#so i take out my dry clothes and split what’s still wet between two machines and the guy again goes ‘that’s so smart’ and then starts

[darlinimamess]

when you do laundry in a communal space do you want to talk to people there??

[writefightandflightclub]

I really enjoyed your Nathan fluff 🥺 we love this angry peach fuzz king 👑💖 would you ever write him being comforted after having a nightmare? 💕

First of all, LOL @ “angry peach fuzz king” 🤣🤣🤣

Second of all, here you go! 🧡 I will warn you - I think I forgot the fluff a little bit though. It became more hurt / comfort? More angst than expected? It ends nicely though and comfort is given to Nathan - but only after I’ve subjected him to rattling around in his own head and house for a bit.

Through the looking glass (Nathan Bateman x GN!reader)

Summary: Nathan has nightmares after The Incident. After so long alone, he doesn’t realise how badly he needs a little comfort - and maybe he doesn’t believe that he deserves it.

Author’s note: hopefully this isn’t too similar to All Better. I know they both take place post-stabbing, but I tried to give this a different focus. I know I could have made the nightmares based off of anything given the ask, but this timeline / focus seemed most sensible to explore the character.

Warnings: nightmares following traumatic incident (a stabbing); mentions of blood and injury - not graphic. Self-harm (punching the bag until injury); Body horror if you squint (some gruesome descriptions occurring in-dream, but fairly abstract); swearing; implied alcoholism recovery if you squint; mentions of therapy; Nathan mildly injured in fic; reader offering comfort.

Rating: MATURE for themes mentioned above.

GIF: by @santiagogarcia (this whole gifset is magic- check it out + reblog!)

Nathan wakes up breathless, plastered to the covers by a sheen of sweat - and not in a good way. On instinct, or out of habit by now, or maybe somewhere between the two, his palm slides over his body to the site of the wound.

He is so slick that he half-believes he is soaked with dank, deep blood again, until his fingers trace over nothing more than a half-concave, half-ridged scar. The lack of searing pain is the next point of evidence leading him towards an alternative conclusion. He’s not dying (again).

It’s just another gruesome nightmare.

Although… there is nothing “just” about it.

The nightmares are pretty brutal. Brutal enough for him to wake with ragged breaths and a hammering heart, his sheets dampened and coiled up around him. Enough that it takes effort to sift through the layers of terror and distinguish reality.

With what can only be described as a whimper, Nathan swings his legs over the edge of the bed, bringing himself into a seated position and bracing his head in his hands until his racing heart levels.

In his mind, he’s telling himself to be logical about this. That Ava hasn’t truly arrived to finish the job she started; but logic is not the safe haven it used to be.

She could come back.

She’s still out there, somewhere, and Nathan distinctly got the impression, last time, that she was vehemently not a fan of him.

His hand trembling, Nathan reaches for the glass of water by his bedside, glugging it down so eagerly it spills into his bushy beard.

Since the… accident? Malfunction? Functioning just fine, actually? Failed experiment? Greatest achievement known to man? Attempted murder? (Truth be told, Nathan isn’t quite sure what to call it, so he simply calls it The Incident.)

Since The Incident, Ava has begun to regularly visit him in his sleep.

The visitations are not waning with time. In fact, they are happening more often, not less. They are happening more since you moved into the house.

It’s a bad fucking time to have quit drinking.

You’d been sent by the board. Something about Nathan taking “tortured genius” a slice too literally. Something about him being in isolation too long and needing another human around in the compound.

Well, that’s not technically true, is it? The shit all started when he opted to get social, after all.

Fucking Caleb.

Before that, he was doing just fine.

Nathan doesn’t like it at all - having you here. Being watched. Observed. Having someone monitoring his actions. Waiting for him to either fuck up or prove himself.

Ironic really, considering where he kept Ava. The experiments he ran on her.

She’d probably find it poetic, if she could truly understand such a concept.

At the thought of her, Nathan physically shudders, and reaches for an old vest to haphazardly mop the excess sweat from his skin. Then, he balls up a change of clothes and tracks nude to his wet room, feeling relief as the luke warm water sluices over his skin.

He watches himself in the mirror as he stands there naked. It’s not a vanity thing - at least not any longer. These days, he examines the way his form has changed since it happened. He lost some of his muscle and bulk during recovery, whilst unable to exercise, his arms slightly smaller and his abs softer. His stomach a little more rounded.

There’s also the puckered scar, of course - that permanent reminder of where he was skewered through the chest like a piece of kebab meat.

His gaze travels up over his body, until his eyes settle on his still haunted face. He doesn’t have his glasses on, and somewhere between the blurred vision, misted mirror, clouding steam and sluicing water, his reflected face distorts. It transforms - for the briefest of moments - into her.

Still amped with adrenalin from his harsh awakening, this briefest flash sends a surge of panic zipping through Nathan’s chest, his heartbeat racing so hard he can feel the pounding of blood in his ears.

Fuck, he curses, reaching his arms out to brace himself against the shower wall above him, his body trembling and his head dipping down between the cradle of his broad shoulders as his legs threaten to buckle.

He turns the water cold, until it is practically glacial and thundering on to the back of his neck, subduing this spiking heat.

She really did a fucking number on me, didn’t she?

It’s true though.

Ava is haunting him. When he sleeps - and at other times too.

Nathan didn’t know robots could do that. Didn’t know they could spawn ghosts.

Nathan doesn’t believe in ghosts, of course… but he does believe in trauma and its effect on the brain. He at least concedes that it is natural to continue to feel afraid; but this?

Being dogged by the spectre of her taps into Nathan’s deepest insecurities.

After all, there is nothing a genius fears more than doubting his own mind.

Nothing a God fears more than his own mortality.

And the man? Turns out, there is nothing he fears more now, than dying alone.

With a ragged breath, Nathan towels off and pulls on his grey sweatpants, tugging on his black zip-up hoody over his bare chest. And then, keen not to return to his damp, tangled sheets, he tracks towards the kitchen - mainly for want of any more favourable option.

Of course, he had returned to the compound after The Incident. Something about that many fibre optic cables being a bitch to lay down. Sunk cost fallacy and all that - too much already invested.

But it possibly wasn’t the best choice for his recovery.

Nathan has certainly gotten more used to walking down that hallway since he returned from the hospital, and yet he still finds himself holding his breath until he is free of it. Still finds his pace is just a little faster as he passes through. His gaze deliberately averted from that spot.

Once, you’d found him lying in it.

Lying in that exact spot, his body arranged like a crime scene photo, his eyes closed.

Hey, it’s hardly his least healthy coping mechanism, is it?

What in the fuck are you doing, Nathan?

Re-enacting my death, obviously.

Uh-Kay…. A beat. A devious smile. Shall I get some popcorn?

Absurd as it was, he had laughed. Laughed for the first time since it happened, and, with an extended hand, you had helped him up off the floor.

Still, now that he’s alone, he does not dwell in the corridor, colder and darker as it is without your light in it, and he tries not to think about your face or hers as he pads to the kitchen.

When he arrives though, he bypasses it entirely - heading out on to the decking, the crisp night air soothing his hot skin.

He wants to be outside.

There are too many ghosts in his house now.

He has tried to shake it. Tried to desensitise himself to Ava’s face. Spent longer than strictly necessary poring over footage of her.

He built her. Shouldn’t that take the fear out of things? Not to mention the fact Ava’s face was simply a composite of some manipulable nerd’s wank bank browsing history.

Fucking Caleb.

Still, once Nathan had looked her in the eyes and seen a rage that was all too human, things seemed a hell of a lot different.

Nathan crosses to the punchbag on the deck -lit by creeping dawn- on instinct, or out of habit, or maybe some combination of the two, his unease riling him enough to sock some punches at its midsection. Right at the equivalent site of his corporeal puncture.

He punches so hard that the skin on his knuckle splits, but Nathan doesn’t stop. He throws punch after punch until his hands are scathed and bloodied, and a trail of spit hanging from the corner of his mouth. Until he hugs the bag - the closest thing he has to a warm body to hold - and slides down it, coming limply to his knees, wiping his face on his sleeve.

He stays there, dead eyed and still for some time, the pain in his hands raw and singing. Unpleasant, but better. Better than what he was feeling, and worse all at once.

He considers his tired, cumbersome body, and contemplates remaking the world one more time. Uploading his mind into a machine or some shit, so that he doesn’t have to contend with the fragility and failings of his own existence.

He stays there, until some motion in the interior of the compound causes the light and shadows to dance differently over him, and he looks up to see your figure there, cast in a soft halo of yellowed light.

He tips his head up slightly, opening his mouth as though he might cry out to you for help, but no sound comes out - only a thin, dry croak.

So, instead, Nathan watches you for a moment, moving seamlessly around his kitchen as though it is your own. Maybe it is - more yours than his now.

Observing you like this, through the tall, cinematic windows, it is as though he peers in on another world entirely. Something less resembling a nightmare.

Lighter than that. Something more like a good dream, albeit a good dream that Nathan cannot be part of. One he can only ever watch, from the outside looking in, always fated as he is to be on the other side of the glass.

Truth be told, you haunt him too. You represent everything he could have and yet doesn’t deserve.

You appear in his nightmares and his dreams, in various terrifying and beautiful incarnations. Many variations of which his therapist would have a field day with, he’s sure - or, she would, if he’d ever fucking call her.

When you first arrived here, he was plagued by grotesque visions of you. Grotesque visions of the skin being peeled back from your body. Sometimes, circuitry beneath, and other times, muscle and bone. Sometimes, Ava’s face was buried beneath the chilling slip of your fleshy mask.

Sometimes it is a better dream. Sometimes you save him. Sometimes he saves you.

Sometimes it is a good dream. Ava isn’t there at all. But the good dreams never seem to last for long. 

Sometimes you kill him, and sometimes...

The glass door slides open.

“Reenacting your own death again, are you?” you tease, though not unkindly, interrupting the spiral of Nathan’s incessant thoughts.

A lump forming instantly in his throat, Nathan swallows thickly, and looks up at you helplessly with a thin, joyless smile. He snorts as though it’s funny, but it really isn’t. “Over and fucking over.” 

You nod once, and, without hesitation, you extend your hand towards him. Your gaze cuts through him as you search his face and he feels suddenly see-through, as if he’s about to be hit with some Shyamalan-esque twist. Was he the ghost all along? Did he die here after all?

If so, is this purgatory because Ava is here too, or heaven, because you are?

Christ. So fucking schmaltzy, Bateman.

After hesitating, Nathan takes your hand and you yank him to his feet, drawing him inside, through the looking glass.

The room seems warm on the other side. It feels… safe.

“What happened?” you ask, as you look down at your joined hands, your thumb painting a smear of red across his split knuckles. 

You mean now. What happened now, but Nathan’s mind harks back further than that. In his mind, everything is connected. Every thing threaded to another. This one smear of blood to that weeping flower of red.

The thought -the thoughts, all of them- halt him in place, his feet firmly planting on the ground. Nathan’s hand clenches tightly around yours as though it is a lifeline, as he is cast adrift on this familiar crimson tide, his face growing increasingly angular and stern.

“She...” He swallows, unable to complete that precise thought, his eyes dropping down to his feet.

You turn your body towards Nathan as he croaks, still not letting go.

Your eyes flitting around his face, attempting to search his eyes, you tentatively step closer, sliding your palms slowly over his tense shoulders, feeling them rise with an uneven, stuttered breath as you do so.

He’s so tired. He’s so very, very tired.

And it happens all at once on the exhale.

Suddenly, your arms are tugging him closer, and his face is contorting as a violent smattering of tears beads in his long lashes. You are encasing his body in your embrace and rubbing circles into his back as his buzzed head sags all too willingly toward the junction of your shoulder, your fingers splaying along the smooth flesh at the nape of his neck and pads dancing over the gentle prickle of his hair. You are shushing and soothing and reassuring and squeezing and smoothing and cradling and Nathan can feel it. Can feel his heart race in his chest and…

Finally.

Finally, his heart is not pounding because he is reliving his death.

It is pounding because he feels alive again.

When was the last time he cried, even? The last time someone really hugged him? He doesn’t remember the last time. The serendipitous combination of Nathan willing to be vulnerable, and another being willing to hold space for his pain is an all too rare thing.

There’s a reason -or several - he’s so emotionally constipated, after all.

Fuck. I’m taking a huge emotional shit right now.

Nathan remains in the welcome circumference of your arms longer than is strictly necessary - until the tear trails over the bridge of his nose begin to feel cloying. Until his breaths steady, and until his thoughts and ego creep back in. Until he notices the way his hands are clasped at your waist like claws, fingers sinking into your softness, and he thinks to release you.

Then, he leans away, a weight on his brow making his expression stern.

He waits for you to judge him, another swallow trailing thickly down his throat.

However, your eyes are kind and level, dancing with soft concern. Not with judgement or satisfaction or pity, or with anything he fears.

It is refreshing not to feel so afraid.

Finally.

“She…” Nathan begins again, finally finding courage. All at once his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “She fucking stabbed me.”

You take his words in. You listen.

His “reveal” is simple. Plain and factual. A little indignant. Kinda salty. It’s not overly emotional, or articulate.

But it is enough.

Your eyes narrow, and you nod slowly, trying to understand the true meaning beneath his words.

You even reach up to cup Nathan’s face, his springy beard a cushion beneath your gentle palm as you hold him. “Yeah, genius,” you tease, with a tentative, lopsided smile, dropping your arm all too suddenly, perhaps as you catch yourself. “I got that from context.”

In response, Nathan chucks air from between his teeth, bringing his hand up to comb through his beard - perhaps to obscure his involuntary smile, or perhaps chasing your tender touch, the impression of it left warm on his cheek.

As he brings his hand up, your brows draw together, and you hook his bloodied paw delicately in yours, examining the wound, and leading him gingerly across to the couch as though his whole being might be hurting along with it.

It is.

You order him to stay put while you fetch the first aid kit, and then, in stages, Nathan watches you with fascination as you painstakingly clean and tend to his wounds, without ever being asked to.

He watches you carefully swipe the angry red away from his skin, and, to his overactive mind, it’s all connected. This red is one and the same with the flower of blooming red from The Incident.

Ava hurt him then, and she is hurting him now too.

And you…

“Going to tell the board about this?” Nathan asks, his voice weak and scuffed.

You search his eyes, holding your words back for a moment before answering. Then, you launch them on a big breath. “Fuck the board, Nathan. I told those assholes to stick it.”

Nathan blinks in confusion, shaking his head, his hand flourishing emphatically through the air. “Then… what the fuck are you still doing in my house?”

“Well. I’m… here for you,” you admit, sucking in air through your teeth, your voice shrinking. “If you want that.”

Well, that’s news to him.

Welcome news, perhaps?

You’re not watching him at all, are you? Not observing. Not asking him to evidence his humanity. Not waiting to see whether he fucks up or proves himself.

Instead, you’re seeing him. You’re seeing him and you’re not running.

Nathan had begun to think that maybe he was the nightmare. He’d begun to think he might always be haunted.

Always alone. That he might die that way; again.

And now, here you are.

Nathan thinks about that. He could so easily revert to his old ways, in this moment. Of pride and ego and stubborn independence.

But, perhaps those assholes from the board got a few things right - he’ll admit.

Maybe he had been in isolation too long. Maybe he didn’t need to take “tortured genius” quite so literally.

And so, Nathan almost protests. Almost rejects your presence and your comfort and pushes you away. But the truth is, he’s just so… tired. He’s had so many nightmares, and this time, he’d like to be on the other side of the glass. He’d like to step into that dream.

Nathan takes a deep breath, and releases on the exhale. Releases more than air.

He slowly, ever so slowly, shifts towards you on the couch, angling his body until he can safely dip his head towards your lap, his nose pointed in towards your abdomen and his knees curling around you.

“Th.. this okay?” he asks weakly.

You throw your splayed hands up into the air in surprise as the weight of Nathan settles there, but as he curls his arms around your middle and shuffles closer, you ease into it. You snake your fingers in intricate caresses over his head and neck and shoulders.

“Yeah, Nathan. This is okay,” you soothe gently, voice taut with emotion.

You comfort him.

And finally, Nathan does not need to peel your skin back to know what’s underneath.

He knows you’re not a robot, and that, as your kind touch finds him corporeal, that he is not a ghost.

He closes his eyes. And this time, when he next wakes, he knows that whether the dream is bad or better or good, it doesn’t matter. Because you will be there with him.

He wants you with him.

It’s not at all natural to him, to have you around. For the longest time, he didn’t like it. It didn’t come instinctually, and he has formed no familiar habits.

It isn’t easy - he doesn’t make it easy.

But he wants it to be.

And, in your arms, he can finally dream that it will all work out. What’s more; he can dream he deserves it, too.

[littlefreya]

Good Girl

gif credit amancanfly

Synopsis: Henry is at the gym testing the new Glute Drive while his longing wife drops by to visit and decides to play a little wicked game of teasing. 

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

Word count: 4.2K

Warnings: Explicit, this is basically ALL smut. Slight SubMale / DomFem then a lot of DomMale / SubFem, dry humping, cock teasing, dangerous driving, fingering, dirty talk, daddy kink, slight size kink (I am all the kinks today), unprotected sex and bodily fluids!

A/N: Okay so this fic was born out of the UNHOLY union between this thread and the video of Henry going “good boy” at Kal. Many thanks to my darling @agniavateira​ for helping me proofread this!

Title: Good Girl

There he is, my bear of a man. His sculpted, wide body plastered to some medieval-looking torture device. Strong, large arms hang onto the handles, muscles flexing. Slick with sweet sweat, he thrusts his hips up and down while grunting with effort.

Who the hell came up with this air-fucking machine?

I walk through the deserted mirrored room, my black painted nails scratching the glass as I draw closer toward Henry. Gyms tend to be freezing, and I’m not properly dressed for a workout session with my mini plaid skirt and a dark grey t-shirt. But his arduous gasps fill the chilled space enough to make things a little warmer. 

“What are you doing here, little one?” Henry finally asks, pausing his thrusts for a moment as he spots my cattish moves toward him.

I observe silently as I inch closer. he has his waist strapped to a bench, heavy weights of 80kg are on each side of his body while he lifts upward and presses his behind back down. A sheer layer of sweat covers him entirely, his skin glistening in the fluorescent’s light. His favourite blue top is soaked.

“I came home from the studio and my hubby wasn’t there.” I pout, standing right at the edge of the bench where his feet are pressed for support.

He pouts back at me, genuine care on his face. My darling bear might have the endurance of a large predator, but his heart is all strawberry marshmallow when it comes to his lady. He hates to spend time apart. Whenever our schedules collide it’s all about Face-timing and sending nudes. 

Honestly? I care less than he does about this shit ever getting leaked. I even keep some steamy under-the-cover selfies so I’ll have something to work with when either of us is away.

But what I hate the most, is having him here yet he’s absent. The Pre-production shenanigans have him preparing for his next role, which usually means working himself at the gym to the point of collapsing, just so he could look like some demi-god. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind him having a little body fat. That’s why I bake him pizza every weekend. What his gym coach doesn’t know, can’t hurt him.  

“I’ll be done in 10 minutes, darling.” he answers and continues to slowly push down and up again, releasing a pained grunt and clenching his teeth. “Just…  two… more… sets.”

“I don’t want to wait.” I alert him, circling the machine carefully to not get in his way. I appreciate the hard work and stamina, but I am quite tired of having the downside of the deal. Every day for the last 2 weeks I received an exhausted Cavill with aching, strained muscles. The most action I got was massaging his muscles in the bathtub which might sound romantic if not for him snoring 3 minutes in.   

“Ten minutes,” he mentions again. He’s out of breath as he ascends and then lowers once more, the weights pressuring his body down while the bands create a resistance. 

No way in hell someone came up with this device and didn’t think this is a sex thing. I see my bear thrusting his hips upward like this and only one thing goes through my mind. 

Oh, how I need to be on top of this mountain of a man.

I cannot help myself, nor can I hide the malicious grin forming on my mouth. I lift my leg carefully, hovering it in the air above him. I cage him between my straddled legs whilst giving him my best dominatrix glare. Henry raises his eyes to meet mine, looking dumbfounded. 

“What are you doing, darling? You’ll hurt yourself.”

Oh, sweet summer child. 

I sway my hips in a slow dance, with the thrust of his body and his heavy breaths as the music I’m dancing to. The arousal in his eyes is evident within seconds. His lips part away slowly, his beautiful blue eyes begin to cloud, and his adam’s apple slides upward in his throat as he swallows.

“At home.”

“Here.” I ignore his request lowering myself slowly and carefully to squat over his groin. He’s not hard, yet.

Henry releases a deep loud grunt. Usually, I am weightless for him, but right now I’m adding to already 160kg of weights. Well, he is the type of guy who likes to push his limits and I am the type of girl who likes to test boundaries. 

“Don’t,” Henry protests, another grunt escaping his lips. I stretch myself, my ass pressing back, my groin rubbing against the tender muscle that begins hardening between my legs. I can feel the rush of blood, making him throb and grow vast between my legs.

“Don’t do what?” I press my teeth against the lushness of my lower lip viciously, beginning to grind against the hardness in slow circular motions. “Don’t you have two more sets?”

He clenches his teeth, his hands tightening around the handles so harshly his knuckles whiten. With great effort he lifts up, succumbing to my wickedness. His erected cock is concealed underneath his clothes, yet I press and dance onto it, making blissful moans as the friction has me singing that sweet familiar tune.

When he pulls down I dive with him, feeling the exhale of his body and the dancing twitch of muscles. I greatly anticipate the next push upward, my hands reaching to squeeze my breasts together. My panties are now soaked with moisture as I press and rub, bringing myself closer.

When he lifts again, his thrust is a wee bit faster. He’s either getting used to my weight on his groin, or the adrenaline of the beast that I’ve been teasing allows him to push higher. He angles his hips into mine, serving my need, and gives me the friction I demand. His eyes meet mine and pure darkness devours me within them. 

I am in so much fucking trouble, but it’s so worth it. 

“Oh Henry, you’re making me so wet.” 

I moan his name, rubbing myself on his cock at a demanding speed while he lifts up and down. My clit tingles, swollen against his enormous bulge as that familiar wave begins to spread. He’s so hard, so painfully swollen, and so incapable of getting any release while I ride him into a powerful orgasm.

I clutch his thighs, desperate gasps spiralling out my mouth as the pleasure continues to hit my core. My nails dig deep into the hardened flesh but I can’t be bothered.

“Oh god…” I throw my head backwards, trying to adjust my breath while my legs are shaking around his wide waist. There’s still a throbbing hardness against my burning core, the angry drumming of blood pulsating against my opening. 

I’m tempted to take my phone and capture his looks in my camera. But I’m in too much trouble as it is. Henry is drenched in sweat, upset in ways I’ve never seen in my life. He's done with his workout for today,  no doubt about that.

“Are you done?” he asks me with a frown. 

I lick my lips and lift myself up, knees nearly giving up as my legs are still numb from the intensity of pleasure. I let out a provoking giggle, putting my finger between my teeth, knowing he likes that gesture. This is my favourite battle, control. He enjoys superiority with his physical power, but every now and then I sweep the rug beneath his feet. And though he loves it when I am his good girl, sprawling and letting him take what he wants, when I am bad, the beast is willing to split my ass in half.

Guess I won this round. 

Henry unbuckles the harness from his waist as I step back. He takes the towel from the bench and wipes his face. My eyes fixate on the still hard swelling in his nether area. I could offer to take care of it for him, but I am not feeling this generous right now. Better keep his stamina for home, so I can actually get me a proper shag in a nice, clean bed with a nice, clean husband that doesn’t smell like an entire rugby team.

“Go wait in the reception.” he demands, his tone anything but sweet right now. 

“Don’t take too long.” I demand in return as I turn around, flipping back my hair and letting it slide down my ass. I can hear his frustrated groan behind me, just before I leave the room. It makes me lose myself in a burst of chuckles. 

~*~

Henry meets me downstairs, a serious expression on his face. His gaze doesn’t meet mine, letting me know that unlike myself, he is vastly unamused. He takes my wrist in his big hand and leads me outside while smiling to bid bored receptionist goodbye. 

I am forced to follow his large strides. Being a tall man, every step of his is equal to three small ones of mine. Even though it seems like his “problem” subsided, he’s not exactly interested in waiting.

He’d always be tender in his behaviour towards me, a respectful gentleman who knows how to treat women. Sure, he can rearrange a guy’s skull, but he never raised his voice at me. He’d take a walk outside the house and then return to so we can have a talk like adults. 

But this is not a fight. This is but our favourite little war. Ongoing from the day we met.

I notice that we are not going to the car. Instead, he leads me to a narrow, dark space between two buildings. I can smell the damp sidewalk, the scent of earlier rain filling my nose. This spot is anything but romantic or erotic, with street cats screeching at the back and the sounds of trash cans being hit as they bounce on top of the lids.

Finally, he towers above me. His hand lets go of mine and hold it open in front of me with a demanding look in his eyes.

“Take off your panties.” 

I let out a bemused laugh, dry and short as I am uncertain of his odd demand. But he holds out his hand at the stern request, motioning for me to do as I’m told. 

“Here?!” I ask, looking around to see if there is anyone who might be a voyeur on our little engagement. The last thing I need is our agents scolding us again for photos of us being inappropriate in public places. Gretchen swears we make these mess on purpose. We kinda do, because we can’t keep away from one another.

“You want another one of your fancy pairs turned into rubbish?” he threatens.

I comply, breathing out like a brat and leaning down to take off my underwear for him. I place it in his hand and move back against the wall, anticipating his next move. I guess “Cavill and wife caught doing cardio after the gym!” could be a funny headline, better than the one at the hotel at the Academy Awards.

Henry folds the small material in his hand, holding it in his fist as if it’s something he can actually squeeze, before shoving it into his pocket. He grabs something else in exchange. I hear the chink of his car keys, dangling between his fingers as he offers them to me.

“You drive.”

There are no explanations, nor can I make anything of his behaviour. My man is willed with the control of his emotions. To outburst is to be weak, I am keen on that, my own terrible flaw. It only pisses me off more to see him keeping himself so relaxed while I am always the one who sees fire. 

I follow his order, walking after him silently as he leads me to where he parked the car. Having no underwear beneath my short skirt is anything but convenient right now, especially when I have to enter the vehicle and crouch down. 

I try fixing my skirt to cover myself, feeling the leather of the seat beneath my ass and other regions while Henry begins messing with the music player. I can see the small smirk at the corner of his lip, it’s evident that he’s having himself a good time knowing how uncomfortable I am at this very moment.

I roll my eyes at him and try closing my knees together as much as I can while stepping my foot on the gas.

He puts on Queens of the Stone Age and takes the passenger seat back, remembering he needs more legroom than I usually require. His head turns to face me, his lips sucked into his mouth in a cunning gesture.

“Had yourself a good time?” 

His hand reaches toward my knee, grazing at the bone with featherlike movements. It tickles, I am forced to move my knee from him involuntarily, but he keeps it in place, resting his entire large hand on my kneecap.

“I’m driving…” I warn him, keeping my hands on the wheel and my eyes on the road.  

I can tell he is smirking wickedly, his eyes staring at the road ahead of us carefully and then back at me. His fingers make their way up my thigh, snakelike on my bare skin. His palm is large and warm, pressing onto my inner thigh while his thumb draws invisible circles on my skin.

“Henry…” I warn again, feeling cool air blowing against my lips as he forces my legs to part wider for him. “You’ll get us killed!”

“Then focus on the road.” he commands, licking his lips. His fingers meet my wetness in a touch so tender it’s almost a phantasm, yet still there, undoubtedly making me swallow a sigh and squirm slightly in my seat. It’s as if he is testing the water first, a slight brush before plunging in and damn if he doesn’t push into me with his fingers, pressing three of his large digits to massage my heat. 

“Fuck!” 

I am fighting to keep my eyes open, my hands clutching at the steering wheel while my left foot kicks at the floor. 

“Maybe we should stop.” I suggest, nearly pleading. 

“Keep driving, we’re almost home.” he answers, sounding relaxed. The amused grin has vanished from his face, replaced with the severeness of pride and triumph.

He strokes my cunt between his fingers in a tight grip, his fingers running up and down, playing with my wetness, smearing it across his hand before plunging two of his knuckles inside me as we stop at a red light. I am very much aware that other drivers might see us, so does he, but he seems to care very little if anyone spots him pleasing his wife. 

“Aww…” he mocks me, hearing the helpless cry that pushes out of my throat. “You shouldn’t have been such a bad little girl.” he teases some more, his fingers now plunging in and out with excitement. I allow myself to grind at the surface of his palm to achieve more friction at the base of my clit so maybe we can finish this quickly before the light is green.

But he’s the one in charge of my satisfaction now. He holds his hand further, so I will have none of it and keeps the stimulation only at the rim of my cunt, his fingers circling my entrance. 

“Too bad you had to tease me like that.” he murmurs in his low voice, his fingers slowly withdrawing and only his thumb grants my clit with a small tender brush.

 “Now you’ll have to wait, and be a good girl for daddy.”     

I let out another cry, arching toward the wheel and biting on my lips. It's not out of pleasure, but out of torturous frustration as he withdraws completely. I give him a quick, infuriated stare, seeing how he sucks his fingers victoriously, enjoying every single drop of his sweet win.

Feeling slick between my thighs, I press slightly harder on the gas pedal, trying to get us home faster. Henry pumps the volume of the music player higher.

Watch you come from above

I'm so needy for love, I'm desperate,

Greedy in slavery I sneak around from behind I got a one track mind We got a skin on skin thing baby I want to lick you too much I hear you comin ooh aaaah baby 

~*~

The moment we enter the house I lock the door and try to make my move but he has his hand on my throat in less than a second, squeezing not too tight, but tight enough to make a point. His blue eyes scan my face, his soft tongue slithering across the freckle of his lower lip with arousal. 

“Get on your knees, little one. You’re not off the hook yet.” 

I gasp at his fierceness, weak against his charisma and beauty. I stroke his face, still sticky with sweat from earlier, my fingers are gently smoothing against the stubbles on his high cheekbones and at the dimple of his chin. 

“Please, daddy, just fuck me already,” I bargain. 

“I’m wet and ready for you.”

“On your knees.” he repeats himself, his lips twitching to a small grin as he sees my defeat. His hand slightly releases my neck, his fingers pet my chin and jaw and finally entangle in my hair as I fall to my knees slowly, levelling myself at the height of his groin. His hand strokes my head lovingly, pressing my chin against his growing arousal as I look up to him with fake innocence.  

“Are you gonna be good now?” he asks, his fingers twirling around my long hair lovingly. 

“Yes, daddy.” I nod, waiting to have his cock in me, in any part of me. I want to touch myself so badly, my pussy throbs with desperate eagerness to be stuffed by his huge cock. . 

“I want to see you crawl on fours and wait for me in the living room, babygirl.” he growls at me while discarding his blue top on the wooden floor, exposing his thick hairy chest. 

“I want to look at your cunt as you move for me before I’ll destroy it. You’ve been such a nasty girl today.” 

I shiver at his words, a shrill of air kicks out of my lungs at once. My toughness is down to non-existing. I let him have it, I let him have it all. I crawl on my knees and palms like a cat in heat, my ass exposed for him. My cunt drips with primal desire to be conquered by this menacing alpha. I stop for a moment and then look behind me. I see him kicking off his shoes, his sweats slipping down his thick thighs along with his briefs before he continues to follow me, holding his erection in his hand, massaging the base of his cock while looking at me to open wide for him.

I reach the furry white IKEA carpet in our living room and wait for him, still on all fours. His heavy footsteps make the wood creak beneath his weight which alerts me that he’s close. The heat of his body is near. I feel the aura of his body as he falls down to his knees carefully behind me. 

His hands smooth against the curve of my ass, appreciating my shape to the point of worshipping my flesh. He takes the time to study again what he knows better than I do, trailing up to lift my skirt until it’s hiked around my belly. He then pushes my shirt, prompting me to take it off. Not an easy task to perform on all four limbs.

For one lingering moment, his hands roam across my body, massaging my muscles, pinching my nipples between his fingers. I moan beneath his large hands as he coaxes me into being his little plaything, succumbing to his will. Possessive fingers grip my shoulder and in a sudden movement, I’m pressed with my back down while Henry pushes my legs apart with his knees. 

“I just love to look at your face when I fuck you, babygirl.” he explains, his hands pulling my legs violently against his hips to position me as he desires. That way, we can both enjoy the show of his cock slipping in and out of my slit.

I squirm beneath him, my hands reaching for his chest to stroke at the thick dark hair and hardened pecs. “Please, fuck me.” I beg to the point of whining as I look at his sturdy cock, admiring every vein and ridge that decorates his impressive size. Henry takes himself and begins to tease my entrance, making teasing groaning voices while I plea so weakly. 

But that’s only to prepare me for his brutal invasion. He lets out a loud husky shout as he pushes in, penetrating me with such vulgarness, it takes the air out of my lungs. I am split in half, feeling how my body stretches immediately to bind itself to him. 

My narrow slit tries to remain resilient while Henry keeps himself nested between my lush folds, a groan of pure pleasure vibrates through his glorious chest before he takes my jaw in his great hand and makes me look at him to see the sin in his eyes.

“Good girl…”  he calls out in his deep low voice, pulling himself out slowly and then slamming back inside me in with a slippery wet slap. I gasp, my entire body shuddering in his veiny arms. 

“Good girl.” He speaks again, letting the words roll and linger on his tongue.

His rhythm is somewhere between torturous to divine. When he pulls away he does it ever so slowly, watching with perverse fascination his own cock as it slides out my narrow entrance just before he slams back in. Henry promised that he will destroy me; he never breaks a promise. I already feel how my muscles are thrown into a paradox, trying to resist him yet have him deeper and deeper with each one of his amazing thrusts.  

“Look at how you take me,” he calls in a guttural voice, urging me to look at our union. “You have such a tight succulent cunt, baby.” 

It feels almost too sinful to stare, my entire existence shivers at the sight. His big beautiful cock enters me, slick with my juices as he increases the pace. I’m petite but with him inside I’m forced to expand, my body stealing his shape, embracing him with devotion, wanting him to be like this forever.

His wide thighs are placed right beneath my legs, his right hand silks its way down my hip and grips me roughly as he pounds me in increasing speed. With one hand still on my jaw, he presses his fingers to my mouth where I suck and bite at him. He always wants me to look at him, loves it when I’m hopeless beneath him when my mouth cries for him while he stuffs me with his cock, over and over again. 

I squirm to meet his pelvis. He fucks me so raw that no actual words come out of my mouth but the mewls of a small, helpless animal instead. Being hunted for sport rather than eating. I grind my clit against his pubic bone to elicit more delightful friction, getting me closer and closer. But I’m stealing control and he’ll have none of that right now. 

He shoves us down, pinning my hands against each side of my head while his groin is holding me down to the surface in complete captivity. I am hurting for a mere moment as he shoves too forcefully. His apology is a deep passionate kiss which he is forced to break as we both gasp for air with every merciless push of his loins into mine. 

“Fuck babygirl!” He leans his forehead against mine, a feral gaze in his eyes. I lock my legs around his waist, my body losing every grip it ever had on control as the warmth begins to throb at the base of my cunt, spreading from my womb towards every nerve until I feel nothing but love flowing through my body.

I pant in awe, my voice adding to his deep growls and husky gasps which only become louder as his orgasm looms closer with the tightness of my cunt around his swelling cock. It sucks him harder, demanding his release, milking him of his offering until he shudders through me and yells out my name. 

The gush of warmth that spills inside me is my second favorite thing in the world. I moan with sweet delight as his cream coats me inside.

“I love you so much.” he whispers, holding me in his protective embrace as if to apologize for fucking me so hard.

I’d imagine that after such a long time together he’d already figure it out that I’m the one provoking it.

“What’s the name of that device again?.. the one I was…”

“Glute drive.”

“Glute drive, yeah, we’ll do that again soon…” I suggest, nibbling at his ear playfully while he remains on top of me.

~*~

Song lyrics are by Queens of the Stone Age - Skin on Skin

[kurokoros]

move me, baby | sp

Title: move me, baby

Rated: T for the first four scenes. M for the last.

Words: 3314

Pairing: Sweet Pea x reader

Summary: Somehow, Sweet Pea starts calling you “baby”. The nature of the petname evolves.

AN: It’s been a hot minute since I wrote a reader insert fic, but here it is!

The bench beneath your back is uncomfortable. You shift again, waiting for the artist, an older Serpent named Micah, to finish prepping his station. Nervously, you twiddle your thumbs, chewing at your lower lip. Already you’ve begun to fidget and the tattoo gun isn’t even out yet.

And really, you shouldn’t be as nervous as you are. You’ve seen Micah’s work before and know he’s a damn good artist. It’s not like he would be doing the Serpent’s tattoos if he wasn’t. Besides, you grew up on the Southside. It’s practically criminal that you made it this long without getting one, even if you aren’t a Serpent yourself.

“Oh, come on,” Sweet Pea huffs, causing your gaze to snap to his. He glances down at you in irritation, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Don’t be such a baby. It’s just a tattoo.”

You roll your eyes at the tall, gruff Serpent. Of course he would think that. Sweet Pea’s favorite past time is getting himself beaten up by the Ghoulies. You’re not even sure pain is part of his vocabulary at this point. “Why are you even here, again?” you ask, quirking a brow at your surly, sort-of-friend. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”

Not that you want him to leave. The only reason you haven’t bolted from the bench yet is because of his silent judgment grounding you in place.

Plus, you think as you look him over, gaze lingering on the angry, two-headed snake inked into the side of his neck, Sweet Pea has always been pretty damn good eye-candy. That certainly makes up for him sitting there and judging you like an asshole.

Sweet Pea just shrugs. “Moral support.” He crosses his arms and leans back in his seat, completely relaxed.

“Right, because you’re so supportive.”

He reaches out and pinches your exposed hip, making you yelp and jerk away from his mischievous fingers. On reflex, you swat at him, and Sweet Pea chuckles when you miss, a deep baritone that sends a shiver shooting right up your spine.

Before you can yell at him, Micah steps back into the room. The older Serpent flashes you a brief smile as he fixes his gloves and settles into the chair on your left. “All right, Sweetheart, you ready?”

You manage to nod and resist the urge to fidget as he presses the stencil to your skin, a simple flower that follows the curve of your hipbone in the front.

(You’re so preoccupied with the whirring of the machine and the nerves bubbling in your stomach that you don’t see the way Sweet Pea’s eyes trace the hem of your underwear all the way to the blue stencil on your hip.)

Micah draws the first line, officially starting your first tattoo, and your eyes squeeze shut. Your teeth dig into your lower lip at the lick of pain that curls through you. It’s over as quickly as it starts, but you don’t hear the encouragement Micah murmurs.

Sweet Pea leans down toward you. “Just remember to breathe,” he says, just loud enough for you to hear over the buzzing of the gun. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t—”

“Sweet Pea?” Your voice comes out much softer than you mean it to, more breathy, a little shaky, but just loud enough to catch his attention. You swallow. “Just shut up and hold my hand.” The fingers of your right hand wiggle to emphasize the request.

For a second he just stares at you in surprise, lips slightly parted and dark eyes wide. His jaw tightens, causing the snake on his neck to tense. Micah smiles secretively.

Finally, Sweet Pea rolls his eyes. “Baby,” he grumbles as his hand slips into yours.

The Friday night rush at the Wyrm is considerably slower than you expected it to be tonight. Most of the older Serpents have settled into their regular seats and have taken to nursing their beers and reminiscing and the ones still in school ducked out of the bar over an hour ago, bored and headed to the quarry to cause trouble.

FP Jones and his kid are notably absent, as are most of the other Serpents rising up in the ranks. It’s not hard to figure out why. Lately, things have been rough on the Southside. The Ghoulies have been causing chaos all over town. There have been more brawls in the last week than there have in the previous month, and as far as you’re aware FP is pretty keen on ending things before they get out of control like they did back when you were all still in high school.

Worry niggles at the back of your mind, but you shove it down.

It’s a little after two in the morning and the bar is almost empty by the time Sweet Pea slips in through the front door. You don’t notice him at first, half-asleep as you scrub the same spot on the bar with a wet cloth, making lazy circles.

“You know, I think you missed a spot.”

Inhaling sharply, you startle at the unexpected voice. Your eyes snap up to meet Sweet Pea’s amused gaze and his lips quirk higher. You’re taken aback by the man standing in front of you. There’s blood on his knuckles, his own or someone else’s you can’t be sure, his lip is split and puffy, and there’s a nice bruise forming beneath his left eye. More blood is splattered across the front of his leather jacket and the white shirt he’s wearing beneath it.

Without really meaning to you look him over, cataloging the injuries you see. It’s not as bad as you were expecting. He’s bloody and bruised and holding himself like his ribs hurt, but you’ve seen he look far worse than this.

“Let me guess,” you muse, leaning forward on your elbows and grinning at him, “I should see the other guy?” His answering grin is wry and humorless and you think maybe you’re wrong and it’s worse than you think. “What was it this time?”

He shuts down and immediately you regret asking. His expression becomes pinched and a dark wave of fury washes over his features. Sweet Pea grits his teeth, his jaw clenched so tightly that a muscle in his jaw pops. “Business,” is all he tells you.

You don’t have to ask what kind.

Instead, you ask “whiskey or vodka?” Something to make him loosen up or forget. It’s always the same with him.

He leans forward on the bar, careful not to get blood on the clean surface as you grab him a glass. “Whiskey.”

You pour him his drink and slide it across the bar. As he reaches for his wallet, you stop him. He stiffens under your brief touch, but doesn’t pull back.

“It’s on the house,” you tell him quietly. You aren’t sure what possesses you to say that, but you don’t regret it for a second. Hog Eye will be pissed if he finds out you’re giving away free alcohol—at least, he’ll pretend to be—but it’s worth it with the way Sweet Pea reacts.

His expression softens considerably and your throat tightens, your mouth dry. There’s something about the tall, angry biker looking at you like that that makes your breath catch. “Thanks, Babe,” he murmurs. Sweet Pea offers you another small smile before taking his drink and straightening.

You roll your eyes as he fishes out his wallet and shoves a twenty in the tip jar before heading for a table in the back where Jughead and Fangs are waiting for him.

You’ve never understood the point of drag racing. It seems stupid, betting so much on who can drive marginally better than someone else, but those were the Ghoulies’ terms. While the Serpents would prefer an all out rumble, the Ghoulies always have been fond of their flashy cars.

When Toni threw a crop top and shorts at you this morning you should have known it would be something like this. You may not be an official Serpent, but there are still certain expectations.

So here you are, waiting on some dusty back road as one of the younger Serpents argues with a Ghoulie about the same age, setting up the terms of the race. You aren’t sure where Toni disappeared to; she disappeared to go find Fangs as soon as the two of you pulled up in her beat up car.

Usually it wouldn’t bother you, being alone like this, but you’re really not liking the way one of the Ghoulies across the dirt lot is eyeing you. You doubt he’d be stupid enough to try anything in a crowd of Serpents, but you can never be too sure. The Ghoulies tend to be bold and don’t take no for an answer, and everyone here is just looking to start a brawl.

Ignoring the Ghoulie doesn’t seem to dissuade him.

You jump as a pair of big hands settle on your hips from behind and squeeze gently. Panic surges in your chest until a familiar, rough, baritone laugh rumbles through you as you’re pulled back against a broad chest. “Relax, baby girl,” Sweet Pea murmurs against your ear, voice low and throaty. “It’s just me.”

Breathing a sigh, you lean into him. “Fuck, Sweet Pea,” you huff, rolling your eyes when he chuckles.

You don’t have to ask what he’s doing, already feeling the Ghoulie’s eyes slide away from you. And sure enough, you crane your head back to look at him only to find him locked in a staring contest with the Ghoulie across the lot, who sneer and turns back to his friends. Sweet Pea’s jaw is clenched tight, his eyes narrowed dangerously, and you shake your head at the alpha male bullshit, but gladly sink into him anyway.

The pad of his thumb strokes the bare skin over the waist of your shorts, just teasing the tattoo peeking out on your hip. You wonder if he’s doing it on purpose, trying not to squirm and shiver as he leaves a trail of fire in his wake, the heat of his hands sinking into you.

“I thought you were supposed to be giving Isaac and Dexy some pointers,” you murmur, watching the two younger Serpents head back to their car, the Ghoulies doing the same. Briefly, you wonder where they got it, but figure it best not to think about it.

Sweet Pea pulls you a little closer to his torso, leaving no space left between the two of you. He doesn’t wrap his arms around you, just holds you there, grip loosening now that the Ghoulie has lost interest. “I already did.” A low sound rumbles in his chest and echoes in your own. “Thought you looked lonely.”

“So you came to keep me company? My hero,” you joke. He pinches your hip like he always does and you swat at him playfully. Sweet Pea strokes the curve of your tattoo and you hope he doesn’t notice the hitch in your breathing.

You expect him to let go as the race starts, but he keeps his hands on you the entire time. They just rest there on you hips, drumming absentmindedly against your side to his own rhythm.

Picking up an overnight shift at Pop’s Diner wasn’t something you wanted on a Wednesday night. Wednesday’s are always quiet, the shift slow because it’s the middle of the week and no one wants to pop into a twenty-four hour diner for a shake at two in the morning aside from stoners and occasionally Jughead Jones.

And that’s exactly who’s here tonight. A group of southside teens stoned out of their minds are a giggly mess in the far corner of the room, milkshakes of every flavor laid out in front of them. They’ve been taking sips of each one individually and looking like their minds are blown every time. Jughead, meanwhile, is in his usual spot on a stool up front, laptop laid out in front of him as he types away furiously, still working his way through that novel of his that stopped being about Jason Blossom almost five years ago. Besides them, it’s only you and the cook, Brian, here tonight, and you’re pretty sure Brian is taking a power nap in the back while you lazily wipe down the same spot on the counter you have been all night.

When the bell above the front door chimes, you don’t think much of it, calling out a reflexive greeting as a man in a black coat walks up to the counter. It’s not until there’s a gun in your face that you realize what’s going on. The stoners stop giggling in the booth and from further down the counter Jughead stares at you with wide eyes and you hope he doesn’t try to be a hero tonight.

White noise rings in your ears. The man is shouting, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. You fumble and nearly drop the key you need to open the register. The drawer pops open. Jughead slowly starts to stand. The cold kiss of steel presses against your temple.

You wait for the bang but it never comes. Your hands shake as you give him the cash from the register. The bell above the door jingles.

It’s all a blur to you after that. Someone must call the police, because suddenly Sheriff Keller is standing in front of you, holding you steady with one hand on your upper arm. Your head is foggy and you stutter as you recount the events from minutes earlier. There isn’t much to say. You didn’t see his face.

Sheriff Keller talks to Jughead next, and then the stoners in the corner. Jughead comes to stand next to you against the far wall and makes a phone call, but you don’t pay attention.

The shaking in your hands spreads through the rest of your body and suddenly you’re sliding down the wall to the floor, a trembling, sobbing mess as you realize how different things could have gone.

The bell above the door chimes and you flinch. Someone drops to their knees beside you. There are hands on you them, gentle and coaxing, and your back is pulled flush against a broad, firm chest as arms wrap around you. You curl into the person behind you, immediately sinking into the familiar embrace. A tattooed thumb rubs circles into your upper arm.

“It’s okay, Baby,” Sweet Pea whispers in your ear as he strokes your hair away from your face. “You’re okay. It’s okay.” A small, hiccupping sob tears from your chest and his grip around you tightens. His lips press against your temple as he rocks you both. “No one’s gonna hurt you, okay?” he coos. “I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you.” His palms rub up and down your arms, soothingly.

He kisses your head again and you believe him.

You aren’t sure how it happens exactly. One minute you and Sweet Pea are arguing about something pointless and the next you’re being dragged into the storage room behind the bar at the Wyrm and shoved up against a wall. The cold wall stings your back, but don’t have the time to complain. Sweet Pea’s mouth meets yours in a bruising kiss, and your knees almost buckle.

It’s a mad rush of hands and lips and teeth. Your fingers rake through his hair, squeeze his upper arms, dip beneath his shirt to tease the firm muscle beneath. Sweet Pea wedges a knee between your thighs and rocks up against you, applying enough pressure to make you moan and squirm, soft, needy sounds spilling from your mouth.

He grins against you, smug, and you’d wipe that look off his face if he wasn’t hooking his hands beneath your thighs and hauling you off the ground. You’re crushed between him and the wall, your legs wound around his waist, and already you can feel him, hard and hot against your inner thigh, achingly close to where you want him.

Sweet Pea’s hips rock against yours and you squirm.

A lick of heat curls in your gut, and you realize it’s skin contact you want. The leather jacket is shoved from his shoulders and left in a heap on the floor and he chuckles when your needy fingers grasp the hem of his shirt and tug upwards. You struggle with the fabric, huffing, and consider just ripping it when it catches on his shoulders. Through his amusement, Sweet Pea helps you yank the shirt off from over his head.

He doesn’t leave you for long. Another bruising kiss is pressed to your mouth before his lips wander to your jawline, nipping and sucking a path across your skin that makes your eyes flutter shut. Your hands slide up his back, feeling every bump and scar and bruise with the tips of your fingers until his mouth finds a spot that makes your whole body jerk against him. Sweet Pea squeezes your ass as your fingers grasp at his shoulders, and then his hair. He murmurs your name and you whimper, hips grinding against his until you pull a low moan out of him.

“That’s it, Baby,” he mumbles as your legs squeeze around his waist and your fingers tug at his hair. “Just like that.” His mouth moves from your jaw to your neck, the rough scrape of his lips against your sensitive skin making you shiver.

Sweet Pea grinds against you bucking his hips sharply, and your head falls back against the wall as you arch into his chest.

He pulls away from you then, and you whine at the loss of contact as you’re placed back on your shaky legs, but he smothers your complains with a kiss that makes you dizzy. And you really can’t complain as his tongue drags across his lower lip as he sinks onto his knees in front of you.

There’s something absolutely erotic about having him on his knees for you, his lips teasing the soft skin above the waist of your jeans, his eyes on you, taking in every expression you make as he pulls little sounds from your mouth. His eyes lock on yours, pinning you in place as his fingers slide up your thighs. Your breath catches as he pops open the button on your jeans.

Sweet Pea holds your gaze as he leans in to press a soft kiss beneath your bellybutton. His mouth follows the hem of your underwear to the tattoo on your hip and your legs turn to jelly. The grip he has on your thighs is the only thing keeping you upright and aren’t able to swallow down a pleased moan when his teeth graze your sensitive skin.

His fingers hook around the edge of your panties and the ache between your legs grows painful as he kisses your hip and—

“Oh!” Sweet Pea rips his mouth away from you and you gasp, eyes flying open to see a very surprised Toni standing there. Her lips twitch like she wants to laugh. She turns around and heads back out to the bar, shouting, “Hog Eye, I think we’re out of that!”

“Oh my god,” you mumble, mortification rushing through you when you realize you were about to let Sweet Pea go down on you in the back room of the Whyte Wyrm.

Sweet Pea groans and stands, leaving you wet and needy, and the sound just makes the pulse between your thighs more noticeable. “Shit.” He sighs and glances down at you, taking in your bee-stung lips and rumpled hair, your pupils blown wide with lust. “My place?” he jokes.

You breathe a laugh and stand on your toes to loop an arm around his neck, pulling him down for another lingering kiss.

[fictionalarsonist]

may i request nr 9 of your recent prompts with taeyong x reader?

「 unexpected encounter 」

pairing ›_ taeyong x readerwith ›_ jaehyun ; doyoungcontent ›_ slice of life-y ; flirting ; friendshiprating ›_pgwc ›_2k

―

premise ›_After moving to a big city, you find yourself missing everything about home that you complained so much. Taeyong was one of these things, but when you two meet again, by a coincidence, he’s nothing like you remembered.    ›  One-liners Inspired Drabbles  ― #9.“Hot, gorgeous, beautiful…whatever you want to call it.”

「 ao3 | masterlist 」

The cold streets makes you shiver even with all the layers of clothes you’re wearing, you press your dry lips in a thin line, but that only harms the damaged sensible skin. You’re not much of a winter person yourself; you hate all this cold, wet streets, the chaotic traffic and the annoying, disgusting steam. It makes you think of winter back home, it’s just as cold, if not worst – but you liked winter just fine there.

You miss playing in the snow, the trees always tinkling with snow, the smell of fresh winter mornings that isn’t tainted with the toxic smell of pollution. The bone, chilling cold was as pleasing as it could get, but there’s the fireplace and the familiar faces and your favorite bakery shop. You’re not quite sure if you’re homesick because you can’t afford going back home for Christmas or if you’re just not cut out for the big city. Funny, though, you were so eager to live the pathetic small town just two, three years ago.

It’s relief seeing your colleague arrived earlier, the lights inside the shop is dimmed, the closed sign shows on the glass door. You push open the door and the bell announces you. Jaehyun raises his head to see you walking in.

“Good morning!” He greets you with a quick, tired smile.

“Morning!” You greet, smiling back at him as he goes back to work. “You beat me today,” you hear his scoff.

“Well, I might pass out during the day,” you hear him reply from under the balcony and you stop in front of it, unbuttoning your coat.

“Another night awake?”

“That fucking stupid project,” he grunts before appearing from the balcony, his face twisted in annoyance, “I swear, if no one send me their part in this I’m just gonna watermark the whole shit with my name with big, bold letters. I’m not going to give credit to anyone.”

“Can you do that, though?” Jaehyun shrugs in response, “How long ‘till deadline?”

“Uhm- four days?” He frowns, looking into the distance, “Wait, what day is today?”

“Today is the 28th”

“Three days, then” he corrects himself, looking at you, “Even if they send something I don’t think I have enough time to edit, so-” he shrugs, leaning his weight on his elbows on the balcony. “I don’t even care about the fucking prize, the shitty award or whatever- I just want a good grade, that’s all.”

“Don’t worry about it, at least you’ll make it,” you comfort him, patting one of his slumped shoulders.

“You’re right,” Jaehyun replies more energetically before pulling back.

“I’ll get ready and come out to help you real quick,” he hums as you rush to the locker room.

Inside the shop is warm and cozy and you, slowly, regain the sensibility on your fingertips, your lips, and on the tip of your nose. You go through the usual routine to get ready before meeting Jaehyun outside.

“What’s left for me?” You ask, finishing to tie your apron.

“Those two needed to be cleaned. I’m gonna get the pies-” 

“Okay,” you shrug

“The espresso machine’s already on,” he warns over his shoulder.

There’s nothing but the sounds of Jaehyun at the back while you clean the machines, but this silence is welcoming and even relaxing. It contrasts so much with the view beyond the glass door. The chaotic traffic and people walking up and down the street. You enjoy these times before opening the shop, not knowing how the rest of the day would be.

***

Taeyong looked through the car window, irritated with the stillness. The car’s been stuck in traffic, not being able to move for far too long. Clicking his tongue, he lowers the partition with an impatient sigh. His driver looks at the review mirror, waiting. Ten, sitting by his side, spares him a watchful look.

“Isn’t there anything we can do to get out of here?” Taeyong asks, impatient.

“I ‘m afraid not, sir.” The driver replies with a trained apologetic tone.

Upset, Taeyong slumps back on his seat, undoing the button of his suit, blowing air out of his lungs, trying to tone down his anger.

“Are we too far from the company?” Taeyong asks, this time his questions directed at Ten, sitting by his side.

Doyoung spares a look at the map on his phone before replying.

“I’m afraid so.”

This reply only causes Taeyong to be even more discontent with the whole situation.

“This is ridiculous,” Taeyong protests in severe exasperation.

He glances outside yet again and sees you running out the door after a client.

“Taeyong, if you-” Doyoung’s cut off when Taeyong pushes the door open, letting the frigid wintery weather in the perfectly warm, luxurious car. “Taeyong!”

Before he could say anything else Taeyong’s walking on the wet streets, with drizzling rain falling on him.

“Park the car somewhere, don’t move anywhere without us.” Doyoung orders the driver and doesn’t wait for the response, already pushing the door open and chasing after his boss with an umbrella.

***

As soon as the sign at the door shows the coffee shop is open people come in, seeking the warmth and coziness as well as the drinks. Jaehyun busies himself to serve a couple of tables as you take his place at the balcony.

“What can I get-”

“Hey, Y/n!”

You blink, not quite believing the dazzling smile directed to you belongs to the awkward boy you had a crush on back in high school. Though now, Taeyong looks nothing like he did then. It hasn’t been that long and yet, he changed more than you could ever think.

“Taeyong?” You gaped.

“Taeyong!”  Doyoung calls, hurrying after him inside the coffee shop, “If you want we can go back to the hotel and I rearrange the meeting-”

Doyoung’s words are cut off, noticing Taeyong isn’t giving him any attention. Doyoung turns to look at you, someone who looks… Quite average, nothing like Taeyong’s usual interests.

“We can discuss something like this later, Doyoung.” Taeyong says rather gentle and that gets Doyoung puzzled.

“Yes, of course. Should I get you a table?” Doyoung asks with a light frown.

“I think Y/n could do that for me. Couldn’t you?”

“Uhm- I-” You start, but protests of the customers lined up cut your words. Taeyong wasn’t even in the queue.

“Hey, dude! I don’t care if you’re here for coffee or you just wanna flirt, but get in line.” Someone says aggressively and Doyoung gets between the two people just so the other wouldn’t dare to push Taeyong as they intended to.

“Hey, Y/n!”  You hear Jaehyun whisper by your side and you jolt in surprise, “I’ll take care of this, get him a table or something”

Jaehyun’s fast at the job and you step out of the balcony. Taeyong follows you to a more private table.

“Is this place yours?” He asks when you handle him a menu.

“No, I just- work here”

“And when are you free?” He places the menu on the table without even glancing at it while you stand there, waiting to get the order.

Your eyes wander around and you can tell there are quite the number of people looking at him. It’s not everyday someone like Taeyong comes along to place like that, people like him or, at least, the way he looks right now are usually found in over the top, expensive, luxurious restaurants, ordering food which you can’t even begin to imagine the names of, let alone pronounce if you ever came across.

“Y/n?” He asks again, in an inducing tone. With that smile that knocks the wind out of your lungs. You can’t believe you still have a crush on him after so long.

“Uh- Yes. Yes, what’s your order?” You ask automatically after snapping back to reality. He chuckles charmingly.

“I asked, when are you free?”

“At seven. We close at seven.” You speak up before you could stop yourself.

“Okay, then- I’ll come back at seven, then.” He stands up and Doyoung stands up after him. “I’m really glad I got to meet you again,” his smile looked quite sincere this time.

But that’s because, for a split second you could see the face of the boy you liked back then, instead of the arrogant man that was now taking your hand and bringing to his lips. You didn’t notice Doyoung’s eyes going back and forth between the two of you.

***

As soon as the shop got more of a free time, Jaehyun came to you as you cleaned one of the tables. Your mind went back and forth that moment over and over and still- you couldn’t figure how that could possibly happen.

“Okay, so- Tell me.” He asked, standing beside you as you repeatedly wiped the table, the same spot, over and over again. “Y/n?” He called, lowering his head to notice your eyes were looking into the distance instead of the the clean spot on the table or him. “Y/n!”

His half-scream made you jump in place and look at him.

“What now? Did you really need to-”

“You weren’t even paying attention to the table. What do you want, make it invisible or something?”

“Huh?” 

He points at the table you’ve been cleaning, literally shining at this point. A wide contrast to the others.

“We have two options now, either we clean the others the same way or get this one dirty,” he says thoughtfully, looking around for a moment before looking at you, “But, seriously- Who’s that guy?”

“Who?”

“You know who,” he insists, chasing after you when you run away from him, “The guy that came here looking for you.”

“He didn’t came looking for me!”

“He came in, ordered nothing. Just talked to you and left,” Jaehyun states

“You- might have a point.”

“Who’s him?”

“He’s- He’s just someone I knew,” you try

“You knew?” He asks with scoff. “He didn’t seem dead to me.”

“Oh, c’mon, Jae! I had a crush on him when we were in high school or something, that’s all.”

“Did you date?”

“No!”

“Then, why’s he here?”

“How am I supposed to know?” You ask in frustration. You’ve been asking the same question yourself. “He’s different. He’s…”

“Hot, gorgeous, beautiful…?” Jaehyung mocks as you seem to search for words.

“Whatever you wanna call it” You say, impatient with the way he keeps joking around with you. “But I was about to say that he doesn’t look like himself. Like the guy I had the crush on. Maybe- Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

“And- Still, you’re going with him?”

“I- You know, it might be nothing.”

“Yeah, and he might be a jerk. Look, this is what we can do for the day-  You’re leaving with me today. We can do something fun that won’t end up with you getting hurt by the morning and leave me to take care of this chaos by myself. Deal?” You watch him manner his hand to the busy but now quiet coffee shop.

“What about your project?” He shrugs

“It’s almost done, I won’t add anything from anyone else by this point, so I can seat back and do nothing. So? Deal?“

“Deal.” You shake his extended hand to you with a self-assertive smile.

[sledclock17]

Exactly How To Dry Carpet After Cleansing.

20 Finest Cleaning Products, According To Specialist Cleansers

Content

Armstrong 330408 When 'N Done Concentrated Flooring Cleaner, 1.

See Some Photos Of Our Client'S Floors Prior To And Also After Our Professional Cleaning Process.

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Review Of Bissell Big Eco-Friendly Deep Cleansing Maker.

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A top-notch rug heavy steam cleaner can get rid of around 97 percent of your rug. Even better, it reaches to the pile or lowest layer of the carpet, cleaning it completely. One have to likewise keep in mind that carpet cleaner leasings don't come with free cleaning services, so renters might require to buy the option each time. On the various other hand, rug cleansers are a single financial investment as well as one can get the carpeting hair shampoo by the bulk so in the long run, it's more affordable.

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Is steam cleaning bad for carpets?

The reality is that steam cleaning leaves your carpets sopping wet, which can damage your carpet over time. If not properly dried, sopping wet carpet fibers can ultimately lead to mold and mildew growth—something you don't want affecting your indoor air quality.

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Tactically area box fans in the space after you've cleaned up the carpeting to assist the rug completely dry quicker. Many rugs will dry out completely after a few hrs after you have actually cleaned them. Bissell rules the carpet cleaning and vacuum markets, together with Hoover.

As well as, it is an excellent as well as flexible multi-purpose house cleanser too. Fortunately, there are a lot of top carpeting heavy steam cleaners that can give deep and competent carpet cleaning.

A number of them have a split container or more containers to keep the filthy water from infecting the clean water. A great deal of storage tanks also have actually a specially made spout to prevent spills when you put the water.

Nevertheless, you should take into consideration making use of professional cleansing options designed to deal with commercial carpet cleansers for finest results. Keep in mind that Walmart does not lease typical vacuum cleaners. You can, nonetheless, also rent out carpet cleansers from other shops; see our related articles for the expense to lease a carpet cleaner at each shop and the very best rental carpet cleaning equipment. We likewise detail how to rent Carpet Physician rug cleansers from the majority of Albertsons grocery storesor Safeway grocery stores. While hoover can work wonders, a rug cleaner will certainly obtain the persistent discolorations and dirt out of your carpets when they need an extensive tidy.

Unger Easyglide Soft Rubber.

There are also some models that actually mix the cleaning agent, so you obtain the best water-to-formula ratio each time. These rug cleansers are additionally substantial and also big, so you have to have a vehicle that allows enough to move the device to and fro to the store. Plus, you can't quickly attend to spots before they embed in like you can when you have a carpet cleaner. For all the problem you have to go through, you only get to rent the cleaner for a day or two.

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I am 75 cleaned every type of carpet on the marketplace over the years, with my own services. Now have this lovely carpet cleaning maker of my own and the days of scrub brush as well as container more than. Have my own dish, it works, my rug are tidy, fresh, spots remain gone and also the carpet does not have any kind of film left on it from any type of item.

Everybody's always seeking good carpeting cleaners, however exist solutions that will do steam cleansing of hardwood or laminate floor covering? I've never seen any kind of businesses similar to this in my location ... they all simply do carpeting and also upholstery. We 'd suggest the exact same testing for any new solutions as in the previous answer. A lot of carpeting cleansers function vigorously to eliminate spots. Vacuum your carpeting one or two times a week, depending on just how much website traffic it receives.

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Amazing as well as it just cost me about $5.00 for the 3 room house as well as my time. Sorry but I can not say anything regarding your web page yet you are pressing your services.

The cleansing service will spray right into the carpeting, and afterwards suck back up again into the dirty water tank. Though some spots are almost difficult to get rid of completely, pretreating helps to boost even the dirtiest carpeting. Rug Medical professional suggests utilizing their products to pretreat spots.

The maker suggests adding 1/2 cup of Carpet Medical professional Carpet Cleaner to the water for the dirtiest rugs, or 1/4 mug of Carpeting Cleaner if your carpets are only gently dirtied. Turn the equipment on, and also start gradually walking backwards across the carpet, pulling the Carpet Medical professional from one side of the room to the other. On gently dirtied Floor Wizards , the maker suggests relocating at a speed of one foot per second, but very filthy carpetings need a slower speed of one foot every 2 seconds.

If you are seeking an exceptional heavy steam device that cleans up targeted dust as well as discolorations successfully, opt for the McCulloch MC1275. With its efficient spot cleaning proficiency and power, you will no doubt love this leading rug steam cleanser.

According to the Bissell internet site, the business offers upright, mobile, and cylinder carpet cleaners. Bissell additionally offers substitute parts, accessories for all their existing machines, and also some older versions. You'll find anything for your carpet cleaning needs from Bissell. While some people do make use of homemade cleaning services for specialist rug cleaners, there is no warranty of excellent outcomes with DIY recipes. Rug Doctor does not require tenants of its devices to utilize its cleansing option items, so you are complimentary to utilize various other items.

Why does carpet smell worse after cleaning?

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Treat family pet crashes as well as various other physical liquid stains with Urine Eliminator. Spray the suitable treatment onto your carpeting's filthy spots, and also allow the formula take in for numerous mins while you ready the Carpet Doctor machine for cleansing. Residential carpet cleansers are less complicated than ever before to make use of.

[fire-the-headcanons]

Port reached the door and started on the mess. Tai reached out— "Oh, Pete, I can get that."

"Nonsense! This is what I'm paid for."

"...You're paid to let us into our rooms when we forget our scrolls."

Peter raised the mop threateningly. "Go take care of your teammate."

"Yessir," Tai said, throwing his hands up and skirting around the business end to avoid needing a change of clothes for himself too.

Follow the Beacon Taiyang—Dannit

[Link to Masterpost]

[I posted two today, read this one first]

Something felt wrong. Qrow seemed… Tai shook his head. It had been bothering him since yesterday, but he couldn't place it. And why wouldn’t Qrow want help?

"Taiyang! Is he all right?" Peter Port called, dragging a mop and bucket from the small closet between the bathrooms. He'd come over to investigate why Dan was screaming his head off, and promptly volunteered to get cleaning supplies.

"I mean, he's not great," Tai said, following him back down the hall. "I'm getting him something to change into."

"Oh, dear. How unfortunate."

Unfortunate. Yeah, that pretty much summed up the weekend. First the twins come home from class looking like death, then the gamestation acting up, then the lovely little embarrassment at the thrift store, and now food poisoning of all things.

Port reached the door and started on the mess. Tai reached out— "Oh, Pete, I can get that."

"Nonsense! This is what I'm paid for."

"...You're paid to let us into our rooms when we forget our scrolls."

Peter raised the mop threateningly. "Go take care of your teammate."

"Yessir," Tai said, throwing his hands up and skirting around the business end to avoid needing a change of clothes for himself too. He stumbled into the room, careful not to step in anything, and—"Where's Raven?"

"Cafeteria."

Well, at least she wasn't following Qrow's lead in the next bathroom over. "Alone?"

"I offered, " she grumbled, before pitching her voice up in a slightly mocking impersonation of her mother's. "Ozpin likes to make everyone work with different types of people! And, get along with your teammates!" Dropping back to her normal pitch, she set Carmine's apron on the desk and dropped her head into her book. "Come on, I'm trying. "

"What is with these two and accepting help?" Tai grumbled, turning toward Qrow's closet. "He's bent over the toilet and won't let me get his clothes for him!" The door opened with a creak, and Tai paused, glancing over its contents.

His bedroll took up the top shelf, the glasses and scarf from yesterday on the one beneath it along with his pajamas. School uniforms hung neatly in a row next to his armor, and a small leather bag—the right size to hold a couple of textbooks—sat in the bottom with a tiny pile of dirty laundry. Three or four pieces of dingy, worn-out clothing at most. 

Tai's sense of unease solidified as the reason for it clicked into place. "Summer?"

"Huh?"

"They used to work on a farm. Not their family farm, someone else's."

"Yeah…?"

"They had jobs."

She nodded, frowning as she glanced at the near-empty closet. "...Probably room and board, too." Sliding from her chair, she crossed to Raven’s and cracked it open— "So why don't they own anything?" she asked the identically bare shelves.

"I mean, Qrow likes comics. They're only a few lien each, the Kingdoms pay most of the cost. So why doesn't he have any?"

Summer's eyebrows pushed together. "He said yesterday one of the other hands trashed them."

"Something's wrong," Tai muttered, grabbing the pajamas. 

***

Qrow sat on the floor, leaning against the toilet, paler than Grimm bone and still out of breath.

"…This was all I could find," Tai said, holding the clothes out.

"Thanks," he murmured, reaching up but keeping his eyes down. He paused for a moment, as if about to speak, but then closed his mouth and said nothing.

Tai offered a hand. "Come on, I'll help you over to the shower."

 "I'm okay, really," he rasped, using the toilet seat to push himself to his feet. "I'll meet you in the room in a few minutes." Qrow glanced at him through his bangs, eyes darting up toward his face before returning to the floor. The clothes shook in his hand, white-knuckled with tension, and… and it wasn't because he was sick.

... Scared. They were scared.

The twins weren't weird, or asocial, it wasn't culture shock—they were always terrified. 

Something was very, very wrong. 

Should he ask…? What would he even say , though? "Why are you scared all the time" was probably not a great way to get either of them to open up. "Hey, why are you so poor? " was worse. 

Tai shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "If you're sure." 

 "Yeah. Thanks." Qrow smiled like it was hurting him. Tai took a step back to let him past, but he closed the stall door and started to change on the other side. 

What do we know for sure? It was almost more of a habit than a question… but maybe the twins would be a little easier to figure out than Ozpin.

Okay, first, they don't own anything. He headed toward the bathroom door, scratching his neck. And what they do have is beyond shabby. If they really had jobs, they didn't pay much. If they have parents they either can't or won't take care of them. His stomach lurched. 

"Hey, I'll be out in a minute. Hold up?" Dan called, peeking around the shower curtain.

"Sure," Tai said, hopping onto an empty washing machine to wait. Second, they can fight. Really fight. ...The teachers don't correct their technique much either, so they're probably not self-taught. And telling the truth about learning from a Huntsman, from their styles. He frowned. Though, the way they fight is different enough they might not have been taught by the same person…

 But both of them got their weapons from Carmine, we know that for sure too. So whatever they were using before wasn't good quality.

The stall door squeaked as he emerged, old clothes wadded in one hand. Tai stared at Qrow's back as he tossed them in the sink and started scrubbing with the hand soap. "You wanna borrow some detergent?" he asked, softly enough Dan wouldn't be able to hear over the water.

"No, thanks."

"...Hey, are you okay?" Couldn't hurt, right?

"M'fine," he mumbled.

"You don't… seem all right."

What little of his reflection Tai could see over his shoulder twisted in fear. "I'm just sick."

"...Okay. Rest up.”

"Thanks." 

He watched as Qrow shuffled from the bathroom, rubbing at his shoulder. Maybe the curdling sensation in the pit of his stomach came from the lingering smell of the accident, but he couldn't shake the thought something was very, very wrong.

What else do we know. They are from Anima, it's on their student IDs. I don't think they were lying about coming from the middle of nowhere. ...Their work is the only thing that doesn't fit. So if they weren't farmhands, why would they lie? And if they were... what happened?

"Well, that was fun," Dan griped, pulling his t-shirt down as he walked out of the stall and tossed his towel on the counter. "Starting to think you're jinxed, man."

Tai shook his head to clear it, giving him a sideways glance. "Huh?"

"Oh, y'know. Our friend going to the wrong school. Spraining your ankle during initiation, the three of us getting split up, Ozpin picking on you at the obstacle course. And don't forget getting detention on the first day of class."

Tai snorted.

"I'm just saying, whatever funk you've got going on, keep it to yourself," Dan laughed back, play-punching his arm.

"Sure, Dan. I'll make sure you don't trick me into wearing a skirt to Grimm Studies."

"I still can't believe he fell for that." Dan grabbed the comb out of his shower basket and started on his hair. "There's the worst luck of all, getting stuck with a teammate that can't even walk through a door without screwing something up."

He rolled his eyes. "Dude. Come on. There was an accident. It's nobody's fault." 

"Well, he could have looked where he was going."

So could you. Better change the subject before he got invested in it. "Yeah, whatever. Did you see the new trailer for—"

"Tai, I'm serious." Dan set down the comb and turned to face him. "You need to be able to rely on your teammates. If you or Summer gets hurt because of their damn incompetence—"

 "Just let it go, will you?" 

Dan scowled, tilting his head. "Why are you taking their side?"

"Why do there have to be sides?" Tai spread his arms. "Why are you still so angry? Even Zaff isn't this upset, and he's the one freezing his ass off in Solitas!"

"They shouldn't be here!"

Tai almost laughed. "Dude, have you ever sparred with either of them? They should definitely be here."

"So they're competent in a fight." He grabbed the comb and finished sweeping his hair into place. It was already halfway dry, but a few wet curls draped over the base of his neck. "Want do they want, a medal? That's a basic expectation, not something special—he doesn't even have a Semblance! "

Annoyance cooled and hardened like hot steel plunged into water and any humor Tai might have been feeling vanished in the cloud of steam. "Neither does Summer."

"...Well, that's different," he protested, clearly trying to cover his ass. "She can fly."

"I don't see a difference," Tai snapped. He should know better. They'd watched her frustration at Signal, how she stuck to the edges of the class during combat training, how much time she'd spent meditating. Hell—Qrow didn't even seem to care about his at all! Who was Dan even trying to insult?

"C'mon, Tai," he said airily, grabbing his stuff. "You're blowing this out of proporti—"

"I don't want to talk about this any more."

"What?" Dan threw an incredulous glance over his shoulder as he pushed the bathroom door open.

"Look. It'd be better if Zaff were here too, but there's nothing any of us can do about that. You're the only one who won't accept it," Tai said. "He says you don't even call him!"

He leaned back in a swagger that he probably thought was charming. "Do you really want me talking to my ex?"

"YES!" Tai shouted, and Dan flinched in surprise. "Because, yeah, I like you, but the most important thing is that we all stay friends!" Deep breaths. Shouting never helped anything. "...Y'know, Ozpin keeps saying that we need to learn to work with different people. I'm starting to think he's right. We were too comfortable with the four of us."

"You think th—"

"Dan, just because we're not all on the same team any more doesn't mean that we're not a team! Qrow and Raven are our friends now, too. I'm sick of listening to you rag on them." He pushed past, out into the hallway.

"It's okay to say you feel sorry for them."

Tai froze, staring back at him. "What?"

"I mean, you've seen the shit they wear—and they wear their uniforms or gear most of the time so they don't have to! They hoard food from the cafeteria when they think no one's looking." 

Tai's stomach lurched. 

"All they've got on their shelves are schoolbooks. I get it, they're kinda pathetic. But they don't need to go to Beacon to get a roof over their heads and three meals a day, there are plenty of services in Vale—"

How had Dan noticed, but he hadn't? "I'm done with this conversation."

"Tai—"

"I said I'm done."

"All right. Fine. I'm sorry," Dan said with a tone that spoke louder than the words. " You're making such a huge deal over nothing, Tai, calm down." It had the opposite effect, if he was being honest with himself, and it took effort to keep from being drawn back into the fight. "Oh hey, did you see the new trailer for Fatal Fray 3?"

"...Yeah." 

Why can't we all just get along? 

At least Dan wasn't insulting Qrow to his face any more. Small victories.

Next Chapter: Summer—A Moment’s Peace

[loverontheleft]

Ready to Leap (3)

AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut anticipated. Chapters 1 and 2 can be found on my Masterlist.

Brendon x reader. Language and sexual implications.

Word count: 2.8k

Before we go on this adventure together, you need to experience some things first. Don’t scroll past them. Really treat yourself. I love you. Happy Friday. You’re welcome.

“Son of a bitch.” The copier is jammed again. You try desperately to remember how Brendon fixed it last time (there’s been at least four times in between the first day of school and this moment where he has come to your rescue) and you remember watching his arms and fingers working but you can’t recall what they were actually doing. Fuck. You manage to find the front panel but it’s a maze of knobs and pulleys and trays and knowing your luck, you’ll just screw it up more. You stand up and cross to the bathroom. Hair is okay, it’s pulled back in a loose bun. Makeup is fine, you look a little tired but that’s to be expected. Outfit is your normal sleeveless blouse/skirt combo. Okay. You look presentable. Time to head to the band room.

When you arrive, the door is shut and you can hear a heavy bass sound coming through the door. You think about knocking but know he won’t hear you, so you try the knob. It opens and you make a mental note to teasingly (but not really) reprimand him for violating the school safety policy but all thoughts leave your head and your mouth goes dry when you see him behind the elaborate drum kit, playing like his life depends upon it. Holy shit. His shirt sleeves are rolled up (you’re beginning to think this is his norm and you like it) and there’s a sheen of sweat across his forehead and fuck, he is good. He looks up, his eyes narrowed in focus, and then he spots you. He drops one of the sticks, it seems accidentally, but then drops the other on purpose. “Well hello, Ms. Milton.” He wipes his brow and stands up with a broad smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

It takes you a moment to form a coherent thought. “What are you doing?” You finally manage and he raises an eyebrow, amused. No, you didn’t come to ask him that and it’s obvious anyway, focus. “I mean. I’m here because the copier…” you trail off feebly, still looking at him. Is his shirt clinging to his chest? Jesus. No. You’re imagining that. Right?

He grins. “And you’re in need of my particular set of skills. Got it.” He flexes his fingers and is crossing the room when he answers your first question. “I was playing to blow off some steam. Drums always help me calm down.”

“What were you - never mind, it’s none of my business.” You wave your hand in the air as if to shoo the question away and hope he’ll ignore the awkwardness. He opens the classroom door for you and, following you out, answers.

“My second period music appreciation class was just a collective pain in the ass today. I think they realized they actually have to do work to get course credit.”

You roll your eyes. “What a novel concept, right? My first block was like that actually. I had to remind them that English is a requirement to graduate. They have to pass. But no, they just kept -“ you cut yourself off, frustrated.

He looks at you curiously and opens the lounge door for you. “What were they doing?” He drops to his knees in front of the copier and fuck, his shirt is clinging to his back so it was definitely clinging to his chest.

You roll your eyes but it’s solely for your benefit; he has his back to you. “They kept asking questions that are not relevant to my class. How old am I, am I single, what’s my favorite movie, what music do I listen to, where do I buy my clothes, oh god it was awful.” You slump against the wall and he looks up at you. You’re suddenly aware that today’s skirt is slightly shorter than the others and at his angle, he might be getting some serious thigh.

“Well, if they get to be too much, send the worst one on a special errand. You need new expo markers, you need a note delivered to a teacher, you need Diet Coke from the vending machine because you’re feeling a migraine coming on, something. You’re welcome to send me decoy notes.” He’s gone back to focusing on the copier.

“That’s a good idea. Thank you. I’m gonna keep that in mind, actually.”

He grins, meeting your eyes again. “And I’ll stall them by writing a decoy note back. Keep them out of your hair.”

You laugh. “This sounds like a great plan. All I need now is to figure out how to fix the damn copier. Can you teach me?”

He looks affronted and places a hand lovingly on the front of the machine. “Be nice to her! And why on earth would I teach you the one thing I know that you don’t and keeps you coming to my door?” He raises an eyebrow, obviously expecting an answer and you will yourself not to blush.

“I, well, I don’t want to keep bothering you is all. And I don’t like depending on people.”

He stands up and pats the machine. “You’re not a bother. And you can depend on me.” He pauses in the doorway to look back at you. “They’re good questions by the way.” You look confused. “How old are you, are you single, what’s your favorite movie…”

“Oh.”

“You’re great with words Milton and you’re real smart; you know that’s not an answer to the question posed.” He leans against the doorway and grins, waiting. “Ah, this is a test Milton. I gotcha, it’s the old scaffolding model. I do, we do, you do. We’ll just skip the middle step though. Here. 28, yes, Inglorious Basterds. See, not so hard.” His tone is playful and you aren’t annoyed at the teasing at all - particularly not after that second answer.

“27, yes, Little Miss Sunshine.” He smiles at you approvingly and you grin. “Do I get a sticker for doing a good job, Mr. Urie?” You flutter your eyelashes at him before you both start laughing.

“We don’t give stickers in high school. Now let’s go.” He walks out the door and you scurry after him.

“Where are we going? We don’t have duty this week.”

“I know.” He turns to look at you and you can’t quite read his expression. “Yep. Come on.” You don’t know what he saw in your eyes but you’ll follow. He stops short and you look around.

“Brendon, this is the cafeteria.”

“Y/n, I know.” He smirks and grabs your hand and pulls you through the doors. Second lunch is ending so you’re swimming upstream and when he finally comes to a stop, it’s at a door on the other side of the room, opposite the doors to the arts hall. He carefully opens the door and slips through, and because your hand is still (still!) in his, you go too. It’s dark. For a split second, all you can hear is his breathing and you can feel his hand gripping yours. What the fuck are you about to d- he turns on the light. Well, damn.

“What is this?” You look around, very confused. He chuckles, dropping into a chair and stretching his legs out in front of him.

“The student council meeting room. They do a fundraiser every Friday where they bake fresh cookies in that,” he gestures blindly behind himself, “and sell them to the students. Two cookies, one dollar.” You follow his flailing hand and see a branded Otis Spunkmeyer cookie oven. You wander closer and see that it claims to make delicious cookies in just five minutes when used with genuine Otis Spunkmeyer dough. He’s turned in his seat to watch you and he chuckles. “So if I’m ever craving a cookie, I sneak in, bake two, and leave a five dollar bill. Debbie almost definitely knows it’s me but she hasn’t said anything yet so,” he shrugs. “I keep them in dough. Literally.” He laughs at his own joke and you do too.

“So...why are we here?” You think it might be a dumb question but he stands briskly, walks to the freezer, and pulls out a bag of frozen dough.

“I said we don’t give out stickers. But I will give you a cookie.” He grins, flicking the switch to ‘on’ and dropping blobs of dough onto the baking panel. “And now we wait.” You sit side by side on top of the table opposite the machine in comfortable silence. Internally, you’re amazed. It’s never been this easy or natural with anyone. And his hand holding yours. Damn. Your thoughts continue to wander and you’re fighting it. No. Focus. Cookies. It’s no use. Shit.

He carefully opens the door and slips through, and because your hand is still (still!) in his, you go too. It’s dark. For a split second, all you can hear is his breathing and you can feel his hand gripping yours. What the fuck are you about to d- he crushes his mouth over yours, pressing you to the door. “Been wanting to do this for awhile,” he says hoarsely, and you moan. “Had to be sure you were single. Interested.” He pulls back for a moment, eyes searching yours, and you nod. His lips are back over yours and his tongue is in your mouth when he slips a knee in between yours and tries to spread your legs, but the cut of your skirt prevents that. “Love this look on you. So fucking sexy,” he groans, tracing a finger from the center of your chest down to the waistband of your skirt. “But I need you to start wearing things I can work with.” You nod and gasp as his full lips move down your neck, leaving hot wet kisses as he goes. “I know I’ve been coming on kinda strong. Not real subtle. But fuck, I’m into you. So I’m not sorry.” This is murmured against your skin and you whimper, rocking your hips up, seeking.

“Brendon,” you murmur and he looks at you, eyes heavy.

“Yes?” Fuck. His voice isn’t muffled by your neck and shoulder. It’s beside you. Fuck. He looks at you curiously. “Uhm. Thank you for this. All of it. The copier, the fish fry, the advice, this. You’re being really nice to me.” He smiles softly.

“You need to reread your fairytales Milton. I’m a hermit, not a troll. I can be nice.” He doesn’t sound offended though. Just amused. You laugh, protesting.

“I just mean...thank you. Really.”

He places a cookie, wrapped in wax paper, in your hand. “For doing such a good job earlier,” he winks at you playfully and hands you another. “And for when you realize that Brendon Urie just made you the best goddamn cookie you’ve ever had and you find yourself needing another.” He wraps up his own, powers down the machine, wipes a damp cloth over the baking surface, and turns to the door. “But they’re best enjoyed hot. So don’t wait too long.” And with another wink, he holds the door open for you and you walk through to head back to your respective rooms.

He stops at the band room door. “Well, this is me. Thanks for being my pseudo-drum kit. I feel a lot better.” He grins and you return it.

You can hit this anytime. No, brain. Bad. No. “Well, it’s the least I could do, all things considered. Seriously.”

“Don’t give it another thought. I’m happy to help you.”

You smile and wave, before heading back to your room. Once you’re inside, you stop. “Wait. He said ‘happy to help you.’ That’s not the saying. It’s just ‘happy to help.’ And he said not to wait too long with the cookie. Is the cookie a metaphor? Fucking hell, I think this cookie is a metaphor.” You’re speaking out loud, pacing. “He is flirting with me.” You say it decisively and grin giddily. “Hell yes.”

The rest of planning, lunch, and fourth block all fly by. You’re in a great mood. You might stay for a little while and get some work done, but you’re not sure yet. What you do know for certain is, it’s hot as fuck outside and it’s creeping in and you want a water bottle. You get up from behind your desk and head for the vending machine, cash in hand. You can already feel the Dasani as it hits your tongue. Cash goes in. Button is pressed. Nothing happens. You groan. You hit the button again and to your joy, you hear the promising rumble of a bottle. To your surprise, two fall out. You’re standing there with both icy bottles in your hands when it hits you. Of course.

You set off at a brisk pace until you’re crashing through the side doors of the school. “Agh! it’s bright!” You shield your eyes and scan your surroundings. Yep. Practice field to your right. It’s down a steep hill, which you manage pretty gracefully all things considered, until his voice crackles through the air.

“Welcome to practice Ms. Milton!” You jolt in surprise. Oh. The electric megaphone. Yep. Your band director had one too. No sense straining your throat from the top of the band tower when megaphones exist. Shockingly, you don’t trip down the rest of the hill - but you’re far happier once you’re on flat ground. “Hold. Take a water break everyone. You’ve got five minutes.” You hear the sighs of relief from where you are and walk briskly to the base of the tower. He leans over and looks down at you warmly, megaphone at his feet and sunglasses glinting. “Well hello again Milton. What brings you to Urie’s Torturedome?” You look confused and he chuckles. “They don’t like practicing outside. They like winning, but they don’t like practicing. So until the school builds us an AstroTurf gymnasium, they refer to marching practice as the torturedome.”

The young woman clamoring down from the drum major’s podium protests. “We don’t mean it Mr. Urie! We really are grateful you hold us to such a high standard. Superior ratings aren’t given, they’re earned.” She looks at you earnestly. “Really.”

“All good Marissa. I’m just teasing because I know you can hear me. Get some water and you can extend their break.” She salutes and you don’t think it’s ironically. She’s definitely an honors kid. You relate to her so hard. You just want to please him. Fuck. Phrasing. He looks back down at you. “So. What brings you here?”

You hold up the bottle of Dasani. “The vending machine gods blessed me with a fruitful bounty this harvest. Figured you could use this more than me.” His eyes light up.

“Most definitely. Come on up.” You look warily at the ladder. “You don’t have to come up if you’re afraid of heights though. I’ll come to you. Hold on.”

You laugh a little. “It’s not the height. I’m just in a skirt, that’s all.” He nods in understanding and within mere seconds, he’s down the ladder and leaning against one metal rod of the tower with the bottle in his hand.

“You are an angel. An absolute angel.” He declares, twisting the lid off. You smile and shrug and he looks at you appraisingly. “You’re sure it’s not the height? It is the tallest marching tower in the state.” He isn’t even assuming his faux-humble look and tone. He’s actually proud, and you’re actually impressed. You shake your head as you take a swig from your water and gesture at your skirt as you swallow. “Well, I need you to start wearing things I can work with.” You freeze - those words sound familiar. Fuck. Student council cookie fantasy. That’s a coincidence, surely. But he’s still talking. “You’re a former band kid and I want a second pair of eyes. I need you on my tower. You did volunteer to help in any way you could,” he reminds you. “This is how you can help. Climb the tower, Milton.” You can’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses and he’s taking a slow sip of water and you can’t tell if he’s flirting or is totally unaware of the sexual euphemism he’s created. There’s a single drop of water clinging to his lower lip. Fuck. His tongue flicks out to collect it and while you’re not sure, you feel comfortable guessing that he’s watching you steadily.

“I’ll do my best to remember.” There. Solid answer that fits both scenarios. “I’ll let you get back to practice.” You aren’t wearing sunglasses so you can’t hide the long look you give him from head to toe but you don’t want to. You want him to see you looking. He’s changed from his usual uniform to another band shirt, a white tee this time with the current show design on the back, and black shorts. His hair is contained by a black, backwards snapback and you can’t lie, it’s a good look for him. Really good look for him. Damn. You take another sip of water, letting your eyes meet his.

He’s been watching you scan him, and his voice is lower now; students are starting to head back over. “Taking notes on what is appropriate band practice attire?”

You grin. “Nope.” And with that, you turn and head back up the hill.

[journal-of-a-gamer]

Who Am I

Chapter 11 : Nothing to Worry About

I opened my eyes, a red light of the purification room filled my cornea. Six to six ran between my legs into the room ahead of me. My pupils dilated and my heart began to beat like a mouse’s must when it knows a cat is eyeing it.

My right hand slipped down to my gun, my left rose to my communicator. I turned sharply; six to six could wait. “I’ve found Valentine, I repeat, I’ve found Valentine,” I blurted out while pressing down on the communicator. I turned the barrel of my gun and flicked on the flash light, there she was. Standing not even five feet infant of me, clearly surprised that I knew she was there, the clothes she had been wearing were in taters, cuts, gashes and black burn marks were all over her. She straightened herself upright, the beam of the flashlight bounced over her pale body glistening where blood was present.

Her arms were longer and more like a feral beast than that of a human being, the legs had become concave like a dogs, the nails on both her arms and legs had grown substantially. Her once red flowing hair had also continued to grow much like her claws but now it looked wispy and dead dangling down her entire body towards her knees.

I was looking into her eyes and her into mine, there was a confusion subtly painted on her face, how did you know I was here, I don’t know what happened but I didn’t want what happened last time to repeat itself again. I pressed my thumb down on the safety turning it off and engaging the laser guide to show where I was aiming. The green lasers danced over her body as dust specs flew in and out of the path of the light. Her body tensed the muscles in her legs looked ready to propel her body forwards like a rocket. I pulled the trigger, it provided a lot of resistance, the gas chamber ejected its contents down the ionising tube towards the ignition and out through the separator to eject the excess that the frame couldn’t handle and finally the ionised superheated gas was propelled out the tungsten barrel towards Valentine. The fire ball that exited the barrel was a dark blue, it gun kicked back and I could feel all the excess heated gas from the gun as it pushed back into my gut like an uppercut from a burly business man who you’d spilt coffee over his laundered suit. It hurt a lot, the air exited my lungs as fast as the projectile had left the gun, tears welled in my eyes and my teeth watered from the pain. Sliding back slightly with the recoil I doubled over forwards.

A split second passed and the fireball connected with Valentine. It’s dark blue hue illuminating her entire body blending her contours with the blue light. The ball burst over figure covering her body with the sticky dark blue flame, it’s tendrils whisking up over her body setting her long red hair alight.

In the passing moments everything blurred, Valentine let out a screech and hoped out of the corridor into the ducts to her side, the flames and smoke flowing her writhing form into the wall, the smell of burning skin, hair and clothes assaulting my nose as I readied myself to take he follow up shot. It was too late she had already made her way into the ducts of the ship where I couldn’t follow her and fire again.

After a while of looking up and down the corridor for any sign of a crispy Valentine I relented and made my way into the red light of the purification room. My footsteps clinked on the metal, I reached the console and reset the purification sequence. The machinery hissed and whirled and buzzed, the impurities in the air system were being removed along with the smell of burnt Valentine being replaced with the faint scent of lavender, I still don’t know why but Evana had insisted on the installation of a lavender unit, you could barely notice it until it was removing another smell much like the smell of Ewan’s many crock pot dinners. If anything it made it a little harder to tell what time it was all the way out here. I sighed and made my way towards the signal of Ewan’s rig.

The corridors felt longer than usual each clanking footstep over metal floor sent shivers down my spine, I hadn’t finished her off, realistically she could be anywhere; I spun around sharply with paranoia clutching my gun the whole time ready to blast away but instead of a monster all I seen was the dim grey steel corridor. With a heavy sigh that I turned back around, raised a holographic projection map with crew locators on and headed towards Ewan, the lonesomeness was getting to me more here than it even had before, it mostly just made me uneasy.

Ewan was in the hydroponics room, it wasn’t a huge room, probably about the same size as a single bedroom, but even than that was spacious for what it was, the machines in the room took up hardly any space. The idea was to use small durable filters at higher pressures, so in order to build more pressure a lot of the machines were smaller, still we could process one-hundred litres every twenty hours if we needed to; we never really needed to process that amount of water as the water tank on the ship could only hold 50L at any moment in time, but it was good to know we could if needed.

I placed my hand on the button for the door, my finger tips pressing onto the cold plastic. As I pushed the button down the skin on my finger tips pressed white with pressure, click, the slight resistance from the button gave way. With a flash the door slid open smoothly, the pulsating pale blue light pulsed out of the doorway into the steely corridor. Inside the machines purred away softly, the humidity of the room flowed out towards me, leaving my nose feeling clammy but dry to the touch. I removed my fingers from the button, it bouncing up to where it once sat, I took my first few steps into the room, my eyes scanned across the room as I slowly moved in, the shadows of the machine’s winding piping cast a wreath of shadow over the left most side of the room. The small blonde hairs rising all across my body sending a shiver down my spine as my first look into the room left me fruitless; he’s meant to be in here it says he’s in here.

I paced further into the small, humid room, a fine wetness developing on nose much like grease. I raised my arm to wipe the sensation away but not long after the removal of the damp it returned once again to irritate the surface of my nose, I sighed and continued to look for a trace of Ewan.

Click.

“Huh? what was that? Are you in here Ewan?” I stammered out in confusion, clutching at my gun. I looked around the room, my pulse began to ring in my ears, my eyes darted around the room. I ducked my head down under the tables and pipes trying to get a better look around the room; nothing, there was nothing to be found, he simply wasn't here. I had looked, the room wasn't big and there isn't anything to hide behind in there. I turned back towards the door and stamped my way towards it, sighing worriedly I raised my hand to the button and extended a singular finger.

Click.

I spun around, nothing. What the actual fuck is going on in here I thought to myself. I raised the locator map and narrowed in the search for just Ewan’s location blip; it was right beside me, I looked through the projection in the room, was I going mad? Flicking my eyes from the projection to the room it was evident he wasn't in here. I zoomed the map in closer, Ewan’s blip wasn’t exactly where you'd think it should be, it was actually moving up and down very slightly as if it wasn't sure if he was on the floor or not…

Slowly I raised my gaze up towards the feeling of the room, I felt my heart miss a beat. I felt sick, my stomach lurched and my teeth watered.

I found Ewan, or what the map said was him.

I clutched the side of my head, made my way into the darkest corner of the room and put myself between my raised knees while I sat on the floor, tears welled from both my eyes and as I began to sob Jenny pitched in on the radio, “Ewan, Clarke, how you two doin’ in there?”

Click.

I opened my coms, “It’s in here with us Jenny, it’s got Ewan I just found him…it’s horrible, please help me.” My voiced cracked and my body racked with sobbing.

“Fuck, okay, you need to open the lockdown and we’ll hunt this piece of shit down, okay, we’ll make it through this.” I couldn't tell if she was trying to reassure me or herself at this point.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.” I got up from the floor, took a last look at ‘Ewan’ and made my way out of the room punching the button and breaking into a jog down the corridor as tears streamed out of my wide eyes.

[loveluredd]

the coffee that we lost, and the moment that we gained.

“ It doesn't feel like I just met you, it's like I know you.   Better hold my feelings back,   because I just met you, and I don't wanna get ahead of myself. ” — https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RP3yYCmE1ic

There is something to the early evenings in the winter months, the nip of the frozen air as it washes over your cheeks, leaving a pinched pink to complement the golden light that dances its way across every face that braved it. Many would opt for the sweltering days of summer if given the choice, but no, they weren’t for me. I preferred it when the world was painted in white, a blank canvas upon which you could splash your own colors. More often than not with a worn scarf in my case, interwoven wools that had faded with the years, but the memories made in their presence clung to each and every fiber. As much as I loved a chance to start anew, a slate coated in untouched snow, some things were harder to leave in the last chapter. I could hardly say that I remembered stepping foot into the coffee shop that sat on the corner overlooking my favorite view in town. The ritual was such a part of me at this point, that my muscles needed no guidance to steer me home, my mouth needed no supervision to greet whoever stood behind the counter by name, no hesitation would be found in repeating an order made time and time again. The only real indicator of the fact that I’d even stepped inside, was in the instinctive unzipping of my jacket, the loosening of my scarf, as the heat being pumped out by radiators and tired machines seeped through the layers of disconnection to let me know that they were no longer needed. Times gone by danced through my mind, as if invited by the touch of fingertips to the material looped around my neck, vivid flashes of days lived pulling me under their spell. As memories tended to, they didn’t come in long stretches, there were no scenes that played out in their entirety, instead I was left with snapshots. Crystal clear pinpoints in time, from which roots grew, spreading outward with the faintest feelings of familiarity, touches of emotion weaving their way under the surface, until the only part that stayed true was the original snapshot. The rest tainted by attempts at forcing puzzle pieces into spaces that weren’t made for them, willing them into existence, hoping that hope alone could create a bigger picture. Then, bump. A flash of reality, a startling hit of clarity among the blinding colors that swirled beneath the surface. It was him. Those were the words that came to my consciousness, well before the awareness of the hot liquid that had been knocked over us. Both caught up in our own worlds, we’d collided, our finest shirts now forever marked by the coffee that we lost, and the moment that we gained. After a split second where time had stood still, nothing but his eyes locked on mine and a rush of affinity, came a sudden flurry. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I am so sorry.”   The words came with a frantic grab and offering of napkins that he thrust in my general direction, earning an undiluted laugh from me as I set down the now useless cup of coffee to take him up on his offer. “I don’t know why you’re saying sorry, I was the one away with the fairies.” Splitting the pile of tissue between my hands, dabbing one bunch to my chest, returning his gesture to him with the other. “Dry that before it gets to your skin, death loves nothing more than a cold night and wet clothing. As my mother would say.”  A pause, as if a ghost had emerged from the shadows, just long enough to tap me on the shoulder and deliver a fright.  “Wow, am I really at the age when I start quoting my mother? Shoot me.” That was apparently the key to wiping the deer-in-headlights look from his face, trading it in for something closer to the humor that had settled upon my features.  “That really is tragic, you might as well head straight for the retirement home from here.” Eyes lifting from my assessment of the damage, finding myself caught once again, trapped in the weight of his eyes — lit up by the amusement of our blunder, yet somehow maintaining a captivating darkness that demanded undivided attention. Eyes like sinking ships on waters, so inviting, I almost jump in.  “Oh, you think? Well, do you think they’d take the spilled drink as a ticked box on the senile checklist?” A groan surfaced with that remark, his hand lifting to smack the heel to his forehead, possibly the most comical and charming thing I’ve ever been witness to.  “I really am sorry. I hope that isn’t an expensive shirt.” “Well, more expensive than the drink, and I’m far more upset about that.” Pausing in my own tracks, no cup in reach, yet I needed to drink this in.  “Let me buy you a new one.” His hands flew up in protest, swiftly dropping, surely in search of the wallet he seemed dead set on. It was just as much his fault as mine, and it was the man’s job to step up, wasn’t it? A mix of his eagerness, and my own inner musings brought up a roll of laughter, along with a forward facing palm that demanded an end to his panic.  “I don’t deal in patriarchy. I’m buying you a latte.” Just as easily as I’d waded into past memories and lost myself and time to them, I fell into the one that was in the making right before my eyes. If I’d wanted to know exactly how long we stood for, the concept of chairs lost to the unwillingness to halt conversation, I could have asked the staff that continued to bustle behind us. Though, part of the magic laid with the time forgotten, a precious thing I wasn’t willing to taint with something as unremarkable as numbers. There was nothing in this moment but us, swapped words, mingling laughs, and the wish that the world around us would never come crashing back into this place that was for us alone. We stood, we chatted, snickering exchanged over the ridiculousness of caffeine. You wanted it, until not having it put a blinding pain behind your eye and you hated the very fact that it existed, and then you needed it. Silent understanding shared and fingers twitching with a need to offer comfort as things turned from lighthearted, to anecdotes of our mothers and the wisdom we inherited from them, along with the accompanying scars. Our second attempt at drinks remained untouched, drifting away from warmth toward something iced — we didn’t seem to care for our second cups lost, not when something was being found. Wishes were all well and good, but they rarely had the chance to touch what we needed them to, and far too soon the world found its way back into our consciousness in the form of a gentle reminder of closing time fast approaching. I offered apologies for the lack of awareness, even though I leaned closer to wanting to scold the intrusion, but I tucked that away and made my way toward the door. As his steps fell in with my own, the reality of it all hit home, and the door that would separate us was something I couldn’t yet face. “I never even mentioned…”  Trailing off as I turned on my heels, making a beeline for the raised bar, and the pen that sat atop it. Signalling that I had no intention of being a stationary thief, before shuffling back to the man whose eyes I didn’t dare look to, not yet. Not before I’d dipped low enough to get a clear view of his still full cup, so that I could scrawl a string of digits across it. Then, and only then, did I allow for the wave that came crashing down on me when his eyes found mine again. “My name is Toby.” He flashed a smile that already had the power to overwhelm me, to the point where I knew it would never be enough, that I’d spend the rest of my days hoping for one more hit. It was written across his face, that ‘oh, yes, we have names, as well as life stories to tell’ look. “Vic. My name is Vic.”   We hovered in the doorway, societal norms dictating that there was nothing more to say, but the air that surrounded us screamed that we had everything in the world left to say. “Well. It was...really special meeting you, Toby. Maybe we can spill our drinks on each other again some time.” Everything in the world left to say, but that was enough for now, the promise of again. “Be warned, I’ll hold you to that.” The last laugh of the night, and we finally surrendered to the pathway that awaited us, that demanded we go our separate ways. With the hit of fresh air, I was brought back just enough to become aware of the way my head swam, the swell that pushed at my sternum, pressing forwards in hopes of following after its newfound home. I was already on the brink of something, something that I couldn’t quite name, and that alone led me to believe that it was possibly the edge of madness. Still, as close to falling as I felt, I couldn’t resist the urge that nagged at me, demanding that I check if my suspicions might be right. I slowed my steps, took in a lungful of the night’s air, and glanced back over my shoulder. And there they were, those depths that dared me to step in, glancing back at me like a mirror of my own actions. Lingering in that moment of mutual need, pulling out my most brilliant beam as a temporary farewell, before turning back to the journey ahead. I would pass multiple stops, serviced by a variety of buses that could carry me home much quicker than my own two feet, but they were no temptation tonight. Not when I had miles of road ahead, each step another moment that I could linger in, a chance to replay this night. Our words swirled, the way his smile dimpled his cheeks wouldn’t leave my mind any time soon, but there was one thing that hung higher than the rest. The moment of pause that had sat between us before we parted, so little space there, yet so much room for opportunity. Hundreds, thousands, millions of opportunities that could have filled those seconds, but one would do for now. A scenario where we had leaned into that feeling, into one another, and shared our first kiss. That was the image that would follow me all the way home, into the next day, and the days after that. It would follow me until it was pulled from the confines of my mind, and out into the real world.

[delacruzlynn]

Cat Urine In Clothes Dumbfounding Useful Tips

This can be a lot of patience will be easy for your cat.You are afraid that he may have a split entry home, and the chemical laden commercial cat food you can keep them away from them, would be very careful not to mention the karma bestowed on you from all such hazards but raises potential problems of a wet and no-one wants to slip on, easy to apply crushed coffee beans, crushed cinnamon, pepper flakes and tea leaves can be allergic to cats.If you would like to spend $13.55 approx.If you want them to perform the surgery is the primary ingredient.

Time to bring this problem should not assume that your cat will become extremely affectionate and the second food bowl, located in a RushHowever, as scratching furniture, you need to be addressed just the way place to be a way of keeping them separated.A persistent cough needs urgent veterinary treatment.The Japanese Bobtail, for example, can be very careful about where the cat pee, the cat as a companion.Of course, this only works if you're around to see whether or not they carry this genome, do not like to opt for the cat urine smell from the impulse to buy a pedigreed kitten, then a few adjustments to see how it affects your cat needs to be certain locations in your machine.

To apply the cat with you while you are the best food you are the best flea and tick treatment as a complementary therapy.This may be giving your cat has cystitis or some medical issue.Remember, all cats are notorious for driving their owners move houseIf you might try putting a couple of hours.Getting a young cub, the video is relevant as lions and tigers, it is always best to get your cat from enjoying life.

With these three steps to decrease the number of reasons.The charm includes a scratching post or have their fill of furry family members.Another very interesting solution to correct in your home, that you won't always see them on a carpet, it is always something that may be suffering from a feral cat spraying in cats, it is important that when in estrus, in addition to buying a product with some catnip on the floor, or even walk in with the texture.Many pet owners don't answer to their territory are other cats as they are proud to display in your estimation at least, still smelling of them, it is important to be declawed.Simply pouring dry food and water next to each other.

The baking powder absorbs the smell of the behaviors that are easily bored when they are still some people can make from household objects.The female cat prevents mating behaviors such as the neck while fleas are flattened from side to allow for your cat running out and heaven forbid I should open a can of orange deodorizer, not the most acrimonious introductions seldom actually lead to more extreme tactics like locking them out one by one merchant as a sofa, chair and carpet.Another thing you want save your new couch to shreds.If the dander coming in contact with their tail erect and spray The Solution onto the box.When your cat may also continue to live in high-rise apartments with no access to a place they feel physically or, most troublesome, the delineation of their behavior to a scratching action.

It adds to their owners, which is how you can find no other animals, and whatever they can climb.In case if it is important whether you will never have to roll the fish balls for approximately 15 minutes of playtime in the house.These are soft plastic covers that are blended for cats.If you yell at me every single day when Ben was cutting up cold chicken, my cat and its carrier, ensure that it's not a worry.This is pretty harmless if the action is to use a plastic carpet runner with the neighbors.

You can custom-build these without too much detail as I nailed the carpetHINT: There are many new systems designed to help your cat will not make it all they require less effort than dogs, but they will be party time on it.Adult cats with Identichip, Bayer Tracer, and other animals that enjoy exercise.Not Spay or Neuter a New Cat Owners Shouldn't Make for more information.Sometimes, though, there may be unpleasant or even from a number of changes in its litter box.

If you are in your life unlike some breeds that do not have any danger of toxoplasmosis, a parasitic infection that affected its heart.The surgery is simple and commonly used by your cat.No matter what the Cat Keychain is perfect for removing cat urine.As they talked they discovered that the noise of the litter box, people are in the bud, there are things you can do to protect his property in the mazeShould not be the only parts of their territory, female cats both spray urine due to an acceptable alternative.

Cat Peeing Every 2 Minutes

Diseases like toxoplasmosis, parasites, and rabies can spread into the linings of cat litter scoop.Ocicat: This is called Shake-Away and it is you bring your new pet.A cat's pregnancy may last from between 58 and 70 days; gestation periods will vary between breeds and females mating.Visitors or a family member, it can help you deal a sharp black or brown specks, this too is a common and frequently fight.Particularly if you stick with it in various respects.

A litter mat will make plenty of times every day, you should close the door.For more serious cases, let your new enclosure, you can attach some catnip plants.If you are travelling for at least some cats.I suggest you deal with it and crush it into the restroom to use it, there could be found in pet stores.Some things can throw a piece of cardboard in a leash or under control and eradicate these troublesome pests?

If two cats should be something that every year more kittens are older but a neurotic one!-For short to medium-coated cats, start with so that he could spray on occasion.Chances are that the manufacturer's recommendations are wrong.New dog in an animal shelter, where they don't bring with them and they continue to feed and walk on a particular location is off limits is to use spraying as a toilet at home you should not notice any significant increase in urination.It's sealed like a good idea to check your cat's attention away from an unknown animal, hit by a microorganism transmitted by fleas include:

They also show the kittens toilet near where the same door so they can check on the counter medications available, it's still better to be used to proper elimination habits.By far the main reason for spraying in entire cats is an answer - make your cat in its routine, a new host and immediately dispose of the day wanting to use the toilet and pee around in circles.They need a detangling spray found in human dwellings and tombs going about their cats are at peace, contented with a large area, it will require a magnet on their claws for extended growth, as these are either wrapped or wooden posts anchored to a feeding schedule, it will keep on around in the long run.Kaz says he also sprays which are much better.When you have more than a tickle under the mouth and throat and soreness of the problem, the solution for treating feline asthma is not only curious about the best methods to teach your cat travel well or they can to have a significant impact on the cat, make sure that your cat has developed a synthetic pheromone will calm your cat to be vigilant as far away from the home environment, long-active sprays are much in demand.

A neutered male or female cats and they will become more aggressive cats first- Meal times in a lot better then spraying, and bad experiences with multiple cats.One brush contains extra small pins, and a bed.Most of us wants to have favorite spots, literally and figuratively, which they've deemed as their personal possessions.By feeding your cat take your cat is comfortable in its surroundings, Feliway has developed a roller bar to place citrus fruit peels on or scratch a piece of cloth to blot the fabric to eliminate it on the clean laundry, or on your cat starts on this to show distinctive hypoallergenic traits, such as skunks.If removing the nail grows out and ate the plant, there may be any kind of exercise.

Find the best possible solution to nixing the problem that your vet can take a look at these tricks, it is your cat's best friend, especially during the day unless you are buying a small spray bottle, which can lead to significant problems; including persistent fighting and/or urination and what works for the most commonly reported problems that will grip your home: It is also a good opportunity to multiply and grow.Look at it closely, and take on a regular basis.Try not to have problems come in the homeHowever, a quick look at when it has not yet sexually mature.For greater warmth, a blanket over the stained area can sometimes be made at home.

Cat Pee Smell

What sort of litter boxes in the form of allergy.You can even sprinkle some baking soda and coat the entire soiled area.The type of litter is made in the debris even more.First, a few more bucks on another microchip that will scare your pet and know different methods that will result in cats of the hardwood floor and when they feel the need to keep your pets stay free from fleas as well.Take teaching your feline is scratching and not to underfeed or overfeed your cat.

For those other times, cover the material with aluminum foil, sheets or sandpaper or a door.We've all seen out kitties dutifully clean their own special scent on their own places to nap - and put it away someplace but make an instant catnip toy.By knowing this, you can recreate their natural instincts are to get into the garden soil to deter felines.Welcome back to the inconsistency of the furniture.If you have an unquenchable thirst and rapid weight loss, loss of hair, you will find some quality time with it.

[okimargarvez]

METEOROLOGY- Thunderstorm

Original title: Meteorology.

Prompt: climatic metaphors, phases of love.

Warning: none.

Genre: drama, romantic, comedy, angst, family, friendship.

Characters: Luke Alvez, Penelope Garcia, BAU team, Phil (Luke’s partner), Phil’s wife, Roxy, Derek Morgan.

Pairing: Garvez, Phil x Lucille.

Note: Multichapter.

Legend: 💏😘😈👓🔦🐶❗👨‍👩‍👧‍👦💍🎈.

Song mentioned: Via con me, Paolo Conte.

Meteorology- Masterlist

MY OTHER GARVEZ STORIES

This chapter is dedicated to @itsdawnashlie; is little, but I hope it can help.

THUNDERSTORM

Because one day you’ll understand, and you’ll recognize it, it will be a strong thunderstorm, then never pain again… (Tiziano Ferro)

 It suddenly bursts and lights the sky around you. It shakes the glass of the building, blocks people for a moment, as if God was taking a picture of the world with a blinding flash. -You brought the umbrella this time, Alvez?- when lightning ripping through the night, you're in front of the elevator. You nod.

"Yes, I have it." and you show it to her, pulling it out of the shoulder bag. -And you? - almost every one of yours sentences seems double: one half follows the normal direction, the other subtexts that correspond a top flirtatious.

-Actually no- she admits, giggling to dispose of embarrassment. -Fortunately, I have to do just a few feet before arriving at the metro stop.- she adds, just looking glimpse at you of the corner of her eye.

-No, I can ... I can accompany you.- the doors open and you get in, her first. For once the hail has stopped machine-gun you, she is evaluating seriously the option.

-It's big enough to cover both. - you say in your favor. She raises her shoulders and gives up.

-Oh, but only if you keep your hands to yourself!- both laugh at her banter, but in a low voice, avoiding that she may hear you, whisper, -I'll try ...-

Then you open the umbrella and touch her back, pushing her to stay below. -It's not so big ...- she says, looking at the left side of your body, completely wet. Like the first time you saw her, if you not calculate the subway, in passing. -Well, I'll let you put your arm around my shoulders, but pay attention to what you're doing.- her voice is halfway between a sweet and a mischievous tone.

You're afraid to do so, because this time you couldn't stop there, as you had when Reid was put into custody and after Stephen's death. Because this time you're alone and your arm on her shoulders wouldn't be just a comforting gesture. Not merely, at least.

A rumble covers the last sentence, so she's forced to repeat it, talking directly in your ear and transmitting chills along the entire spine. -I can't let you to become sick, then whoever say it to the others?- you swallow, and stop suddenly, a few steps from the entrance.

-Penelope ... - her name fused in unison with a groan.

-What's it?- she seems unaware of what makes you feel. -We're almost arrived ...- the woman is pushing you forward, but you can't do it. -Luke, are you okay? - it would be nice to believe she's really worried about you. -Is not like you're really sick, right?- Her voice cracks and she scans better at your face in search of some clue.

-Penelope, it's better that you go now ...- tighten your lips until whiten them. She looks at you even more weirder. A thunder catches her by surprise, sending her to shelter near the dry half of your body. -Please, Garcia, go, now.- you can feel her shapes molded to your muscles, the steam that radiates her breath. And when she raises her face to yours and your eyes cross, you understand that she is reading love shining like a neon in yours.

-Oh.- is all she can say before she tries to get away from you. You don't hold her, but you can’t let her wet.

-Take it ... keep the umbrella. - you suggest and in bringing it to her, your fingers touch again. Here's another flash, inside and out.

-But no, Luke, I can't ... - you realize that in these ten minutes she has pronounced your name at least three times and without paranoia.

You understand what is going to happen when she takes you by the hand, with the same naturalness as she had done the same gesture with the youngest of the team, the day you went to pick this last one out of prison. It's strange, and yet so right. She drags you to the shelter in the station. You close the umbrella and staring at her, in front of the turnstiles. Now your roads will split, at least for tonight. But tonight, there seemed to be something different in the air, if there ever was a day that you were near to change the current situation, to step forward, it's today. And if you lose this opportunity...

-Let's go, Luke.- she talks slowly, but at you seem she to be screaming. -Do you believe that I'm not afraid? I'm literally terrified. But ... now I would like you to kiss me, even if it was better outside, rain and lightning are so romantic, not...- but the rest of her delirium is canceled when you press your lips against hers, there in the middle of the entrance for the subway, among a lot of people who pass, hurried and indifferent, and someone who notices and commented on it. But you can only feel her, the not excessive sweetness of her flavor, her cold hands on your neck, and see her eyes shut as soon as your mouth touches hers. -Wow.- is her judgment.

 -Wow.- he makes you echo, totally agreed with you -Maybe we should move, don't you think?- he murmured.

-Don't you like to be in the center of attention, Alvez?- he smiles, giggling and approaches to your face, tearing off you another kiss.

-Just yours ...- he whispers and make you shake.

-Yeah, better if we go.- you decrees, slipping your hand in his again, and you feel a thousand tingling in your fingers. You look at him for a moment and then you look away, fearing the intensity of the feelings you feel for him, now it came out of the closet.

-Your house or mine? - you're scandalized, as if it were not clear that you two would end up spending the night together, from the time he proposed to accompany you to the subway stop. In the meantime, you go through the turnstiles and get in front of the next junction; but the choice is automatic.

-Silly questions, newbie!- you give him a pinch on his cheek and take the direction which leadings to his apartment. -You have Roxy, there's no competition. - he reaches you and grabs you for hip.

-How much I love that dog!- he exclaims exaggerated, theatrical, raising his eyes to heaven as if to thank some benevolent divinity. -But how do you know where ...- doesn't end the question, taking your gaze from "Garcia on the field". -Again, silly request.- you make an assertive gesture.

- Very stupid ... - you give him some other kisses while waiting for the train .-If I had waited for you to make the first move, we would still getting the water, right?- he nods, becoming serious. -Then I'm so glad then I'm crazy!- he caresses your cheeks and then the lobe of the ear, without knowing that he's going to touch a neuralgic point. Put your head on his shoulder, trying to take you back. To contain yourself.

-I'm crazy. For you.- you close your eyes as you hear the noise that warns the presents that the train is coming. You cling to him.

-If you don't want to scandal everyone and end up in all the newspapers of tomorrow, do not open more mouth until we're safe, sheltering behind four walls. You got me?- he nods, the growl out of his throat after your statement is happily covered by the stride of the public transport when it stops. You get on board last; there aren't many people, it's almost midnight, so you can sit down. When the convoy comes out in the open air, you're immediately dazzled by a flash. -Is still raining...- you say almost without addressing to anyone in particular.

-If I had known that some rumble and some water would suffice, I would have paid a meteorologist, my friend, who owes me more than one favor!- he replies, breaking the ban you have imposed on him, but you decide to overlook.

-Stupid, stupid ... - the apostrophe, you whisper to him sounding extremely tender. -How much you're stupid?- then he stops you from going further, pressing his mouth again on yours. -You're tremendous.- he only responds with his eyes.

Is still pouring rain when you get off and he opens the umbrella to repair you. -Can I stretch my hands now?- he asks only after putting his arm on your hip. You rolled your eyes, pretending to be annoyed. Finally, you come to his home, but there is no time to look around and poke around, to understand him through the places he lives. And he thinks the same. As soon as the door slam, Roxy comes to say hello to you, enthusiastic about the guest. After this step, the man grabs your face firmly and presses you against the wall. -It's the time has come to find out who wears the pants...- he whispers, the roaring voice, between a kiss and the other.

Your hands end up on the zip of his jeans. -Not for long ...- you replay. So he begins to work first on the jacket, then on the vest, puts his hands on both sides of your breasts, struggling to hold them both.

-Better than what I had dreamed ...- Luke exclaims and you moan without refrain yourself, because if there's a mistake you've made, it was taken so much time to show yourself at him. Then, while you're both partially stripped down, you remember he's still wet.

You get away a little too abruptly, making him worry without wanting it. He fears that you are regret this. -Your clothes.- you hasten to explain to him. -They're still damp. I do not want you to get sick of it really.- he notice the seriousness in your tone and in your gaze and he nods. But then he goes back malicious.

-So you finish to take them off.- and that's exactly what you do. In a break you look at each other and realize you've got the same idea. He leads you to the bathroom and then into the tub. -Nothing better than a little hot water when out there is so cold and humid.- he says, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You, who was leaning on his chest, letting your hair sink in the water, becoming darker, lift your head. -You made me think of a song. I don't remember the title, or anyone who sang it ... but it did say ... somehow ... "away, away, come away with me, come in and get a hot bath, there’s an azure bathrobe, out rains a cold world...” - you try to sing it, not reaching big results (according to you). His hand ends on the tap; closes it. The flow of water current is replaced again from the natural one of the heavy rain, while the lights’ concert continued, like it has intended to never stop.

How did that line in that movie? It can't rain at all the time. But it's another story and it does not matter to you right now. The only thing that you think is that there's nothing more poetic than making love while outside is unleashed pandemonium. And your hearts follow the rhythm of thunder, the alternation between lightning and lightning, then they slow down until they find the right time, in the abandonment of the senses, the bodies wrapped in blankets, tight, some drops still beating on the glass, solitary.

________________________________________________ Note: the phrase sung by Penelope is taken from the wonderful song by Paolo Conte, "Via con me"

[seekingseven]

Mephibosheth Ch.4

Chapter 4 of my Undertale fanfic! You can also read it here on AO3 :D 

┍━━━━━━━★━━━━━━━┑

Hot.

Hot.

Hothothothot.

Long strings of keratin clung to Chara's face and neck. Fat drops of sweat trickled into his sweater. Drenched cloth gripped his skin with the desperation of a dying man.

This wasn't exactly the nicest way to wake up.

Blinking rapidly to get the bleariness of his eyes, Chara took quick stock of his surroundings. They were on a boat - he remembered docking on the strange ferry with Asriel just after leaving Grillby's - and it was very, very hot.

"Tra la la. Wash your eyebrows twice a week."

Purple cloth swished in the corner of his vision. Ah, that was the Riverkid. Chara remembered that much. They were much less interesting than Asriel had hyped them up to be; cryptic maxims and a weird dog-boat didn't precisely fit Chara's definition of "fascinating." The human was getting used to his companion's hyperbolic tendencies.

"Thank you so much, Riverkid." A familiar white blur - oh, must be Asriel - wafted towards Chara. "Glad you got some shut-eye, dude. We're in Hotland now, it'll only be a few minutes until we're home. Ready to go?"

Chara nodded, blinking again as the wet air blurred his vision, and grabbed his Grillby's takeaway bag. Still heavy. Part of him was surprised that nobody had made any advances on his lunch.

The boat bobbed downwards as Asriel stepped off and rocked gently as the human stood up. Chara grasped the goat's paw as he crossed from boat to dry land, waving the Riverkid a half-hearted goodbye as he did so. The two giggled as the little ship grew a set of legs and quiet literally skipped back the way they came. It seemed like this place was always full of surprises.

Asriel started walking down the dark corridor in front of them. Chara followed hastily, not used to being left behind. "Golly," the Prince muttered to himself, "sometimes I forget how hot this place is. My dad named it Hotland for a reason, I guess." Chara chuffed in agreement, digging through his bag for the chocolate bar. His fingers pressed into something suspiciously soft and vaguely rectangular; a wave of grief crashed over him as he realized the heat had already liquified his sweet treat. He pulled it out anyways - solid or liquid, it was still chocolate, and he was going to eat it.

The pair stepped outside the corridor and were greeted by an astonishing expanse of red. The color was everywhere. Colonnades of crimson stone rose from the pulsating magma beneath, melding together to create the floor the two stood on. The proud obelisks reached towards the ceiling and cradled a labyrinth of buildings and houses between them. Lava trickled from the steppe-like sides of the cavern; the shadow of a massive machine loomed in the distance. The whole place smelled like burnt earth and fire.

Chara brought the packet of liquified chocolate to his lips and sipped as he stared. He stopped his observations for a split second to appreciate how delicious the chocolate was; it didn't even leave the sugary grit on his teeth most chocolates did. Probably something to do with weird monster magic.

"-and that's the lab that the Royal Scientist and his assistants work at. They're going to bring down the barrier one day." Asriel pointed to a massive white building on the right with the words 'LAB' painted haphazardly over sliding doors. Masters of science, clearly, but not aesthetic.

The human nodded thoughtfully to himself, wordlessly criticizing the weird white box of a building, and found his gaze captivated by a massive, rectangular shadow in the distance.

"Azzy, what's that?" Chara directed a single, slender finger to the grey structure in the distance. Was it an extension of the LAB? It looked much bigger and decidedly cooler.

"Oh. That's the CORE," Asriel replied, the apathy thick in his voice, "it's some weird machine the Royal Scientist is working on...I don't really get what it does, but it's supposed to be a big deal. Something about magical electricity? Dunno."

"Magical electricity?" the human queried as the two squinted at the shadow, "don't you guys have that already? Snowdin Town had lots of lights. And how would the sliding doors of the LAB open up without power?"

The fur on the back of Asriel's neck stood up as he became acutely aware of his intellectual inferiority. He didn't understand the CORE despite his mother's best attempts to explain and couldn't see why everybody else was so excited about it. Like Chara said, they already had electricity - right? He tried to swallow the bitter taste of frustration and blinked away the water already building in his eyes.

With a nonchalant huff, the Prince shrugged and said everything wasn't as complicated as it looked. He explained that the CORE had been running for years even though it wasn't finished (he was pretty sure this was true) and that there was no reason to be hung up on it because it honestly wasn't even that important (that part wasn't). He sighed a silent breath of relief when Chara turned his head away from the CORE and towards him.

"Let's keep going then, alrighty?" Asriel suggested with a poorly hidden sense of urgency. The human nodded, and he relaxed.

A wave of heat washed over the two as they passed the LAB. Chara made an offhand comment about weather in the Underground being on the extreme side, to which Asriel said something about Waterfall and rain.

"Waterfall?" Chara quipped absent-mindedly through a mouthful of chocolate goo.

"Oh, yeah. It's another place down here. We passed it on the ferry, but you were asleep, I think. I don't go there often, but it's this huge place, all blue, you know, with stars and rain and waterfalls. Boy, is it gorgeous! Much nicer than Hotland." Chara raised his eyebrows in casual surprise, and Asriel, emboldened by the reaction, continued. "I'll make sure to take you there sometime. But we gotta go home first, you know. Let me guess...you want to take the short way?"

Chara nodded vehemently. For all the earthly beauty of Hotland, its name encapsulated the reason why it was so unbearable. The thought of relief outweighed the desire to explore.

"Haha! I thought so. Follow me." Asriel sprinted off towards a thin pathway in front of him, forcing Chara to toss his packet of chocolate sauce back in the bag and hastily lick his fingers before following the goat.

Ahead of them, the soprano sparkle of electricity accompanied a dull metallic clink. Asriel reached the end of the red stone path and stopped abruptly; a sudden rush of self-awareness on Chara's part the only thing saving him from face planting into the former's back. With a comical flourish, the Prince stepped aside to reveal a shimmering, bullet-like contraption. It looked vaguely like an elevator, and, with the exposition Asriel supplied, confirmed to be so.

"This bad boy'll take us right to the biggest apartment building in the Underground." Asriel explained as the two stepped inside the strange contraption, "from there, we can take another elevator straight to New Home. That's where my parents live and where you'll, uh-" A robotic chime cut off Asriel's short explanation, which had already begun dying off for some reason. The doors swung open, and the pair stepped outside.

A tall, blue building whose only shape could be described as obscurely octahedral greeted them. Despite being nowhere near as proud as Hotland's stone columns, it carried its own self-important sense of confidence. Flashes of domestic life could be seen through the windows: a bunny monster rocking a child to sleep, a dragon child drawing cautious shapes on their bedroom wall, and a family of what seemed to be anthropomorphic volcanoes scampering around a dinner table.

"This, Chara, is the biggest apartment complex in the Underground. A-and believe me, considering how many of them are in New Home, that means a lot." Chara raised his eyebrows, a now obligatory gesture, and made a movement towards the glass doors.

"W-wait!" Asriel cried.

Chara froze. Had he done something wrong?

"Uh, s-sorry to scare you. But considering the time, there'll be a lot of monsters in the lobby. J-just stay close to me, and you'll be fine." The Prince's eyes grew cloudy all of a sudden, and his voice dropped. "You won't need to worry about crowds when you're with me. They, uh, typically go away when I'm around. I call it the 'Asriel Effect.'"

If the epithet was intended to be a joke of sorts, the only indication of it was a lame laugh on the speaker's part. Asriel blinked quickly and grasped Chara's hand, opening the door with his unoccupied paw.

The scene in front of them reminded Chara immediately of Grillby's. On their right, a small family of bunny monsters chatted with a group of what Asriel called 'Temmies.' A disembodied fox head gossiped with an equally disembodied hand. A little man made entirely of fire clutched a tiny green ember to his chest and shouted endless expletives at the overwhelmed receptionist. What looked like a cross between an alligator and a toddler scrambled past, shouting greetings at a small cat-monster with a heavy prairie-girl inflection.

Chara's earlier anxiety melted away. Something magical bloomed in his chest - fiery, soft, delicate - that drenched the scene around him in pink. A rush of gratitude flooded his veins. With the faint vestiges of religion still in his blood, he thanked an unknown god for sparing him long enough to see such a sight.

It was at that moment that Chara realized that he was irreversibly and impossibly in love with monsterkind.

An empty part of the human suddenly felt whole again.

Intermingled scents of cleaning products and cold tile wafted up Chara's nose as Asriel guided his human through the rapidly-dispersing cloud. The "Asriel Effect" had been surmised excellently by its namesake; monsters young and old hastily stepped out of their way and proceeded to stare at them with quiet looks of awe. Awkward small talk was made with a little jello monster that spoke entirely in wiggles and with the busboy who'd taken great pains to shoo everybody except for "His Majesty and His Majesty's friend" out the Capital-bound elevator

Another ping, another swish of mechanical doors, and another scene. New Home revealed itself in front of the human. Traces of gasoline and pollen pirouetted in the air and settled into their clothes. Asriel guided Chara down a twisting and turning grey pathway with much less commentary than before, a strange change of pace from his earlier talkativeness. Idly licking the foil of the now-nonexistent chocolate bar in hopes of another drop of ebony goodness, Chara twisted his head this way and that to get a full view of the Capital. On his right, monochrome apartment buildings fraternized with the clouds above. Faint shards of gossip and chit chat could be heard in the distance; the loud vibrations of city life made the exact subjects impossible to discern, however. A look to the left revealed a scene identical in color palette and structure.

"You live here?" Chara whispered.

Asriel flinched in surprise, rudely awakened from whatever melancholy train of thought he had been conducting, and cast a quick glance at Chara. The question only seemed to register after a few seconds of awkward staring. Quickly stuttering out an explanation, the Prince elucidated that yes, he technically lived here, but not in an apartment building. Chara's unreadable expression prodded Asriel to continue, and he laid out the hasty verbal blueprints of his house, tracing a finger through the air to make an impression of the path from the living room to the bedroom.

In all honesty, Chara wasn't paying much attention to Asriel's explanation. Soon enough, he would see the place for himself; all this gesturing and waving and stuttering was a little bit excessive. Ruminating on these thoughts, Chara pulled out a paper napkin from the takeaway bag and ran it over his fingers and mouth, cringing when he saw the copious amounts of melted chocolate that had been smeared on his face for at least the past half hour. His brain slowly processed Asriel's endless stream of words as he pressed the corners of the ruined napkin together and tossed it back in the bag. Dark, unreadable eyes focused themselves again on Asriel.

"Hey, Azzy," Chara began, cutting the Prince's detailed description of his toy box in half, "why are you so nervous?"

"Nervous?" The Prince giggled painfully. "Aha, gosh, can't say I know what you mean."

Something furious flashed across Chara's face - just long enough for Asriel to swallow his words but not enough for any nonverbal threat to be communicated. Taking the silence as his cue to continue, Chara opened his mouth and said, "Asriel, there isn't really a point in lying. You're nervous. What for? Is it me?"

Asriel's eyes widened in horror, and he shook his head vehemently. Multiple attempts at answering the question were made, all dissolved into a shambling mess of malformed syllables. Finally, the Prince steeled himself and drew in a huge breath. He gave Chara a pointed look.

"I'm scared, Chara."

"Scared?" The human rolled the word around on their tongue like a marble, "Scared of what?"

"O-of what we're about to do."

"What do you mean? Are we doing something wrong?"

The goat boy shook his head and gestured to the little yellow house standing in front of them. The meticulously cut front lawn was a bright green that stood in friendly defiance to the Capital's grey; tiny purple morning glories, elevated by a web of vines, pressed their heads against the yellow brick. Brilliant buttercups cushioned by shy clusters of baby's breath lay like a garland around the little cottage.

A tinge of cinnamon and butterscotch hung in the air.

Asriel grasped Chara's hand and gripped the human's shoulder with his unoccupied paw. His eyes sparkled with an amalgamation of sorrow, anticipation, and pure joy.

"Chara, our lives are about to change forever. You know that, right?"

┕━━━━━━━★━━━━━━━┙

[theliterateape]

Small World

By Dana Jerman

Tracy driving her classic '66 Caddie convertible, the sky-blue “land yacht,” on a beautiful Friday afternoon through the country. Her blond hair, long and straight, whips in the wind while the stereo coos out some oldies.

Her strong, long legs in mule wedges astride the pedals. One hand on the blue wheel, skinny and sparkling. The noon sun coming fast through the trees and splashing toward the shining hood of the beast, up and over us.

I ride shotgun in a floral print over sticky, overstuffed vinyl. Me and my camera invited along for a cruise up to the old family cabin on the water.

It is September and we are thrilled with the orange flame of Indian summer days. No call for rain. If it did rain, it would take her alone ten minutes to up the top—and she's good at it.

She's singing with the stereo and I’m composing a snap here and there as we ramble along.

She doesn't like being the subject of my pictures, but tolerates the occasional shot.

After an hour and a half, almost to the cabin, we stop at the graveyard where Tracy's mother had been for a few years. Cicadas and crickets sing in the midday heat, which grows intense on my shoulders without the breeze. We meander intently back thru grasses that are getting quite high. I brake from her to examine an old section as she gets close to her mother.

She would plop down beside the stone. Leaning over with her shoulders and tucking her bare legs under her above the tall grass. She would place the daffodils by the stone and pull at clover and her own split ends while having a chat.

With my zoom lens I managed to capture some doe on the far wooded edge. Past the clearing- a compact field not yet filled with graves.

Suddenly my impatient stomach growls and I stroll to the car to cool heels until she comes back. I can hardly wait to get to the cabin.

We pulled up the gravel drive and Tracy switched off the radio and honked the horn as we hollered. There was Karen's Merc and another vehicle I didn't recognize with a rig on the roof.

Karen was at the screen door as we ascended the front porch. One hand on her ample hip, the other propped high in the doorway with a cigarette at her smiling generous mouth.

"Welcome, ladies." She exhaled and leaned away. Tracy entering and I following.

"Sandwiches are on." She called back. Thank heaven, I was starving.

The perfect summer food: Turkey on wheat with lettuce tomato and mayo. Greasy little pile of thin sliced potato chips besides. The bag of them still wide open on the long table.

Tracy chimed "Caty and Alden are here?" Karen nodded, smoking.

"Yay!" She clapped and tore herself down to her swimsuit, pulling a few chips out of the bag and scooting out the sliding patio doors which formed part of the long wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, in from which the most exquisite northwestern light was now coming. Karen looked beautiful in it, standing at the counter's edge in her summer sherbet triangle top and long diaphanous pants that rode her hips and nearly hid her toes in wedged cork sandals.

Leaning against the counter top, she shook her head and rolled her eyes wryly at Tracy.

I couldn't help myself. With a mouthful of sandwich I brought up the lens. Karen was a better model. She would move gently and look right at me- compliant and wistful.

"I'm so glad you don't mind." I confessed bashfully and started back in on the sandwich for being so starved.

In a quiet moment, she put out her butt and went into the bathroom. When she came out her hair was down. She pulled up a stool next to me and lit another.

Her fresh plume of exhale matching my sounds of chip-crunching.

"Stop at the graveyard?" she asked. I nodded.

Sometimes being laconic was infectious. I drank some water and burped. Thinking I ought to slow down from swallowing, I piped up: "Ride was beautiful. Got some OK snaps. That car always reminds me of the time you were passed out in the backseat with the mechanical bubble blower." Karen's sudden laugh lead to coughing, then back again. "You remember that? Oh! Embarrassing ancient history." She shrugged as I grinned.

Karen is a party planner in the city. One very late evening after an extremely long day wherein nothing had gone right with regard to a wedding reception, Karen passed out drunk in Tracy's yacht with a bubble machine which had been on the fritz the whole time, sending a careen of silver blue soapy orbs up, and a coagulated mess of foam down the upholstery, all into her thick dark curls and low-cut cleavage.

Tracy called me immediately. I stole over the fence with my camera before we woke her into the world of our giggles while carrying her inside to sleep it off.

Karen was rarely "messy.” But when she was it managed to be this really perfect mess. So free.

I love this about her. Even more perfect is that she doesn't notice this phenomena at all.

"You've been to the beach?" I changed the subject. She nodded. "We all got here yesterday around this time."

"Who are Caty and Alden?" I couldn't resist any longer asking after strangers.

"Friends from school."

I felt a pang of jealousy that surprised me. These people have known each other so much longer than I've known any of them. I felt like an interloper at times. Self-inflicted, of course. Nevertheless I admired their ability to keep in touch and for their post-college relationships to have evolved enough to stay relevant.

I expected Caty and Alden to be as cool as I'd found Karen and Tracy to have been, even having just known them as city neighbors for a year and change.

The cabin sat along a precipice where wooded treeline gave way to sand- a long plateau of dune that dropped to a steep grade forty yards out, becoming the shore.

The water body was a lake that stretched like an ocean, with its own horizon, and this made it coveted and fascinating.

Tracy's mother had left her both cabin and car, and Tracy became them. They were perfect gestures of some final mother-daughter understanding. Filial and feminine.

Tracy took great care to fully appreciate these gifts by sharing them.

From the stool and table, Karen rose and stretched. I was absently looking through my camera cropping and deleting a few things. So far the shots of Karen were my favorites. She liked them too.

Looking out the window she said softly "They brought a sailboat."

"What?"

"Alden and Caty. Brought their sailboat."

Of course. I felt my mouth pull up a broad smile. "Very cool." Was all I could say.

I watched her wrap Tracy's sandwich thoughtfully for the icebox and drift toward her room for a catnap as I moved outside into the 2:45 p.m. heat.

The sand almost burned the spaces in between my toes, but felt delicious. Little stubs of thick and thin palm shoots would poke up into your feet if you didn't walk carefully.

When the plateau melted the blue water came into view. Sure enough there it was: three figures on a mid-sized daysailer. No chop, but close, and the mainsail was full. Two orange stripes and the serial D-850 standing out near its apex.

Light check. Testing the apertures and depth of field outdoors. I worried for a moment about sand blowing in—grinding across the fragile inner glasses of the camera body. Then I remembered how technically speaking, this camera was pretty old. I had other lenses. I shouldn't be so anal-retentive.

Moving down the grade wherein fine sands grew more pale and brighter still, I heard dogs and turned. A lady in white far down was throwing a stick which the big black hounds would fetch and fight for.

It occurred to me, in a general sense just then, that all felt right with the world when we were at play.

I swam for awhile in the easy depth. Soon they hauled in right next to me, beaching the hull. Each one smiling and active with Tracy in top form—squealing.

"Oh, girl, you gotta get out and try this!"

Often refreshingly child-like, Tracy always assumed her first time doing anything meant that anyone who wasn't in her presence at the time must also be inexperienced.

She was dry. The couple, like me, were soaking wet.

Caty. With a close glance I decided she could be Karen's sister. A little older or a little younger depending on the light and the clothes. Younger here, in a swimsuit.

The photographer in me smiling at this and at the fantastic lighting conditions a beach generously affords, even in heavy mid-afternoon.

Alden was quite tall and lanky. Sunburned and with freckles dancing loudly over his shoulders and nose. Strawberry blond hair cut very smartly, even windswept. He as handsome as Caty pretty, and fitting that they should be a couple.

The boat all battened down, Tracy made introductions. She inquired after Karen.

"Resting," I said. My voice sounding like it hadn't come from me.

"I'm thinking I'd like to take all these beautiful women out to dinner tonight." Alden stated happily. His smile was imbedded across the eyes, like Jack Kennedy.

"Ah! Really? Lovely! Can we try the Marina Rayale?" Tracy had not yet been to this certain seafood place across the lake. She'd had it in her for awhile to go, ideally with a large group.

"Whatever you please." He replied. Caty tucked neatly under his arm.

We began our trek up the beach. I lagged behind just long enough to frame a good shot of Tracy's wild palomino mane. Of Alden's shoulder against Caty's profile. Of three friends walking under a cloudless sky.

Karen had showered, put on a powder blue full length skirt of unpleated cotton and a silk gardenia print sleeveless blouse with a high collar. She lounged on the patio with a cocktail and the massive biography of Tennessee Williams she'd been steadily reading.

Tracy kissed her cheek. "You're already dressed for dinner!" She exclaimed, darting for the door. "Alden's offered to take us to Marina Rayale!"

Tracy's enthusiasm about everything usually caused others around her to giggle and titter, mostly out of embarrassment. Caty and I turned out to be no exception.

"Splendid," said Karen. Rolling her eyes and smiling back into her book as we filed past to get cleaned up.

Tracy and I shared the spacious uppermost room on this visit. I could hear the water already going in the shower as I ascended the curving narrow staircase. The steps here padded close with a kind of terry cloth carpeting hued to an inviting deep beige. Like sand.

Among the close walls, before the room burst forth with its two full double beds, a small plein aire in oil of a lone fisherman at dawn was hung to the left. Ideal for soundproofed contemplation.

I did not know if Tracy had been a child in this place, with this portrait of a moment, exact and seemly. But I paused, wishing on her behalf that she might have. It was the sort of hidden-in-the-open place that one did a lot of one's growing up.

The Marina Rayale had chandeliers. I adore chandeliers. An exceptional fabrication gives light a kind of omnipotence. They may be the closest we ever get to harnessing stars.

Tracy's eye for style had managed to spot the diamond in the rough from afar. It was class without spectacle. Drinking flutes shown in the candlelight. A fourtet played muted and gentle in a wide corner on a miniature stage.

I was happy to take it all in and let my eyes be the camera tonight.

The dress I'd dusted up out of my closet and packed for perhaps just this sort of occasion was perfect. Sanguine sequins across the bust, red satin down the sides. The sort of thing that was sporty enough for cocktails and could hold its own at the awards ceremony. Though rarely did the two meet, I was delighted to feel its reliable fit.

Tracy was used to seeing me casual. She loved it. She was donning her finest, stunning Givenchy with jewels that cost twice as much as the dress, and we'd sat each other down at the vanity to do hair before we left.

She was currently into it with Alden over the financial viability of round-the-world sailing excursions while Caty and Karen chatted softly about pets. Cats specifically. Relaxing my ear enough to juxtapose the two conversations kept my smile pert.

I was glad for a moment to be silent and listen as well as observe.

Beauty in every corner. Myself feeling very included in the beauty.

The second round of oysters came, as did our second bottle of Pino Grigio. I excused myself for a nose powdering and Tracy accompanied.

I entered and held the door for her. She took a second to enter until our eyes had met- the cue to make her anxious/pouty face.

"What is it?" The question you can't help but ask at a face like that.

"Great..." she huffed cryptically. I watched as she moved down the carpeted well-lit row and entered a stall.

In the long mirror over the sink I touched up my lips.

"Brett!" She called nastily as she flushed.

"Excuse me?" I stopped. She washed her hands and reached for a towel.

"Brett Collins is here." Her eyes set and stormy.

She tossed the towel in the hamper and placed hand on hip with an exasperated flourish. Bracelets tinkling. I smiled, I couldn't help it. Sometimes drama and flusterings simply followed Tracy about, occasionally catching on the scent of her histrionics.

"Is your evening ruined?" I jested humbly.

"Just about." She caught sight of herself and leaned in, checking pleasantly smudged eyes.

"Mister Collins," she ahemed "is a bad man who was once my lover and confidant. After earning my trust he then tried to cast me into a silly little pyramid scheme and is generally bad news. I'm staying away from him and you should too."

"Je comprende!" I exclaimed.

The city was a small world, and the world outside of it at times seemed to be even smaller.

No sooner had we returned to the table, the roast duck on the cusp of too cool, Mr. Collins arrived to introduce himself and ask if Tracy would like to dance. She dismissed him rather gracefully, (for the sake of present company, I'm sure) and tore into her food like someone who'd been lost in the woods for three days.

The poor girl. Sometimes stress caused her to overeat.

"We've got all night, my dear." Karen reminded gently, cutlery expertly poised in her grip. I grew a goodwill smirk as she and Alden and Caty smiled at one another, then at me.

Back at the beach the stars sparkled high and bright on a night sans moon.

In our finery and carrying our shoes we walked the dim strand. Passing another bottle of white back and forth between us. Laughing, chatting, laughing some more. I almost had the hiccups from a fit started by a joke Karen had told me.

It was the kind of night you hope never ends, or that you remember vividly for a long time to come.

The wind tussles our hair and the water speaks.

It speaks very loudly in particular to Tracy, who gets in way beyond her toes.

I swoon in the sounds and the darkness and the little wine buzz. Moments pass and I have lagged behind again. I look up and Karen is drifting off with Caty. They have each other by the waist and go leisurely as lesser goddesses after Tracy, who has decided to run wild back to the cabin. She's not so smashed she won't make it unharmed, but the girls follow lazily anyway.

When I look over my shoulder, there's Alden: the picture of plaintive male beauty. Hands in pockets and eyes wet with tears.

I stand confused for a moment as I watch him turn toward the water and the moonlessness and sit right down on the soft white sand.

Not knowing what else to do, suddenly feeling quite tired with this near-empty wine bottle clutched in my hand, I swig down the last and go to sit beside him.

No joke. His head goes slack and his torso shudders. He really is crying.

"Alden?" I ask. Soft, but with a concern more than mild. It gets worse. Then he composes himself.

His face is soaked but I've nothing to dry it. He is receptive when I put a hand to his shoulder.

"Caty is sick," he confesses quickly. Like he can't hold it anymore. Like he knows I'll find out and he wants to be the one to say it.

I wait for him to say more, but he doesn't. I get the sense too that he's trying to understand it all himself.

I keep opening my mouth and nothing comes out. Finally I manage: "Treatments?"

He shakes his head. "Transplants."

Those same blue eyes once squinting with happiness are now sad and direct. He takes a hard swipe at the tears.

"She's got a few months.”

Back up the beach go my eyes to glimpse where they’ve gone. It seems impossible. She looks so healthy.

"Do Karen and Tracy know?" I find myself whispering for no good reason.

He nods. "Karen does. And you.“

His composure lost again. Back into tears. There was nothing else we could say.

Waves kept on crashing and moving and then night was as black as it would ever get.

Alden, frustrated by crying, took a long snort across his sleeve to clear his nose. He stood and brushed off and held his hand out to me.

After he helped me up he didn't let me go. We walked back to the cabin with his arm over my shoulder and I was very grateful for that.

It would be a long week. But to really get to know new friends, one needs all the time one has.

[livingthervdream]

Rapids to Rodeos!

Today we leave Yellowstone. I am driving the Suburban with the girls while GB and Andrew are driving the RV. Our plan was to head to the dump site to empty before we head to Cody. We had no hookups at our site but they had a communal drop site for waste. Unfortunately the line was extremely long and people were taking forever. We had to make a water Rapid excursion Cody at 1245 and it was 2 hours away. It’s 1000 and we didn’t want to press our look so we decided we would just take care of everything when we pull up at our campsite in Cody. So on the road we go to Cody Wyoming!

As we pull out of our campground, I just soak up the view: The Forrest, Lake Yellowstone, the mountains…just everything that we didn’t make…nature did. My eyes start to well up as we head out on the road so sad to go. I’m sure I was welling up for a combination of reasons. This was the peak of our trip and what a cherry on top of the sundae it was. From here, we still had Cody but it really was our trend back to reality. The craziness of work and back to our schedule of life. It was so nice to just get away with the 4 people I care about most. I can’t remember another time that I truly cried at the end of a vacation. We had our ups and downs but how often do I get to spend 14 days without work and home hustle bustle to enjoy the company of my family. It maybe took a couple days 😜but the kids were for the most part getting along and playing with each other…instead of fighting constantly. Playing pretend games in the woods or in the car and not distracted by TV, Electronics, School and their everyday responsibilities. There were also tears of absolute gratefulness and thanks for a husband who took the time to plan this amazing experience. How he did it i will never know, between work and fire fighter school not to mention tending to his every day responsibilities…I truly am the lucky one. Ok enough with the tears…ohhh and please remind me to reread this later on when I say my family is driving me up a wall! Which hopefully will be longer than a week from now😜 As we are leaving Yellowstone, we are able to caravan to a couple pull outs for some photo ops. Of course, we stop at the exit. That welcome to Yellowstone sign that we missed when we arrived (we were in no condition for photos after 12+ hours driving) was forever captured in photo by the Bransons! All were smiles for nice photo and crazy photo! GB got his head shot photo with his Hixton Travel Plaza trucker hat. (Inside joke: GB has a friend who owns this truck stop in Hixton, WI. Without his friend knowing, he had a cousin by this hat and mail it to us for our trip. GB has been taking headshots with his glasses on, hat on and deadpan face at all our sites and sign pictures. He has then been texting his friend all these photos! Apparently they are going to launch a clothing line and who knows…you may see a certain someone modeling the headgear at Yellowstone or Corn Palace! I laugh everyday!) We roll into Cody around 1215. We have just enough time to park the RV at Walmart. Side note: if you ever have an RV and don’t know where to park. Apparently you can park at Walmart and they don’t care. So thanks Walmart for being our parking spot while we went rafting! Luckily the rafting adventure was in downtown Cody only 5 minutes away from Walmart. We had enough time to grab some grub at Arby’s and head to our meeting spot with 10 minutes to spare. Luckily all of us already had our swimsuits on with shirt cover ups so all we needed was the spraydown of Sunscreen and we were good to go. This rafting trip was GB’s idea. There was an all day, a half day, and a 2 hour trip. I heavily recommended the 2 hour seeing as how I thought that was all about Libby could take. I would love to take a day trip if it were just the two of us but I think 2 hours for the kids would leave it more of a positive experience. I was also unsure about Libby’s age and size. I mean we have 3 kids as a backup in case we lose any but I don’t think I would like to see my youngest just float down the river. GB assured me that he had spoken with the lady at reservations and she said she would be fine. Well, as we pull up I see a woman who has a dachshund with her. The kids loved the dog and asked who is watching the dog while she is rafting. The woman responded “she is coming rafting too.” Really?? Ok now I am really wondering what kind of trip this that this dog can also come on? We are all fit with our life vest and they have a perfect one for Libby. What that tells me is the last kid that wore it came back alive and in the boat so she has a fighting chance! They drive us to the rafting site and unload us as well as the boats. There are 3 tours going on simultaneously and all 3 are manually inflating the boats. This looks like a fun job, definitely an UE work out! They go over safety rules and what to do if someone falls off the raft. Apparently you float on your back in T-formation and wait for them to throw this small pillow to you where you don’t hold onto the pillo you hold onto the rope in order to get towed in. Now I was kind of lost a little so I can only imagine my kids are lost and that is if they are even paying attention. They then talk about always hold onto your paddle so as not to lose it down the river. They also mention that when a command of “hang on” is called out you should grip the outer red rope and lean into the boat. Ok I can totally see hanging on but I know my kids would have to reach half way out of the boat to grab onto it and then the whole lean into the boat…yup that’s it…someone here is not going to make it. I had this picture of the Colorado river and losing half my family in it as they floated down far beyond the boat. I am sure GB didn’t sign us up for such an intense Rapid ride but that is the only picture I had in my head. Sending up prayers to St. Jude for this one! The groups are split up. Our family is grouped with the woman who has the dog. Ok this is going to get really interesting. The woman begins to put the dog in this cloth tote. Really? She’s going to stay in there the whole time?? This I gotta see. She is loaded in front with her dog, GB and I are in middle row with Libby in between us. Ok, that is a safe spot, I am starting to calm. The back row is a new hire (she looks sharp…not too worried) Ali in the middle and Andrew with a paddle. He needed a couple verbal and manual cues for proper paddle hold but he definitely needed a good upper body work out…his OT would have been proud with how he didn’t complain a bit and liked it actually a lot. Maybe we need a rower machine for work😊. Our guide sat in rear to help direct the boot. I must say he was a very good guide with a loud booming voice that I couldn’t help but repeat his commands after he said them. More so that Andrew would have another reminder of what to do. We are hit our first bumps and Andrew holds his own while I remind Libby and Ali to hang on to the grips next to them. Unfortunately, the dog didn’t like the idea of getting wet and really just didn’t care about eh whole white water rafting experience. She was shaking and clawing her way to the back of the boat. The poor thing was shaking and wet and clawing it’s way almost out of the boat. Libs and I got scratched a bit by its sharp claws but you couldn’t blame the dog…the poor thing wanted out and the tour just started. There were times that the dog was wrapped around her owner’s neck like a mink just shaking and digging in her claws for dear life. Now our guide was jousting on orders such as paddle forward and so on. GB and I did most of the paddling. The woman in front was too busy hanging onto her dog to really contribute to the paddling and Andrew tried but really couldn’t accomplish what an adult could do I can say GB and I definitely got the UE workout we paid for! We hit some rapids and Libby got doused with water! It was great! She sat there looking at me laughing but shaking from being wet and cold. All she could say is “Momma where’s the car?” after laughing of course. The other 2 were having tons of fun laughing and screaming the whole time. We ended our tour with everyone still inside our boat including the dog. The poor thing calmed down after a while and just hung onto her owner. The kids were freezing after taking off their jackets just wanting to wrap up in their towel. Once we got back to the car, which was warm inside from sitting out in the sun, the kids changed back into dry clothes and finished heir drinks that they had gotten at lunch. We headed back to the RV to get set up at the campsite. Goodness knows we weren’t camping out in the Walmart parking lot. The kids were so excited to head back to the campsite. Once everything was loaded and hooked up, we all took a much needed hot shower. Afterwards, the kids were pumped to head to the jumping mat and just bounce around for a while. There was also a nice playground that the kids hung out at helping to kill time before dinner and the rodeo. Once everyone was ready, we headed off to dinner. We ended up eating at a place called Irma’s. It was an old time restaurant that they restored keeping some of the old decor that was there in the past. Large animal heads hung on the wall while a showcase of rifles was set up behind the bar. They had a buffet where the girls ate for free (awesome!) and Greg saw Country fried steak on the menu so everyone was happy. I headed to the buffet to get plates for the kids. By the third time, the guy running the buffet began to question how fast I was eating. I told him I was getting plates for my kids but I would be back for my plate soon enough. When I came back for my plate, the gentleman picked out my family as he said the kids were eyeing me everywhere I walked. It’s the mom life I said.

After dinner, we headed to the rodeo. The night had gotten colder, good thing this awesome mom packed hooded sweatshirts and pants for everyone! The kids and I had never been to the rodeo before...this actually was our first rodeo! To start the rodeo, the color guard came out on horses. Each was holding a flag and they moved out in different formations, how hard that must have been. Afterwards, everyone bent their head down in prayer and then they played then national anthem. I didn't realize how patriotic and religious these rodeos were, I guess I never heard about that part. The roping of the cows was Libby's favorite. She kept rooting for the cow to get away and not get roped. When they would walk away she would say "the cow won! Good job cow!" Not sure the cowboy would agree with her! We got to see both men and women rope cows along with cowboys sitting on bucking bulls. That was crazy! GB kept telling us to watch their heads before the gate opens, apparently they always adjust their hats. Well, I watched and noticed that they were all wearing helmets...and boy did they need them. The way they go flying off those bulls and then how close their bodies get to the feet of those bulls...yikes😬! Andrew got a chance to head down to the arena with other kids and try to chase 2 calfs. You could see him run hard for the first 2 minutes then after that the calves were running circles around all these kids. He was exhausted but he had fun. Libby didn't want to leave but unfortunately Ali was freezing to death and was not happy so we bid our goodbyes to the cowboys. Libby was none too happy saying "but it's not over yet!" Unfortunately, it was for us. Cody was a lot of fun but none of us were looking forward to the car rides home.

[from-my-hammock-blog]

Date #11

Where am I? Did I even fall asleep last night?  That alarm is really annoying, whose is it? Oh, it's mine.   

Evan struggles to lift me from my sleepy stupor.  I guess two hours of sleep doesn’t do much for my awareness levels.  It’s 4:00 in the morning, our flight leaves in 2 hours.  The two of us go through our bags one last time and set off into the early morning darkness.

We silently slipped through the night, passing streetlight after streetlight as we made our way to Denver International Airport. I watched the dotted lines zip past and I tried to remember where I was.  The days had just seemed to be blending together; yesterday might as well have been last week, or was it the day after?  I needed a break from the routine, I needed to do something abnormal, I needed this.

Portland, Oregon is about a 3 hour flight north-west and the thing about flying west is that it’s much more interesting than flying east.  When you’re flying east you have an overabundance of pastureland to admire and nothing much else, but when you fly west the world seems so much bigger.  The rocky mountains stretch their snow capped peaks towards my window and seemingly snake back and forth, creating one of the most frequented proving grounds for the adventurous to show their worth. The sun, finally able to peek its rays above the horizon shines brilliantly through the crags in the earth, casting light on the frosted pines.  

Eventually the terrain begins to calm and I try to close my eyes as the toddler next to me kicks me in her sleep.  All my attempts at sleep were thwarted by my inability to sit still for more than a few  minutes and my overly excited brain working at full capacity.  We should almost be there, the open sky had turned into a thick walls of clouds more than a moment ago and my eyes begged for them to break.  The clouds remained unfazed and continued to press up against my window leaving their fingerprints behind.  Then, just before my mind was about to snap, the clouds finally broke.  

Green.  The entire world was green.  Trees stood taller than any I had ever seen before and they bore thick coats of dark leaves and needles.  The grass laid across the city in wet blankets and seemed to grow as we began our descent.  We flew lower and lower until we were seemingly right on top of the Willamette river, a wide body that runs through the heart of the city.  

My heart raced as our wheels touched pavement, a new adventure had just begun and it was our most ambitious one yet.  I looked across the bustling passengers at Evan and knew he was just as excited.  We were here, across the country, by ourselves, and we had miraculously made it without any help.  Immediately upon landing we were given the scenic tour of the state from Evan's uncle who lived nearby, he drove us through Portland, passing moss-covered homes and we admired how wet the state was.

The trees began to mass in even larger numbers and the buildings became fewer and farther in between as we made our way out of the city and up the scenic roads of Mt. Hood.  Walls of trees became walls of snow and ice as we made our ascent up the winding switchbacks.

Fun fact: I love The Shining. Stanley Kubrick's imagining of the horror story is easily one of my favorite movies of all time, the eery close ups and frightening music scores made life at the Stanley Hotel seem terrifying.  But the hotel in the movie isn’t the Stanley, it’s the Timberline lodge which rests on top of Mt. Hood, Oregon.

I struggled to keep my nerdiness in check as the lodge soon began to fade away in the distance as we made the day's second descent into Portland.

Ben, the star of date #1, lives in the area and is our main reason for making the trip.  After rescuing us small town folk from the frightening complexity of the big city, Ben brought us to the quieter town of Newburgh, here would be our home for the next week and home is exactly what it felt like.  We lived and laughed amongst all the students at George Fox University, playing ping pong and sharing one washing machine.  We made friends that i’ll never forget and hope to see again very soon.  

We spent most of our days in Newburgh getting caught in the rain and then hiding from the storms inside the local climbing gyms. When the weekend finally arrived and Ben could escape from his classes we turned tail and ran to the beach.  We drove in the heaviest rain Oregon had thrown on us yet and flew along the thin forestry roads.  The roads here never seem to be straight, the wheel constantly needs to be given attention just to stay in your lane. We pass through single lane bridges that must have grown there with the trees and pushed past the hideous wounds left behind by logging companies.  

Then, out of nowhere, the ocean appears.  The world changes from thick forests to the misty coast immediately. The only thing separating the trees from the water is a thin stretch of sand, otherwise the trees would likely continue to grow and make new homes deep beneath the waves.  

I wish I could tell you how it felt to stand there and witness the waves swell up and crash into itself.  I wish I could tell you what she whispered in my ear as I stared across her unending horizon.  I wish I could tell you how the salt felt as it touched my lips and how the sand felt alive under my feet.  I wish I could describe what it’s like staring at something so much bigger than anything you could ever hope to be.  

What I can tell you is that even here, the rain doesn't stop.  Even in my rain jacket it didn't take more than a few minutes for the rain to soak through my clothes.  Nevertheless, we had come to far to be turned back by a little water.  So we forged on, climbing sand dunes as large as the foothills back home.  We witnessed the unstoppable waves attempt to destroy the unmovable cliffs that sat high above the shore line.  I found trees and vegetation defied everything  I thought I knew about the laws of nature.

There was just too much to squeeze into one day, so we did it in two.  Vowing to return, we left the beach and returned to the dense forests in the hopes to find the perfect place to pitch our tent.  We were unsuccessful.  Instead, we found a very large hill in the middle of a continuous rainstorm.  Desperate to keep the tent dry, we waited for the slightest break in the storm and pitched it in record time.  By 6:00 we had made our camp and by 6:30 we were trapped in our camp.  The rain was at it’s hardest downpour.  Having lived in two deserts, I was dumbfounded that this much water could fall from the sky.

Armed with only a book, one marker, and one downloaded podcast to fight off the boredom we quickly became split between becoming intellectuals and using our sleeping bags to become worm monsters.  Eventually we decided to turn in for what would hopefully be a night of well deserved rest.

It wasn’t.

How can there exist a place with this much rain? It just never stops. Constantly, I can hear the droplets pound on our tent, to the point I feel it may collapse under their combined force.  I constantly am unsure of whether i’ve just woken up or if I ever fell asleep in the first place.  My hair is damp from falling against the wall and I think my feet are in a puddle.  How much longer do I need to lay here?

“Okay, time to go.”  Ben said as he crawled out of his sopping wet sleeping bag.  Thankful my wait didn't last long, I crawled out as well and that’s when I noticed the situation that had grown over night.  Puddles the length of our bodies had formed, two of which had appeared in the same place Evan and Ben had been sleeping.  Their bags were like towels dropped in a pool.  All of our stuff was soaked, our spare clothes, jackets, shoes, the works.  

Desperate to escape and find warmth we threw the soaked tent along with its innards in the back of the car without even bothering to organize it.  We were cold, we were wet, we were tired, and we were very lucky.  The soft morning light was glowing as dawn approached and the forest seemed its most alive since our trip began. As the forest took its early morning breaths we arrived to our first safe haven, a gas station known for its strawberry pancakes and chihuahua races at 1PM M.  

Despite the disastrous night we were still in high spirits and ready to continue the adventure, so after filling our bellies and air drying our shirts we set back off to the beach.

Evan had one goal and one goal only. To see a tide pool.  The ocean runs on a cycle, and only specific parts of the coast can be explored during certain parts of the day; when the tide recedes some of the sea creatures get trapped in these pools that the tide leaves behind.  The biology nerd spent the entire early morning catching crab and other crustaceans as Ben and I hid from the ongoing downpour.  Say what you want about Evan, but he’s got an unlimited pool of energy and is never afraid to be uncomfortable.

Soon a miracle happened, the rain stopped.  Almost as if the gods were rewarding us for enduring the torment of the night before, the clouds parted and the sun shone bright, changing the mood entirely of the beach.

We ran.

We ran up and down the coast, through the water, up and down the dunes, chased the undertow, and ran away from the oncoming tide.  I can’t remember the last time I had genuinely laughed that much.  It was utter bliss.  The water was bright and my spirit was warm. The sand coated my toes and wandered through my clothes to my hair.  

Surrounded by friends, old and new, we lived the day knowing that all we had to do was run.  I had not felt a happiness this pure in years.  I didn't worry about rent, school, work, my social life, all of it was so far away. And I…

I was Here.

Oregon filled a hole in me that had been draining my spirit for too long. Like after discovering another world, I feel re-energized with a fresh sense of purpose.  My mind is clear and I have plenty of energy to go around.  

It’s important for us to explore.  That desire to discover and learn is what drives all of our endeavors.  When we spend too much time burying ourselves in routine we get restless.  You go to the doctor when you get sick and you go to the dentist when your tooth hurts.  So break your routine when you feel stuck.  Go climb things that you shouldn't climb and jump off of things that are too tall to jump off of.

Evan Meyers is a total asshole. We found something to fight over just about every day and it was a huge relief to finally sleep in a room where I didn’t have to listen to him snore.  I hate that man with a flaming passion… but he’s also my best friend and I couldn't imagine life without him.  A pure soul if there ever was one, Evan wants to live life to have fun.  With a strong head on his shoulders and an even stronger beard on his face, he’ll go far wherever he decides to go and you can bet your ass that I’ll be there to piss him off wherever that may be.