve been disabled. Given we know someone was already present at the Camp during the daytime and the whole group of Counselors were at the lake at one point, it’s likely this is when the sabotage took place.

Meanwhile, Steve Christie leaves the diner after a brief chat with waitress Sandy and heads back toward the camp in his 4 Wheel Drive with trailer in tow, only for the vehicle to become bogged and apparently have engine trouble. He is given a lift most of the way back to Camp Crystal Lake by Sgt. Tierney before the latter is called away to a crash. Making his way back on foot, Steve is blinded by a person with a torch in front of the Camp Crystal Lake sign before being stabbed. This is evidently Pamela herself as Steve recognizes his assailant, and we know she had worked for the Christie family back in the 1950′s before her son Jason drowned. I’d suggest the diner worker Sandy may have tipped off Pamela that Steve was returning so that she could lay in wait for him.

The generator is turned off, causing Bill to venture out to investigate and restore power while Alice tries to get some sleep. Evidently some time passes between Bill’s departure and Alice going to find him, as he is found hung on the outside of the generator room’s door with his body filled with a number of arrows and his throat slit. As Bill leaves his raincoat in the generator room, it would appear he too was lured out by Mrs. Voorhees before being attacked and killed. Given the sheer strength required to suspend a man on a door in such a way, I believe we can attribute at least some of this task to Pam’s accomplice. 

Now in a panic, Alice returns to the main cabin and attempts to secures the door from within and arms herself. At this point, the still faintly alive Brenda is thrown through one of the windows, presumably killing her. Brenda appears to have ropes wrapped around her and is covered in blood. Moments later, Alice sees the headlights of Mrs. Voorhees vehicle approaching from the front of the cabin, causing her to remove her barricade and pleas for help. While it’s only an assumption on her part, Alice remarks ‘Please don’t leave me! They’ll kill you too!’ The obvious question here is if Pam did all this herself how did she manage to throw Brenda through the window (or swing her on a rope pulley, perhaps?) and also drive up in her vehicle from the opposite direction within seconds? 

After her mental flashback, Pamela draws a knife from her left hip with her right hand. Here we can see what appears to be the plaid shirt beneath Pam’s sweater. When brandishing her knife at Alice, Pamela makes erratic stabbing motions, rather than the clean slices we saw on some of the victims. Alice discovers poor, sweet Annie’s body in the car, apparently having been left there since her murder. Next, Alice runs into Mr Christie who’s body is suspended from a tree upside down with a knife still lodged in his chest. Clearly a passionate slaying.

With Alice now running and hiding from Pamela, we move into genuine Final Girl territory. Notice that Mrs. Voorhees struggles to break down the pantry door and swings her weapons wildly as though without skill. Compare this with the early more methodical and precise throat stabbings and we paint a clearer picture of the second person. Finally we have the iconic decapitation of Mrs. Voorhees which also gives a clear shot of her ring. 

Notice that several of the attacks have involved luring the victim to a secluded location alone before attacking. It’s also noteworthy some of the victims have been moved after death to delay their discovery, often in elaborate ways involving both physical strength and planning. Finally, note that there were primarily two mechanisms of injury: slit throats and far more messy stabbings. I would argue that this indicates a second person present at Camp Crystal Lake that June 13th. Two personalities and two types of attacks. One is more cold and calculated, the other more emotional and aggressive. It could be argued that this is just an indication of Pamela’s psychosis manifesting (and that’s a perfectly acceptable answer) but I think the sheer amount of physical strength, the timeline of events occurring around the camp, the presence of someone hiding at the camp while Annie is being killed and the sheer amount of moving and planning needed to pull this all off indicates an accomplice on-site at the camp. This is in addition to the far more passive assistance from certain members of hospitality industry who likely had no idea what Pamela had planned.

The movie presents at least two occasions where the assailant is forced into hide after a killing, preventing them from moving on immediately to the next victim, leaving us to wonder how they could have possibly moved about so quickly. We also have several elaborate set ups for the victims to be revealed in a dramatic fashion which clearly require time not afforded to a lone killer. The evidence of violent strength only seen on some of the victims, particularly those lured aware and killed off-screen indicates a second participant, one with greater physical prowess than that seen from Pamela in the film’s finale. The real question shouldn’t be was there a second killer. Rather, it should be who was the second killer in Friday the 13th?

But that’s a discussion for another time. 

[usertoxicyaoi]

Look, How Long This Love Can Hold Its Breath.

“Yet, like with most things in life, Pam follows what her gut says. First thought, best thought.”

Or,

My take on Pam, because she deserves better, as does Earn, as does every girl on this show.

Title: from Sierra DeMulder’s Your Love Finds Its Way Back. Words: 5.2K.

“You guys just can’t hide it when you see hot girls, can you?”

That statement, the resounding echo of it, sounds around the entire room, bouncing off the walls. It’s been minutes, hours, since it’d been spoken out into the universe. She shouldn’t, she knows this, yet Pam can’t help but focus in on two words in particular, as she lies under the covers in bed that night.

Hot Girls.

It was the way she, Earn, - Pam recalls her name as Sarawat introduced his bandmates to her - had said those words. She’d said it with so much conviction, a sureness, an assertiveness to her tone.

Hot Girls.

Pam shrugs off the covers and turns to her side. Suddenly, she feels a surge of heat incoming as she tries to form some meaning of what that statement could mean. Perhaps she was reading too much into it, and maybe it was just a flippant remark Earn had made, to quieten down the boys. Maybe she was just looking out for her, since they were the only two girls in a room that was otherwise populated with testosterone and Axe deodorant.

Pam sighs and grabs her phone from the bedside table. It reads 23:17 on her lockscreen. She knows, amongst all the other things, that she should get some rest and sleep. She has an early start tomorrow with enrolment to take care of, which means filling in form after form, and a grand tour of her Faculty building.

Yet, like with most things in life, Pam follows what her gut says. First thought, best thought.

She swipes across and unlocks her phone, opens Instagram, and finds the Ctrl S page. It’s like a reflex at this point, she could do this blindfolded. Ever since Sarawat had informed her of the band and sent her the link to the page, she followed it promptly and browsed through the posts, until she came upon it for the first time. Since then, it’s become a ritual for her.

She scrolls down the page until she finds it.

And it’s that one picture of Earn. And she looks mesmerising.

She’s glancing down, focusing on the chords she’s playing on the guitar to a song Pam has no idea of what it could be. Her hair is tied up into a ponytail, a little dishevelled just like it was earlier today, save for the few strands that frame both sides of her face. The lights are violet which surround her, that highlight the points of her cheekbones, and her skin glows. She looks so in her element, the pleasure she seeks from it pouring out as her passion for playing the strings, as though this was her purpose in life. She has her bottom lip bitten, chewed between her teeth. Perhaps it’s something of a habit Earn has when she’s in deep thought, Pam assumes.

Pam’s thumb absentmindedly begins to stroke across Earn’s lips through the screen. She doesn’t want to assume that it’s a habit. Rather, she’d like to know if it is.

That’s not the only thing she’d like to know, though. She’d like to know Earn’s favourite colour, her favourite time of the day, what annoys her. She’d like to know what it feels like to look directly into her eyes, the texture of her skin under her fingers, the feel of her lips-

And Pam always makes herself stop right there. She doesn’t dare let herself think any more beyond that. Pam locks her phone and places it on charge, swallowing thickly and exhaling the air from her lungs through a breath that shudders, that’s heard within the silence enveloping her room. She turns, her back to her phone and her face to the wall.

No one needed to know the real reason as to why she came here, to Bangkok, all the way from Chiang Mai. Why she transferred universities and dropped out from studying Medicine to pursuing Music instead. Logically, she knows it’s a risk, a huge one. Medicine was her forte, a sure-fire. Pam had had it all mapped out. By her mid-20s, she knew she’d be a successful graduate and would begin her practice as a novice and live a comfortable life.

And then Earn happened.

And what seemed so resolute and unshakeable didn’t seem so anymore. Her heart wasn’t into it any longer.

First thought, best thought.

Which led her here.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day. Pam shut her eyes, sending out a prayer to God, hoping she’d done the right thing, and let sleep take over her.

 /

Sarawat told her he couldn’t teach her the guitar any longer. That something was the issue between him and Tine which required some time for healing and a lot of distance from her. Pam understood what that meant. She wasn’t one to intrude in spaces she was unwanted in.

But Sarawat was her best friend, and he wouldn’t leave her dry and hanging just like that. He said he knew someone that could teach her. When Pam asked him if she knew who it was, Sarawat stayed silent and looked, not at her, but through her, for the longest time. He held her gaze, composed, but Pam knew his brain was in overdrive right now.  

Just the same way it would be when he was trying to calculate the weight of the consequences of his decisions, if whether going to that Scrubb concert last year was worth it or not when she, Man and Boss were pleading him to tag along.

“You’ll know them, soon,” he says, finally.

“Them?”

“Her.”

“Her?”

“Earn.”

Something changed, then. Not so much in the way that the world had tilted on its axis. But, in the way that there was a stepping stone being placed right at her feet. An alignment of sorts. A pathway being carved by God Himself.  

He was listening.

 /

The test was in a couple of weeks’ time. That’s not to say that Pam wasn’t panicking.

She was.

What little Sarawat had taught her last year in high school regarding basic chords on the guitar, she’d forgotten due to neglect.

She had her first practice session with Earn tomorrow, and she did not want to make a fool of herself. That meant latching on her phone and hinging onto every pathetic YouTube tutorial that could simply explain things, like how to hold the damn guitar properly, at a beginner’s level.

What Pam was graced with, though, was the skill of picking things up quickly. She deftly learnt at least the sufficient amount of know-how and the basics, enough to make her seem like a keen novice that wanted to learn how to play the guitar for the love of it.

Which she did, she’d remind herself constantly. It wasn’t just because of … her. Earn.

Somehow, it felt wrong to even think that. She wasn’t doing this all just to impress Earn enough into anything. She’d scrapped the entire script of her life away and rewrote a new one. Pam enjoyed music, but studying it felt like becoming intimately at one with it. It meant letting it consume you.

Pam just wanted to understand how that felt for Earn. How did she feel when she let something in, so closely, that she didn’t know where she ended or that something began? How did she feel about wilfully letting something consume you, whole and raw, bare and stripped?

How about if it wasn’t a thing, but rather, someone. A being. A girl …

/

“You’re persistent. I like that about you.”

Earn says that, just barely above a whisper, into Pam’s ear. Her entire body is draping over and around Pam’s. She’s holding the fingers of her left hand and pressing them against the strings on the neck of the guitar, informing her of just how much strength to apply, whilst showing her how to strum by holding her right hand.

It started off with them two sat opposite one another. Earn asked how much she knew, and Pam told her. Earn didn’t say anything in reply, just nodded whilst jutting her bottom lip out. Pam didn’t know what to make of that, didn’t know how to read her body talk.

She resorted to assuming that it was probably a form of silent appreciation. Earn hadn’t high tailed and ran out of the room yet, so, that was at least a positive.

Then she handed a guitar, her guitar, over to Pam.

It was the same guitar that was in that photo of Earn. The same guitar in the photo that Pam daily spent minutes on end, worshipping, in the stillness of the night, in her room with the curtains shut.

And all of a sudden it was in her hands, and she didn’t know what to do with them.

“Go on, I trust you with it. The only reason I’m giving it to you is because the strings are softer. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Somehow it felt like every word from Earn’s mouth was a lyric, something that belonged to a song. Something that moved you, made you want to sit and understand what that meant, what implication it held for you. Something that you didn’t want to misread or mistranslate the inference of.

‘What did she mean by that?’ was the only thing Pam could think of in that moment. It’s starting to become a habit now. Earn speaks, and Pam finds herself having to recalibrate all over again to understand the intent of her words, and to whom they’re said for.

The weight of those words linger in the air between them, until Pam sees Earn get up and walk towards her. She seats herself next to her and fixes the guitar into position within Pam’s arms.

And Pam can’t stop herself this time. There it is, this it what it feels like, to look directly into her round eyes. It feels safe, reassuring. It feels alluring, inviting. This is what it feels like, the texture of her skin. Its both rough and smooth, and she touches so softly but there’s a security in it.

“Play me what you know.”

“I don’t know how to play.”

“Mmmm.” Earn bites her bottom lip between her teeth.

‘Oh,’ … so it was a habit, then. Pam’s lips turn upwards into the smallest smile, that she keeps to herself.

“Do you want to start from the start with me, then?” asks Earn.

“Yeah. I … I’d like that.” says Pam.

Which is how they find themselves now, limbs wrapped around one another, with Earn gently whispering into Pam’s ear what chord is which and demonstrating it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a break?” asks Earn, turning her face to look at Pam.

“I’m fine, I promise. I’m not as delicate as I may seem.” Pam replies, a gentle laugh escaping her mouth. She finds it lovely that Earn worries.

“Mmmm.” Earn bites her bottom lip between her teeth, again. She looks adorable doing so, with her forehead creasing in concern. And then, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

There it is, again.

Pam swallows and looks directly back into Earn’s eyes. She needs Earn to know. “You’re not. You won’t. I trust you, just like you trusted me with your guitar.”

What Pam wasn’t expecting was for Earn to wistfully sigh, and then lean her head against Pam’s shoulder.

“Good. I don’t want to scare you away. Besides, Sarawat would kill me. He’s handed you over to me.”

There it is, again.

Perhaps it’d just be easier to let it be what it is. That is, if these words Earn speaks are for her and her only, said aloud with no one but them two alone in the practice room, then maybe Pam should let herself go. Maybe she shouldn’t chain herself and resist. Maybe she can allow herself to indulge in this, whatever this is.

First thought, best thought.

“And how are you going to handle me, then?” Pam asks, one foot in front of the next, as she bravely steps onto that stepping stone.

Earn looks up at her, and they’ve never been this close to each other, until yet.

“With absolute care,” she replies.

And that was enough for Pam.

 /

Until it wasn’t.

Once you let yourself indulge, you become greedy, and a gluttony forms for the thing that satiates.

Of course, Pam knew that Earn’s Instagram page was tagged in that photo, but she never permitted herself to ever actually go onto her page. That felt like crossing a boundary. It felt too much, because that would mean Pam would get to see who Earn was, and the desire would only grow tenfold. So, it was better to not indulge at all.

But they’ve had several practice sessions since their first. The test is this week, on the Friday.

Every practice starts with Earn not even bothering to sit opposite Pam anymore. They immediately intertwine. Even when they don’t need to. Even when Pam had all the basic chords down and learnt.

The session they had today was spent discussing what song Pam was going to play during the test. That meant sharing headphones and scrolling through playlists, both on Pam and Earn’s phones. Earn writes down a list on potentials on paper, whilst leaning her head on Pam’s shoulder.

Pam doesn’t question it anymore; it’s just another habit Earn has.

They eventually decide on a song: Close, by Scrubb. Earn notes down the chords of the song, whilst Pam hums along and sings bits here and there.

“Your voice … it’s so beautiful.” Earn says.

Pam’s cheeks tint to a rosy pink, in response. Blood rushes there and everywhere, coursing warmth to spread right to the tips of her toes.

Earn laughs, mostly because Pam thinks that she knows that Earn knows what that did for her.

“Are you coming to the contest tomorrow?” Earn asks, taking the headphone from Pam’s ear and putting them away.

“Of course, I am. I don’t want to miss a chance to see you play.” Pam says, because she’s known it’s coming for the last week now. Everyone within the Faculty has been talking about it. There’s been such a buzz of excited nervous energy in the air as all attention has turned towards preparing for it.

But that’s not why Pam is so eager. It’s because she’ll finally get to witness Earn play. She’ll get to experience that beyond just through a photo and screen.

“Not miss a chance just to see me play? What about Sarawat? I thought he was your best friend?”

“I’ve seen him play plenty. It doesn’t excite me anymore.”

“And seeing me does?”

Pam’s head spins to look at Earn, and she’s sporting the widest smirk across her mouth. How does she do this to her, every single time?

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Pam says, a little too late, because Earn’s already biting her bottom lip again. It’s not out of concentration this time, Pam notices, but because she’s supressing something. A laugh? Another smirk?

“Go on, say it. Tease me. I know you want to.” Pam says, pouting, as she folds her arms and looks away.

“Not like this. I told you, I’ll handle you with care. I don’t want to hurt you,” but Pam can hear it in Earn’s voice. There’s sincerity, of course, but a hint of teasing too.

“Hmmm. And what about tomorrow? How are you going as?” Pam asks, tilting her face to the side to look at Earn up and down.

“What do you mean?” Earn scoffs.

“What? No makeup? Nothing a bit more special or fancy than the usual?”

“People come to watch me play the guitar, not come to watch me, per se.”

“And what if there’s someone that does?”

“Pray, tell.” Earn asks, leaning forward, ever so closely.

Pam’s gaze flits across Earn’s face. The way her hair frames it, the fullness of her lips, her nose. She’s beautiful. Breathtakingly so, this close.

First thought, best thought.

“Can I try something?” Pam asks.

“Go on.”

Pam leans forward and lifts her hand to find the tie keeping Earn’s hair up. She takes hold of it, making sure to keep her gaze locked with Earn’s for any sign of discomfort, and glides it downwards, until her hair loosens from its grip. She puts the hair tie to a side, and raises her hand again to take the some of the left section of Earn’s hair into her fingers, and place it forward. Her fingers rake slowly down her tresses, gliding so easily, not a knot to be found, and stills, just above Earn’s heart.

And there’s no lie to be found. It’s beating, hard, fast, alive.

“I’ve always wanted to see you with your hair down, but I didn’t know how to ask.” Pam says.

“You can ask me for anything, you know.”

“And you’d give it to me?”

“I’ll try, as hard as I can.”

“Then, can I dress you up tomorrow, after practice?”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I want to.”

Earn laughs, resting her head forward against Pam’s shoulder, her face nestled in the space there.

“Remember when I told you that you were persistent, and that I liked that about you? I still do. Go ahead, I won’t stop you.” Earn whispers, right into Pam’s ear, her lips grazing the skin of her neck there.

So, that’s how Pam finds herself, that night, lying in bed, finally letting herself indulge. She can still feel the ghost of Earn’s lips grazing her skin, the shiver that followed, and how Earn’s beating heart felt under her palm. These things don’t lie.

First thought, best thought.

She lets herself go onto Earn’s Instagram page.

She lets herself admire Earn, post by post.

She lets herself follow Earn.

And when Earn follows her back straight away, she lets herself laugh freely, clutching her pillow and hiding her face in it.

That night, she sleeps sending a prayer of gratitude to God, and then lets herself repeat, “I like you, Earn,” just like another form of prayer, a mantra, over and over again.

The weight of the words don’t surprise her. It’s not heaviness she feels, but instead, relief. Her feelings have words that express them.

 /

They manage to go over the chords of Close roughly, enough so that Pam familiarises herself with them. She can feel, rather than see, that Earn’s a little on edge today, because of nerves Pam assumes she’s probably feeling due to the contest. It’s in the way Earn keeps breathing heavily every so often, getting slightly distracted and then zoning back in.

Today, Pam decided to take matter into her own hands, and call the shots.

First thought, best thought.

“Right, come on. I’m going to dress you up.”

“But we haven’t finis-“

“Yes, we have.”

“Persistent.” Earn says, with a lop-sided smile directed at Pam, tilting her head to one side. It’s the first time she’s been this relaxed within the past 2 hours.

“Mmm, but you like it.” Pam tilts her head the other way, smiling back at Earn.

“I do. Yes, I do.” Each time she affirms that, there’s more and more sureness that gathers in her voice. Something that erases any hint or speck of doubt to even exist between them. It stirs something deep with Pam.

She starts off first by taking out her small make-up pouch that she bought along with her to practice. She doesn’t want to overwhelm Earn, or completely give her a make-over. She just wants to accentuate that beauty that she already possesses.

This was Earn trusting Pam to do as she pleased with her. Pam was going to respect that.

She had told Earn to bring along with her the concealer she wore and got to work with it. Earn’s skin didn’t require much of it, just enough to cover a couple of blemish marks, and brighten her under-eye a little. She set that with some loose powder, and saw how the bristles of the brush tickled Earn enough to make her giggle. That sound in itself was a melody, and Earn was visibly relaxing more and more, to the point where she seemed as though she was enjoying this.

‘Good’, Pam thought. She’d do whatever it took to make Earn feel at ease.

Then, she went in with a touch of bronzer, to simply add some depth and shadow, before adding a very small amount of golden sparkle onto the lids of Earn’s eyes. She let Earn apply the mascara for herself, whilst Pam dug out the last 3 things: blush, highlight and gloss.

Since Earn was going to be wearing her favourite brown jacket, Pam decided to go for a more peachy tone. She applied the blush across the apples of Earn’s cheeks, and bought it across the bridge of her nose too. She then applied just enough highlight, so that it could be seen, but not to the point where it took away from the rest of the make-up.

“Gloss will go on last. Now, let’s do your hair.” Pam spoke, as she stood to move behind Earn with her hairbrush and took out the hair tie binding Earn’s hair together into her ponytail. She carefully brushed through Earn’s hair, before parting it at the centre, and taking the strands of hair that usually framed both sides of her face into her fingers, plaiting them intricately and them pinning them secure to the back of her head. She applied hairspray for added hold, and then made her way back to face Earn again.

And there was something different about this Earn. She looked … softer, today. An innocence that Pam had never seen on her.

Was she blushing?

“Aren’t you going to complete me?” Earn asks, her gaze lowered.

Pam came and sat down opposite her, lifting Earn’s chin with her fingers so that their eyes met.

Without anything else needing to be said, Pam unscrewed the gloss, twirled the stick around the bottle to coat the brush evenly with the gloss, and leaned in to apply it.

She could feel Earn’s eyes on her, as she focused on putting the gloss on her lips properly. She could feel the warm air from Earn’s exhale tickle her skin, tickle her own lips. All it’d take is just moving an inch more closer, and Pam would know what Earn’s lips felt like on her own.

And her lips? Her lips were so full. Her bottom one marked with the fresh indents after her latest attempt at biting them between her teeth out of worry, and her cupid’s bow so prominent. She had lips that deserved to be softly pecked, once, twice, a thousand times. She had lips that deserved to be deeply kissed, bitten, tugged and stretched between teeth, to be opened and her mouth to be explored. To be left red and pink and worshipped and swollen with the blood pooling in them. They deserved hours of attention, that Pam wanted to provide.

Pam looked up at Earn. They were both caught in the act. At least it was even.

“Let me get your jacket, and then you’re complete.” Pam says, going to the door and getting it from where it was left hanging, hooked onto the peg.

She made her way round to stand behind Earn, opening the jacket so that Earn could put her arms through the sleeves, and pull it up, whilst Pam smoothed out her hair, so that her tresses fell on top of the back of her jacket.

Earn spun around and twirled for Pam, and there she was, complete and ready. She looked gorgeous. Every inch of her was so relaxed by now, that she was oozing confidence, as she picked up her guitar case.

“Don’t you want to see how you look?” asks Pam.

“I trust you.”

“Still. Hold on a second.” Pam made her way to her makeup pouch and took out her pocked sized mirror. Earn deserved to see herself in a floor to ceiling one, if she was being honest, but they’d have to make do for now.

She handed the mirror over to Earn, who looked at her reflection and gasped.

“Oh … Wow.”

“Good Wow or Bad Wow?”

“I’d kiss your cheek to say thank you if I didn’t have this gloss on kind of Wow.” Earn laughs, looking back up at Pam.

“You look stunning, Earn. You’ll be so great up there.”

“You think so? Sarawat’s been hammering it down just how badly we need to win this thing.”

“I believe in you, Earn.”

And then, a silence fell. Something in Pam told her it needed to be filled. One last form of encouragement.

First thought, best thought.

“If I said there was a way through which I could pass on some of belief to you, what would you say?” Pam asks, as she steps closer to Earn.

“What does that look like?”

“Something like this.”

And Pam lets herself kiss Earn’s cheek and linger.

“I’m not wearing gloss.” Pam whispers into Earn’s ear.

And if Pam was unsure if whether Earn was blushing before, she knows with absolution now, that she indeed is.

That night, once the contest is over and Ctrl S have won, Pam scrolls through Instagram and sees the pictures of Earn.

To know that she had some part to play in making her look like that, filled Pam up with pride. Knowing that Earn trusted her to this extent, filled her up with hope.

She prayed to God for strength, because she didn’t know how much longer now she could go on, without telling Earn the intensity of what she felt for her.

 /

The day finally came.

It was Friday, the day of the test. Pam wanted nothing more than to make Earn proud. She didn’t want Earn to feel disappointed or let down. Pam had taken a spare guitar back to her dorm room from the practice room, and stayed up until the early hours of the morning, just before the sky blushed pink and the birds came out to sing, and practised.

The strings on this guitar weren’t soft. They were brutal. They cut through Pam’s skin.

But she was persistent, like Earn said. It’s the one thing Earn liked about her.

“Have you even slept at all? Look at your fingers! I said I wasn’t going to hurt you, Pam.” Earn complains to her, as she takes both of Pam’s hands in hers and inspects them in a secluded corner away from the other students in the Music room.

“And you haven’t. And yes, I slept for, like, 3 hours. I just want to make you proud.”

“And you will. I trust you. And that’s why you’re going to be using my guitar that we’ve been practising with for your test.” Earn says, sternly this time, leaving no room for arguments.

And then, she feels Earn’s lips kiss her cheek.

Earn simply shrugs at her.

“You need the belief, this time. Don’t worry, no gloss.”

And then she winks at her, before walking away to go and stand next to Sarawat, as the test begins.

Pam passes.

“Of course you would, I told you.” Earn’s smile is so bright, she’s beaming at her.

Pam’s just relieved it went well. She’d find herself constantly looking up and back at Earn through her trial, who never once took her eyes away from her. It should have been more nerve-wracking to play in front of her, yet it wasn’t. It was soothing, like a balm, her being there, mouthing the words along. Even Sarawat was left stunned.

“Can we talk, Earn?” Pam says, suddenly. Maybe it was elation speaking, but Pam knew she wouldn’t get presented a better chance than now. “Somewhere, where it’s just … us two.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

They make their way into a spare, vacant room on the floor, Pam shutting the door close behind her.

“Is everything okay?” Earn asks, concerned.

“Yeah. Urm.”

First thought, best thought.

Pam restarts.

“You know how you always say you like my persistence?” Pam asks, stepping closer to Earn, who steps closer to Pam, as they meet each other halfway.

“I do.”

“Is that the only thing?”

“That?”

“That you like about me?”

“If I did, would I have called you Hot during the first time I ever lay my eyes on you?”

“So you do … find me Hot?” Pam can’t even say the word out loud.

“Tremendously so.” Earn replies in the small space between them, raising her hand to caress Pam’s cheek with the back of her fingers, before resting it against her jaw, holding it. “I let you dress me up, I let you kiss my cheek, I let you use my guitar. I’ve held you and touched you. I’ve even let you into my dreams behind my eyelids.”

“Earn …” Pam says, like a lifeline, closing her eyes shut.

“Look at me, please, when I say what I’m about to say next.” Earn urges.

Pam opens her eyes to look directly into Earn’s.

“It’s you. Every. Single. Time.”, she says.

“I like you too, Earn.” Pam whispers, into that small space. It was as simple and as honest as that, yet it gathered every bit of her strength to say, “There’s something else I want to ask of you.”

“You can ask me anything, baby.” Earn says, brushing her nose against Pam’s.

“And you’d give it me?”

“In a heartbeat.” Earn says, her mouth pressing soft, open kisses on Pam’s cheeks, as her hand comes to tuck the loose strand of hair behind Pam’s ear.

“I want to know how they feel.” Pam says, pulling Earn by the waist, closer to her body.

“Kiss me, then.”

And it’s everything Pam had ever thought it would have been, only intensified. Earn kisses slowly, like she has all the time to give to Pam. Pam takes Earn’s bottom lip, between her teeth, and then bites down ever so gently into it. Its that sound that follows, that spills from Earn’s mouth, that moan, and it leaves Pam unhinged. She made her do that. And so, she does it again, and Earn moans for her again.

They kiss until Pam’s struggling to breathe, and she pulls back for air but Earn chases after her mouth and they’re kissing, again. Heads tilting to find a better angle, lips drawn open and Pam doesn’t even know where she ends and where Earn begins; their limbs intertwined, just like they’ve always found their way to end up being.

‘She wants this too. She wants me too.,’ is Pam’s first thought. On another day, she’ll ask Earn what her favourite colour, her favourite time of the day and what things annoy her are. She’ll one day even tell her how she left it all behind, just for her. She’ll thank God profusely for making this work out for her, for giving her that stepping stone.

But right now, her only thought, her best thought, is to indulge in kissing and giving Earn’s mouth the attention it deserves.

[notarelationship]

In A Minute - Ch 4

Klaine Fic - In A Minute

Summary: AU. Kurt’s a bit clumsy, and Blaine needs a boyfriend in a hurry. What more do you want? Words: ~3600 Chapters: 4/? Warnings: none

AO3: Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4

I am so, so sorry about the delay in posting! My summer just got away from me. I'm hoping to finish this up soon so the wait for the rest shouldn't be too long!

Thanks to @honeysucklepink​ for the beta! I claim all errors as my own.

--

“We can send up a fold out cot if you like,” the very-eager-to-help hotel employee on the other end of the line said.

Blaine considered it. He could sleep on the cot and Kurt could have the bed to himself.

“I’m sorry Mr. Anderson, we called a -” Blaine heard fingers clacking on a keyboard at the other end of the line. “A Pam Anderson - when we swapped the rooms. She said it would be alright and that you really only needed the one.”

“It’s - not all - I mean,” Blaine turned around when Kurt stepped back into the room. Kurt smiled and went to unpack his clothes into the wardrobe, carefully smoothing each item as he hung it. ‘Ask them to send up a steamer, I forgot mine,‘ Kurt whispered.  If Blaine’s mother knew what the configuration of his hotel room was, he couldn’t tell the front desk that they weren’t together. What if it got back to her? “No, it’s fine. Thanks.” Kurt turned to look at him expectantly. “Oh, and can you send up a steamer iron? Thank you.”

“Everything okay?” Kurt asked, when Blaine hung up the phone.

Blaine sighed and shrugged. “Well, they don’t have another room. But they did offer to send up a cot if I wanted.” He was worried about his mother finding out, but if it would make Kurt more comfortable then he’d do it. He’d worry about what to tell her when she found out. Which she would.

Kurt rolled his eyes and lay down on the bed, stretching out on one side. “Blaine. Lie down on the bed.” Kurt waved a hand and then patted the empty half of the mattress. “Please.”

Blaine hesitated, but Kurt made an insistent gesture, so he did as he was instructed. There was a lot of room between him and Kurt, which Kurt waved his arm across like he was making half a snow angel.

“See? You could put an entire third person in here with us - not that I’m suggesting that. Or two large dogs.” Kurt turned to his side, propping his head up with one hand. “Look, Blaine. I know you’re just trying to make sure I’m comfortable with this whole - situation, but I promise it’s fine. I’m pretty sure you’re not a serial killer, and you’ve been nothing but a gentleman.”

Blaine buried his face in a pillow and moaned. “I can’t believe I dragged you into this,” he mumbled into the pillow.

“Blaine.”

“Mmffmm.”

“Blaine look at me.”

Blaine took a deep breath and pushed himself up off of the mattress until he was sitting upright, facing Kurt. Kurt rolled his eyes and sat up.

“For the last time. You asked me and I said yes. And - I am very into this whole winery weekend thing, so stop feeling guilty about it for my sake.” Kurt paused for just a moment. “You’re on your own with your parents.”

“Okay.” Blaine laughed and closed his eyes, and because he was generally grateful for how cool Kurt was being about everything, including how nervous Blaine was acting, he added, “Thank you.”

“You may not thank me after I run up the champagne tab in the spa,” Kurt said, then he jumped off the bed, startling Blaine. “Now, I would really love to shower and get cleaned up. I smell like a commuter train. And I’m starving. What time is it? Do you think we can get some food anywhere?”

“Oh, uh almost 1:30, I think?” Blaine hopped off the bed and picked up a card that was set out on the desk that had the schedule of wedding sponsored weekend activities printed on it. “And there is a buffet lunch set out until three. I should probably head down and say hello to my family, do you want to come down when you’re ready?”

“That sounds great. I won’t be long, I really am hungry.”

Blaine waited while Kurt grabbed some things from his bag and then shut himself in the bathroom. Once he could hear water running, Blaine changed into fresh clothes, and made his way downstairs.

--

“Blaine! Sweetheart!” Blaine tried not to flinch as his mother flung an arm around him in an excessively demonstrative hug. “If I didn’t know better I’d have thought you were avoiding us!” Blaine speculated that it was likely that she’d had a few afternoon cocktails already.

“Hi Mom,” he said, returning her hug more sedately and kissing her on the cheek. “Of course not. We only arrived about 40 minutes ago. I came down as quickly as I could.”

His mother hummed noncommittally, looking behind Blaine as if he were hiding someone. “Where’s Kurt? I thought he was coming with you?”

“He wanted to freshen up after the ride here. He’ll be down shortly.”

“Oh, good,” she said, although it sounded more perfunctory than actually interested.

“I’ll make sure I bring him over to say hello,” Blaine said, as she leaned up to kiss him on the cheek.

“Delightful,” she answered, and then she was off to mingle with the other guests. Blaine wondered idly where his dad was.

Blaine glanced around the patio where the lunch had been set up. There were tables and chairs spanning the indoor/outdoor space, and opposite that the several buffet tables set up along the inside wall. It gave off the feeling of wanting to be casual, but Blaine knew better; there was nothing casual about this crowd. He was surprised that there weren’t tuxedoed wait staff serving hors d’oeuvres on silver trays.

There were about fifty people milling around, and while Blaine recognized some of them, more of them were strangers. He wondered how many people had actually been invited to the wedding.

“Hey, I’d know those boyish good looks anywhere.” Blaine didn’t recognize the voice, so he didn’t realize the owner of it was speaking to him. At least not right away. “I had no idea they’d belong to an ass that wouldn’t quit.”

Blaine choked and looked around to see who on earth would be that forward with a total stranger at someone’s wedding.

A guy Blaine would have described as smarmy held out his hand. Blaine shook it. “I’ve heard a lot about you Blaine Anderson.”

“Um, who are you?”

“Oh, I thought for sure you’d recognize me from the snaps I sent you the other day. Sebastian Smythe.”

Blaine’s manners kicked, sort of, while he mentally rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, but the one with your face must not have come through.” Blaine looked around, hoping to see Kurt walking in, but there was no sign of him.

“Blaine honey!” His mother reappeared. “I see you’ve met Sebastian!”

Blaine grimaced. She was about to keep going, no doubt singing Sebastian’s praises, when Blaine’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Excuse me one sec,” he said, hoping it was Kurt. Fishing his phone out, he turned away so he could check the message, and his mother carried on talking to Sebastian.

What are you wearing?

It was from Kurt, and Blaine tried not to notice the warm feeling that licked up his spine at that question. Even though he knew there wasn’t really anything behind it.

Excuse me?

I need to know what you’re wearing so I can match - casual? Formal? I didn’t see you before you left.

Oh. Okay. That made sense. Blaine had dressed in a pair of navy shorts and a white polo, but had picked one of his favorite peach colored bow ties with schnauzers on them for some personality.

Navy shorts and a white polo. Bow tie. He texted Kurt.

How preppy. send me a picture?

Blaine could feel his face color, and looked around as if someone were peeking at his incoming texts. Not that it was scandalous at all, he was just being weird.

OK hang on.  Blaine found a men’s room, thankfully empty, and took a photo of himself in the lounge mirror. He held his breath when he hit send.

He didn’t have to wait long. Great. I’ll be down in less than ten!

Blaine wandered back over to the buffet gathering, avoiding where his mother was still talking to Sebastian, wondering if ten minutes actually meant ten minutes. Was Kurt a punctual person or did he have a tendency to be late while getting ready for a party? Blaine tried to remind himself that he really didn’t know Kurt that well; they weren’t actually friends.

He needn’t have worried. He was still contemplating this thought, staring at the buffet tables, when he felt the pressure of a light hand on his back.

“Hi.” Kurt leaned very close, and Blaine couldn’t help but lean slightly in to meet him. Whether it was Kurt himself or simply the pull of another person this close to him he didn’t know. Kurt’s lips grazed Blaine’s ear, and he whispered, “I’m going to kiss you on the cheek - I didn’t want to startle you.”

“Oh, okay.” Blaine barely had time to process the thought, tipping his face just enough to accept the offering. He hoped Kurt didn’t notice how warm his cheeks felt.

Was this the first time Kurt had kissed him? He had a vague panic that there might be more kissing, followed by more panic that he was thinking about it. Had they talked about wedding PDA?

“You look very cute, by the way,” Kurt said, and Blaine turned to get a look at Kurt because if they were going to talk he didn’t want to be staring somewhere else. “I wasn’t sure how to dress for this, so I packed a few options.” Kurt fiddled with a neckerchief tied neatly at his throat. It was the first indication Blaine had that Kurt might be nervous about this too.

He didn’t have any reason to be. Blaine took in Kurt’s outfit, and had to resist ogling like a creep. His shorts were slim cut, a few inches longer than Blaine’s, hugging his thighs in a way that somehow made his legs look longer. His shirt was a madras pattern, only instead of the bright colors popular with the New England upper crust prep style everyone else was wearing (and that Blaine had plenty of examples of in his own closet), his was tones of brown with gold flecks. Two of the buttons were undone, exposing just enough skin for Blaine to -

Not your boyfriend not your boyfriend not your boyfriend

“You look perfect,” Blaine managed to say.

-

“Kurt!” Blaine started when he heard his mother call from halfway across the room. He bit back a smirk and shook his head as Pam enthusiastically hugged Kurt, and Kurt accepted the greeting like they were long lost cousins. “Blaine said you were running late, I’m so glad you could make it down to meet everyone.”

Kurt laughed politely. “Well I did just get here, so I haven’t had a chance to meet anyone yet.” Kurt linked his arm with Pam’s, as Blaine watched, dazzled by the ease with which Kurt handled his mother. “Maybe you should show me off to some of the guests? And I’m starving, maybe you could lead me in the direction of a sandwich?” Kurt looked at Blaine, an eyebrow raised as if asking permission. “Do you mind?”

“Of course not. But make sure you remember everyone’s name so you can tell me who they are later,” Blaine teased, even winking as Kurt walked off with his mother, and Blaine wondered once again what he’d gotten himself into.

Before he could explore that thought again, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Alone, finally.” Blaine turned to see Sebastian leaning much too close to him, although he had moved his hand away. “I thought he’d never leave.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your boyfriend.”

Blaine was confused. He was sure Kurt hadn’t been there ten minutes before his mother swooped in and whisked him away. “Kurt? He just got here.”

“Still.” Sebastian leered a little and Blaine was uncomfortable all over again. “We can hardly get to know each other if he’s monopolizing your time.”

Blaine didn’t really want to cause a scene at his cousin’s wedding, but he needed to put a stop to - whatever this was.

“Look, Sebastian, I’m flattered, really.” He wasn’t, but he could pretend, right? He was even getting good at it. “But when my mother suggested we meet she didn’t realize that I had a serious boyfriend. I’m not really interested in dating or meeting anyone right now.” That was polite enough, Blaine hoped Sebastian wouldn’t be too offended.

Sebastian snickered, not seeming put off at all. “I’m not really interested in dating either, Blaine. I just thought we could have a little fun this weekend.” Sebastian nodded in Kurt’s direction, dropped his voice, almost but not quite whispering into Blaine’s ear, “He doesn’t really look like he can keep someone as hot as you satisfied.”

Blaine’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Well, I’m in room 269. I’ll leave a key at the front desk if your boyfriend can’t keep up his end this weekend.”

“Oh my god. No, I don’t - I don’t think so.” He put up a hand in between himself and Sebastian. “You should, back off, I think.” Blaine glanced over to where Kurt was waving around a small plate of food, and he and his mother were entertaining a small group of women who Blaine thought were possibly great aunts, or second cousins. He looked like he’d be busy at least for a few minutes, so Blaine walked out of the room.

The rest of the hotel was mercifully quiet, and he found a sliding door that led to a narrow balcony. Cool ocean air hit him and Blaine shivered. At first he didn’t see anyone outside, but when he turned to walk to the far end of the balcony, just to gather himself before he went back to the party, he spied his father, leaning over the railing, smoking a cigarette.

“I thought you quit,” Blaine said.

Stewart startled, then relaxed when he saw it was Blaine who had interrupted him. “I mostly have.” He took a long drag on what was left and tossed it into the sand below the balcony. “Your mother is in rare form already.”

Blaine snorted, then caught himself when his father raised an eyebrow. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, I know she has her moments. Want to talk about it?”

Blaine shook his head, staring out at the ocean view. It was beautiful. “Maybe. Do you have any idea why she’s trying to fix me up with that guy - Sebastian?”

Stewart grimaced. “The Smythe boy? I thought she’d given up on that.”

“You know him?”

“Not really. His parents are on about a half dozen planning committees at the club, I think your mother is trying to get in good with them.”

“She’s trying to pimp me out to their son so she can decorate the country club Christmas party?” Blaine’s jaw dropped as he stared at his father.

Stewart shrugged, then leaned on the railing, joining Blaine in his observation of the ocean.

“I have no idea what on earth would make her think I would be interested in that guy. He’s,” Blaine shuddered, “really not my type.”

“His parents are lovely people, but you know how your mother can get bored. And when she gets bored she gets caught up in what passes for southwestern Ohio high society.” Blaine nodded. She did enjoy her status-play. “I thought she’d stop after we met Kurt - I like him, by the way. I think your mother does too.”

Blaine sighed and bit his lip. He wanted to tell his dad about how his mother had obviously maneuvered Kurt so Sebastian could get him alone. He didn’t.

“Dad? I have to tell you something.” Blaine laced his fingers together, looking back out toward the ocean. “And I just - I’m sorry, in advance. For lying to you.”

Stewart stood and looked at Blaine. “Blaine are you in trouble? Did something happen at school - did you fail a class?”

“No, no, nothing like that Dad.” Blaine chuckled. God he could only imagine what would happen if he failed a class. That would be much worse than lying. “I - Kurt’s, um, not really my boyfriend.”

“Blaine?” Stewart leaned on the railing. “I don’t understand? Why would you tell us he was if he wasn’t?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I,” Blaine cleared his throat. “I got tired of Mom asking about my love life, and trying to fix me up with this guy I’d never met from Ohio.” His dad nodded, so Blaine went on.  “So when you guys came for dinner I asked him to just come out with us. I thought it would get her to leave me alone, you know? I’m so busy all the time, and dating is not easy in New York, apparently, and I just, I wanted her to lay off for a while. But I didn’t want to be rude about it.”

“I do appreciate you not wanting to be rude to your mother Blaine, but there was really no need to lie to us about this. You could have just told her you weren’t interested.”

“Don’t you think I tried that?” Blaine grumbled. “She can be pretty persistent.”  Blaine was relieved that his father didn’t seem to be mad, or even disappointed to the point that Blaine’s guilt over the entire thing would get worse. But still, he felt like he should make some amends for it. “I’ll pay for all of Kurt’s extra costs this weekend, I promise. I told him he could use the spa and whatever hotel amenities there were to get him to come with me - and I’ll make sure I pay for all of it okay?  I don’t want this to cost you anything, I just wanted to,” Blaine paused. “I just needed a break.”

Stewart was silent for a few stretched out minutes, and Blaine knew his father well enough to know he was weighing everything Blaine had just told him. “I think you should not tell your mother about this for now, if that’s alright with you - I’d like to avoid starting any drama at your cousin’s wedding, if that’s even possible. And we can worry about who pays for what later, and what to tell your mother.”

Blaine nodded. “Very alright. I’d like to never tell her, if possible.” Blaine sighed. “Thanks Dad.”

“For what?”

“For being understanding? I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Stewart hmmed, but didn’t say anything more about it. “How about we head back. The lunch is probably over by now and I should pretend I spent the afternoon mingling.”

Blaine just laughed, relieved, and followed his dad back to the party.

-

“What time are we due at dinner tonight?” Kurt asked after they’d made their goodbyes and were walking to the elevators.

“It’s late, not until 8:30 I think, after the rehearsal. Why?”

“If you don’t mind, I wouldn’t mind getting into the spa before then? I checked earlier and they had a few slots open for massages, and a facial would do me wonders. The air out here is saltier than I expected.”

Blaine lifted his chin, nodding once. “Oh! Of course, you should definitely take the opportunity. I might just take a nap. I feel like I’ve been up for two days.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “If you don’t mind my saying, maybe you should join me? You seemed a little tense in there, maybe a massage would help? A fancy hot shave?” Kurt wiggled his shoulders excitedly.

“I -” Blaine paused. He didn’t have any reason not to. And after confessing to his dad he felt a lot less pressured that he might make a mistake and let something slip. “Yeah okay. I don’t think I’ve ever had a professional massage before.”

Kurt clapped his hands. “Oh, you’re going to love it.”

-

The massage was exactly the right thing to work out the remaining anxiety Blaine had been holding onto since talking with his dad. He wasn’t entirely proud of the fact that he had lied to his parents about Kurt, but his dad did seem to understand, and they way the masseuse pressed and pushed and pulled every uncovered inch of his body seemed to realign his head into something that felt a little more like himself. He didn’t even get (too) distracted by Kurt walking around with nothing but a towel around his waist. Blaine felt good for the first time in what felt like weeks.

After their massages, Kurt stayed to take advantage of the nearly empty sauna, but all Blaine wanted was a long hot shower. So he excused himself, and went back to their room alone. If he indulged in a few private thoughts about the way the spa towel sat over the curve of Kurt’s ass, who could blame him?

Kurt still hadn’t returned by the time Blaine finished in the shower, so he pulled on sweatpants and a t-shirt and sat down to send Kurt a text.

Not sure when you’ll be back, wanted to let you know I’m going to try to take a nap before dinner. Don’t worry about making noise when you get back, I sleep like a rock.

Blaine put his phone on silent and dropped it on the bedside table. His last thought before dozing off completely was that he should probably tell Kurt that his dad knew everything now.

He didn’t hear his phone buzz with an incoming text.

-  

Save me a spot on the bed. I feel like I’ve run a marathon, I may join you for that nap.

[enterthecocoon]

Valentine’s date with a fusion

((OOC: This is a role between me and @letsaskbatgirl. For obvious reasons, this takes place before Killer Moth was arrested by Booster Gold))

Batrose was waiting outside his apartment, smiling as she was holding a bunch of potted roses to give to him. Drury opeed the door for her. "Ah, Batgi-I mean. Batrose." He chuckled. "Sorry, still haven't gotten entirely used to this yet! Please, Batrose, come in." She walked in, giving him the flowers. "Those are for you." She said, smiling softly and sweetly at him. "Don't let them die." "Aw, thanks.", he smiled. "I promise I won't!" He in return gave her dairy free chocolate candy, Pamela's vegan lifestyle kept in mind. "For you. No need to keep those unbroken, though.", he joked. She smiled, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you." He blushed a little, leading her inside. "Here, I prepared the table for us." She smiled and followed him in. He pulled back a chair for her. "So...you said we should announce...ourselves...to all of Gotham?" "We should. I know all of this secrecy is killing you." "What about you? How do you feel about this?" She shrugged. "What's the worst that's going to happen?" "Well, if you say so...and how do you think we should go about doing this?" "I don't know. But if you want to wait until after this fuse stuff is over, we can wait." He smiled. This sentence to him proved this wasn't the Pam in her talking, that this was really what his girlfriend wanted. "I think it's alright. Let's figure out a way to do it, then." She nodded. "I'm glad we can do that." "So, how about we watch something together?" How bowed down and reached out his hand rather dramatically. "Your jacket, Madam?" She giggled a bit, handing him her green demin jacket. Drury took her jacket and hung it up, then led her to the sofa. "Please, do have a seat. I'll be getting a VHS for us...do you like the Gray Ghost?" She sat down, smiling at him. "I've never seen it." She said, her eyes batting at him. He placed in the VHS tape. "Huh, that's surprising. It's an old Superhero show. Rumor has it that it served as the inspiration for Batman himself." Batrose smiled, waiting on him to sit down before crawling into his lap and hugging him close. "I love you." She said softly. "Oh!" He pulled her in and hugged her. "That's unexpected...but I love you too!" He smiled at her. "I'm glad to have you!" She smiled, snuggling up to him as they watched the tv show. Suited to an exiting orchestral fanfare, the TV show showcased the titular Gray Ghost going up against the wildest assortment of threats, and using gadgets that would feel very familiar to Batrose. "So, the first VHS is done. Should I get the next?", Drury asked, rocking Batrose on his lap. Batrose smiled, laying her head on him. "Yeah, but I don't want to move!" She said with a bright laugh. "Am I that comfortable?", he laughed with her. She nodded, just snuggling into his arms. "Yes." She said, blushing brightly. He straddled her in his arms. "You're adorable, you know that?" She giggled, kissing his cheek. "So are you. You are the more adorable one though." He hugged her tighter. "Okay, I won't move then. But you'll need to repay me somehow once you do get down!", he said with a wink. "Oh and how's that?" She whispered before giggling out of shock of what she was doing. "Well, what are you offering?", he kept rocking her. "What do you want?" She asked, smiling at him. "Truth be told, I was hoping you had thought of something." He kissed her cheek. "How about we switch places for the next tape, so I know what it feels like?~" She laughed. "Oh alright. I can do that." He laughed with her."Should I get us something to drink?" "Please." She said, smiling at him. He picked her up and set her down, then entered the kitchen to come back with two glasses of water. "For my dear lady~", he said dramatically again, handing it to her. "Actually, I have an Idea. How about the two of us go to the park together?" "A nature walk. You know me so well." She said softly, smiling as she got up. "I love looking at the stars at night." He got up, too. "Wonderful! I hear the lighting in the park is beautiful in the evening!", he then said in a faux serious tone "But do know you still have to make up to me.", and winked. He offered her his hand. "Shall we?" She took his hand, smiling. "Let's go." He led her outside, the park was dimly illuminated with old streetlights casting their reflections on the water, fireflies buzzed around curiously to inspect the moderate amount of other couples walking around Batrose smiled, making flowers grow near the other couples, wanting to make the others happy as well. They all smiled, the more religious ones taking it as a sign from above and the atheistic ones thinking this was all some extraordinairy but extremely romantic coincidence, one they would be sure to tell their children about. They went past a salesman selling crepès. "May I buy one for you?", Drury asked. She nodded with a smile. "I would love one." He paid for her choice of flavour, then bought one for himself. "We can eat it on that bench", he said, pointing to one that has a brilliant view of the reflecting river and the fireflies. Drury led her to the bench. Batrose smiled, snuggling up to him and kissing his cheek. He smiled back, pulling her in. "The crepè can't be as sweet as you, can it?" She smiled, looking into his eyes. "I do want to finally get it out there, but I want to know what you want." "What I want?", he asked, cocking his head to the side. "What do you mean?" "I mean. Do you want to tell everyone?" "We can.", he confirmed. She smiled, laying her head on his shoulder. He sat there, watching the water. "Why don't we take a picture or two together? On the bridge?" Batrose nodded, standing up to walk with him. "You got a camera?" He stood up, getting one from his jacket. "I wanted to ask you...what's it like being a fusion?" "It's weird. It's disorientating. You don't know which thoughts are yours and which thoughts are the other's." "Are you as smart as two people now? Or as strong? Or as fast?", he asked, leading her to the bridge. "Dunno. Never tried." She said softly, shrugging. "We should, while we have the time.", he suggested. "Like what?" She asked, looking up into his eyes. "Could you...say....lift that boulder there?", he said as they walked past a small one. Batrose shrugged, going over to the boulder and lifting it. "Yep... Pretty easily." "Impressive!", Moth said, taking out the camera. "Might I?" A bell like laugh came out. "Go ahead." He took a picture, smiling. She let the boulder down slowly, walking over to him. "My strong girlfriend!", he said, looking very proud. She threw her arms around him. "Yep. All yours." He lifted her in a spin. "Shall we test it a bit more, then?" "If you want." She said, smiling at him. She looked up. "The moon is so big tonight." "It's like a big, beautiful lightbulb in the sky...if you weren't here, I couldn't stop staring at it!" She giggled, leaning over and kissing his cheek. He kissed hers, too. After they took a few more pictures, he asked, "Could I give you one more test?" She looked up at him, curious. "Sure, I guess." He led her to a little abandoned parking house near the park, where a disowned, rusting car stood. "I bet one Movie date of your choice, all on me, that you can't break this.~" "And if you win?" She said, getting close to him. "A movie date of my choice on both of us, maybe?", he suggested. "I wouldn't let you pay for me, dear." She smiled softly, going over to the car, before trying to break it. After several attempts, only thing that came off was the bumper. "Hm....I count that as your win!", he said. Batrose smiled, walking over to him. "I guess you owe me a date night." "I sure do!", he agreed. Batrose smiled, taking a few more steps before stumbling a bit. "Everything alright?", Moth asked. "Yeah. Yeah. Just tripped over a rock." She said. "I still think it's interesting how a fusion changes you", he said, leading her back to the park. "If you feel up to it, wanna test how light I feel to you compared to when you're not fused?" She smiled, lifting him up. "Still light as ever to me." She said, before stumbling a bit and falling, somehow landing on top of him, her eyes going from green to blue. Drury didn't notice the eye colour change at first, it was the sudden presence of a second redhead that set him off. "Oh, hello, Barbara. Good to have you back!", he grinned, looking at her lying on top of him. Barbara smiled as Pamela just rolled her eyes. "I'll leave you two to your date. Get 'em, tiger." She said, walking away. "You'd think she had more of a sense for romance.", Drury joked, sitting up and embracing Barbara. "I think she was tired of being trapped with me." She said, hugging him back. "I love you, Drury." "I love you, too, Barbara!" She smiled, kissing him. "I've been wanting to do that, but I thought maybe it should be me, and not Batrose." "Please, go ahead.", he prompted, smiling. Barbara laughed, kissing him again.

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine Valentine’s Challenge 2019 - “Satisfaction” (Rated PG13)

Summary: After a long trip, including several delays, Blaine finally makes it to New York to see his fiance ... bringing along something special that's sure to spice up their weekend. (1161 words)

Notes: So, life has been kicking my butt this month so I'm posting all of these late. I apologize. Written for the Klaine/CC Valentine's Challenge 2019 prompt 'Sweetener' by Ariana Grande.

Read on AO3.

Knock-knock-knock!

Blaine runs a hand over his hair, loosens his scarf, unbuttons his coat and smooths his wrinkled sweater. He checks his breath. The air around him is too cold to smell anything, so he waits a second and checks it again. And even though he’s sure his breath doesn’t offend, he pops a Tic-Tac to be on the safe side. He came straight to the loft from the airport without stopping in the men’s room to freshen up. He couldn’t. He didn’t have the time to spare. His first flight had been canceled, and his next flight, which managed to take off between combating pressure systems, landed thirty minutes late. He only gets the weekend with Kurt before he has to be back in Lima, studying for an AP History exam, and he’s already missed most of Friday night.

He’s determined to make every second he has left count.

After doing a full once over of his person, he pounds on the door again.

Knock-knock-knock!

He starts to worry when he doesn’t hear movement on the other side of the door. He’d texted Kurt every step of the way to let him know he’d be delayed, and Kurt didn’t seem angry. On the contrary, he seemed beyond excited to see Blaine again. The last text message Blaine received was full of kissie face and eggplant emojis.

He can’t see that being anything other than positive.

But maybe Kurt went out to get something from the store on the corner? A bottle of sparkling cider or a box of condoms. Shoot! Blaine should have mentioned that he’d brought a new box with him. He would give Kurt a call, but his cell phone battery died the second his cab pulled up to the curb. He considers leaving his stuff by the door and heading down there to search for him, but the pitter-patter of bare feet racing towards the door stops him.

Blaine grins when he hears several locks and bolts being thrown. The doors slides open and there Kurt stands, as dashing and as breathtaking as ever in black slacks and a black button-down, the first two buttons casually undone.

“Hello there, handsome,” he purrs, looking appreciatively down Blaine’s body, pausing to assess the baggage at his feet. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Blaine arches an eyebrow. It’s an unusual greeting, but not a bad one. From the tone of his voice, Kurt definitely has something planned.

Blaine decides to go with it.

“You know, you gave me the address, so you increased the odds of us meeting again considerably.”

“So I have. Did you bring it?”

“Oh, yeah.” Blaine lifts the discreet brown paper bag so Kurt can see. “I definitely brought it.”

Kurt bites his lower lip. “Well, well, well. Come on in, kind sir. And thank you so much for coming out in this horrible weather to bring me my … delivery.”

“Oh, you’re very welcome,” Blaine says, shivering at this spontaneous roleplay with his gorgeous fiancé.

Kurt must really be excited to see him.

“This is a nice place.” Blaine saunters in and looks around as if he’s never seen it before when, in fact, part of their history as intendeds is already written here – in pictures on the wall, the spinet piano in the corner, Blaine’s clothes in the closet and his sheets on the bed.

“You think so?”

Blaine puts down his luggage and sheds his coat. “Yeah. A ton of space for someone who lives … alone?”

“I have a roommate.” Kurt stops in front of Blaine and toys suggestively with his bowtie, tugging at it gently, slipping a finger beneath the band. “But she’s out of town.”

“That’s fortunate, isn’t it?”

“Very,” Kurt says, lips ghosting Blaine’s mouth. And while Blaine is distracted chasing Kurt’s lips, Kurt reaches down and relieves Blaine of the paper bag he’s been carrying with him. “So …” He backs away, knowing Blaine will follow “… where should we get started?”

“Hmm, on the couch?” Blaine suggests, but Kurt passes it by without a glance.

“Sorry. That’s broken.”

“Pity. Then … the kitchen table?”

“Pffft …” Kurt shakes his head “… not too romantic, is it?”

“The floor?” Blaine asks, even though Kurt is obviously leading him to the bedroom.

Kurt stops for a moment, looks up in thought. “Possibly …” He feels the floorboards with his foot “… but, no. I really do think that the bedroom is the perfect place for what I have planned.”

“Ooo …” Blaine grins “… then by all means, lead the way.”

Kurt, absconding with the brown paper bag, backs his way through the privacy curtain that surrounds his corner of the loft. Through the sheer white fabric, Blaine can see Kurt’s king-sized bed –his black, pinstripe comforter tucked neatly around the edges, giving them a clean, flat surface to work with; red and white rose petals sprinkled here and there; with a white blanket folded over twice in the center.

In case things get messy.

“It looks like you have things all set,” Blaine says, kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt.

“I didn’t want to waste any time.” Kurt sets the bag at the foot of the bed and undoes the button to his slacks.

Blaine watches Kurt unzip his fly and grins. “Would you like to do the honors?” He gestures to the bag, eyebrows bouncing up and down.

Kurt giggles. “Absolutely! Let’s get this party started.”

Blaine watches his fiancé dive into the bag, eagerly pulling out container after container and lining them up in the center of the mattress: chicken adobo, oxtail stew, tapsilog, lumpia – all the dishes he fell in love with eating over at the Anderson house on the nights he stayed over. Even with its reputation of being a food goldmine, Kurt hasn’t found a single restaurant in New York that makes Filipino cuisine the way Blaine’s mother does. And since Pam Anderson loves her son-to-be, she makes sure to pack a plethora of Kurt’s favorite meals to send with Blaine when he visits.

Kurt picks up one container bulging with food and pops the lid. He inhales deeply and sighs. “Blaine, your mother is a saint!”

“Don’t tell her that!” Blaine dishes silverware and napkins out of the bag. “I finally got her to admit that I’m her favorite son! I don’t need you toppling me off my pedestal!”

“Blaine …” Kurt snatches a fork out of his fiancé’s hand “… if it gets me more of her amazing cooking, I’m going to tell her whatever I have to!”

“Fine,” Blaine mutters, slightly disgruntled, “but I have one question.”

“Shoot,” Kurt says, rearranging the containers in order from appetizer to dessert.

“Are we going to have sex tonight? Or are we just going to eat?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course we will.” Kurt lifts a forkful of pancit to his watering mouth. “But food first. Priorities, Blaine. Priorities.”

[throughtheglassdarkly]

Missing Pieces, part 6

Welcome back. When last you were here, Day got all schmoopy. Onward.

So, Denny’s happened. Later, we agreed that eating at Denny’s at 8:00 p.m. was somehow less respectable than eating at Denny’s at midnight. But it was a long day and we all could stand to have some greasy comfort food. We all decided to head home, get an early night’s sleep, and then head out to Schenectady in the morning to check out the beer hall. Bella decided to stay over at Pam’s place, letting Duke Lamington know where she was, and everybody else went back to their places. I spent a solid 25 minutes giving Adrian index card updates via Paisley.

As I was about getting ready to go to bed, I noticed a quick flash from across the street. Upstairs, Yova noticed it, too, and we both looked out the window to see a jalopy. Yova quickly got dressed and dashed downstairs, while I was able to see a pretty big guy – not big in the Day or Nash sense, but a heavyweight human man – jump into a car and drive away. It was a beat-up old sedan that looked about as functional as Yova’s crappy pickup. Around this time, I heard banging at the door. When I checked to see who it was, Yova was on the other side. We quickly confirmed with each other that we’d seen what we saw and we quickly decided to get the others and have them bunk in our building for the night. She drove off to get Pam and Bella.

Around this time, Pam heard the banging of a jalopy coming down the street. She went to take a look and saw a figure hop out of the driver’s side of the car. She opened her window and called out, asking him if he needed any help. He was pretty taken aback and stammered out some explanation. “Well, you know, you should get your muffler examined, because there are noise regulations around here,” Pam said. Facing the full fury of the Parent-Teacher Association, the dude took a solid minute to come up with something else to say, but before he could, there was the sound of another car coming. The guy hopped back in and peeled out, but not before Yova was able to snap a picture of his license plate. She got out, hurried up to Pam’s door and explained what we saw. Pam and Bella each packed an overnight bag to come stay with us. On the way back, they picked up Day, who was disgruntled and unhappy and even less talkative than usual.

Yova and I each gave up our beds for the evening so our guests could have them. In Yova’s case, it was because her couch was long enough for her to sleep on comfortably and Pam and Bella were small enough to share her bed. In mine, it was because I felt my bed was more structurally sound than my couch as far as supporting Day. Before we went to bed, Day said that we should try to make a visit to the DMV in the morning to try and track the license plate down.

We all hunkered down for the night and four of the five of us got some sleep. I’d like to say that I was one of them, but the chainsaw noises coming from my room couldn’t be drowned out, no matter how many pillows I pressed against my ears. The next morning, Day was bright-eyed and bushy tailed, coming out of my room and asking what was for breakfast. I pushed myself up to a sitting position and said, “You know, the first eight times or so, I thought that it was just head-on collisions between tractor-trailers on the street outside. How much freaking coke did you snort to fuck up your septum that badly?” “It wasn’t coke, it’s sleep apnea! And I had a rough day, I needed some me time!” he retorted. After a few moments of dead silence, I managed to get out, “That lotion is for my feet. Not. Nefarious. Purposes.” “And yet, it smells like lilacs,” Day said. I got off the couch, stomped over to the fridge and slapped a box of Eggos on the counter. “All right! You got peanut butter and jelly, too?” he asked. I pointed to the pantry and fridge and went off to take a shower.

Upstairs, Yova was about to go out and start her morning workout routine, only to discover that Pam was up early and had already made breakfast for her, some Russian dish involving almost-stale bread. Yova told me later that it was something her mom used to make, which stopped her dead in her tracks from going to the gym. Day went upstairs for second breakfast and Pam whipped up some eggs and bacon for him and some blueberry pancakes for Bella. I spent a solid twenty minutes cleaning up the mess in my kitchen before I met the rest of them downstairs.

We hightailed it over to the Albany County DMV. Thankfully, we got there early enough to where there wasn’t too long of a wait. A Mrs. Pepperpot type person called Day up to her window. They bantered for a minute with Day first trying to be friendly (it worked about as well as you think it did), and then leaned on her with the bad-cop routine. She rolled her eyes and finally agreed to enter the license number, at which point her eyebrow raised. She leaned on her elbows and told Day, “I really don’t have time to deal with some guy’s bullshit today. The queue isn’t going to get any shorter and my lunch break is four hours off. I’ll throw you a bone, just get out of here and let me do my job. Now, I could tell you who owns the vehicle, but it’s not going to do you much good, because this vehicle was reported stolen two weeks ago.” He asked her where it was stolen from and she told him it was from a neighborhood up in Amsterdam, about thirty minutes east.

While they were going on about this, I sat in the waiting area, completely traumatized and telling the others about the mess that was left. “He snored like a drunk grizzly,” I said. “Well, that’s not something he could control,” Pam said. “He dragged the Eggos through my peanut butter and jelly,” I said. “I mean, in terms of sins, that’s not a mortal one,” Yova said. Then I looked up at them and said, “And you don’t even want to know what I found in the wastebasket next to my bed.” That led to dead silence. “That bottle of lotion was three quarters full yesterday. Now it’s half full,” I said. “Oh. We’re going to have to get rid of your bed now,” Bella said.

Day came back over with the information he’d gotten and we traipsed out to Amsterdam, me giving the thousand-yard stare all the while. When we pulled up to the street where the car had been taken from, we realized that it wasn’t exactly an affluent neighborhood, but certainly not a bad part of town. It kind of reminded me of the working class neighborhood I grew up in. Day, unwisely, decided to take the lead on the investigation and scouted around, looking for someone to ask for info.

Eventually, he spotted a pair of hausfraus having a chat over their fences and he went up to talk to them. From the sight of their faces, it was obvious they had absolutely no idea what to say to the giant of a man standing before them, but eventually one of them greeted him. He started asking questions about the missing car, telling them he was a PI, and trying to be friendly. I don’t mean to drag the guy (too much) but friendly isn’t exactly his strong suit. They were not interested in the conversation at all, but one of them did let slip that there was another PI asking around about the same thing, a woman. “I think you should probably go talk to the police,” one of them said, and then they turned back to each other and continued their conversation. Yep. He got Karened.

Fortunately for our investigation, we had a secret weapon of our own: a fully-fledged by-God member of the Parent-Teacher Association. While Day sulked in the car, Pam walked up a few minutes later, asking the women if she could talk to them about the local school district and how her family was planning to move to the area. They were much more receptive to Pam and they started telling her each and every gossip about the area. When Pam asked about crime, they said that the neighborhood was usually pretty safe, except for the strange car robbery a couple of weeks past. Pam managed to out-Karen the Karens as she led them into conversation, learning about how nobody was that sorry to see Mr. Jeffers’s car go because it was a real piece of junk. They stage-whispered to her about how they wondered if there was a possibility of drugs and whether Mr. Jeffers might have smoked five whole marijuanas.

Once we knew whose car had been stolen, we dropped Day and Bella off to talk to Mr. Jeffers while the other three of us went to go talk to the po-po. Day started asking Mr. Jeffers questions using the same techniques that got him nowhere with the Karens and Bella mercifully interrupted, turning out the cutesy act, batting her eyes, and asking Mr. Jeffers if they could get some info from him to help find his car. He was disarmed and agreed to tell them what he knew, what wasn’t much. He wasn’t all that upset that the car was stolen – the insurance company was already processing a claim and he was going to get a better car out of the deal. He was able to tell them that there were a ton of cigarette butts all over his driveway, but aside from that, he didn’t see anything because he wasn’t home when the car was stolen.

Pam, Yova, and I went to the police station, which was pretty small, only covering a couple of neighborhoods. Yova took the lead with the receptionist, telling her she needed to make a report with a detective about a man taking pictures of her through her apartment window (not, technically, a lie). The officer came out and Yova gave him her report, but gave him a phony address from nearby. When she gave him the info for the car, he mentions that an Albany PD officer came through, asking about the same info. Yova asked for her contact info and he gave her card. The officer’s name was Brenda Break. When Yova tried to call, the voice mailbox was full, so we decided to swing by the precinct on our way back to Albany.

“So, Brenda Break,” I said when we got back in the car. “Her parents must have hated her.” “I wonder what her middle name is?” Pam asked. “Probably Beatrix. Brenda Beatrix Break,” I said. “Ooh. Or Bethany. Brenda Bethany Break,” Yova said. “Brenda Bridget Break?” Pam asked. “Brenda Barbie Break?” I asked. “Brenda Brianna Break?” Yova asked. “Brenda Belinda Break?” I asked.

You get the picture. Point is, we were still coming up with middle names for her when we picked Day and Bella up. He looked kind of – surprised? Taken aback? – when he heard what we were saying and we explained that we were trying to figure out what the middle name of the officer from Albany PD who was looking into the car was. He went pale when we said we were going to go speak with her and started stammering out some obvious lies about why he couldn’t come along. We saw right through that and asked him what was up. He let out a long sigh and came clean about it: Brenda was his old partner on the force, someone who he didn’t always get along with but who he had a mutual respect for.

It was at this point that Yova had a horrible realization and she turned to me. “Derek, didn’t you say the guy who you saw out your window was on the heavier side?” “Yeah,” I said. “Bigger dude, not like Day, but hu – ohhhhhhhhhhh,” I said, realization dawning on me as well. “What? What is it?” Day asked. Yova and I looked at each other, then at him. “Day… do you think maybe the guy who stole this car was…” “Was who?” he asked. “Your Fetch,” Yova and I said in unison. He slumped against the side of the car. “And maybe that’s why Brenda’s looking into it, because she thinks it’s you?” Yova asked. Day didn’t have much to say to that. “Listen, if you want, we can drop you off back at your apartment. You don’t have to come see her if you don’t want,” Pam said. Day took a minute to respond, then nodded, saying that he’d rather not. We dropped him at his place and agreed we’d pick him up when it was time to go to Schenectady.

As we pulled away from his apartment, I said, “Okay, I wasn’t going to say it when he was in the car, but were they seriously Day and Break?” “You see, I was thinking that, too…” Yova trailed off. “I mean, it could have been worse,” I said. “She could have been Nancy Night.” And with that, we drove off to speak to the po-po for the second time that day.

Albany PD was considerably bigger and busier than the Amsterdam PD. There was a secretary at the front desk who somehow managed to look both stressed and bored at the same time. Yova took lead as usual and asked him about Officer Break, saying that she had information about a case she was handling. He agreed to go get her and disappeared down the hall. When Brenda came down the hall, I was surprised to see she was much younger than I was expecting, and attractive. Kind of like a battle-hardened, corn-fed Emma Stone.

When she saw us, she stopped in her tracks and told the secretary that she was going to step out for a few minutes. She asked us what information we had for her and Yova gave her the cliffs notes. Brenda held the door for us and led us down the hall to an out-of-the-way room. Once she got us down the hall, she started acting positively giddy, saying, “Oh, man, this is so great. I’ve been trying to talk to some of you guys for so long, and you always run from me. But now you’re here! This is great! This is awesome!” The four of us looked at each other, clearly not understanding. But then she started dropping hints that she could see what we really are.

“Wait, so… what do you see me as?” Yova asked. “You’ve got this crazy bright hair and eyes, it looks like starlight and nebulas,” Brenda said. Yova pointed at me and said, “And does he have feathers?” “Oh, yeah. A shit-ton of feathers,” Brenda said. I bristled a little at this and said, “I don’t have that many feathers…” Brenda told us that a little more than two years ago, she’d suddenly started being able to see changelings (she obviously didn’t know what we were, but from what she was describing, it was clearly changelings).

I asked her when she was able to start seeing us, and if it was around May 2015. “A little later than that,” she said. “I had this partner – big, gruff guy. And he used to wear the most godawful aftershave. Smelled horrible. He disappeared and… this one day, I would swear I could smell that aftershave. I went out my front door, smelling it. Only it wasn’t my front yard. It was this weird brambly maze, I didn’t recognize it. But I kept going after that scent.”

She told us that eventually she made her way through the Hedge (not that she knew it was the Hedge) and found her way out at a Little League field a few minutes from her house. And ever since then, she was able to see things that she hadn’t before. This, as you might guess, left us all completely nonplussed. She wasn’t threatening or anything – she seemed completely thrilled to be talking to some of us. “You have to understand, we’re a skittish lot,” Yova told her. “If someone we don’t recognize comes running full on at us, our first instinct is to bolt.”

Brenda wanted to talk with us at length about what we were. As much as we realized we probably had to do this, none of us were comfortable to keep going with that conversation in the precinct. She told us that she had a lunch break coming up and we agreed to meet with her at a nearby restaurant.

And that’ll about do it for this week’s installment. Next time: brunch with Brenda! And other shenanigans. Until then, be safe, and may you always keep your Bath & Body Works under lock and key.

[mskagome123]

The Raven Part 5

A/N: Woot last part of the main story! Okay so the most of the one-shots I’ll put up for this is for this story as a continuation :)

James recovered and moved away, as Loki said he would. I had painted with the same bottle of wine every night, trying to perfect the picture. Nearly two hundred and sixty days in and something was still off with it. Pam came over once a week to try and help me but nothing helped. Pepper came by on Sundays with dinner. But after a while, she became too busy.

I felt ready to find him long ago but promised myself I’d finished the painting for him. I even went so far as to take Raven from his apartment. I stored my failed arts there with the original and still cleaned there once a week. It became a comfortable routine.

It was the two hundredth and fifty-eighth day and I just returned from work at the flower shop. Pam was set to come over within the hour and I began to prepare dinner. I had kept up my eating progress and fit more into my clothes than before.

L.

Something slipped into my head and I glanced up, believing fully that Loki had popped an apparition in here or something. My heart skipped at the possibility. But when no one was around and I sighed, looking back down at my hands, which were chopping away at some garlic.

L.

I dropped the knife and jumped back. That was a voice. Something was speaking.

Raven.

“Is that you, Raven?”

L.

The voice was faint but it was there. I stepped away from the counter and made my way around it, into the living room. My feet took me to the painting subconsciously.

The L wasn’t just green.

I picked up my plate of fried colors and lifted the gold paint. Behind me, water was boiling but I paid no attention as it began to sizzle overboard. Carefully I etched the letter ‘L’ in a line of gold paint, where the light would hit when I heard it nearly a year ago.

Suddenly, the sizzling seeped through my brain and I dropped my paint plate to go turn the stove off. It caught my eye as I made my way back, tears welling up in my eyes.

It was perfect. I had done it.

“I need to find him. I can finally find him,” I said hopeful, turning my eyes towards the Raven statue on the shelf to my left, “Where is he?”

...As….

Raven was too faint to hear but only one place could fit. I pulled out my phone and dialed Pamela’s number.

“Hey, I was just-”

“Sorry have to cancel. I did it, Pam. I fucking did it,” I cut her off as I made my way around my house, gathering my things and my painting in my arm.

“You did what,” after a moment she gasped, “You finished the painting? So you’re going God searching, aren’t you? Do you know where he is? I can pick you up.”

“I think he’s in Asgard. A little birdy told me,” I replied with a smile.

“Wait, how can you get there? You only were able to move with Loki couldn’t you?”

I stopped. “Fuck. I didn’t think about that. Oh.”

“Oh, what?”

“Come to pick me up, I have to make a phone call.”

“Okay but-”

I hung up and immediately apologized aloud as I dialed another number. Pepper. She didn’t pick up at first, maybe too busy with her life as Tony Starks’ secretary. I rang her nearly four more times and she finally picked up.

“Stephanie, what is it?”

“Is Thor in town? I need to ask him something?”

“Let me ask Tony,” off the phone she asked the same question before returning on the line, “Tony says he’s here with the others. Why?”

“I finished it and I need to find a way to Asgard.”

It wasn’t ten minutes that Pan honked her horn since I hung up on her. I locked my door behind me, my food still sitting out.

“Sorry,” I said as I climbed into the vehicle.

“Don’t be. Where to?”

“Stark Towers. You get to meet the Avengers.”

“Sound like a good time to speed.”

“As long as you don’t kill me,” I said, although I was just as impatient as she was.

On the way over Pepper gave us the code for the parking garage and we parked her little Toyota next to a Mercedes. We both rushed out of the car and to the elevator, which Pepper met us at.

“Let me see,” she said in the elevator.

I showed her the painting and she sighed.

“This is the same thing you’ve been painting all year. Why is this one perfect?”

I pointed at the L, which made them both squint. Pam got it first, sort of.

“It kind of shines in the light.”

“Is that gold?”

“That’s what I was missing,” I said, turning it to gaze upon as I had before, “I had missed the gold on the lettering when I painted the rest.”

Pepper nodded as the doors opened to the same hall I had entered almost a year ago. I felt a wave of nostalgia as we walked down the hall. Natasha, Clint, and Steve were there, along with a few others. Thor stuck out like a sore thumb, an exact opposite of his brother, his hammer in his hand.

“Excuse me, Thor, God of Thunder but I was wondering if you could take to Asgard.”

He looked down at me and furrowed his brow.

“My world is nothing for a mortal.”

“I’m looking for Loki and it's urgent.”

“Loki is here, on Earth. Not on Asgard.”

“Sir, may I be frank? I know he isn’t here because he would’ve shown himself already now I’m asking as a favor because I love your brother and something he did hurt me but I am ready to forgive and move on with him in my life now please.”

He looked at me then smiled. He took my arm, quite literally, and dragged me to the patio, where the sky had been overtaken with stars.

“Hold on to me tightly, sister.”

I tossed the painting to Pam. “I will bring him back. Hold that for me?”

She nodded at me when she caught it and I turned towards Thor, wrapping my arms around him tightly. He lifted his hammer and I closed my eyes.

“Heimdall, bring me home,” he calls out before the sound of thunder filled my ears.

I almost forgot what it felt like to travel, although this way was much easier on the stomach. It felt like I was floating for a moment until he tapped my shoulder.

“We arrived, sister.”

I opened my eyes and pulled away from him. He looked pleased with himself. A tall dark skinned man with gold armor and matching eyes looked at me.

“That was much easier than traveling with Loki.”

“Say that a little louder and he might come running,” Thor said with a laugh.

I frowned at him. “Thank you, Thor. I will look for him from here.”

“What are you going to do? Go through the Kingdom calling for him?”

I was beginning to walk away, towards the rainbow path that led to Asgard, but I turned. “That’s precisely what I’m going to do. I just hope I already know where he is.”

“I hope you find him. Come back if you don’t. I will wait here.”

I nodded and began my walk on the road. After a while, I began running. I was so close but the road seemed longer and longer.

Miss?

“Raven? If I can hear you clearly, that must mean…”

He is here. He is waiting.

“Where?”

You know where.

I don’t think I had ever run as fast as I had then. My lungs burned and my legs felt like jelly. The place he took me was dead ahead, according to what I remember seeing out of the window. There was a structure in the enter, tall and golden. I felt the urge to start there.

I had almost made it when I had to slow to a stop.

“Why did they make this so long,” I said, with a huff between nearly every word.

“Because we aren’t humans.”

Thor was beside me then and I jumped over from him.

“Fuck,” I yelped out, clutching my chest.

“Do you know where you are going?”

“I know of a peachish colored room that looked like a banquet hall that overlooked the water.”

He looked at me for a moment. Then he came close, dropping low to start picking me up, which I yelped at.

“What are you doing?”

“I travel much faster than you and if I know what room you’re talking about, it’d be forever before you’d find it on your own.”

I gave him a look but took it into serious thought. If Thor knew this room, I could see Loki much faster.

“Fine,” I said as I let him pick me up.

“Tuck yourself in as much as possible. I’d rather you not break anything.”

I did as he said and closed my eyes for good measure. I felt a shift and then a lot of air. Then nothing. My shoulder- length hair hell back at my shoulder. I opened my eyes and he dropped me to the ground carefully. We stood in front of a massive glass-like door. It reminded me of the rainbow path below.

With a deep breath, I tugged open the door, with shifted silently with the change in movement. There was a small short hall before the room opened up into the womb-like hall, The table that been filled with food before had been emptied and now sat barren. I let the door swing closed behind me as I took the three steps slowly into the room.

I felt my breathing hitch as he fell into view, his back towards me. He was looking out of the window, his hands wringing behind his back.

“Loki.”

He turned, his blue eyes falling on mine in a rush of relief. “I waited so long,” he whispered as I ran towards him.

I fell into his arms, finally. My heart swelled as he wrapped his arms around me like a security blanket.

“I finished it. The painting. I repeated it perfectly. That’s what took me so long.”

He pulled away slightly to look at my face. “I can’t wait to see it.” He smiled.

“I love you, Loki,” I said, finally speaking the words out loud, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Stephanie.”

He pulled his face down to mine and our lips touched. My body collapsed against him and he pushed us away from the window, pulling me up to sit on the table.

We were whole for once, together. At last.

[blissfulparker]

For real this time||t.c

Parings: timothée chalamet x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: the reader and Timmy spend a day in Italy where timothée proposes to her any the end of the night.

A/n: this was sorta inspired by the office where him keeps pretending to propose to Pam. AND HOLY FUCK THIS GIF BRINGS ME LIFE!!!

Timothée decided to take you on a trip to Italy after you and him had both decided to take the trip. While, you actually wanted to go to Italy for months and timothée decided to surprise you with it one evening.

The thing about timothée lately is that he’s been doing this thing where he acts like he’ll propose but then make up some dumb excuse like ‘will you...wait for me to tie my shoe?’ Or his most recent on was ‘will you...hold this quarter that I just found on the ground?” At first you thought it was silly and he’d do the real thing soon. After he’s done it four times...it got annoying to you. Sometimes you got a little sad because you didn’t know when he’d do the real thing.

You were standing in the bathroom mirror adjusting your shirt as you decided to go casual for the day. You decided to tervi fountain since you were dying to go ever since you got here. As you were adjusting yourself and making sure you looked decent, timmy had walked in to wrap his arms around your waist and kiss your neck softly.

“I’m gonna Marry You today.” He whispered into your ear before giving you one last kiss and leaving the bathroom.

“Yeah, sure you are.” You laughed off thinking this was another one of his practical jokes.

All Timmy did was smirk back at you leaving to go back into the bedroom. A part of You was hoping that your boyfriend of three years, best friend of ten, was being serious. The other part knew that this was a joke and you’d have to play his stupid game a little longer. You thought if he kept paying this game the place he did it was the most perfect place ever.

You walked out of the bathroom grabbing your bag and sunglasses off the small table in the rented house you guys got. Timmy was sitting on the bed fiddling with his fingers where a plain white tee shirt, black jeans, and letting his curls do what they want. You sat down next to him seeing that he was in some sort of nervousness.

“Hey, You alright?” You asked placing your hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, my head just hurts a little. Minor headache.” He told you giving you a kiss and hopping up.

“Well if it gets any worse we could always spend the day here. Just laying in bed, watching shitty Italian novellas, having some fun.” You joked but were also serious.

“No, I know how much you want to go to this place and how long you’ve waited in your life. (Y/n), we’re going to this place.” He placed both hands on your shoulder.

You smiled and grabbed his hand dragging him out the door. You rode bikes to the nearest bus stop and then took the bus all the way there. Timmy’s ‘minor headache’ seemed to not go away as he kept acting anxious and worried but later blamed it on his headache.

-

The place was packed, something you’d expect but timothée said the crowd would die down at around 8:00pm. You both decided you have coffee in a cafe near by and enjoy the atmosphere. You and timothée had the time to talk about things you never really could discuss while you were at home because you were so busy.

You got to the tervi fountain being completely compelled by its beauty. The sculptures were beautiful and hearing the rushing water was the most beautiful thing. Of course there were people trying to take pictures but not as many as earlier.

“Timmy isn’t this beautiful!” You exclaimed as his arm was tightly around you.

“Of course.” He stared at the fountain as well. “You know I love you a lot right?” He Said nervously.

“Yeah of course, I love you a lot too.” You replied turning to him.

His free hand was placed in his pocket. His fingers grazed over the velvet box with the diamond ring inside. The diamond ring it took him and your best friend, his best friend, and his sister almost two months to pick out. He made sure it was perfect for you. It had to be perfect for you.

“I just love you so much, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. When you wake up you are more beautiful than his fucking fountain in front of us, even if you claim you’re not. Okay (y/n), you are one of the most funniest, down to earth, loving, caring person I’ve ever met. And that says a lot because I met opera.” he chuckled nervously. You were beyond scared. He never did this when he fake proposed to you.

He dropped down on one knee actually pulling a box out this time, “(y/n) (y/l/n), will you marry me?” You laughed because he was so nervous he didn’t even open the box.

“Yes! Of course I will!” You cried out having blurry vision from tears but hearing people clap around you.

“Thank god I thought you’d say no after all the times I did it for fake.” He held a tight grip around you.

“You know you were supposed to open the box.” You giggled as he pulled back with tears too.

“Was I really? Fuck, I can do it over again...it just won’t be as special.” He said causing you to laugh.

“No, no, it was perfect. This is perfect. You are perfect.” You told him placing your hand on his cheeks.

He opened the box sliding the ring on it as you let out a gasp as how pretty it was. The ring was as perfect as you thought about it being. Watching him place it on your left ring finger was beautiful!

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

-

The next morning you woke up to an empty bed. Your sheets were everywhere along with articles of clothing. You were naked from last night so you decided to grab new underwear from the dresser and placed on Timmy’s shirt.

You walked out to see your beautiful boyfriend fiancé trying to make pancakes while humming to music that softly played to not wake you up. You went to wrap your arms around him startling him a little bit but then eased when he realized it was you. He turned around kissing you gently.

“Let me see your finger.” He said as he grabbed your hand grazing the ring, “it fits right?” He asked looking at you.

“For the final time timmy, it fits!” You told him giving him an reassuring kiss.

“I can’t believe you’re my fiancé.” He said as he smiled and turned back around.

“Why, has someone else in mind?” You teased him walking to sit down but then you felt a sore in between your legs, shifting until you could get comfortable.

“Nope.” As he popped the p, “and besides who else can i dance with when it’s 4am and I’m full of energy.” He laughed.

Your conversation went all morning, you both laughed, danced, ate the half burnt pancakes timmy made. You had no clue how you got so lucky to land timothée, when you first met as friends you knew he was the one for you. The things he did were so majestic to you and you’ll never be able to shake that from your head.

[5hfanfiction]

FROM AFAR - CHAPTER 25

Lauren (12:51pm): did u do well on the test?

Camila (12:51pm): i did

Camila (12:51pm): i guess

Lauren (12:51pm): haha it’s a 100 then

Camila (12:56pm): i wish

Lauren (1:03pm): zzzzzzz

.

.

.

Camila (8:11pm): hey, if you want to come over so you do be alone or if you want me to come over it’s okay for me

Camila (8:12pm): if it won’t bother

Lauren (8:15pm): sure camz

Lauren (8:16pm): i’ll finish my homework and take a shower

Lauren (8:16pm): and i’ll let you know

Lauren (8:16pm): then we’ll see who’s gonna go where, okay??

Camila (8:19pm): it’s a deal

We tried, and we succeeded. On the very next day after our conversation and a kind of an awkward encounter the night before after she was finally done with her hair, Lauren and I seemed to settle on a common ground where I literally ignored my feelings and desires for her for the sake of our friendship, and where she pretended that nothing happened (she was an expert at that to be honest). I missed her in all the ways possible and so did she, so we tried to go back to the usual and we were doing a pretty good job considering everything that had happened. And like all the other times, I forgave her.

No matter how pissed I was at Lauren, I always ended up softening to her. The moment she would say i’m sorry, and that she was confused and hurting, and trying to do the right thing even though anybody from a hundred feet away could see how stupid her decisions were, I always ended up understanding her motives and trying my best to forgive her. Because I guess that’s what love does to you, just like Lauren’s done with Paul, I was doing the same thing. I’m not saying that the things Paul did to her compares to the things she’s done to me, but the point is that we often try to forgive people and see the best in them, their best intentions, that or I’m just a really understanding person.

And to top all of that, I didn’t even know if I loved Lauren like that, sure as a friend, but my feelings were so confusing. How does one know if they love somebody? Is there a specific moment where you magically wake up and are sure of it? Who the hell knows, I knew I liked her and I wanted to be with her all the time. But that doesn’t mean it was love, and I had my friendship love in the middle of everything. The only thing I was sure was that that feeling, whatever it was, was way stronger on my side.

Lauren was just an ordinary girl, like me and Dinah and Normani and Ally, but something along the way changed that for me. Suddenly Lauren was that girl that held all the power, that would make you change your mind and change your voice tone just from looking at her. That would make her feelings overpower yours. All you had planned to say and do, it all vanished and you’d find yourself sugarcoating every move and every word that your mind had managed to think of. I was so angry and frustrated that I thought nothing she’d say would make that feeling go right away, but then again she proved me wrong.

I wanted to be selfish, to protect myself, to love myself more than I love any other person, just like I would advise my friends to do. But it’s hard to live under that mantra when you were cursed (or blessed) and can’t help but wear your heart in your sleeve- for Lauren, mostly, when you’re that person that always apologizes for your feelings or for something that’s not your fault, or both in my case.

We started texting daily again, we talked about our plans for the day, about classes and tests and quizzes, about my drama with my friends at home (like I needed more drama in my life), about food and what movie or tv show we were going to watch at night. We easily fell into our banters, her trying to pull jokes on me and failing miserably, and me telling her off because she was always late and always said she was going to shower so I could head to her room but she never went, making me wait even more.

Camila (7:52pm): i’m gonna call my brother

Camila (7:52pm): i’ll hit u up when i hang up

Lauren (7:52pm): okay

Camila (7:52pm): go take your shower and quit stalling

Lauren (7:52pm): wow so scary

Lauren (7:52pm): i’m shook

Camila (7:53pm): you should be

Lauren (7:53pm): cameeeeelaa

.

.

.

Camila (8:19pm): i’m back

Camila (8:19pm): did you take your shower

Lauren (8:19pm): no hahaha

Camila (8:21pm): as i suspected

Camila (8:21pm): i’m gonna beat your ass

Lauren (8:22pm): hahaha

–

Our routine was back again and it was fine, even if she took too long to go anywhere or simply take a shower. On my next lab class I found out that my classmates were selling chocolate bars to raise money for some activities they had to do, I’m not quite sure what it was but what really mattered was that they put the fucking boxes of different flavors of chocolate in our class for anybody who wanted to contribute, it was just a dollar after all. I kindly denied their offers because I’m not a chocolate girl myself, that before I remembered that Lauren was very much into chocolate, just like the other girls. I quickly took a picture of the flavors and sent it to her. The plan was to buy one for each of them, but Lauren’s love for chocolate was bigger than just one bar. I knew she tried not to eat them all the time, worried about her body and all, but I knew it would make her happy.

Camila (10:57am): which one?

Lauren (10:57am): hi

Lauren (10:57am): wow

Lauren (10:57am): crispy <3

Camila (10:57am): pick two

Lauren (10:57am): fuck camz hahaha

Camila (10:57am): i was gonna pick crispy and milk

Camila (10:58am): but if you prefer another one

Lauren (10:58am): these two are perfect

Camila (10:58am): okay

When the class ended I headed back to the dorms carrying a good amount of chocolate bars for my girls. I was gonna give it to the other girls when we met for dinner but Lauren’s room was on the way and I was absolutely sure she was awake, unlike Ally and Dinah, so I knocked on her door with two bars of chocolate in my hands. It wasn’t a surprise per see, she knew I had bought them for her. She opened the door with a big smile plastered on her face.

“Uau, are you trying to win me over?” Lauren said as she took the chocolate from my hands. She probably didn’t think about the implications of her statement, about what happened to us and that I could be in fact trying to do what her question suggested.

I didn’t answer her rhetorical question. I grinned and blabbered something about the flavours and how I was going to pick those two anyways but just wanted to check with her first. I didn’t answer, but the truth is that when she said that, the first thing that came to my mind was that I would buy her all those boxes of chocolate if I knew it was that easy to win her over. I didn’t say any of those things of course.

“Well, I’m going to take a nap now, I’ll see you at dinner?!”

“Sure, I’ll see you then. Thanks for the chocolate.”

In that period of time (which lasted a couple of days only), between my conversation with Lauren and me buying her chocolate, I’d finally managed to change rooms too. After all the meetings they finally decided to take me out of Pam’s presence and away from her sex life and put me with another person. Luckily for me there was a girl alone in a double room in that same hallway, and that was the number one thing I wanted: not to have to change floors or move to the other side of the building. All the girls except for Normani were there, hell, Ally was literally in front of me and my roommate screw everything up for me.

It was the very last room of the hallway, right in front of the last bathroom and only two doors away from Lauren. When the day had come, I just packed my things and didn’t ask for anybody’s help, well, just at the end of the day when I had to move the furniture and they all helped me. But I just wanted to do things alone, to not be so dependent on Lauren especially.

I spent the rest of the afternoon sleeping and woke up in time for dinner with the others. My mood had completely changed like it always did. I acted distant while we were there eating at the dining hall and Lauren noticed it. It wasn’t really her fault or anything, it was just a mood swing, most probably due to the fact that the next day would mark a month anniversary of my grandma’s death, but even though Lauren and I were doing fine apparently, she would always have a share as a reason for my sad feelings. I finished eating early than the others and went back to the room and that definitely didn’t please Lauren

Camila (10:21pm): if u wanna finish pirates of the caribbean i’m down for it

Lauren (10:21pm): daaaaaaaamn the madam decided to be nice

Camila (10:22pm): i was acting like any other time

Camila (10:22pm): i just didn’t have anything to do there anymore

Camila (10:22pm): if u don’t want to just say it

Lauren (10:23pm): stupid

Lauren (10:23pm): i’m gonna take a shower and let you know when i’m done

Lauren (10:23pm): and i was kidding, for the record

The beginning of a new day didn’t change my mood at all. All the negative feelings, especially loneliness, were still sitting in the pit of my stomach. The day went by with our normal obligations and when the night arrived, the girls decided to hang out in Lauren’s room, but they had alcohol this time. My depressed ass didn’t want to have fun or have a drink, I just wanted to enjoy my sadness but the girl’s had insisted for me to join them. I told them I wouldn’t drink anything and probably wouldn’t stay there for long.

Ally had a bottle of wine in her hand and I can say that she and Dinah were doing everything to make me feel better. There was music, volume low enough so we wouldn’t get too much attention from the people passing through the hallway, beers and wine. Dinah convinced me to take a few sips of wine, nothing enough to make me drunk but it definitely lit up my mood, because they were doing a great job at making me laugh. Time passed and I definitely recorded a bunch of videos of Dinah twerking, Ally using a bra on her face pretending she was a fly as her cellphone rang letting us know that the chinese food had arrived.

Lauren, well, she was a bit drunk too but nothing too extravagant. By the time the food arrived we were all laughing and singing, never a chicken lo mein tasted so good in my life and Lauren started to pay more attention to me as well. Every time I looked at her she had a smile on her lips. At some point Ally excused herself to go to the bathroom, but she never actually came back and privately messaged Dinah to go help her with something, she probably wasn’t feeling well. That resulted in me and Lauren alone in her room. She was still walking around the room singing while I laid on my belly in her bed. At some point she hopped up on the bed and put half of her body on my back.

I knew then that something had changed, I knew then that something was gonna happen. Physical contact that wasn’t considered friendly enough wasn’t allowed in our unspoken agreement, and even though there was nothing provocative in what Lauren was doing, sure as hell there was something more than friendly in that. In the privacy of her room, where I wasn’t looking for any kind of affection from her, no signals, no innuendos, she got out of her way to do that and both of us knew that it wasn’t just friendly.

My heart started racing and I didn’t know what to do. We stayed in that position for a couple minutes, me not knowing what to do or what to say. I finally decided to get up and clean the room before the girls got back, packing the leftovers and putting on the mini fridge, picking up the beer cans stacked up by the windowsill to hide them under her bed for when we had the opportunity to throw it away without suspicion. But my suspicions were confirmed when Lauren, who had stayed in bed when I started cleaning, asked me to pass her mint chewing gums that were resting on top of the microwave.

See, any other person would say she was just in the mood for a mint candy, but not me. I take pride for being observant and I knew that she had something in mind because it had happened before. After halloween, on the day that Ally slept in my room and so did Lauren, when we almost kissed again but I thought she didn’t want to and it was all a big misunderstanding, when I asked if I could come over and kiss her to make up for the wasted time, she was chewing gum. She knew we were going to make out and she wanted to be safe. It might sound creepy in a way but it’s just observation and good memory (that, and the fact that Lauren had said she was in the mood for some kisses that night). And even though it was kinda creepy, I was right anyway.

I handed her the damn thing and went back to collect the cans as Dinah opened the door and said that Ally had a minor breakdown because she was missing her family, but she was in bed now and everything was good. She proceeded to tell us that she too was going back to her room and said her goodbyes. When I finished cleaning everything and grabbed my room keys, that’s when she said it.

“Camz, stay here for the night?”

I expected that, but that doesn’t mean my heart didn’t react to it. But at the same time it was a dilemma for me. Because we did that all the time and I should’ve known better than that. A part of me knew Lauren would ask for me to stay and that part also wanted me to deny her request. Another part, thought about proposing the same thing if Lauren hadn’t done it first.

“Yeah, sure, I just have to brush my teeth and grab a pillow from my room, I’ll be right back.”

When I got back Lauren was already tucked in bed leaving me enough space beside her. I laid down and she didn’t waste time before pulling me to rest on her chest as she ran her hand through my hair.

“You know I hate to see you sad like that, you should’ve just talked to me, to us, and we would’ve helped you. Don’t keep things to yourself anymore, what happened?”

“I don’t know, it’s just…It was a bad day I guess and it’s been a month today since she passed away today. I hate to feel like that too but I can’t help it. I promise I talk more when I feel it again.”

It was actually the first time that she confronted me face to face about what I was feeling, and the first time that she took the initiative to be affectionate and caring with me. We fell into silence. That was when Lauren’s hand that was caressing my hair descended to my lips. Her thumb massaging my lower lip and at that point my heart was beating so fast that she could probably feel it. I froze for a moment, I always did. I started to plant little kisses on her finger, internally debating my next move. We knew what was going to happen but the hesitation was still present. I leaned in and put my face on the crook of her neck, slowly making my way towards her lips.

It might sound cheesy but I would dare to say that our lips fit perfectly, like it never had with anyone before her and I wondered if it was like that because Lauren was a girl or because Lauren was simply Lauren, the Jauregui one, the one I had feelings for.

It started gentle but sensual nonetheless. It had been a while since we last kissed and nothing fairer than savour her lips before our tongues engaged in a passionate fight for dominance. I don’t know how much time we stayed like that but it was never enough.

“I’ve missed this,” Lauren said as she separated our lips for a split second, just as I was thinking about voicing the same thing. The only difference was that it required much more time and debate for me to act on something or do something related to her.

“Why are we like this?” She pressed, talking about how we always decided to just a friendship, but always ended up making out anyways.

“If you want to stop I’ll stop,” I replied, leaving the ball on her side.

“No,” she quickly whispered into my mouth as our kiss regained passion.

A good amount of time passed and apparently Lauren got tired of just kisses. The thought of anything more than a simple make out session had never crossed my mind until I felt the weight of half of Lauren’s body on me. Taken by surprise, I continued to kiss her and started to move my hands lower to cup her butt. Lauren started to scratch my back under my shirt, which gave me courage to slip my hand under her shorts while my mouth worked through her neck and jaw.

I had never seen Lauren panting like that before, none of our previous kisses and all the nights I slept in the same bed with her had gotten to that point, and I had the impression that it was affecting her more than myself. I could say that the reason for that was the amount of fear I had during that moment. I had never gotten to that point with anyone before and I wasn’t expecting that at all. I wasn’t feeling good that day and the night had taken an unexpected turn. The fear was real, and it stopped me from placing my hand where I wanted the most. They stayed at her butt and back, and the most daring thing I did was cup her breast- over the bra, and that was it. Lauren seemed to want more, but I stopped her before things got more heated.

“I think we should stop now before something else happens,” I said as we separated our lips. My fear for our friendship and the fear of having sex with her took a toll on me. It wasn’t like I didn’t want her in that way, it was just the wrong time and wrong situation. It was one of the most difficult things to do when it came to Lauren, because I had her body right next to me, her lips glued to mine and at the same time it simply should not happen.

Lauren’s body had always attracted my eyes like a magnet. Not to sound like a horny teenage boy, but her butt was something from another world and it was all natural, like god himself sculpted her with his bare hands. I tried not to look at her that much because I’d always thought it was disrespectful when other people did that, but it was a self control exercise and quite an experience. Like, when Lauren knocked at my door one night, way before we even started to get closer and before I started to develop feeling for her, with no bra and a sweater that didn’t hide much of anything, and it hit me like a cannonball because I wasn’t expecting that. Or when she was wearing shorts and walking in front of me on the hallway, probably a day where my hormones were out of control. And the worst of all, when Lauren had no shame when she changed clothes in front of Ally and I in Orlando, like she didn’t have the slightest clue that I was fucking attracted to her and showing her bare chest to me like it was nothing wouldn’t affect me at all. And in that moment I was allowed to touch her anywhere and she was loving it, at least looked like it, but there were more important things to take into account.

“I’m sorry,” I said as our breathing slowed down to a normal rate. “Are you mad?” I asked, fearing that she was mad at my interruption.

“No, I’m not. I just need to use the bathroom.”

Lauren got up and stormed out of the room, to do what I didn’t know. I like to think it was because she was wet and needed to step in and do something about it. But that’s just wishful thinking. I was kind of embarrassed about the whole situation, but come to think of it was the best choice in the end. Only a few days ago she was giving me a cold shoulder, with all the ex drama, the next thing I know we were fighting, and after our conversation we settled for a friendship and only that. So imagine what having sex with her would do to our friendship… I might be mistaken and it could be the best thing for us, but it didn’t seem like that’s what it would happen. I would be more confused than ever, and more in love probably which was totally a bad thing. I was sure Lauren understood that. Maybe she got too carried away in the moment to remember those details but she had to know that.

She came back and fortunately for me it wasn’t awkward at all. We talked for another hour about anything and everything. We laughed, we kissed more and we were definitely acting like a couple, a couple that we were not. We talked about a Lil Wayne’s show that would take place in our small town and how she wanted to go because he was her favorite singer, and I told her that I would go with her if I had the money even though I didn’t like his music for the most part. I couldn’t let her go alone. I thought about a birthday present idea for her, it was like three months away but I would definitely buy her the shirt with his face on it that she wanted so much and it got me so excited with the perspective of seeing her happy to receive it from me. It would be a surprise of course, but silly me thinking that everything was going to be okay between us until then.

A/N: that wasn’t the smut of course. I don’t know what to think of this chapter but i just want to get it out there, therefore i can’t spend too much time dwelling on it. I also feel like i’m forgetting something important but life goes on.. brace yourself for the angst (AGAIN).

again, i’m sorry for any mistakes related to grammar, english is not my first language but for some reason i like to write in english, feel free to correct me though. Do yourself a favor and go check Crosswords in my profile on wattpad

[msbigredmachine]

The Sweetest Thing (A Roman Reigns Story) - Part 1

Raising children is a lot tougher than it looks. And with two babies in the picture and one parent virtually out of it, things are twice as difficult. So how have Joe and Sasha coped? Or have they not? Mini-sequel to 'Into The Deep End' and 'Nothing Better'. Two-shot. Roman/OC.

Comments are greatly appreciated!

"Damn. You look crappy."

Frowning at his smirking wife through the iPad screen, Joe rolled his grey eyes. "Our first FaceTime session in a while and you had to start with the negatives." Huffing with annoyance, he picked up his bottle of water and chugged down half of it, then tossed it aside. "Glad to know you find my broken nose funny."

Sasha sighed, fighting the urge to roll her own eyes. Ever since he lost the World title for the second time, her husband of over a year had become the crankiest motherfucker on the planet. The past week had been even rougher for him and she was only trying to lighten up the mood. However it was clear that he had little appreciation for her effort. Again. "I didn't say it was funny," she said.

Was he sure about that? From the way they'd been bickering lately, barbs and jibes seemed to be all they had for each other these days. "Right," he murmured, sitting up straighter on his way-too-small hotel room bed. "So what's up? How are the babies doing?"

"They're good. Asleep for now."

A small smile spread across his face at the thought of holding his infant twins in his arms again. "I can't wait to see them. I miss them so much."

It no longer surprised her when he made no mention of missing her, like he used to before. "So...how are you doing?"

"Tired." Lifting his tattooed shoulder, he rotated the appendage gingerly. "I've been up since the crack of dawn working on this new toy ad. Took photos all damn day in this hot-ass warehouse. I think I did the same damn pose for about five hours straight," he grumbled.

"A lot of people would be happy to do the same pose for five hours straight," Sasha pointed out, "Especially if they're doing it for something they love to do, like you are. You should appreciate it."

Joe raised an eyebrow, not liking the tone she used to address him; the tone she would use on her daughter Mia when the pre-teen was being stubborn. But he forced himself to let it slide. Again. Steering down a calmer path, he said, "So what are you up to right now?"

"Just got out of the shower," She waved the towel she was using to dry her short hair, "The yoga session was great today. I feel so much better after every class," she added, her voice lilting with enthusiasm.

For the past number of months, Joe noticed that the gym had become one of Sasha's favorite places to be at. Every time they spoke she was out running. Every time he was home, she was at one workout session or another at Pam's gym. It was great to want to stay in shape but he couldn't help but believe that this was now a bit of an obsession for her. "Where were the babies while you were out?" he asked.

Sasha's brows furrowed. "With Gin's folks like always. Thought you knew that."

Joe frowned. "I don't like when they're so far away from you."

"It's Elgin's parents, babe. And it was only for a couple of hours. Relax."

"I am relaxed," he shot back.

Raising an eyebrow of her own, Sasha scrutinized her husband. "You sure about that?"

His reply was terse. "Yes."

Sasha pursed her lips at his attitude. It had been like this for some time now, the sniping and the arguing and the overall tension between her and Joe. Both when he was at home and on the road. Every time her iPhone or iPad rang and it was his caller ID, she found herself cringing with trepidation as she didn't know what mood he would be in. It was difficult enough dealing with two infants on her own and running low on sleep and energy every day as a result. The added drama did not help matters and it certainly was not welcome. He obviously was not relaxed, but for the sake of peace she let it be, because asking questions led to more unnecessary drama. Maybe for once they could have a conversation that didn't end with them blowing up on each other. "When will you be home?"

"I'm back Wednesday like always, and lucky for me, I get to stay home till Sunday since the house shows are cancelled," Joe said.

"That's nice. I'm sure you're looking forward to coming home."

Honestly...if it only meant getting into more meaningless fights with her, then not really. He spent most of his time with the babies and Mia mainly so he could avoid getting into it again with her. Ninety percent of the time, the plan failed. It was the story of their lives as a couple lately and it was starting to get tiresome. Joe cleared his throat, about to bring up a particularly prickly topic of contention. "By the way, I got a red carpet event next Thursday in New York." He paused, wetting his lips briefly as he met his wife's gaze through the screen. "When can you fly out? I want you to be there with me," he asked, but the moment he saw her gaze shift from his, he knew what her answer would be.

Sasha swallowed. Oh no. Not this again. Joe was, by all intents and purposes, the number one guy in WWE right now. That honor came with a lot of responsibilities, mostly involving the media, and in the times when her presence was required, Sasha was happy to accompany him. She was well aware that her status as his wife meant she was under constant scrutiny no matter what, but it didn't make her any more comfortable. Things started to escalate after she had their children, Giselle and Micah, and gained a few pounds in the process. Last time she checked, it was perfectly normal to carry a bit of extra weight after childbirth. But Joe's fans didn't seem to agree, judging from the way they trashed her when a picture of her surfaced a month after having the twins. She'd pretended to brush off that little incident but it ate at her every day from then on. She couldn't bear the thought of accompanying her husband somewhere again and have people tweeting about how fat she had become. She feared that Joe himself also felt the same way and was only asking her out of obligation. Like now.

"Sash?" As if on cue, his deep voice prompted her back to reality, and she cleared her throat.

"I um...I don't think I can make it," she murmured.

And he was right on the money. Again. "Here we go. What's your excuse this time?"

Refusing to meet his gaze, she picked at her towel. "You sayin' I had an excuse before?"

"Please. You always got some excuse. This is like, the third event you've turned down. Are you gonna keep backing down every time I wanna take you somewhere? I can count how many times you've come out with me in the last couple of months with one hand. What are you hiding from?" he demanded.

Sasha crossed her arms petulantly. "Fine. You wanna know? I'll tell you. I'm not going anywhere until I get rid of this baby weight."

Joe gave her a strange look. "What are you talkin' about? You ain't even that big," he said flippantly.

If that statement was meant to make her feel better, it didn't work. In fact it had the completely opposite effect. "Gee, thanks, Joseph. And you should tell that to your lovely fans," she retorted, "Did you read what they were saying about me last time we were out together?"

His free hand clenched into a fist as he felt himself get angrier. "Who the fuck cares what the fans say? You're the one who tells me to ignore them. How about you follow your own advice for once?"

"It ain't that simple, Joe."

"Yes, it is that simple Sasha. Stay off the fuckin' internet. I've told you that a million times before," he responded harshly, thoroughly irritated now.

Sasha blinked rapidly, shocked. "Are you kiddin' me? What the hell is your problem?"

"You are!" Joe shot back harshly. "You are my problem, Sasha! You don't listen to me anymore. When I wanna talk you either avoid me or start a fight with me! You always gotta have everything your way. When's the last time we did something I wanted to do? You never want to do anything except work out." The words continued to tumble out of his mouth in a heated, angry rush. "I'm sorry but I don't see why you should be going to the gym so much. Your job is to stay at home and take care of the babies, not spending all your damn time exercising."

It was like watching a clip from a movie, the way Sasha's face transformed at those last words. She looked like he'd slapped her.

"Excuse me? What is that supposed to mean? So me going to the gym trying to get back in shape, trying to feel better about myself, makes me a bad mother? Makes me a problem? Is that what you sayin'?"

"What? Of course not! I-"

But it was too late to backtrack. All hell had broken loose, and Sasha was in a complete rage. "I am at home taking care of your children, barely able to work, and you got the goddamn nerve to utter that bullshit because I don't wanna go to your stupid party? You asshole!"

"For fuck's sake Sasha, I didn't mean it like that! Will you just-"

"You never mean anything 'like that'!" Her hands flew up angrily to make sarcastic quotation signs. "That's always your fuckin' answer for all the dumb shit you say! I always knew you could be an ass but I didn't know you were an insensitive ass."

Hurt stabbed the Samoan's insides at her stinging words. "Oh, we're calling each other names now? How mature."

"So I'm the one being immature? Of course! Pin it all on the useless wife and incompetent mother!"

"When did I even say any of that? For fuck's sake Sasha, you are completely overreacting as usual!" He realized he should be placating her instead of fanning the flames, but he really didn't appreciate her putting words in his mouth.

Sasha shot him with an incredulous stare. "Overreacting? After the way you been treating me, the way everyone else has been treating me like I don't know what the hell I'm doing, like I can't handle the babies? You think I'm overreacting? We can't even talk without gettin' into a fuckin' fight, so you can kiss my black ass with that mess!"

Joe groaned loudly, exasperated. "This is insane. You are being completely asinine."

"Go to hell." Her voice broke at the last word, and Joe felt his heart splinter as he watched the tears spill down her cheeks. His heart lurched at the look on her face, a gut-wrenching mix of pain and fury that made him suddenly uncomfortable. "Sash...come on, what the hell are you cryin' for? Sasha, stop it," he attempted, cringing when she pinned him down with another murderous glare.

"Don't tell me what to do," she snapped, "Why does everyone keep trying to tell me what to do?" Taking yet another deep, ragged breath, she turned away and wiped her face with trembling fingers, unable to look him in the eye any longer. "I am so sick and tired of your shit. You don't even give a damn."

"Babe-"

"Do you know why I'm in the gym so much?" she interrupted him again. "Why I care about what your fans say? Because I have to care. Because I have to look and act perfect for you and for them and when I don't, I make you look bad."

"That is not true...Sasha, listen to me-" He was close to pleading now. This was nothing like their previous squabbles; this was much, much worse. He cursed inwardly, wondering how this conversation had spiraled out of control.

The mother of four started on another heated retort, but was distracted when something across the room hijacked her attention. The baby monitor was on and the sounds of crying filled both their ears. Exhaling tiredly, she pushed the tears from her face. "Gotta go. I'm off to take care of your kids like the good little wife I am," she said, her tone clipped and bitter, and as she rose to her feet, she jabbed her finger forwards, turning the iPad screen black.

"Fuck!" Joe knocked his iPad aside, too incensed to worry about where it landed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He pressed his fists to his face, his whole body heaving. What the hell just happened? He closed his eyes only to force them back open a second later, because all he could see were the tears on her beautiful, heartbroken face. How had it come to this? What was happening to their marriage?

"You dumbass."

He twisted around on his bed and found his colleague and one of his closest friends, Trinity Fatu, at the door of his hotel room, the expression on her pretty face like thunder. Her husband Jonny stood meekly behind her, looking rather fearful for his cousin. Joe could tell they'd caught part of their conversation, if he could call it that, but he was not in the mood for any lectures.

Clearly not getting that memo, Trinity crossed her arms and shook her head. "Let me guess why y'all fightin'. You've stopped paying attention to her," she said, her tone accusing. "Every time you call her it's only to ask about the twins. You barely ask how she's doing. You return home and it's the same rodeo all over again. Am I right?" Clucking her tongue, she leveled him with a glare very similar to the ones Sasha had been giving him for months.

"That is not true!" the Pensacola native retorted angrily. He didn't ignore Sasha, not at all. If anything, it was the other way around. At least it felt that way to him. "And frankly, ain't none of your business. This is between me and her."

"Like hell it is. Not when we can all see what's going on between y'all two," Trinity countered smoothly. "Did your little pea brain not learn anything from what happened with Andrea? Hey, I couldn't stand the bitch, but you pretty much told her back then that you were only keeping her around because she was carrying your child. Look how that turned out. You're about to replicate the exact same thing with Sasha. She had two babies...two...for you! She risked her body for you-"

"You think I don't know that?" Joe threw up his hands in exasperation, feeling ganged up on. "I've tried talking to her, Trin! But she don't wanna talk to me. I ask her about stuff and all she does is shut me down. I'm not a fuckin' mind reader so what do you want me to do?"

"Try harder," said Trinity, "You have to talk to her. Not at her, and not in a bored or aggressive tone either. Dude, she's going through a rough time. She thinks she's fat and she's feeling insecure about her body. You're gone for weeks on end and she has to deal with the children by herself. She feels alone and suffocated she wants support and reassurance from you. I understand that you got a lot on your plate too, but you've let it completely take over your life and pushed Sasha out in the process." Clasping her hands together, Trinity's eyes were imploring as she added, "Joe, I am begging you. Do not make the same mistake you made before. Sasha ain't just some random baby mama, she's your wife. Call her, do whatever the fuck you gotta do to fix this. Otherwise trust me when I say you're gonna have a problem with me as well."

She let the threat hang in the air, allowing her in-law to absorb it a little longer. Then, shooting him one last scolding glare, she marched out of the room, leaving the two cousins alone and swarmed in the palpable tension. Joe glared at Jonny, who looked about to speak. "Don't you start," he warned.

"She's right though," Jonny countered, shaking his head. "But damn man, I thought I told you not to mess up with Sasha when she's around," He stabbed a finger in the direction Trinity had stormed out from. "It affects me too." He shook his head and sighed heavily. "I'm willing to bet you right now, she's gonna go and and on about it all night and I won't get any damn sleep. Fix it, Uce. Please. You know she ain't playin'." Rolling his eyes dramatically with another shake of his head, he disappeared through the door after his wife as he braced himself for a long night ahead.

Blowing out a breath, Joe ran his hands through his hair. He had to admit, Trin was right. Though Sasha wasn't completely innocent, he knew he'd crossed a line with the things he said to her, and he needed to find a way to make it up to her. He could only hope and pray he was not too late.

-----------------------------

Three days later, Joe returned home. He was welcomed by the sound of complete silence as he stepped through the doors of his lavish Tampa abode. Though it was only about eight p.m. the lights were already turned off, all the windows were closed and locked and the alarm system was on. There was no one downstairs in the living room or in the kitchen. It was rather strange for his household, and he wondered where everyone was.

Dragging his suitcases as quietly as possible upstairs, the first thing he did was to check on the twins. He strolled past the master bedroom and towards the nursery. Abandoning his luggage at the door, he gently pushed the door open and turned on the little lamp in the corner, which gave a soft, dim glow to the lilac-colored room that he really liked. However, he was surprised to find both cribs empty. Curious, he crossed through the connecting door and into the master bedroom, and a smile of relief tugged his lips at the sight that greeted him.

Lying in their king-sized bed was Sasha, flanked on each side by their twins; Giselle on her left, Micah on her right, all three of them fast asleep. The volume of the television was turned down low, with Mickey Mouse Clubhouse showing on the flat screen. Both babies' heads were turned towards their mother while she lay on her back, an arm wound protectively around each of them. It was a beautiful, Kodak-worthy moment that could not be ignored. He whipped out his phone, quickly putting it on silent before immortalizing the image on his device. He moved to pick up the children, but then remembered that he had to wash his hands. Germs around the babies was a huge no-no. Sasha read him the Riot Act every time he forgot. He dashed into the toilet and back, then, ensuring not to wake any of them, he carefully extracted Giselle out of Sasha's arm and rested her little head on his broad shoulder. Wow, she was so big now. He stuck his hand inside her diaper to see if she needed to be changed and was glad to find out that she did not. He loved his children to death but changing diapers had to be his least favorite thing to do. He nuzzled the baby's soft dark hair and kissed her forehead, breathing in her fresh talcum-powdered scent. "Come on Princess, let's get you to bed," he whispered.

He walked back to the nursery and found the crib on the left side of the room, and carefully, he lowered his daughter inside, making sure she lay on her back. He pulled the baby blanket over the baby, and after ensuring she was safe and sound, he exited the room to retrieve his son.

As he reached for Micah, his heart lurched a little when he saw Sasha start to stir, and she absently ran her hand over the spot on the bed where Giselle had been sleeping beside her. "Gigi?" she breathed, her eyes cracking open.

At that moment, Joe felt his anxiety melt into a warm pool of pride. His wife may have been half-asleep but her children were always on her mind, always her top priority. There was never a time she didn't realize when one of her babies was no longer near her. Joe decided to ease her fears. "I got her. She's in her crib," he said.

"Joe?" She would have opened her eyes a little more but she was just so tired. His hulking frame looked familiar but she couldn't really tell because the comforting haze of sleep still surrounded her. For all she knew, he was still on the road and this was just another vivid dream she was having of him.

"Yeah, it's me." Beside Sasha, Joe could see their son start to squirm. "I got Mike too. Go back to sleep." He watched as she relaxed and shut her eyes, then he reached over her body to pick up Micah, gently resting him on his shoulder like he did with Giselle. "Hey buddy," he cooed, rubbing his tiny back as he left of the bedroom. He'd since learned that Gigi was the lighter sleeper of the twins, often waking up at the slightest sound, while Micah was the one that slept like a rock. Either way, the last thing Joe wanted was Sasha being woken up by the babies' cries when it was evident how tired she was.

It wasn't unusual to find Joe sitting in the nursery for hours, doing nothing but cuddling his children. He always tried to reacquaint himself with their environment as much as he could before he had to travel again. Pulling Sasha's nursing chair between the two cribs, Joe settled down and lowered the side of Giselle's crib facing him so he could touch her. He wedged his littlest finger through her tiny fist, and smiled when the baby subconsciously grabbed it and held on. Micah was tucked underneath his chin, and the Samoan lightly swayed back and forth in the chair, giving his son a kiss on top of his head, basking in the child's smell, his softness, his innocence.

"I've missed you both so much," he whispered.

He couldn't believe they were five months old already. He still remembered it like it was yesterday, the day when he and Sasha found out they were having twins. Etched in his memory were the wide-eyed, shocked expression on his wife's beautiful face and the sound of his own pulse hammering in his ears...

"I'm sorry, what?" Joe gaped at Dr. Sawyer like she had two heads, which at this point, was a rather appropriate expression. Because unless his hearing had become fucked up by all the beatings he'd endured in the ring, it sounded a lot to him like she'd just said that there were not one, but two babies inside his wife.

Mona laughed at his expression. "You heard me right." She pointed at the screen showing the ultrasound. "See? Over here is the head of the first baby and over here...is the second." She turned back to the couple and smiled. "Two heads means it's twins. So congratulations."

Emotions of every kind swelled inside Sasha, threatening to burst from her chest. "Twins," she murmured, shock and euphoria and fear flitting across her face all at once. Shaking her head at her husband, she said, "How did I forget that twins run in your damn family?"

Joe laughed, as did Mona. "Would you like to know what you're having?"

The couple looked at each other, and Sasha squeezed Joe's hand as they exchanged knowing smiles. They had discussed this over and over without coming to an agreement. Joe looked back at the OB-GYN. "Well, we already know we're having twins," he said. "The genders don't really matter to me. I can wait until they're born. I just want them to arrive healthy."

"You sure?" asked Dr. Sawyer, noting Sasha's skeptical expression. "Some couples decide on one thing and then change their minds quickly. If you want, we can wait until your next appointment to find out, or I can write it in an envelope for you. Many couples usually prefer that."

"An envelope will be fine," Sasha piped up. She knew her husband. There was a high chance he would be unavailable for the next appointment, and it wouldn't feel right if she found out on her own. Besides, even if she did, she couldn't keep it from him. The suspense would kill them both. Personally, she preferred to find out the sex of their babies together, and sooner rather than later.

Sooner came much quicker than later. Two days barely went by when both of them bit the bullet. Unable to hold out any longer, the couple rummaged through the kitchen drawer they'd buried the envelope in and tugged out the paper. They were on the floor for an hour after that, hugging each other while crying tears of joy. One baby was already a blessing, but having two, a boy and a girl for that matter, was an incredible miracle.

Despite being born premature, the twins were as healthy as ever. Micah Morgan Sika was the younger twin but he was slightly bigger than his sister – Sasha blamed it on his Samoan-inherited penchant for food – and looked exactly like Joe, from his wavy black hair to his tan skin and slanted charcoal-grey eyes. Giselle Maeva Josephina was the apple of her father's eye and already a little diva. She demanded his attention and he surrendered it to her without question. Like her brother she took most of Joe's gorgeous looks but her smile was a carbon copy of Sasha's. Their parents were overjoyed when they arrived, but honestly speaking, it was more because it meant her pregnancy was over. By no means had it been an easy eight months. If carrying one baby was tough, two had been a nightmare. Sasha struggled throughout, and even ended up needing a walking stick to move around during the latter stages of her term. It broke Joe's heart to see her in such pain and discomfort and it hurt him more that he couldn't be there with her all the time like a normal father-to-be. It was such a relief when the babies were delivered safely and Sasha turned out okay. It was by far the happiest moment of Joe's life and he did his best to be as hands-on as possible with the babies, looking after them when he returned home and bonding with them.

However, as his connection with his children strengthened, the one with his wife started to diminish. Neither had much time for the other as the twins became top priority. Soon the arguments started, and Sasha fought with him over the pettiest things like cleaning up the house and taking out the trash. He figured she was acting out because she couldn't return to work and was stuck at home while her body continued to heal. But she stopped wanting to go out with him, preferring to go to the gym than spend time with him. And then, to his chagrin, she began to spurn his advances when he wanted to make love, instead putting all her attention on the babies and losing weight. When he realized her fears over her body image had skyrocketed, he'd tried to be understanding, but Sasha did not seem to see that. To add to the turmoil at home, he was having a less-than-stellar period at work. The higher-ups in the WWE kept playing hot potato with their decision over whether to give him another title reign, and feeling frustrated and yanked around, he started to lash out at the people closest to him, most notably the woman he called his wife. And just like the woman he knew and loved, she lashed right back, making his life one big giant clusterfuck.

It was all very frustrating; his kids were growing up and he wasn't there to witness it. He was constantly arguing with their mother. It had reached a point where he internally timed how long their attempt at conversation would drag on for before it broke down and they were yelling at each other again. There were days he would come home and immediately wish he was back on the road so he wouldn't have to deal with her, and though he knew it was wrong, he couldn't help how he felt. It wasn't healthy at all, especially not when there were small children involved, and after replaying their last heated exchange over and over in his head and going over Trinity's advice, the Samoan decided it was time for the fighting to come to an end. It was all a huge mess over nothing. They could not carry on like this, and he vowed to resolve their issues on this trip home.

Kissing Micah's head one more time, Joe placed him in his crib and drew the covers over him. Once he checked that the baby monitors were on, he left the nursery and checked on his sleeping wife again. He noticed she was wearing a robe and her hair was tucked haphazardly underneath a satin hair cover, and he guessed that she was in bed when the twins drew her attention. Seeing it from her perspective, Joe felt bad for her. She hadn't got a break in over a year, and with T.K. off touring the independents and Mia being more and more occupied with school, Sasha was stuck with the babies with very little help. His parents occasionally stepped in, but it wasn't often as they themselves were getting on age-wise. No wonder she'd exploded like that. It was a lot to take on. He probably would have too if he'd been in her shoes.

Deciding to be of use while he was at home, he unpacked his bags and gathered his dirty laundry. Heading downstairs to the laundry room, he added a load of laundry to the washer, separating the babies' clothes and handwashing them himself. He then wiped down the kitchen, put on the dishwasher, and took out the trash. Afterwards he made his way to the den to tidy up Sasha's laptop and paperwork. He picked up the toys strewn around the living room and took them upstairs to deposit in the little toy box in the nursery. It was the least he could do. Sasha always kept the house in impeccable shape all by her lonesome and it was his responsibility to maintain that standard.

When he was satisfied with the state of the house, Joe returned to the master bedroom and climbed into bed next to his wife. Staring at her for a long, forlorn moment, he tentatively weaved his arm underneath her head, and his hand was halfway across the pillow when she moved. But instead of shifting away from him, her body relaxed and she snuggled into his embrace, all without ever opening her eyes. Expelling a huge sigh of relief, Joe wrapped his arm completely around her, then reached for the remote to catch up with his favorite TV shows. Sure, she was cuddling with him in her subconscious, but it was better than her being awake and hating him. This way he could pretend that things were still normal and all was well between them.

-----------------------------

As another manic episode of How To Get Away With Murder flew by, the gentle movement of his fingers in her hair ceased when he felt her shift next to him. By now she was practically glued to his side, with her head tucked in the crook of his neck and her arm around his middle. He glanced down at her as her eyes finally opened, blinking slowly. She rolled away from him, rubbing her eyes, and a soft smile tugged at his lips at her adorable expression as consciousness slowly returned to her. He could see the proverbial lightbulb flash in her mind as she realized something was off. Fully awake now, she sat up and looked around the bed.

Joe instantly read her mind. "They're in the nursery, safe and sound," he told her, and he felt his heart grow when she slid down beside him again, resting her head on his shoulder as her attention turned to the TV.

"When on earth did you start watching this show?" she asked, causing him to chuckle and reply, "There was nothing else on TV and I wanted to find out what got you and Pam trippin' so much." He shook his head. "I get it now. Man, they crazy. Every single one of them." He smiled when Sasha laughed, the sound vibrating against his skin soothing him.

"Trust me, this episode is just the beginning," she said, her fingers idly stroking his pectorals. "How long have you been home?" she asked.

"About three hours, four tops. You three were out like a light."

It had been quite the crazy day for Sasha. The twins had cried all day for some reason, and she was forced to cancel all her plans for the day, including working from home. "Not gonna lie, it was a rough one today. They were super cranky. I think they knew their Daddy was coming home so they decided to give me a hard time," she quipped, not bothering to stifle the yawn that escaped her.

She looked so exhausted. Joe felt like shit. "I wish I'd been here to help."

"Don't worry about it," she replied, yawning again.

Joe stared at her, a million thoughts flitting through his mind. There was so much he wanted to say to her, so much he wanted to apologize for. But he didn't know if words could fully articulate how truly sorry he was for his part in the turbulence of their relationship. "I got you something," he said. Twisting his upper body towards his side of the bed, he reappeared with a long stemmed red rose wrapped in transparent paper.

Sasha raised an eyebrow. "There's hundreds of flowers in the garden outside, Joe," she informed him, the small smirk on her lips telling him not to take offence to her comment.

"I know. But that woulda been lazy of me."

Giggling at his statement, she took the flower and held it to her nose. "It's beautiful. Thanks," she murmured, sincerity shining in her eyes as she looked at him.

The air crackled with tension as Joe watched her intently. "I've been thinking...Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?"

Sasha lowered the rose, waiting for a beat or two. "Like a date?"

"Yeah, like a date." He could sense that she was trying to play it cool, but her anxiety was written on her face. "Don't worry. It'll be just you and me, alone and in a relaxed environment and we'll get all the privacy we want. I'd really like it if we sat down and talked and caught up with each other's lives. I think being stuck in this house all the time with only the babies for company hasn't been much fun for you."

Frankly, he was right on all fronts. Especially with the notion that they desperately needed to talk. Shifting to lie on her side, she nodded her head in agreement. "Okay. I'm fine with that. Where are we going though?"

His serious expression turned playful. "Sorry baby girl. You'll just have to wait and see."

Sasha grinned. "Ooh, a surprise, huh? What about the twins?"

"We can drop them off at my parents' place. Or Elgin's parents'. Or Mia will take care of them. She'll probably ask to be paid though," he chuckled, grinning when Sasha joined him.

"I'm sure we can negotiate something," she answered.

Joe smiled at his wife, watching her laugh, and decided to take advantage of the lightened mood before it slipped away for good. Gently stroking her hip, he said in a soft voice, "You probably don't believe me, but I've missed you. I...miss you," he corrected himself, locking eyes with her, his own swirling with apologies.

It was so difficult to stay mad at him. Even when she gave him the silent treatment to teach him a lesson it required all of her willpower because it was miserable not talking to him. Despite all the conflict they put each other through, she loved him to death. She always would. "I believe you," she answered, inching closer to him. "And I miss you too." And wanting to show him rather than just tell him, she tilted her head and gently placed her lips on his for a moment. Pulling slightly away, she watched his grey eyes, wide with surprise and hope and longing, and she gave her reassurance with a small smile. Emboldened, she leaned in and kissed him again, her lips parting wider for him. She moved, climbing slowly on top of his body, and she sensed his relief as he wound an arm around her, holding her tight to him while he massaged her scalp with his other fingers. This was so much better than arguing. Unfortunately they couldn't help themselves sometimes. They fought each other as intensely as they loved each other, probably always would, and both of them would have to come to terms with that fact and put up with it.

Trying his luck, Joe tugged off the robe Sasha was wearing, heartened when she made no protest. He pushed the clothing down her arms and pressed his lips to the exposed skin on her shoulder. Gently, he rolled her onto her back, delighted to feel her legs instantly slide up around his waist. Brushing heated, suckling kisses over her neck, his hands ventured upwards, closing over her naked breasts, which were larger and more sensitive now due to breastfeeding. Giving them a small squeeze each, her soft moan was encouraging, and he happily repeated the action. He bowed his head and licked her nipple, the faint taste of breastmilk coming away on his tongue. His name was a breathy moan on her lips, her hips lifting to grind against his crotch. Joe growled in reaction, tearing his mouth away from her chest to crash back against hers. They kissed desperately, and his hands continued massaging her breasts, his fingers tweaking and teasing her nipples. He was about turning his attention back to them when a small cry pierced the air out of nowhere.

"No," Sasha whined. Joe's forehead dropped onto her chest with frustration. "Fuck." The baby monitor had come alive and was indicating that one of their children was now awake and very upset.

Sasha exhaled heavily. This was one of the reasons she didn't bother with sex anymore. "That's your son," she informed Joe, patting his shoulder so he could move off of her.

"How do you know?" he asked.

"There's no frills with his crying," she explained, sitting up and tiredly drawing her robe back over herself. "Your daughter always whines first, always makes a dramatic entrance. With Micah it's short, sweet and to the point most of the time."

"You know them well." There was envy in his voice.

Sasha smiled tenderly and caressed his face. "You will too, baby. They recognize you now. That's a start." She started to get up but Joe stopped her. "I got him." He pulled himself up and kissed her lips. "Stay put. I'll be right back."

Getting off the bed, Joe crossed the room and towards the adjoining door, the baby's cries getting louder as he neared the nursery. Taking a second to look at Giselle's crib, he was relieved to see her slumber on despite Micah's noise. Reaching into the other crib, Joe picked up his wailing son and patted his back. "Hey little man. What's the matter?" he asked, walking out of the nursery. "You were right. It was him." He sat down on the bed, not taking his eyes off his boy as he began to quieten. "Gotta say nani, we got some good-looking kids," the Samoan remarked.

"Well, they got Samoan, Italian and Negro blood. They don't have a choice but to be good-looking." She carefully took their baby son. With her other hand she pulled her robe open and adjusted him in her arms, then guided her nipple into his mouth. Watching the baby suckle for a few moments, she then looked over at her husband, propped up on his elbow as he looked on with a soft, almost dreamy smile, and smirked. "Take a picture babe, it lasts longer."

His gaze zeroed in on her chest. "It's beautiful to watch."

"Or you just like that I whipped out my naked tits."

At last, his eyes flickered to hers, familiarly dark and suggestive. "Maybe."

Her face warmed instantly. "Pervert." But the smile on her face was wide and genuine, and the Samoan was glad to be the one to put it there. Glad that they were back to this, the playful banter between them. He shifted on the bed so he was facing Sasha properly, and he played with Micah's toes while he reveled in the sight of his wife feeding their son.

-----------------------------

What's date night gonna be like? Hmmm. ;)

Let me know your thoughts with comments! And let me know if you want to ne tagged in the next chapter. Thanks guys!

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[blamnews]

California's Homeless Crisis Floods Its Capital With No Solution In Sight

Cali Carlisle admits she is a heroin addict — ‘but in a healthy way,’ she insists, even if the visual evidence belies that claim.

Her nose is the brightest shade of red imaginable. She constantly picks at scabs all over her body. Her home is a makeshift bed beneath Interstate 80 in Sacramento.

And Monday was her 26th birthday. Not that you would ever guess. Anyone looking at her would think she is at least 15 years older. 

Carlisle is part of California’s growing homeless emergency. The state has around 130,000 people without a roof over their heads. But she is not in downtown Los Angeles where Skid Row is a symbol of the national crisis or San Francisco where nearly one person in every hundred lives on the streets.

Instead, Carlisle and her fiancé Brian Workman are in Sacramento, the state capital, where homelessness has shot up by a shocking 19 percent in the past two years, putting the problem squarely on the doorstep of Gavin Newsom, the state’s Democratic governor.

Growing issue: Sacramento’s homeless population has risen 19 percent in two years, with 5,570 people living on the streets. Pictured above is a man sleeping on the sidewalk in broad daylight

As of 2018, California has the largest homeless population in the country, with 129,972 people living on the streets. The percentage has grown across Sacramento, Los Angeles, and San Francisco

A recent survey showed 93 percent of Sacramento’s homeless either grew up in the city or had lived there long-term before hitting the streets, according to the city’s spokesman

Sacramento, which has an estimated population of 1.5million, has a significantly smaller homeless population than Los Angeles, but the problem is growing

Last week, salon owner Liz Novak brought the nation’s attention to the problem when she announced to great fanfare that she was shutting up shop because she could not deal with the needles, the human waste, and the general aggravation that comes with having a business in the city.

‘I just want to tell you what happens when I get to work. I have to clean up the poop and the pee off of my doorstep. I have to clean-up the syringes. I have to politely ask the people who I care for, I care for these people that are homeless, to move their tents out of the way of the door to my business,’ she said in a video posted on Twitter, which gained the attention of Fox News and other national media outlets.

‘I am angry about it. I wouldn’t be relocating if it wasn’t for this issue,’ Novak added.  

Carlisle and Workman insist they are not part of the problem that forced Novak out. 

‘All we do is lie around, eat ice-cream, have sex, and take drugs,’ said Cali. ‘Man, I love ice-cream.

Carlisle says she needs heroin just to exist. ‘I need it for everything — just to walk and to breathe. 

‘I did go to rehab once, she added. ‘In Orangeville I think… or maybe it was somewhere else.’ 

Then she started a long rambling monologue that included ramekins and pico de gallo among other subjects and went off into her own world. 

Salon owner Elizabeth Novak highlighted the issue in a video uploaded last week. Above is her shop after it was broken into (left) and the damaged front door after it was kicked in (right)

The salon was perched between a barbershop and another business. Novak said she had to ‘clean up the poop and the pee off of my doorstep’ on a daily basis

Novak said she has grown tired of having to clean up syringes, urine, and feces from outside her business daily. Pictured above is a slew of discarded syringes on the sidewalk

Drug use has apparently run rampant in the area because people are told they can get ‘quick fix with cheap drugs,’ one business owner said

Carlisle grew up in Sacramento. Workman made his way there. Originally from San Jose, he found the rent got too high as tech companies moved in.

‘I moved to Placerville with a friend who had worked for Netflix and got money from their IPO,’ he said, displaying the few rotten teeth that remain in his mouth.

‘We had a falling out and I moved here because it was cheaper,’ added Workman, who had a job remodeling outdoor areas of homes. 

‘I got married in 2005 and had a couple of kids. I was married for nine years.

‘But then my father-in-law came to stay and there wasn’t room and I was paying rent for an apartment but couldn’t live there.’

He lost a job and says he couldn’t get another because he has a hearing problem. ‘I needed a hearing aid that cost $3,000 but I couldn’t afford it. It’s really difficult to keep work if you can’t hear. So I ended up on the streets.

Brian Workman, originally from San Jose, told DailyMail.com he ended up on the streets after losing his job. He now lives beneath Interstate 80 in Sacramento with fiancee Cali Carlisle (far left)

Carlisle (center) and Workman both insist they are not part of the problem that forced Novak out. In fact, Carlisle says all they do is ‘lie around, eat ice-cream, have sex, and take drugs’

The underpass has become an illegal campsite for rough sleepers, who are forced to leave when Highway Patrol officers clean up under the freeways. They tend to move back minutes after the clean-up

Jeffrey Witte (pictured) 42, lives with his seven-year-old dog Luis under the freeway. He is seen being rousted by Highway Patrol Officer Caleb Howard

Steve Sylvester, who owns The Antique Company, across the street from Novak’s hair salon, said his store has seen two ‘major incidents’ in the past six weeks

‘It’s a bit ironic,’ he added. ‘My name’s Workman — and I can’t work.’

He likes to keep his area of 23rd Street tidy. He has two long-handled brooms and regularly sweeps away. 

Every few days, workers from the California Department of Transportation backed by Highway Patrol officers clean up under the freeways.

They post notices, giving three days’ notice and announcing exactly when they are coming and they trash any unattended items. 

Carlisle and Workman — and many others — merely move their possessions out from the limited protection the highway gives them from the elements to the corner of the street, which is city land.

Within a few minutes, they move back again. ‘It’s a game of cat and mouse,’ said Workman. ‘But moving my stuff keeps me in shape. I’m in pretty good shape really.’

Highway Patrol Officer Caleb Howard, whose work includes backing up the CalTrans clean-up crew, said they rarely junk stuff that the homeless want. 

‘If they abandon it, they don’t want it,’ he told DailyMail.com. ‘They know when we are coming.’

Jeffrey Witte, 42, who was staying under the highway a couple of blocks from Workman and Carlisle, agreed, shortly after being rousted by Howard and his crew.

‘It’s somewhat fair,’ he said. ‘It’s slightly reasonable. Everyone knows the limits.’

Witte lives with his seven-year-old dog Luis. ‘I got him in Montana,’ he said.

Sylvester, a London native, has run his store (pictured) in Sacramento for 20 years. He recently dealt with a drug-addicted vagrant who came into his store ’95 percent naked’ and damaged his property when he was asked to leave

A sign is posted outside an antique store where homeless people have been regularly harassing customers in Sacramento

The increasing problem has been put squarely on the doorstep of Gavin Newsom, the state’s Democratic governor

Some streets in the city are now lined with tents, bikes, and handcarts as they become a de facto home for the vagrants

The main homeless camp in Sacramento is located on North B Street. There, Pam Love (pictured left) 43, and Nyelah Averi (pictured in the tent) 32, share one of the dozens of tents that line the street

‘I just like traveling,’ said Witte, originally from Vernon, New Jersey. 

‘I hop freight trains. I’ve been all around the country. I went to high school in Virginia, lived in South Carolina, now I’m in California.

‘California is different,’ he said, admitting that legal marijuana is one thing that draws him to the state. ‘But I’ll move on soon. I want to go overseas.’

He is not alone. Many of Sacramento’s homeless are expected to leave town in the next couple of months.

‘They’re migratory,’ antique shop owner Steve Sylvester told DailyMail.com. ‘When the weather gets cooler they’ll head down toward San Diego.’

Sylvester’s store is just across the street from Novak’s salon. He has sympathy for his fellow business-owner but says he would never close up just because of the homeless.

‘I understand it is more intimidating for her, she worked alone,’ said Sylvester, a Londoner who has run his store in Sacramento for 20 years.

But he recognizes the problem. ‘We’ve had two major incidents in the past six weeks,’ he said.

‘We had a young man come in 95 percent naked — he had underpants on but below where they mattered. I asked him to leave and he asked why. I said he was upsetting my customers and he wasn’t really dressed for shopping.

‘As he left, he held out his arm and wiped out a whole china dinner service, worth $300-$400.

‘He was a drug addict. He didn’t know what he was doing. He was on Planet Zog.’

In the second incident, a man threw a rock through Sylvester’s window at four in the morning. He clambered through the shattered plate glass, found his way to the outdoor area and fell asleep. That’s where cops found him.

‘The problem has gotten noticeably worse in the past 18 months because Sacramento is the place where people are told you can get a quick fix with cheap drugs,’ said Sylvester.

‘Sacramento is a wonderful place, great weather, with nice, accommodating people who give the homeless money, which unfortunately too often goes to drugs. This area has 30 or so restaurants so there is always food to be had.’

But he says there is another problem. ‘I know homeless people are being given bus tickets here from both Davis and Reno because they are told Sacramento will look after them,’ he said.

That allegation — that other cities give one-way tickets to Sacramento to get them out of town — is a common claim around town. 

Officer Howard of the Highway Patrol told DailyMail.com he knew of people getting tickets from Oregon.

City of Sacramento spokesman Tim Swanson said a Sacramento Bee article from 2013 found that Nevada was busing the homeless away from Las Vegas and one high-profile case had ended in Sacramento, but he did not address the specific allegations.

But he said a recent survey showed 93 percent of Sacramento’s homeless either grew up in the city or had lived there long-term before hitting the streets. 

‘This statistic contradicts the notion that people are coming to Sacramento specifically for services.’ 

The government is now considering building a shelter near Bob’s Glass, where many homeless people already congregate – much to owner Robert Dutra’s frustration 

Police officers and transportation authority employees remove homeless encampments under the freeway. Officer Howard says they rarely junk stuff that the homeless want

A homeless man talks to himself while looking for the other half of his syringe in an alley behind Liz Novak’s abandoned salon

Swanson said the city has allocated $15.7million to sheltering the homes this year with another $1million for women, families, and children.

Last year, Mayor Darrell Steinberg asked each of the eight council members to identify a possible area for shelter within their districts. 

For the area where Sylvester and Novak’s businesses are located, that means an open field next to the long-established Bob’s Glass, an area where homeless already congregate.

 The problem has gotten noticeably worse in the past 18 months because Sacramento is the place where people are told you can get a quick fix with cheap drugs

And that doesn’t go down well.

‘Considering I was barricaded in this building on a Sunday with my four-year-old daughter, no, I am not happy about it,’ fumed Bob’s Glass owner, Robert Dutra.

‘We were stuck for about an hour,’ said the father-of-five. 

‘They threw their stuff on top of the gate and wouldn’t go away. Hazel, my daughter, was very frightened.’

Eventually, police came and an officer told the homeless people: ‘There is a right way and a wrong way to do this. Now, get the f**k out of here.’

‘He probably shouldn’t have done that, but it was effective,’ said Dutra, 34, who, on another occasion had to take a staff member to the hospital after a homeless man lashed out at him with a knife.

‘There was blood everywhere,’ he said. ‘I can’t remember exactly how many stitches he needed, but it was between 10 and 20.’

Dutra is still hopeful the shelter will not be built next to his company — the decision will be made this week. 

‘It’s within 1,000 feet of a school, there is a business that helps kids get into college. It’s just the wrong place.

‘Any politician is committing career suicide by advocating to put that shelter here. Suppose a young girl gets raped or even murdered. Then it’s over for them.’

The council member who is putting himself at that risk is Jay Schenirer, 62. He has sympathy for Dutra’s position but is adamant that the land at X Street and Alhambra is the right place for his district’s 100-bed shelter.

Some residents have claimed other cities are giving the homeless one-way tickets to Sacramento to get them out of town

City of Sacramento spokesman Tim Swanson said the city has allocated $15.7million to sheltering the homes this year with another $1million for women, families, and children. Pictured above is a homeless man on the sidewalk

‘There are currently well over 100 homeless people camped in that area,’ Schenirer told DailyMail.com. ‘They are unsupervised.

‘It is better for us to have some control over what is happening, rather than having them roam the streets.’

Schenirer can’t quite understand why Sacramento has suddenly been thrust into the forefront of homeless issues. 

‘We have 5,500 homeless in the whole of Sacramento County. Los Angeles has 50,000 on Skid Row alone,’ he said.

‘There is no silver bullet,’ he added. ‘Everything we do has to be connected to services. Just putting a roof over someone’s head is not a long-term solution.’

Both Schenirer and Swanson said Novak has not reached out to the city for help with her problem over the homelessness. 

‘I don’t know her,’ said Schenirer. ‘I would be more than happy to sit down with her and talk.’

In four days that DailyMail.com spent in Sacramento, not one homeless person was seen on Novak’s property. But the problem is clearly real.

Across the street at Pancake Circus diner, 70-year-old waitress Terri — she would not give her last name or agree to be photographed — starts every working day at 4.15am ‘cleaning up needles and poop and washing down urine,’ and shooing the homeless from the property.

‘They’ll strip their clothes off. I often find them out front completely naked,’ she said. ‘Heroin is a huge problem, it’s not just Oxycontin and other opioids, it’s heroin.’

Terri says she tries not to call the police. ‘I’m not going to call if they are just panhandling, but if they are spitting at me or throwing their defecation, then that’s different.’

A homeless woman prepares to leave the encampment as police officers stand nearby

A recent report found 70 percent of the homeless people counted in Sacramento were living without shelter

Last year, Mayor Darrell Steinberg asked each of the eight council members to identify a possible area for shelter within their districts

She says she lets the homeless use the diner’s bathroom — ‘everyone should have that dignity.’

‘But I tell them if you pick up what you have in your hand and smear it on the walls and I have to clean it off, then you’re not coming in again.’

Terri, who has worked at Pancake Circus since 1996, says many of the homeless have no idea what is going on, but others manipulate them. ‘They’re the Robin Hoods of the ‘hood.

‘I don’t like to use the term homeless because what is homeless? Is it someone who got addicted, or is it someone who lost their job and then couldn’t afford their rent? My daughter calls them ‘alterno-hobos.’

‘When I was growing up, a hobo was someone who rode the rails and would come knock on your door and ask what town they were in. 

‘My daughter would play with her friends in the street and when one approached, they would all yell ‘bum’ and run home but no-one would get hurt.’

Terri puts much of the blame on former California governor Ronald Reagan, who held office from 1967 to 1975. 

‘I’m old enough to remember when he closed all the asylums. It was the worst thing he could have done. That created this problem.’

While Novak has drawn attention to the problems in her area, the main homeless camp in Sacramento is two-and-a-half miles away on North B Street.

There, Pam Love, 43, and Nyelah Averi, 32, share one of the dozens of tents that line the street. 

Averi said she used to work at the nearby headquarters of Blue Diamond Almonds. 

Embarrassed, she now hides from her former colleagues as they go to and from work.

A waitress at Pancake Circus diner, identified only as 70-year-old Terri, said she starts every working day at 4.15am ‘cleaning up needles and poop and washing down urine,’ and shooing the homeless from the property

She has been homeless since July last year when – she says – she took the rap for a boyfriend, who had, unknown to her, stolen the car she was driving.

She served 120 days in jail. Her now-ex-boyfriend had previous convictions and would have faced a much longer spell behind bars, she said. 

As a condition of her release, she was not allowed to return to her home in Chico as the theft victim was a neighbor. Then she lost all her belongings in the wildfires that swept across northern California last summer.

‘I don’t want to be homeless,’ said Averi who said she is in college studying peace and global studies. ‘I just want to get back on my feet.’

Love, originally from the Compton, has a similar story. She too claims she took the blame for a crime she didn’t commit, although would not expand on what she had done.

She said she survives on $1,000-a-month payments, which goes on food and prior debts, meaning she cannot afford the medication for her Stage 3 stomach cancer. 

She said she had two sons but one was murdered and the other died in a car crash.

‘I worry every day about things here,’ she said, pointing out that safety is a two-way street.

‘A lot of tents have been set on fire. But nobody has ever been arrested.’ 

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California’s Homeless Crisis Floods Its Capital With No Solution In Sight was originally published on BlamNews

[emmybirdwrites-blog]

1.

I can't pinpoint the moment I fell in love with figure skating. It was always the sport I loved to watch, transfixed, every time the Winter Olympics rolled around. It usually went to the back of my mind, though, when it wasn't Winter.

Then my best friend when I was eight, Lily, held a party at the local ice skating rink. I was absolutely terrified but also completely intrigued by the little sharp blades carving through the ice. I eagerly put on my rental skates, and as I got on the ice it was like I was learning to walk for the first time. I didn't start doing figure eights or anything, but I had fallen in love. I stayed there even after Lily and the other girls left to get ice cream, I stayed there until the owner made me call my Mom because they were closing.

My Mom picked me up, in her dark blue clunker, and I got in excitedly and sat on the torn passenger seat.

"Mom, Mom, Mom!" I cried, and she smiled tiredly at me. She had a toddler then. Isadora, my younger sister, was only two and a menace. She sat in a carseat in the backseat then, trying her hardest to unbuckle herself. When she didn't manage it she began to wail, a sound which made my Mom visibly wince.

"What is it, Anna?" My Mom asked, raising her voice so I could hear her over Isadora's shrieking. "Izzy, honey, we're almost home." She said a little frantically, a plea in her voice.

"I wanna become a world famous ice skater! I wanna become the best one ever!" I told her, bouncing in my seat. My Mom just smiled a little bit at this, telling me I could be whatever I wanted to be, that she believed in me. This was during the time period in my life where I switched dream careers about weekly, from veterinarian to doctor to policewoman to firefighter to cook to garbage woman to computer repair person. The list stretched a mile long, and my Mom had long ago stopped putting any stock in what I'd decided my future career would be, since it changed so often.

After that, it never changed. After a couple months of me staying stuck on it, my Mom knew I was hooked. I got books from the library on figure skaters, I started watching YouTube videos. On my ninth birthday, two days before Valentine's Day, there was a heavy coating of snow on the ground. I glanced outside, daydreaming about ice skating on an actual frozen pond. My Mom called me downstairs, and I ate my cinnamon toast hurriedly, a birthday tradition my Mom had started a couple years before that, before Dad died. Since Dad cooked all the meals, she would give him the day off on birthdays and make cinnamon toast for everyone, joking that it was the only meal she knew how to make. For a while after Dad died, that seemed to prove pretty true. We either had frozen dinners or toast.

After my cinnamon toast, it was customary present time. Isadora sat in her high chair, gleefully eating a piece of cake with her hands. She had frosting in her hair and my Mom sighed at her lovingly, but the focus was on my gift. It was a large wrapped box, and I tore off the wrapping excitedly. My Mom was one of those 'carefully take off the wrapping piece by piece of tape' kind of people, but I've always been one of the people who try to tear into it as soon as possible.

The wrapping paper revealed a gift box, which I eagerly tore open as well. Inside was a beautiful pair of ice skates, white with sparkling silver blades. I grinned at them, jumping up to hug my Mom. I knew even then that we had money troubles, that my Mom had to have been saving up for a long time to be able to afford my beautiful ice skates.

"That's not all there is to your gift." My Mom said, smiling at me after I hugged her. I looked at her in astonishment, unable to comprehend that there could be something additional, another present to accompany the beautiful skates. She turned around and rooted through her piles of papers on the kitchen counter before pulling out a white envelope.

"Open it." She said, smiling and handing it over to me.

I ripped it open excitedly, and inside was a gift certificate. For six months of ice skating lessons. At the place I'd first fallen in love with ice skating.

Looking back, I'm pretty sure I cried when I saw that. I was so excited and so happy and so thankful.

"Cake!" Isadora shrieked, breaking the spell. My Mom hurried to get her another piece of cake, and I hurried to put on my skates. They fit perfectly on my feet, and I couldn't wait to wear them somewhere.

-

The ice skating lessons proved to be a recurring gift. I stayed in love with ice skating, and as my feet grew bigger ice skates also became a recurring gift. Each time I retired a pair I lovingly placed them on a shelf in my room, trading them for a newer model with shinier blades.

My last pair I ever owned, the pair that should be my current one, isn't sitting up there despite me retiring it. I threw away my last pair after I gave up skating. I couldn't handle the memory of what those skates had done, of what I'd done. They'd been the first pair of skates I'd bought with my own money, and I'd thrown them away while they were still shiny and new.

Isadora was at school, in sixth grade. I wasn't at school. Well, technically I kinda was all the time. In the throes of my figure skating obsession, I'd decided I wanted to be homeschooled so I could take classes more often. My Mom wasn't happy about it at first, but my Coach, Pam, talked her into it after a while. I didn't miss school after leaving in fifth grade, I actually was pretty glad to leave. I'd never formed many friendships, there wasn't anything I was really leaving behind or felt like I was losing when I switched to homeschooling.

My Mom was at work. She'd landed a 'really good' nursing job. She'd gone to nursing school in between her and Dad marrying and her having me. I didn't regard the nursing job as 'really good' like she did, because on one hand it did pay well, but on the other I knew her long hours were hurting both her and Isadora.

I walked to Isadora's room. The door was hanging open, and it looked like a tornado had hit. Isadora's room was always messy, with clothes and garbage and toys and anything and everything scattered all over the floor. The only clean place was the surface of her art desk, which had a piece of paper on it. My heart rising, I ran over to the dress, keeping an eye on where I stepped so I didn't accidentally break anything.

Nothing. The paper was blank. All of Isadora's art supplies were untouched. I glanced above the desk, looking for all the artwork she'd hung up. It wasn't there. My throat caught a little and I glanced at her trash can. It was a mess of slashed canvases and torn up paper. The one on top was still mostly intact, from her second grade job fair paper. At the top in big letters it had asked 'what do you want to be when you grow up'. Isadora had drawn a beautiful picture of her, dark hair up in an elegant style, painting a picture. Underneath, in her always beautiful handwriting, she wrote 'I'm going to be an artist'. At the bottom, in red pen, her teacher had graded it. A+. Beautiful art. I love your confidence! You're going to be a great artist, Isadora. The paper and the message on it made me feel a bit like someone was compressing my lungs. I thought back to the breathing exercises the therapist I had briefly seen after The Incident had told me to do whenever I felt like this, like my lungs were compressed. I closed my eyes and breathed in and out, counting the seconds in between each, trying to make it longer. As soon as I could breathe again enough to do so, I ran out of her room. I couldn't stay in her room anymore, not with all that evidence of her broken dreams. The dreams that had been broken because of The Incident, because of me.

Read the rest of chapter 1, as well as all the other chapters I write, for free on Wattpad by clicking this link: https://www.wattpad.com/366035976-arabesque-chapter-1.