#Will probably do this again once Viv drops the other/more. Whatever happens first

[chibijinebra]

Seven Four Deadly Sins

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Good as Gold pt. 15

[part fourteen] | [part sixteen] [prostitute!jaskier masterpost]

There’s a festival in town and initially, Jaskier had wanted to attend; festivals draw everyone out so the brothel has been quiet today and no one would really miss him. But when he’d headed out, he’d found Vivienne sitting out on the porch and found her invitation of wine and company too good to refuse - there will always be other festivals. So now he’s lounging in the sun with her above him, sitting on the railing and they’re watching people go back and forth toward the festivities. He takes a sip of wine and shuts his eyes, basking in the sun’s rays.

“Who wears a cloak in the dead of summer?” Vivienne scoffs and Jaskier chuckles, slowly opening his eyes to see who she’s talking about. His heart gives a little thump of excitement as he recognizes the silhouette.

“Oh! That’s Geralt.”

“Your Witcher?” she asks, just a touch condescendingly.

“Yes,” Jaskier snarks back. “I wonder what he’s doing in town. Gods, but he is magnificent, isn’t he?”

“You’re drunk,” Vivienne accuses. Jaskier doesn’t take his eyes from Geralt as he speaks.

“I’m not. I’d never let myself get drunk while I’m working. It’s bad practice. It just so happens that Geralt of Rivia is the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Plus, he’s the kindest man I’ve ever had in my bed. And thoughtful and actually quite charming once you get to know him.”

Vivienne just gives him a look that clearly says Jaskier, don’t and he laughs it off.

“He’s just a customer, Viv.” But even as he says the words, he silently prays that Geralt can’t hear him. In the moment, he’s not sure which is worse, Geralt thinking Jaskier only thinks of him as another customer or the fact that that’s a blatant lie.

“Jaskier.”

“Listen,” he says, rising to his feet. “I’ve been looking forward to this. Geralt is an incredible fuck and I can’t remember the last time someone actually made me come. Don’t ruin this for me.” He winks as he steps down the stairs and thinks of anything to steady his heartbeat.

It doesn’t matter what Vivienne or Anise or anyone else at the brothel thinks about his relationship with Geralt, but he certainly doesn’t want to say or do the wrong thing with the man himself. Geralt spots him and his lips twitch just so, completely undoing all the hard work Jaskier’s done keeping himself calm and collected.

He pushes himself up from his seat, crossing to meet Geralt halfway to the steps.

“Hello darling,” he hums, wrapping his fingers around the folds of Geralt’s cloak as Geralt’s hands settle on his hips. There’s something intensely satisfying about that and he hopes Viv is watching.

“Who is she?” he asks, looking over Jaskier’s shoulder.

“Vivienne. A friend.”

“She doesn’t seem too pleased to see me,” Geralt muses. Jaskier turns back to find her scowling at him.

“Ah, no. Decidedly not. Don’t worry about her, though, are you coming with me?”

“Of course.” Geralt gives him that little half smile and Jaskier’s stomach flips over itself.

He leads Geralt into the brothel, every bit as aware of Vivienne staring at them as he is of Geralt behind him. But he’s not worried about her or whatever she’s thinking about him - most of which is probably correct anyway. Because Geralt is here now and he’s tense but talkative and usually that means he’s very pent up or already hard. And while Jaskier mourns the chance to get him hard himself, his blood rushes at the thought of Geralt getting worked up for him.

They get up to his room and Jaskier shuts the door and locks it. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust the girls, but his relationship with Geralt has become something of a… talking point amongst the other courtesans. He’s fairly certain there’s even a betting pool of sorts - he’s overheard chatter - but he’s not sure what for exactly and not entirely sure he wants to know. So locking the door is just a precaution - more for Geralt’s privacy than his own. And it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Just a friend?” he asks, eyeing the door. “She really doesn’t want me here, does she?”

“Just a friend,” Jaskier assures him, “she’s not fond of my ongoing involvement with a Witcher. She’s jealous,” he adds with a wink. Geralt drops into the chair in the middle of the room, looking to Jaskier with an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“I find that unlikely.”

“Yes, well…” Jaskier slips around to Geralt’s front, unclasping his cloak and draping it over his own shoulder before undoing the buckles of Geralt’s armour with ease. It’s funny, he thinks, how accustomed he’s come to Geralt’s armour - and this is new for the third time since they met. It was difficult the first time, but even with the new pieces, Jaskier quickly became speedy at removing them. Another thing he could prove useful for, he thinks, if Geralt would ever allow him to join on his journeys.

He tries not to think too much about that or about Geralt’s outright refusal to let him come with him, despite their continued closeness. But if Jaskier has learned anything about the man over the past couple of years, it’s that Geralt is very closed off and getting him to open up is a slow and arduous process. Which is maybe why no one has bothered to do it. But Jaskier is patient.

Geralt smiles up at him as Jaskier’s fingers slip under his chin, tipping it up. It’s one of those rare genuine smiles that Jaskier has learned are saved for people Geralt feels at ease with - and one of the more prized rewards of Jaskier’s patience with him.

He returns the grin, pushing Geralt’s knees apart with his own and moving to stand between them. He aches to lean down and catch that smile with his own lips, to feel Geralt’s fingers through his hair as they kiss, to feel that wicked tongue between his lips. But he laid down the rules that first night and won’t break them now; his rule about kissing is the firmest line between them now, keeping Jaskier from tumbling headfirst into a love that would certainly consume him.

So he restrains himself, bends to kiss Geralt’s neck the way he always does, moving up his jaw as he lifts the final piece of Geralt’s armour over his head. He ducks down again, kissing Geralt’s shoulders, his neck, his jaw - anything close enough to his mouth that he can pretend. He shouldn’t even allow himself this, but Geralt is always so soft and needy under his touch and he can’t help himself.

Jaskier gets him out of his shirt and pulls Geralt to his feet, slipping his fingers into his waistband. Geralt is aroused already, his cock pushing against the front of his trousers, and Jaskier wants to touch, but he knows how much better it is - for both of them - if he can hold out a little longer.

He draws back, smiling coyly as Geralt groans his protest, and walks back to the bed. He drops onto it, tugging his own shirt over his head and tossing it aside. Geralt’s eyes remain on him, looking him up and down, and even after so long, Jaskier’s body heats under the attention. He smirks, crooking a finger in a gesture for Geralt to come to him. And he does.

Geralt crosses the room and stands between Jaskier’s thighs, resting one hand on his cheek and tipping his head up to meet his eyes. The urge to kiss him returns stronger than before, and Jaskier’s hands fly to Geralt’s trousers to occupy himself. He gets them undone in a moment, shoving them down around Geralt’s thighs and running his hand along the underside of his stiff cock.

Jaskier slips a hand around Geralt’s hip, smoothing over the curve of his ass and pulls him close enough that he can get his mouth on him. He wraps his lips around the head, flicking his tongue against him and Geralt groans, leaning into the touch.

Jaskier’s fucked and sucked more people than he could possibly count, but this is something he never gets tired of - especially when it’s Geralt on the receiving end. He likes the weight of a cock on his tongue, the way his lips stretch around it, the musky scent and almost bitter taste. And he loves the way that, when they’re really turned on, they’ll drool against his tongue. And gods Geralt does not disappoint in any aspect.

He loves the taste of them, of Geralt, and he takes him down as well as he can. One of his greatest achievements of late is how much of Geralt’s cock he can fit in his mouth at once - something both of them enjoy if Geralt’s stuttered moans are anything to go by. His hands are on Jaskier’s shoulders, his face, his neck. In his hair. All over him, and always moving. And gods, Jaskier doesn’t think he’s ever wanted someone as badly as he wants Geralt all the time.

Eventually, Geralt’s hands settle on the back of his head, tangling in his hair but never pushing. Jaskier’s never had a customer so gentle as Geralt and he doesn’t know how he ended up lucky enough to wind up with him at all. He presses up into Geralt’s touch as he sucks him down and moans around him. His own cock throbs in its confines, pressing firmly against the front of his trousers and as much as he tries to put it out of his mind, to focus on Geralt, he can’t. He’s weak when it comes to Geralt, prone to doing and saying things he should probably regret. But he finds it hard to regret anything when Geralt continues to indulge him.

Geralt’s hips stutter as he presses forward and Jaskier runs his tongue under him as he pulls off. He presses a kiss to the head of his cock, then another, letting himself get distracted by Geralt’s little pants and groans before drawing away completely.

“Do you want to come like this?” he asks and Geralt’s eyes flick down to his, lidded and dark. Fuck, he’s sexy.

“You’re hard,” he breathes, tilting his head to one side like that’s an answer.

“Not what I asked, darling.”

Geralt pulls up, lifting Jaskier’s hands off of him so he can climb up into his lap. “I want you to fuck me,” he breathes and Jaskier’s breath catches at the tone of his voice. He wraps his arms around Geralt’s waist, slipping his hands up his back.

“Anything you want, beautiful, but we have to get you out of these first.” He pushes Geralt back to his feet, following after and pressing his lips against his throat.

He gets Geralt’s trousers open and shoves them down thoughtlessly, eager to have him naked. He moves to remove his own trousers and Geralt brushes his hands away.

“Let me,” he says, leaning in to breathe against Jaskier’s ear, and Jaskier can’t deny him. He lets Geralt get his trousers undone and pushed down before Jaskier slips from his hold and drops to his knees again. But this time he barely gets his mouth around him before Geralt’s hands are under his arms, pulling him back to his feet and then he’s lifted right off the ground and plopped onto the bed. He tips his head up and Geralt steps out of his trousers and climbs into his lap. He rocks against him and Jaskier groans at the press of his cock, wrapping an arm around his waist to haul him forward.

He lets his fingers wander, slipping between Geralt’s cheeks as his mouth finds his shoulder. Geralt’s breath shudders as Jaskier presses a little more firmly and he smiles to himself, pleased that he can have that effect on the Witcher. His Witcher, he thinks absently. Only Geralt isn’t his, not really, he’s just borrowed for a little while. And if their time together is brief, Jaskier will do whatever he can to make it worth Geralt’s while.

He wraps one arm firmly around Geralt’s waist, holding him against his chest as he leans over to find the bottle of oil he keeps next to the bed. It would be easier if Geralt would keep his mouth off of him for more than five seconds at a time, but he doesn’t really mind the delay. Geralt’s mouth is hot where he kisses him, soft and eager in a way that always makes Jaskier’s heart flutter and his blood rush. And besides, they have all night - Geralt almost always stays the night.

When he locates the bottle, Jaskier straightens up, using his teeth to pull the cork out so he doesn’t dislodge Geralt. He slicks his fingers up, impressed with his ability to not spill oil all over both of them as Geralt wriggles in his arms. He reaches back again, pushing between Geralt’s cheeks and pressing against his hole. There’s little resistance but there rarely is with Geralt; he’s always soft and welcoming to whatever Jaskier presents him with and this is something Jaskier knows he likes. And so he makes it as quick as he can, but Geralt is still too impatient.

He bats his hand away, mumbling that he’s ready after only a few moments and when Jaskier’s hands slide away, Geralt shifts forward, rising onto his knees and sliding onto Jaskier’s cock with ease. He’s quick about it and Jaskier holds him, fingers digging into Geralt’s skin as the tight heat overwhelms him.

Geralt immediately rocks in his lap and it takes Jaskier a second to adjust to the intensity of it.

Jaskier’s clientele consists of men who want to fuck him, men who get off on watching but want nothing to do with touching him and Geralt. No one else ever wants Jaskier to fuck them and even with Geralt, it isn’t every time. But when he does, oh the sounds Geralt makes - it’s enough to drive anyone insane. Jaskier can hardly be blamed for being so affected by him.

Geralt rocks onto him, squeezing around his cock and rutting against his stomach. He’s eager for it tonight in a way he hasn’t been for a while now and Jaskier doesn’t ask why. Geralt doesn’t spook as easily as he used to, but it has been a while and Jaskier isn’t in the habit of prying - least of all with someone as reserved as Geralt. So he wraps his arms around Geralt’s waist, grabs his hips and holds him down, fucks him hard. For a little while, Jaskier can pretend that this thing he feels is mutual and that he’s not just a pathetic child who went and fell for the first person who was genuinely nice to him.

Then Geralt shifts in such a way that he squeezes hard, pulling up on Jaskier’s cock and Jaskier’s breath catches, his head dropping onto Geralt’s shoulder.

“Oh gods,” he groans, “Geralt you feel so good. Fuck, I-” he bites down on the confession, his heart hammering as he realizes what he nearly said. He tamps down the feeling, but it’s too late. Geralt pauses, sitting back on Jaskier’s thighs, and looks at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks and Jaskier curses himself for the slip-up.

“Nothing for you to worry about.” Jaskier offers up a soft smile and snaps his hips forward as if to convince him. But Geralt is not convinced.

“You smell different all of a sudden.”

“I’m just excited to see you.”

Geralt frowns at him. “I know what your arousal smells like,” he hums, “not like that.” Jaskier just groans at him because honestly? that’s kinda hot.

“Don’t worry about it my darling, just let me make you feel good.” He keeps one hand on Geralt’s waist, snaking the other one between them to wrap around his cock, pumping him slow and steady. Geralt’s eyes flutter shut and he tips his head forward but he doesn’t seem to want to argue anymore.

“See?” Jaskier hums, “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

Geralt hums and his head drops to Jaskier’s shoulder, his nose pressing in against his neck. It means they’re done talking about it for now, but Geralt won’t drop it entirely. After so long, Jaskier’s learned to read his Witcher, knows what every little gift and groan means and he knows how to take him apart with ease. He also knows Geralt is still thinking about it so he leans into his neck, bites his earlobe gently.

“Stop worrying about me,” he breathes. He moves and Geralt goes with him without much difficulty, shifting up the bed so Jaskier can lean against the wall. But he doesn’t. He rolls his hips and watches the way Geralt’s cock slips between his fingers, hot and hard and practically begging for his mouth. And Jaskier is flexible. And Geralt needs a distraction.

Jaskier presses Geralt back gently, leaving just enough space between them to allow him to bend over. If Geralt was smaller, it might not work, but Jaskier bends over him, flicking his tongue at the head of his cock. Geralt groans, leaning back on one arm and wrapping his other hand around himself.

He moans as Jaskier gets his mouth around him, mumbling something Jaskier can’t quite understand. He presses up into his mouth and when he drops back onto his cock, he lets out another stuttered moan. Jaskier takes as much of him as he can and it’s not a lot but Geralt doesn’t seem to mind when there’s a hot mouth around the head of his cock, a tongue winding its way around him.

He’s close already, his hips stuttering and his little moans and groans becoming less restrained. When Jaskier sucks hard, Geralt’s hips buck hard and his cock throbs against Jaskier’s tongue. Heat sears through Jaskier’s body and he pushes harder despite the discomfort, taking Geralt deeper and pressing his tongue against the underside of his cock.

It doesn’t take long after that before Geralt is stuttering, his thrusts shaky and uneven as he spills onto Jaskier’s tongue.

Jaskier wraps both arms around him, steadying him as Geralt rides through the aftershocks of his orgasm. As soon as Jaskier pulls off his cock, Geralt flops back against the bed, still shifting his hips. Jaskier runs his hands down Geralt’s thighs and rocks into him gently.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “Look at you, darling, you’re so good for me.” He keeps touching him, rubbing his thighs and thrusting lightly into him. Geralt is always most sensitive right after he comes and Jaskier is gentle with him, breathing praise into the air as his fingers slip over his skin.

He comes quickly with Geralt squeezing around him, laid out so bare and open before him, and it’s hardly a surprise when Geralt tugs him down on top of him, wrapping his arms around Jaskier’s middle.

“Hello,” Jaskier grins, pulling back just far enough to look at Geralt. Geralt looks at him for a moment before pressing his nose under Jaskier’s jaw. He inhales slowly and Jaskier shuts his eyes as Geralt nuzzles against him. Jaskier forces down the swell of emotion as Geralt’s lips press into his skin and he presses his head against the mattress, working his hips slow and steady. He’s not quite ready for it to be over.

These moments he gets with Geralt are brief and fleeting and while Jaskier knows he can’t ask for more than Geralt already gives him, he wants to. He wants, for once in his life to be greedy, to ask for things he knows he shouldn’t want. Because he suspects, at times, that Geralt might give it willingly.

Jaskier slips a hand around the back of Geralt’s neck, drawing him closer as his thrusts deeper until he’s rutting into him, holding Geralt’s body close against his own. A second orgasm creeps up on him and he comes just like that with Geralt’s nose pressed into his cheek, teeth slightly grazing his jaw. His hips stutter and Geralt’s hands slip up to his shoulder, holding him close.

For a few minutes, he lets himself linger against the warmth of Geralt’s chest, before prying himself away. But he’s barely disentangled himself when Geralt sits up and looks at him almost sadly.

“Do you ever not want to have sex?” he askes, dropping his gaze to the mattress.

“All the time,” Jaskier admits, “but I can hardly say no to someone who’s paying me for it.”

“You can and you should,” Geralt huffs and Jaskier realizes with a start that maybe he thinks that was the problem tonight. He reaches out, cupping Geralt’s cheek in his hand.

“I choose who and when. If it was really bad, I would say no.”

“If it’s with me I want you to tell me.”

Jaskier huffs a soft laugh, ducking his head. He knows he shouldn’t say the words, but they come out anyway. “It’s never with you.

"But if it was-”

“Geralt, are you worried that I didn’t want you tonight?”

“No, I can smell it on you.”

“Then why the sudden worry, love?”

“Something about you was different tonight.”

Jaskier shuts his eyes, wishing he’d had more control over himself. “It’s nothing,” he whispers, “I’m fine, just a momentary lapse. Lie down and I’ll fetch a washcloth.”

“Not yet,” Geralt mumbles and when Jaskier looks at him, he looks almost worried. “Stay for a moment?” Jaskier smiles and lays back down, slipping an arm over Geralt’s hip. He draws him close, breathing in his scent as Geralt tangles their legs together again.

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

summer sizzle | sweet - mjf [m]

[ prompts of choice ]

Honestly... I had a whole ass prompt set chosen for this but the need to write Maxwell as an actual fucking softie took over and I wound up not actually using ANY of the prompts I chose. So. Yeah. This is just an oc, softly getting railed by Maxwell.

[ pairing ]

Maxwell Jacob Friedman x Female!OC, Bianca. You will probably see more out of these two. I enjoyed writing this and maaaybe I’m tempted to do more with them as a result.

[ authors notes ]

I offer no apologies nor do I make any excuses. And the brunt of this was the result of a late night conversation between @unabashedwrestlefics​ and I last night. So. Yeah. Viv, if you’re reading, I love and blame you partly for this.

[ warning ]

Maxwell written as an actual sweetheart... provided that he actually gives a fuck about someone. Probably gonna piss a few people off but again, idec. I wanted this. I needed it. Smut. Not a condom to even be thought about. Body fluids. Biting. A little dirty talk, but mostly just teeth rotting filthy fluff.

[ tag squad ]

@kyleoreillysknee​

@rampagewriting​

@writertoo18​

@thatnerdwriter​

@wrestlingismyguiltypleasure​

@chasingeverybreakingwave​

@waywardwrestlewritingwaif​

@unabashedwrestlefics​

@wardl0w​

@wrestlingthot​ 

@missjenniferb​

@adampage​

@cowboyshit​

@cabotcoves​ 

[ tag list doc - masterlist - about page ]

                             MJF & BIANCA, SOFT.

By the time Mox was pinning Maxwell for the 3 count, I was watching the match through my fingers, almost sick to my stomach and definitely dreading what the outcome of this match would most likely spell out.

If there was ever a night for the shoe to drop and the mask to come down, tonight was that night. 

I was so sure of it that as soon as Maxwell stepped through the curtains, dried blood caked on his forehead, I’d mentally prepared myself a thousand times over for the tongue lashing of the decade. My eyes darted around but I didn’t see any of the girls I’d gotten to know in my short time working with the company.

I took a deep breath and I tentatively made my way over to him, choosing to keep my mouth shut as I typically do around him. The tension was thicker. I could see the anger brewing in his eyes. I could feel the tension in his body as I wordlessly slipped one of his arms around my shoulders to keep him a little more steady.

“Where the fuck is he?” Maxwell’s anger laced outburst shattered through me being lost in survival mode and I gazed up at him, a brow raised. “Who?” I finally asked.

“Fucking Wardlow. He did that on purpose.” Maxwell scowled and his eyes darted around the crowded hallway, searching for a sign of Wardlow. 

As he did this, I took a shaky breath or two, preparing myself for what everyone’s been warning me about for weeks as far as he’s concerned.

Everyone’s so convinced that sooner or later, Maxwell is going to show me his nasty side and I am going to get hurt. I can’t count on both hands the number of times since creative stuck me as his valet upon arrival that I’ve had people pop up and offer condolence, -or protection, should the need arise. I guess I let that all get to me, because I’ve been living on pins and needles for weeks now and honestly?

Maxwell has literally never been anything like people claim he is towards me. I won’t say he’s been overly nice, because he’s just a naturally abrasive guy, but he hasn’t been the cold hearted bastard people write him off to be, either.

If anything, being his valet has been… well, it’s been strange. Because all this stuff people told me about him?

I’ve gotten the exact opposite, from him.

People told me he’d treat me like a toy. That he’d constantly tell me I was below him. That he’d probably wreck my self esteem. 

None of that’s happened.

Maxwell spotted Wardlow while I was lost in my own thoughts and fears and before I could stop him, he was shoving through the crowd, catching up to the other man, shoving at him. 

“Damn it.” I swore quietly to myself, pushing through the crowd gathered around them as they fought and trying to pull them apart. Every now and then I could hear bits of what was being said in between licks passed and shoves and punches, but it wasn’t enough to know exactly what had the two men fighting other than the fact that for whatever reason, Maxwell seemed convinced that Wardlow purposely cost him the title belt.

What got my attention was when my name came up. Maxwell seemed to be accusing Wardlow of something that had everything to do with me and Wardlow wasn’t bothering to deny it, either.

The whole thing was just… Too much for me, so I slipped away, hoping to just go somewhere quieter and pull myself together. As I rounded the corner, Mox stopped me, an arm beside my head as he stared down at me intently, this shit-eating smirk on his face that had his eyes dancing.

“What?”

“Better brace yourself, kitten. Gonna get the brunt of Maxy’s anger because Wardlow’s done with his shit.” Mox said it calmly, hoisting the belt over his shoulder as he continued to stare me down. I shrank back and bit my lip, trying to come up with any form of rebuttal.

Nothing came.

But it did leave me wondering. What if everyone was wrong about Maxwell? And I wasn’t stupid, I could look into Jon Moxley’s baby blue eyes and know that I was just another way to stick it to Maxwell and that just made me angry. So far, Maxwell had done literally none of the shit everyone kept accusing him of being capable of and literally every single guy back here? Turning out to be the ones who kept their truest selves hidden. Like Mox and his half-assed lazy little warning. Who the fuck did he think he was?

I stood taller, staring up at him in defiance. “So what? Is this you, offering to protect me? I hate to break it to you, Mox but… I don’t need or want your protection. I finish what I start, come whatever may.” 

Even with my voice wavering just a little as I spoke, I was still impressed with myself because it was more me, less this unsure and quiet little meek thing I’d allowed myself to become just to tread on eggshells and keep from making waves. I stepped beneath his arm and slunk through the doors leading out into the parking lot, letting the night air hit me and calm me down a little. I pulled myself up onto a brick half wall and sat there, staring up at the night sky as I tried to work through all this confusion in my mind right now. Trying to pick the best path of the two I was currently torn between.

Everybody kept at me about how ruthless and cold and unfeeling Maxwell was. And yet, he hadn’t ever come across as any of those things. But I kept circling back to everyone saying it. Everyone being convinced they were right and they knew exactly what was going to happen to me.

I even had one of the girls in hair and makeup suggest to me that he was dangerous because he knew exactly how to pour on the charm and make you fall for him, but when he was tired, he knew how to turn off that charm and leave you feeling like you were nothing, like you were lost without him.

If it wasn’t at least a little true, I reasoned with myself as I waited on him to walk out of the arena, then why did everyone keep saying it?

By the time I heard the door being thrown open and my name being called,I’d made up my mind… Just keep doing what I’ve been doing for weeks now. Prepare myself for the worst. Keep waiting it out, see what happened in that regard.

He was towering over me and I tore my gaze off the moon and stars above to meet his intent gaze, my eyes searching a little, waiting on Wardlow to pop up like usual.

“Wardlow’s taking his own fucking vehicle tonight.” Maxwell mumbled quietly, gazing at me a few seconds. I nodded and took a deep breath, standing. At this point, I was just tired. I wanted to get to the hotel, get to the privacy of my own room and think. To try to figure out all this internal conflict. To try to figure out why exactly, despite everyone’s repeated warnings over the past few weeks, I still couldn’t deny that for whatever reason, there was this magnetic pull to the guy - and what that said about me if the ride to the hotel went as bad as I was half afraid it would. 

Our bodies brushed together and I realized that yet again, we were migrating closer to each other. It happened a lot if I really stopped to think about it. It happened almost as much as the way he always seemed to be where I was. More than once I’d looked up to find him sort of staring at me. He’d always look away first, of course, but I couldn’t deny that I’d caught him looking on more than one occasion.

And then another thought hit me. I liked it. 

“We should get going.” Max’s quietly muttered statement shattered through the bit of an epiphany I was currently having and I glanced up, swallowing hard when I found him staring down at me with this look in his eyes.

“It was just a match. Just a leather strap.” I don’t know why I said it, but I felt like maybe he needed to hear it. I tensed a little in the seconds following because I was at least half sure that he’d explode.

Because yes, I was still waiting on the mask to be peeled away and Maxwell to show me this nastier side people seemed to keep reminding me he had. The side I’d seen come to the surface so easily with pretty much everyone else.

“I’m tired and it’s late.” he muttered quietly, his eyes still locked on me. When our bodies bumped against each other all over again, I bit my lip just to keep the unexpected quiet whimper that rose to my throat from coming out. When I couldn’t take the way the tension between us seemed to be growing heavier with each second that passed, making my breath catch in my throat, I spoke up quietly. 

“We should get going, Maxwell.”

I reluctantly stepped away a little, everyone’s repeated warnings about the man filling my head. The unease I’d been feeling earlier had lifted slightly and now I was just left with confusion. Tension. My own little pesky thoughts as of the last few minutes.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost swear he pouted slightly when I stepped away. I dug around in my pockets for the keys to his rental car and raised a hand, aiming the key fob in the general direction of the car, unlocking it and starting the engine. Then I turned to him and found myself on the receiving end of another one of those stares.

Which had me fidgeting more than a little, I could feel my thighs starting to slip off of each other. I reached out, prepared to take his gear bag, but he shook his head, slinging it over his shoulder as he fell into step beside me. For the entire walk across the lot, neither of us really said anything.

Like usual, he opened the passenger door and gestured for me to get in. I scoffed at him and shook my head. I tensed in anticipation of a potential argument or him being nasty towards me, but I took a deep breath and eyed the passenger seat and then him as firm as I could.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you drive when you just went through that.” I muttered as calmly as I could, continuing to hold his gaze.

,, why do you even care?” the thought bubbled to the front of my mind and I shoved it out, choosing to ignore it until later. 

I needed to make it to the hotel. To the sanctuary of my own room so I could relax for the night. 

Rather than argue, Maxwell sank down into the passenger seat, his head leaning against the headrest, his eyes closing. For the entire ride to the hotel, neither of us really said anything. And the tension that seemed to linger between us almost constantly?

So much heavier.

Not necessarily in a bad way, either.

I pulled the car into the empty space in the third row and I killed the engine, sitting there for a second or two, sort of collecting myself. In that time, Maxwell had gotten out and grabbed not only his gear bag but my bag from the trunk. I was just trying to process. To figure out whether it was safe to relax a little or whether the shit storm was incoming. A gentle rap at the drivers window had me looking up just as Maxwell opened the door on my side, staring down at me.

He held out a hand and I eyed it briefly, letting my eyes dart upward only to be locked on his.  Naturally, he wasn’t bothering to say anything, instead, that cocky little smirk played at his lips.

He’s never very talkative with me. It’s weird, it’s almost as if he just doesn’t know what to do or say, so he does and says nothing. And yet, I found myself thinking, maybe that in itself says everything I need to know. My own gut feeling should’ve been enough for me to ignore everyone else’s warnings, but given that I’ve been burned two significant times in the past and whenever I’m around Maxwell, I always feel like I’m seconds away from letting my guard down. Which isn’t a bad thing but given what people keep telling me, I’m fully aware that it could backfire and be the thing that hurts me in the long run.

I don’t enjoy being a bundle of raw nerves around the guy. I want to be able to fully give him the benefit of the doubt. I want to relax. I’m just so afraid to do so until I can’t around him a lot of the time. 

I blew at the shaggy strands falling into my eyes and tentatively, I reached out, taking hold of his hand. He pulled me up and out of the car seat. He pulled me with such a force that our bodies collided and his arm shot out, wrapping around me, hauling me closer as he continued to just silently stare down at me. And if the look in his eyes was anything to go by and I were a lot more… Hopeful… I’d almost swear that he intentionally pulled me closer. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask what he was staring at or why he was always doing it but I didn’t dare.

If I thought my thighs were slipping off of each other before, it was nothing compared to right now, the literal flood taking place in my panties at the look in his eyes. My breath caught a little in my throat and I managed a nod towards the hotel.

“Standing here isn’t getting us in.” Maxwell muttered the words quietly just as I was about to say them and I nodded in a daze, still trying to tear my eyes out of his. Neither of us had stepped away from the other. And that tension lingering between us?

Almost at a boiling point.

“It’s not.” I managed a quiet laugh as I finally tore my eyes off him and reached for my things. He shook his head. I didn’t want to argue, so I fell in step beside him quietly, the two of us body to body in the doorway leading into the hotel when he held the door open for me and I went to step inside at the same time as him. I gulped and found my eyes focusing on his mouth and despite all my best efforts, I stared for a good second or two.

From behind us, Jericho’s throat cleared and this only made me step closer to Maxwell and it hit me then.

I do that a lot. If someone comes up and I don’t feel comfortable? I find myself migrating closer to him.

I felt the warmth of his hand lingering at my lower back, fingers grazing right against bare skin and I felt a wave of heat  rushing to my cheeks. Normally, he just kind of puts his hand there.

“Are you two going to move or stand there all night?” Jericho’s voice broke through our moment and I glanced over Maxwell’s shoulder, scowling at the man. Maxwell’s hand left my back and he whirled around, squaring up almost, a quiet growl slipping out as every single part of him tensed up.

“Max.” I mumbled his name cautiously. I was still very much trying not to rile him up.

“Just a minute, Bianca.” Maxwell grumbled, his gaze fixed firmly on Jericho. I rolled my eyes and reached out, tapping at his shoulder, immediately drawing my hand back just to be safe.

“I think you should probably listen to your pretty little valet, Friedman. This is a fight you don’t wanna start. Take your bruised ego and move it out of my way.” Jericho smirked as he said it and I tensed up all over again. Maxwell’s gaze flitted back and forth between me and Jericho for seconds that felt like years, anger flashing in his eyes almost dangerously until they settled on me. He took a deep breath and shoved at Jericho a little, muttering quietly, “I didn’t say you could talk to her, did I?”

“Maxwell. For the love of ten thousand fucks, the line.” I stopped mid sentence, giving Jericho my best hateful glare when my eyes met his and I found him staring at me like I was a piece of meat. “Jericho, if you don’t want a stiletto to the eyeball, I’d suggest you stop looking at me in that tone.” I snapped, biting my lip as I was quick to pull my gaze off the old creep and fix it back on Maxwell, nodding to the reception desk. “Line. Now.”

With one last lingering angry glare, Maxwell turned away from Jericho and we started to walk towards the line, falling into the end of it. I shuffled my feet and when he chuckled quietly, I glanced up at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Maxwell shook his head and went silent again. The line was getting shorter and I could feel myself relaxing a little more with each second that passed because it meant that I was closer to being in the sanctuary of my own room.

Where I could decompress, finally.

I had a lot to think about.

I took to scrolling through my Instagram account and a time or two, I felt his eyes on me. I rolled my eyes at the comments on a bikini pic I’d posted at a family barbecue the last time I’d been home and grumbled under my breath at an ex who’d slithered himself into my dms.

I felt Maxwell tense up beside me and after shoving my phone back into the pocket of my leopard print jacket, I glanced up at him, quickly looking away again when I saw the look in his eyes and I felt my cheeks starting to burn hot all over again. I shuffled my feet and squeezed my thighs together slightly but it didn’t help.

It was our turn at the check in desk now.

“A double?” the clerk flashed a smile at Maxwell and I. Honestly, I figured this would be the part where Maxwell made some cutting remark and demanded his own room, but to my surprise, he chuckled and dug into the sweats he was wearing to produce his wallet, passing it through the plastic barrier between our side of the desk and the other side.

I kept waiting on him to correct the assumption, but he never did. And for some reason, whenever I went to speak up and do so, my mouth refused to cooperate with my brain and make the words form. 

As soon as the paperwork was filed and the clerk was handing us back our identification and Maxwell his wallet, I found myself gazing up at him, puzzled.

He bit his lip and stared down at me intently. 

“That was okay, right?” he finally asked the question a good ten seconds later when we were standing in front of the elevator.

,, oh sure, sure. I’m fine, this is fine.” I thought to myself as the tension I thought I’d be getting rid of the second I was behind the doors of my own hotel room returned with a vengeance. Rather than argue, because I was still tiptoeing around him very much so at this point, I took a deep breath, gave him my best calm smirk and nodded.

Like a good girl.

Not rocking the boat, not making any waves.

But now, on top of everything else on my mind, I had yet another new thing to unravel… If everyone says he’s such a cold and heartless bastard, why in the hell would he take every opportunity he could get to be around me?

Because this has happened once before.

And yes, it was one hell of an intense weekend. I spent most of it down at the hotel pool or the hotel bar, just so I felt like I could breathe a little.

Because damn if being around the man almost constantly didn’t leave me breathless and so full of tension I thought I’d explode at any second.

The elevator doors slid open and I hurried on, leaning against the wall in the back. Maxwell stopped beside me, leaning in a little. “You know if you didn’t want to share a room, you could’ve said something.”

His voice was quiet, almost teasing. Almost as if he were amused by this. I’d been scrolling through my phone again and without looking up, I couldn’t, because God if I did, he was going to see the way my cheeks were burning bright red right now, I shrugged a little. “If I didn’t want to, you’d know it.”

The fact that when I said it it was 1000 percent true and I didn’t even realize it until I said it had my mind blown. 

“Interesting.” he mumbled, mostly to himself. I scrolled through my Instagram feed again, trying to focus on anything but the night ahead. Or the tension between us that was now so thick that I felt like at any second, either one of us was going to explode.

The elevator squeaked and slowed to a death crawl and at one point, it lurched just a little, sending me into Maxwell’s side as I tensed on impact. “What the actual fucking..” I whined a little, eyes widening in panic at just the thought of now being trapped on an elevator.

“It’s just an elevator.”

His voice was calming, his breath tickling the shell of my ear and serving to make me almost painfully aware of the fact that I was pressed completely into his side and he’d slipped an arm around me to keep me there. “I realize that, but I need you to understand it’s called claustrophobia, sir.” I muttered the words in a daze, my gaze settling on him. 

“That’s it. Keep lookin at me.” his voice was softer, an almost lazy drawl as he spoke. Neither one of us was making an effort to look away, god knows I tried. Somehow, just realizing that I’d fallen for the guy and people had warned me about him repeatedly just made me feel uneasy when he’d never shown me any actual reason to.

I gulped and nodded, my breathing syncing with his and I started to feel a little calmer. The elevator roared to life again and I relaxed a little, my shoulders slumping as I did so. 

“Thank fuck.” I muttered quietly, making him chuckle a little as he reached up and brushed some hair out of my eyes, smoothing it behind my ear, giving a satisfied nod as he did so.

It felt like an eternity between the elevator starting back up again and when we finally reached our floor, but the doors finally slid open and I hurried off, stopping to wait on him.

He caught up just as I found the door to our hotel room and started to dig around in my pockets for the keycard and he tapped my shoulder.

I whirled around so fast that I catapulted myself right against him and before I could stop myself, a quiet whimper slipped out of my mouth. My eyes lingered on his lips and I took a shaky breath before forcing myself to look up and lock eyes with him. He was already staring at me, hints of an amused gleam in his eyes as he licked his lips slowly.

If I thought I had my thighs clenched before, they clenched so tight this time that I felt a dull ache starting to build. 

“What?” my question came out quietly and he bit his lip and shook his head, again saying nothing. He took the keycard from my trembling hand and slid it through the card reader, pushing the door open as soon as the little light turned green and buzzed.

I stepped in, dropping my bags on the second bed and immediately shedding my shoes then flopping back first onto the bed, my eyes fluttering shut as I took a few seconds to attempt to decompress.

Tonight had been a lot. All I wanted was to try and fall asleep now that I was starting to realize that whatever explosion I’d been waiting on Maxwell to have apparently wasn’t coming.

Maxwell spoke up, shattering the silence in the room. 

“Are you always this tense? Or is it me?”

I rose up slightly, propping on my elbows and staring at him a few seconds, completely unsure of how best to answer. 

I felt really, really bad, because there was just something soft and quiet in his voice when he asked the question. And he wasn’t really looking at me, either, his gaze fixed intently on his hands instead. It was nothing like the strong and self assured guy the world saw on television. And if it hadn’t been for the weeks of literally everyone seeing fit to shove warning after warning about the guy down my throat constantly, I would’ve felt even worse.

I’d been tense, I’d been dancing and tiptoeing around him because I didn’t want to see that side of him. God knows I saw enough of that in an ex or two. I’d been holding my breath and waiting on him to be just like everyone said.. Or like those exes that I let my guard down for and I only ended up getting hurt by them.

As it all sank in, I shook my head, laughing at myself softly. If anything, this was not how I’d seen tonight turning out.

“ It’s not so much you as the shit everyone keeps saying. And the magnetic pull I keep trying to fight where you’re concerned...” I admitted quietly as I stood, starting to pace. Starting to ramble. Everything was spilling out of me because I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. I couldn’t keep going like this. “Everybody keeps telling me that you’re eventually gonna snap or worse, you’re gonna go cold towards me when the novelty of having a valet wears off and damn it, I just… I can’t deal with that happening. I’m afraid that you’re going to turn into my ex. I’m afraid that if I let my guard down, if I…”

He was watching me now and I could tell he was processing what I was saying. When I went quiet, he took a deep breath. “If you what?”

“If I let myself go ahead and fall for you, I’m only going to get burned all over again. And this time, it’ll be so much worse because this time, I’ll know it was the real thing and somehow, I wasn’t enough.”

 I sank back down on my bed and let out a ragged breath, raising my hand to my forehead as I gave a quiet laugh. “The funny part of all this is it’s too fucking late. I did anyway and I’m just so goddamn tired of fighting it. Of spending second after second reminding myself that everyone keeps telling me you will hurt me. You will turn some hidden nasty side, that people seem to think you possess, on me. And I’m realizing now that you’ve pretty much shown that side with other people. But never with me.” 

I kept my eyes closed as soon as I finished talking. Looking up at him was not an option, not for me, not at this particular moment. I kept waiting on laughter or some kind of cutting remark, the things I know he’s capable of and the things that I’m used to seeing from him with everybody else we know but nothing came.

He kept sitting there, silent and staring at his hands. Until he wasn’t. I sighed and stood, gathering my things to go and take a shower. Honestly, I thought that if I just got out of the room then maybe I could distance myself from the outburst I’d just had and the fact that his lack of a reaction did sting just a little. I thought that if I took a long and hot soak, I could get rid of some of this tension built up inside me.

I reached for the handle on the door to the on-suite bathroom and my breath caught in my throat, escaping in a quiet hiss as his chest pressed against my back and his hand covered mine over the handle. I turned around and my back connected with the door in a soft smack. For at least five seconds, all I could really do was stare up at him. He was staring right back, neither of us were saying anything. 

“So that’s it. You tell a guy you’re falling in love with him and then you go hide in the bathroom?” a teasing smirk played at his lips and I gulped as I felt his hips really press into mine, the handle of the bathroom door digging into my lower back softly. 

That didn’t last for long because while I was distracted by the way it felt to have that hard,muscular frame pressed so close to me and by the way I just wanted to raise to tiptoe and tug at his scarf to pull his mouth down to meet mine, I missed the way that his hand slipped between my lower back and the door. But as soon as I realized it, I whimpered quietly and despite trying desperately to control myself and keep at least a little bit of my guard up, I found myself pressing into him, our bodies rubbing together lightly. His other hand glided over my curves, going still at the hip as he dug fingertips into my skin lightly. 

When he exhaled, it was shakier. When I found myself rubbing against him all over again, he groaned quietly, his mouth opening and closing like he was just about to say something but he backed out at the last second.

Fitting, because I’d be damned if I knew what to say at the moment, all things considered. All I did know was that the urge to take his face in my hands and kiss him until I couldn’t breathe was doubling, no, tripling by the second and it was getting so that I was fidgeting a little in a last ditch attempt to keep from doing so on a whim.

One of us had to cave, to do or say something. I was determined that it wasn’t going to be me. Because every single time I’ve caved in the past, it hasn’t gone well for me. His forehead rested against mine gingerly and the hand on my hip raised, resting against the side of my face and he chuckled quietly.

“You realize if I didn’t want you, I wouldn’t have demanded you as my valet… Right? I had to do something, they were going to put you with Mox. One of those other assholes.” his mouth brushed right against mine as he went quiet and I didn’t think, I just reacted. My hand caught on the side of his face, steering his mouth right back against mine and my other hand caught in his hair, giving a little tug. He pulled back, staring at me a second or two and shook his head, raising a finger to my lip when I went to speak. “I don’t waste my time. When I want someone, I want them.” filled the silence and sent the last of the tension I felt scattering and he was pressing into me with more urgence now, his hand against the side of my face as he leaned down, his mouth crashing against mine, his body rubbing against mine and making me whimper into the kiss as his tongue pushed between my lips, parting the barrier they formed to tangle with mine.  

The kiss broke, and we pulled back from each other to breathe, Maxwell staring down at me with this wild fire burning in his eyes as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, the ragged rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took making it crystal clear that he was well past worked up if that weren’t already obvious to me before.

 His hands caught on either side of my face as his forehead settled against mine and he stared down into my eyes. If I thought either one of us had a chance to properly catch our breath I was wrong because just when I caught my breath, his lips latched onto my lower lip all over again, nipping hungrily. “I mean that.” he muttered in a harsh intake just before his tongue slipped between my lips all over again, “ I don’t say things I don’t mean.” 

I could feel his cock really starting to strain at the sweats he was wearing and I whimpered as he kept bucking himself against me and his mouth strayed from mine to wander right down the front of my throat. The hand resting against my cheek lowered to rest against the side of my neck, holding it still as the blunt of his teeth caught on my skin, littering it with little bite marks. “Fuck.” he breathed against my skin, the roughness of his lips and the warmth of his breath tickling the surface as he pressed me into the door even harder. “Do you not feel exactly what you’re doing to me right now, princess?” his hips snapped against me and I rubbed myself against the growing bulge strained at his sweats, my hand lowering and my fingers catching in the waistband. 

He sucked in a ragged breath and bit his lip, a shiver racing through his body when I stepped away from the door and completely against him. With each step I took forward, he inched closer to his bed until the backs of his knees brushed against the thick mattress and when that happened, he sank down to sit on the edge and I lowered myself, settling in his lap, taking his face in my hand as my lips latched onto his all over again and I started to rock myself back and forth over the bulge strained at his sweats until I heard him whimpering even more and I could feel him bucking up into me from below.

His hand slipped up the hem of the little black dress and settled palm down against my throbbing core as he started to rub my lace covered crotch. My head fell back slightly, giving him access to my neck. He took the opportunity to his advantage, pulling me in as close as he could get me, latching onto my skin almost needy when he did it. The whimper that left his mouth and dissolved against my skin sent a shiver racing through me and I rocked myself down harder against the hefty bulge, earning me a needy whine from him as his fingers dug into my hips and he pressed me down harder, took control of the movement of my hips. It sent that dull ache building between my thighs to an almost blind throbbing pain.

 His mouth trailed down my neck and one of his hands raised, the thin strap of the little black dress snapping under the weight of the tug from Maxwell’s fingertips and almost the instant the strap to my dress was no longer an issue, Maxwell was latching onto the neckline with his teeth, tugging it downward, revealing bare breasts. 

He backed away and took several shaky breaths, his eyes roaming slowly and that smirk on his face just before he lowered his head, resting his forehead against the tops of my breasts. I clung to him and gripped his shoulders tighter while baring down against his lap as soon as I felt the way his teeth softly grazed against exposed skin and it had me shivering and whining almost helplessly. 

I wanted his mouth on mine again. I needed him to kiss me. I reached down and tilted his chin, lust hazed brown eyes locking on mine as soon as we locked eyes and when I crashed my mouth against his, he deepened the kiss, bucking himself into me all over again from below. Harder.

One of his hands disappeared up the hem of my dress and I heard the quiet tear of fabric. Lace panties came away torn  in his hand and he growled against my mouth as soon as he felt how wet I was already. 

My hand slipped down, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his sweats all over again and I felt his abdomen tense as he took a deep breath and grabbed hold of my face, pulling my mouth against his all over again, greedily. His left hand lowered, disappearing beneath the dress, thick digits carefully working me open as his thumb struck against my clit, rubbing. “How’s that feel, hm?” the warmth of his breath against my skin as he mumbled against it had me whimpering and rocking myself against his fingers. 

“Mmf.. Ah..” I whimpered as the ache began to intensify and all I could do was keep on meeting the scissoring thrusts of the fingers buried deep inside my dripping pussy and hope that took away some of it. “Feels so.. Fuck!” I cried out as I felt his fingers strike against my spot, sending tension through my body just to try and keep my rapidly approaching orgasm at bay. He chuckled as his mouth found mine again, teeth digging into tender and kiss swollen lips. 

The more I moaned, the deeper inside me his fingers sank, stretching me out, the wet sounds making me both self conscious and almost a feral level of horny. It seemed to be doing the same for him because he growled against my skin as his mouth caught hold of my nipple, teeth latching on, his tongue dragging over the surface slowly until it stood erect, aching at the torture. 

“Max!” the moan that came out of me shattered through the soft silence, echoing, making his mouth turn upwards in a smirk as he continued to lick and suck my tits, bucking himself against me from below while his fingers pumped in and out of my dripping heat. “That’s it, princess. C’mon. You can get louder.” he muttered soft against my skin, raising goosebumps to the surface and making me whine and beg.

The more I whined and begged, the slower he seemed to go until I was shaking with each thrust of his fingers or slow drag of his tongue over my nipples. A glance down at my chest showed hickies littering every strip of skin he’d been able to get his mouth on and I bit my lip just to keep from screaming his name out loud, a needy moan escaping instead. “Maxwell, c’mon. I need you. Now.” I grabbed hold of his face again, my mouth diving down against his as I begged and kept rocking myself over the bulge strained at his sweats and against nimble and fast moving fingers as they fucked into me, striking against my spot and sending shivers dancing through my body.

I tried tugging at the waistband of his sweats again and this time, he obliged, drawing his fingers out of my cunt and lifting me a little, working the sweats down his hips and letting them pool at his feet on the floor of the hotel room. I whined as my eyes settled on his thick length, standing at attention and I swallowed hard. Maxwell pushed up the little black dress over my hips and then  lowered me down, his cock splitting me in two, stretching me out and filling me up. 

“You need me now, hm?” he questioned, his mouth crashing against mine needy, slow and deep. I got the sense that he needed to hear me say it. That he needed to hear me say everything I felt, actually. With a whimper as he started to fuck into me from below, slowly at first, I grabbed his face in my hands, pulling his mouth back against mine all over again, my lips crashing against his in the neediest kiss I could manage. “Feels so good. So good.” I encouraged, my hips rocking back and forth, making him dig his fingertips into my bare ass, squeezing harder with each deep drive into my pussy. 

My head fell back as I rode him faster and he raised a hand, tangling it in my hair, pulling my mouth against his, our teeth scraping and bumping together as his tongue rushed past my parted lips and tangled with mine. My legs circled his waist and the new angle had his hips stammering as he slowed down, pressing hot little kisses and nips against my face and throat, his forehead against mine and our faces so close that whenever he quietly muttered “I’m fucked. I’m absolutely fucked.” and gave a quiet chuckle, his lips brushed against mine and I whimpered, rocking my hips against his shaky thrust and responded quietly, “Why?”

“Because you got to me and that literally never happens. And now I have you and I…” he trailed off and although I wanted to push for him to say more, I got the feeling that it was hard for him. 

To my surprise, after a few gentle biting kisses trailing down the side of my neck and across the tops of my breasts, he raised his head and met my gaze again, capturing my mouth in a deep and needy kiss as he groaned out, “I’ll do whatever I have to to keep from losing you. You have me.” he emphasized his words with an even deeper drive into my dripping cunt, immediately bottoming out and pushing me even closer to an orgasm that I was only barely holding back from having, his hips snapping upward, his cock striking my g-spot over and over as he bottomed out and his hands roamed all over my body gently cupping and squeezing, touching me anywhere he could get his hands on me. 

“Ah fuck! Bianca.”  Maxwell’s growled words echoed off the walls and he pulled me against him tighter, his mouth latching onto mine in a deep and needy, bruising kiss. My lips were aching and swollen now, I could feel it. “Maxwell, please. I’m so close.” I whimpered, tears starting to sting at my eyes because I simply couldn’t hold off anymore.

“C’mon, princess. Use me. Get off.” Maxwell’s head fell back as he continued to slam into me from below, his fingers digging into my asscheeks deeper, squeezing. “Can’t wait to feel you get my cock wet, baby.” his words were a quiet groan against the shell of my ear, his heavy breathing merging with mine as I started to bounce myself up and down on his cock faster. Deeper. He met each bounce eagerly. 

My orgasm shattered through me, leaving me shaky and light-headed but Maxwell kept pumping me up and down on his cock, determined to fuck me right through it and nearly into another one because it all felt so good. Too good. Too much. I almost couldn’t think straight. I latched my lips onto his neck and he groaned quietly, his hips stammering as he slowed down a little and tilted my chin so that i had to look him in the eye, pulling my mouth against his all over again in a lingering and tender kiss as he muttered lazily against my lips that he was getting close and he didn’t want to stop. I gave a helpless and needy whine, nodding my head, begging him not to stop, my pussy still tightly clenched around his cock. “So close, ah.. Fuck. Are you ready, princess?”

“Please?” I begged in a breathy moan, clinging to him as dots danced in front of my eyes and I tried and failed a time or two at actually catching my breath and calming down. I could feel his cock throbbing, the warmth of his seed settling inside, coating me as the excess slowly leaked out. He fell back against the bed and pulled me down on top of him, his arms wrapping around me tight as he buried his nose in the crown of my hair, taking a few long and deep breaths, his cock still buried inside me as we lie there. 

“I don’t want to move.” he mumbled quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Just wanna stay exactly like this.” 

“Me either.” I yawned lazily, my lips pressing against the side of his neck.  I rose up a little to stare down at him and he leaned into my face, his lips feathering against mine as he muttered quietly, “You know I meant all of it… Right?”

I nodded, giving a soft smile as I deepened the kiss. “You don’t say things you don’t mean, remember?” 

He chuckled quietly, pulling me back down against him, his hand smoothing over my back, toying with my hair.

[spacegaywritings]

Drunk Kitchen - Chapter 1 / 2

Summary: Remy and Virgil have some fun with adult juice but their fun is about to drop when the craving for sustenance Can be read as purely platonic considering there is no lip-kisses. Tags: food mention ×missing your soulmate ×Alcohol ×Drunken Shenanigans ×Drunken Flirting ×Drunkenness ×war metaphors from drunk idiots taking cooking too serious

tumblr links:1 / 2 || ao3: 1 / 2 / all. My KoFi  - Support me ♥ or Commission me Story under the cut!

  The sun was low, the day was crisp. Afternoon settled over the land and into the bones of workers hungering for the sweet end of their weekend shifts just to make a bit of extra money and finally be with their beloved home.

Outside, a few people got ready to enjoy the Saturday night, to go wild and party and dance until their bodies had different shames and their head carried different names. The first groups emerged from the home-coming crowds as the birds flew back to their nests and the first buses took the party people over to the pool of sweaty bodies and alcoholic beverages.

Inside, some people reunited their families, others were greeting the next groups of wellness-seeking average people who just lived for getting a meal cooked for them once in a while.

In other places, the party was already high up. It was autumn, Saturday afternoon and so late, you could almost call it evening with the clouds closing in to frame the sun. The bright star was slowly descending, disappearing behind the busy streets and high skyscrapers.

Virgil and Remy... they were the last kind of people. Ever since their roommate - Emile, lovely and beloved datemate of theirs - was out to meet his parents and do some catching up stuff, Remy had decided that it was time to do some catching up as well.

Holding up a bottle of strong alcohol, he had invited Virgil into the “fun” they would have and all the other could see was the impending doom within a bottle. Still, he had given in and willingly decided to slurp some of the disgusting and burning liquid from Remy’s bouncing navel piercing.

Virgil had never forgotten his doubts as quick as in these moments.

Drinking was far beyond by now, the sun was burning with the last intensity of a stubborn yet dying ally. The last words were spoken and Remy sagged against his love.

“wmhwmhw V..”, he mumbled and snuggled against the taller boy.

Virgil swatted at the other but made no attempt at actually pushing him off or anything. Instead, he wrapped an arm around him after trying to get at his little coffee bean. He wavered on his feet but made sure to lean against the counter as Remy just decided to give in and crush Virgil with the whole weight of being responsible to hold him up.

“The fwuck yo...yo wan-mmm “, Virgil hiccuped as he snuggled the other, “uh.. Ri?”

His voice was low and the words came out much clearer than expected but Virgil was worse off than Remy, despite the heavy hiccuping that came from the smaller of the two.

“VIiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii”, Remy shouted at once, then dragged the syllable along as if it was a piece of chewed out, wet gum rather than a nickname.

The man in question just let out a grunt in reply but looked at the shorter guy with hazy hazel eyes. Heh, hazel hazy... hazyel... Pf..

Virgil’s lips twitched into a lazy smile. His arm tugged at Remy who had not enough control over his body to resist the strong suggestion of cuddling closer. The tall, slightly curvy man chuckled a bit and flapped his long lanky arms around his lovely Remy.

“Ri-Ri - Remyyyyyy”, he giggled in a singsong voice as he rocked from left to right and left to right and further to the right and then stopped.. because he lost the unsteady rhythm his drunkass-stupid mind had set up before. He was even too silly to follow his unconscious motifs.

The smaller man was torn between giggling and breaking off the whole hug but the rocking movement was something between nauseating and comforting in a way that he felt too mentally and physically weak in his knees to put a foot down and stop it. He just let his baggy body sluggishly fall from one to the other side within Virgil’s soggy grip.

“Nuuu”, Remy protested. He was so short of breath, he just snuggled back against Virgil’s chest and let out more distressed noises of Remy’s Complaints :tm: “Vii....”, he started again, his mind gathering every bit of brain juice he had to actually continue his intention and voice whatever weird thought had built up in his mind, “food..we..”

Remy swallowed.

“we need foo...fofof..foof....” Remy scoffed at himself, indignation taking over as he felt anger rise against his useless mouth. How dare it just suck at wording like this? “f-food. FucKING food!”

Spit flew against Virgil’s purple shirt but he was too dizzy to really see it. His mind was everywhere and it felt as if nothing was steady but instead, all was moving. He knew nothing should be moving and he had stopped rocking forever ago.

Wait, where was he? Oh, oh yes. Remy.

“uh.. what?”

He blinked and redirected his attention to the other again.

“Uh.. fo-forgot to .. uh .. what .. um, did you say? “

His mind was still drawing a blank at him so he just stared at Remy, hazel eyes empty and void of expectation or thought. He lacked about anything but a high blood sugar level and tons of alcohol. Yes. Yes, so much alcohol of it.. of this bottle and another bottle and oh man..

“Virgil - Vi Vi vI vI v iv iv viv - bitch! virgIL you stupid fucker”

Remy ranted on and patted his chest violently, insistently. The other blinked and just... nodded again, his wavy attention slowly wobbling back into place as Remy wanted to have it. His mind felt like these ... these screens ..oh man these screens... sleep screens? These screens that happen when you do not use your shit and then your technology gives you that DVD screen and the symbol changes colour and wobbles from one corner to another and usually just hits walls.

This was his mind right now.

“Virgil” Remy flapped a hand against Virgil’s cheek. “Like,... food... we gotta eat and this shit.... food... just food, man”

He voice started to sound like he was talking about a conspiracy rather than preparing a meal with one of his datemates.

Virgil carefully nodded. Still, his face seemed as droopy and out-of-this-world as before. Connecting to him seemed about impossible bit Remy was trying his best and somewhat succeeding at this point.

At last, the taller one was looking down at the man in black. A slightly oversized top was hugging Remy’s sides and slacked a bit around his chest area. Forever stoic, the tall over squinted at Remy and nodded.

“Food”, he repeated.

Slowly, at an incredibly ancient pace, Virgil’s mind seemed to start and actually process the idea of food, a meal. Yes, food. Food sounded good, sounded like an amazing thing to have. Oh, yes food could be tasty and they could eat together and have really tasty food that was delicious.

“Em has foood”, he argued eventually.

Yeah, whyever the hell would Virgil make food if it was not in order to satisfy Emile’s petite hunger. His mind just could not comprehend the idea of .... making a meal when Emile was gone. Why would he? It did not make sense.

Unless..

Virgil blinked, a flash of intelligence brushing through his alcohol-numbed braincells. Remy.

“hungry... uh.. you “, he started at first, then swallowed, his mouth tasting of cherries and kisses even sweeter than sugared fruit. And it tasted of a lot of alcohol. It could rival a bottle of common sanitising solution, to be candid. “You are hungry?”

Remy nodded eagerly!

His head bopped up and down immediately but once he had executed the movement for a bit, his head seemed to understand that the pressure and pain seemed to come from the sensation of sudden and repetitive movement of his innocent brain. If he tried harder, maybe he would just make a little cocktail in his head.

Heh, like a brain milkshake when you ate icecream a lot and it started hurting so you shake your head until the pain comes off. Brainfreeze was bad. Yes.

But food!!

“ah - uh.. food”, Remy repeated once more, “cook - um,.. we should cook.”

Virgil nodded without understanding and let himself be tugged along. The smaller boyfriend was freeing himself from Virgil’s wide hugs and he quickly made it out of the embrace and stepped away from the loving support that was his boyfriend’s stable shoulder.

Without missing another heartbeat, Remy strode forward and dragged Virgil along. Together, they made a move, they made progress, they took a whole step after the other until Remy - the genius of the two - made a big realisation- Virgil had been his support all along.

His body did not like being without any wall or shoudler to lean on. Instead of moving forward, he was suddenly experiencing the force of being forced downwards and he and Virgil bonked their heads together as they stupidly collapsed into the floor.

No braincell was lost in the process of making this fall. They were just as silly before the fall and they would continue to be silly even afterwards. Honestly, they were not more clever, now that they had experienced the first hardship.

Oh no. Those were drunk idiots.

Hurting heads clanked together and Virgil slid over the body underneath him, his throbbing temples restricting his reason and patience.

What had happpened? Did they not want to make food? But the food... Where was the food?

“Where ‘s Em?”, Virgil mumbled and scrambled his twig of a physical vessel back into a seating position at last.

Remy was still on the floor, groaning and cursing unintelligible strings of words. Maybe they were made-up words. They sounded made-up. Virgil’s boyfriend was beautiful and a really clever writer so he probably knew how to make words. Wow, such great skill.

He really wanted to kiss him now but a part of him was still mourning after the - once again - new realisation of a missing Emile.

“Viiiiiiiiiii”

A voice whined and the black bundle of boyfriend was moving towards him again, hands facing him and arms outstretched as if to grab Virgil like a lifeline.

“Em is not here...”, Virgil responded and laid back down to his partner.

Misery loves company ♥

The tall boy curled around the smaller one and gently hugged him from behind. Remy let out a little hiccup and snuggled into the embrace.

“n we dun hav food”, he argued silently and nudged Virgil’s chest with his heavy head. It was running on pain and simply pressing against his skull for no reason but to be dummy annoying.

That stupid bitch.

“We uh.. can umm.... do this thing - like..uh, cook..” Virgil swallowed, his body suddenly invigorated by the energy of being right about something, by having a single functioning braincell in his godforsaken drunk-ass head. “Cook! Oh my fuck, we-we can cook!”

The raven man twitched and tapped the floor insistently.

“PIZZA!”

Virgil nodded.

“uh.. how.. how do you.. uh ,,, we? How ... how pizza? How do you make uh, ujm.. pizza”

“Oh !! o ! yes, pizza!”

Virgil’s mind was already swirling around the idea of hot, cheesy, greasy food. Tasty, doughy and absolutely amazing for his mouth - his tastebuds. It felt like a relief already.

In foolish happiness, the two got up. It took a while, longer than a few moments but rather multiple minutes until they had climbed and dragged themselves back up to the position of standing, sophisticated human beings. Not that they were a part of the fancy beings but rather that they seemed to resemble this species a bit more than any other.

Eventually, Remy hung over the drawer filled with snacks. He needed to eat, wanted to eat and he had a certain craving for the greasiest of foods. The black dude grabbed the crisps and hugged them to himself, snuggling up on topf of the kitchen counter with the little snack as Virgil got minced meat to make a killer festival of a greasy pizza dish. Remy started off good! His hands grabbed the package from two sides and started pulling. For some reason, still, his grip seemed to slip. His fingers just couldn't grasp the material properly. It was one of the shiny packages that felt smoother than these matte ones. Virgil liked the texture better so they usually got these rather than other ones.

Just.. today.. they didn't seem to want to open and Remy, in his silly mind, was convinced that more violence and stubbornness would solve the issue better than scissors would ever be able to. Virgil got a pan and was ready to got. Meat, pan. What else would a person need?

His drunk mind started working, gears setting into motion and letting his thought process start. Just as he realised that maybe some oil would be helpful, he heard a loud sound, a sudden shuffling and scattering.

The hazy mind of Virgil redirected his shortened attention span to the source of sound and was met with the sight of Remy covered in spices and crisps. Opening the pack of crisps with a little more aggression was not as practical as he had expected it to be and now he was stuck on the kitchen counter, covered in crisps and crumbs and excess spice powder.

“...uh..”

The tall blob of confusion looked at the orange boy. Yes, Remy was now officially orange. Those were spicy crisps! Honestly, if someone was able to pull off being covered in crisps, drunk out of their mind yet still look somewhat remotely attractive then it was Remy.

The hungry man giggled, his body vibrating and and shaking in amusement. The crisps travelled down, sliding off his clothes and down onto the counter.

“I am tasty!”, he cheered, arms stretched out and ready to hug and tackle the issue at hand, “look!”

The taller one of the lovers just shook his head and leaned in, snatching one off the crisps with his tongue and welcoming the spicy hot treat into the drooling cavern that was his mouth. A hum escaped his mouth and he nodded his head sagely.

“Very tasty”

The two giggled further, Virgil curling his tall posture into a slightly crooked “l” as he  leaned closer to the counter. His hand grasped the edge and promptly encountered one of the lost crisps that cracked and broke on impact. A dying screech could be heard after the lethal contact. A few crumbs could be found on the inside of Virgil’s hand as he retreated his palm in the curiosity of an innocent child’s mind.

“huh..”, he observed wisely. His tongue leaped at the crumbs and he absorbed the piece of sustenance.

“We need to clean .. uh.. that”, he added after chewing on his food and eventually swallowing it down. His left vaguely gestured towards the mess of roasted potatoes decorating one of his datemate’s bodies.

It was a wondrous sight but would turn Emile into an upset little puppy rather than a happy and excited Golden Retriever. He did have the soft energy of one.

Remy nodded again. One of his hands bravely sneaked one of the crispy delights and rewarded his watering mouth with the taste of bell peppers.

“Ish gwood”

Virgil snorted.

“Em- uh.. We- we need to clean”, he reiterated, “we gotta clean.”

The smaller man suddenly shook, his body coming to life and more avalanche of crumbs suddenly breaking from Mount Remy and crashing down onto the kitchen counter with silent pitter-patter sounds. It was like raindrops but less liquid and more dry. More crunchy and crushing.

Satisfying.

“We! Uh, we can..ah- do uh.. um! Bowl! V! Get a bowl!”

The taller of the two broke away from his waiting stance and slowly descended to his knees to pick up a bowl. His mind comprehended the things a bit better by now. The alcohol might be fading or maybe the one bit of crisps was absorbing ALL his alcohol within him.

Or magic, obviously.

They got the crisps from the kitchen counter and off Remy right into the bowl which was then settled in Remy’s happy lap. He was welcoming and neighbourly to the bowl, hugged it and treated it right because he was proper and gentlemanly in his foggy mind.

Virgil looked at the bowl, full and rich with greasy little pieces of potatoes and a mix of spices.

“uh.. they um.. they will be bad”, he thought aloud and tapped against the bowl as he fished another bit out of it. His mouth was accepting the treat willingly and his stomach howled in anticipation. Only his mind was still twisting and turning and nothing made sense. Not that he minded too much. His body was warm and cozy and his thoughts seemed to fly. “we um.. should eat all.”

Remy hugged the bowl, his face immediately scrunching up in distaste.

“Food!”

The smaller man curled up, his legs moving up and his back hitting the wall as he pulled his knees up to his chest. The bowl was put between his chest and the knees.

His precious treasure.

“Ri, we... you are eating it. We will eat it”, Virgil compromised and reached out for the bowl but Remy hissed at him. The heart of a betrayed man was on his tongue as he scowled at the other and gently snuggled his little meal.

A soft puppy face spread over his facial features.

“We eat it..?”

His voice was softer than silk, the tone lowered to a plead. Virgil’s smile was soft and genuine when it appeared and settled on his features. He tried to mimic a similar level of gentleness with his voice and carefully brushed over the back of one of Ri’s hands that was grasping the bowl.

“We will eat it all. No throwing away.”

Remy smiled at him and nodded enthusiastically.

“We share!”

The two were calmly eating out the bowl, enjoying the greasy treat and Virgil allowed himself to lean into the counter and lay next to Remy. The latter eventually decided to be a good bean and switch the bowl with Virgil. Once one of his datemates was sprawled over his thighs, Remy brushed through the pastel pink hair tips of his love’s soft strands. The home dyejob was long ago and the colour was faded so much that the bleached hair slowly took over but Virgil seemed comfortable with a tuff of cotton candy as his hair.

He hummed.

“Food... V.. “, he commented and gently patted his head - earning a little gasp from the other in his state of mindless relaxation. “perfect”

Virgil giggled, the words of his Remy immediately prompting the response their datemate would usually add to it.

“Do you mean ‘purrfect’ ?”, the two inquired in unison before falling victim to their own giggles which soon consumed the incomplete throuple. They would both hear Em’s voice without him being around.

Remy softly nudged his love and Virgil let out a soft grumble. He decided to groan back and nudge again to insist on his wish that the tall boy move.

“We still need to cook, yanno”

Virgil giggled, wobbling on his feet with his wonky stand on the ground. He shifted his weight from one side to the other and moved like a wave to balance his uncertain steps.

“Heh.. cock”, he commented, intelligently so.

Remy joined his hilarious giggles and soon enough, the Virgil curled over the other, hugging him and vibrating in laughter as his smaller roommate shook and twitched in his soft snickers.

“C-cok..!”, Remy tried to correct yet failed as his breathless lungs swallowed half his sounds. Instead, his miserable attempt at setting things straight ended up in making the whole endeavour even gayer. “Co-..cockpfffffffffff”

Virgil shook his head, head red with laughter and euphoria as the words hit him and the meaning actually reached his mind. For some reason, repeating “cock” was amazing and his mind chanted it back at him, echoing the stuttered out attempts at saying “cook” that Remy produced with little success and much struggle.

“c-...”, Virgil laughed loudly, drawing back and wobbling onto his feet once more instead of blanketing his love with the abomination of his oddly large body, “co...cocc!!”

Remy had just composed himself to as much as breathe for a little second but the words Virgil threw into their version of a conversation quickly rekindled the fire of shrieking laughter and gasping snickers.

The two continued simply repeating each others miserable shots at saying “cook” a few more times, wild banter or unfinished words and breathless syllables were between them and filled the room with the warmth it was missing with their datemate still out. Heads grew hot and glowed in amusement at their stupid joke. Nothin could stop them but their horrible need to breathe after all.

They calmed down and their laughter died down.

Virgil decorated the floor, hugging the cool tiles with his warm tomato head as Remy patted the empty counter he sat on, his hand just mindlessly moving against it, stroking it ever so gently like a lover should be caressed. The tall boy was already half asleep as Remy’s hazy look wandered over the mess of a kitchen.

Crisps were still scattered wildly around the kitchen counter (mostly limited to where he was sitting) and even the floor. Cups, shots and little decorative umbrellas were clotting the sink and a few empty cans and bottles lined the side of the sink that did not have a drying rack. Even further, there were towels and napkins everywhere.. and more importantly, a pack of meat and a whole bottle of olive oil.

Why.. Oh, yes. The food.

His lethargic sight was enriched by the eventual addition of crisps creeping into his field of vision.

“V!!! V! The fooooood”

His words emphasised the food part. The significant part. Oddly enough, he could experience a moment of déjà vu yet without any recollection of similar events happening to him. Or happening at all.

The patch of pink and purple pastels was still on the floor but slowly, the legs within the pink yoga pants started stirring up.

He groaned again, feeling the déjà vu also but not being able to quite place it. The past minutes were lost on him. Virgil’s eyes blinked at the new day and new situation before him. Everything was fresh to his drunk mind and he nodded as he signaled he had heard his smaller lover.

He scratched his butt but made sure to flip himself over so he could see the other hovering over him on his divine place on the kitchen counter. Far above him, posing on the clouds of this mundane kitchen. The house’s own Cupid was shooting him glances of love and blinked in charm with his lovely eyelashes.

Virgil smiled up at the divine sight of his love. His sight was blurred by the pinkish veil of his hair that pretended to protect his lazy eyes from the longing lights in the kitchen that shone down onto him.

“Hey there, beauty~”

His smile grew into a little grin as he winked at the comfortable god.

“V you silly noodle~ “

Remy giggled back and curled into himself once more, by now fully laying on his kitchen cloud. His legs were slightly bent, the one pressed against the counter a bit more so than the one above it. One of his arms was supporting him as he leaned on its shoulder. The other arm was lazily draped over his rich middle.

His fingers traced hearts over the counter as he blinked into the pink madness of his little giant.

“What do you want, my love~?”

Virgil smirked up at his adorable master, a stupid happiness painting his facial features with a certain softness. Maybe it was just the fact half his face was covered in his bangs completely falling all over his eyes and even tickling his nubby nose.

The two gazed at one another, each a picture of the epitome of beauty to the other. They relished in the affection, the rosy vision and blurry flutters in their heart.

A noise could be heard. Remy blinked, awakening from the trance that was the spell of love his precious Virgil had cast on him with just his soft looks.

A rumble and grumble could be heard. A hollering and squeaking of demands and curses was thrown around - all coming from the hungry monster in Remy’s stomach. He looked down at it, a distant look in his eyes.

Confusion rolled in his mind but Virgil seemed to remember - or just suddenly have a little bit of understanding left in his mind. He blinked his eyes further open and patted the floor, gently stroking it before pulling himself together and sitting down properly.

“Riri, the f o o d!”, he told him and grabbed the counter to support himself in getting up. His tall body was soon hovering over the counter and gesturing towards the oil and meat once more. “We can cook the meat, man”

Remy nodded, rubbing his eyes. He carefully pushed himself into position once more and soon enough sat proudly on the counter, cheek a bit red from laying on the counter. He played with the sunglasses on top of his head and grabbed a nearby bottle. Taking a huge swig from it, he swallowed the acidic liquid.

His face immediately grimaced as his taste buds detected the different sensations coming at them and his reaction was immediate. The bitterness of alcohol, the intense burning of it down his throat made him scrunch up his facial features entirely. A fire was felt in his mouth but it was calmed by the abundance of sweetness mixed into their cocktail blend was finally reaching him. A taste of fruity freshness and the acidic undertone from lemons and limes washed the bitterness way and made him forget about the disgusting aftertaste of cheap vodka.

Ugh, who bought this shit anyway. It was one of the most widely-ruined alcoholic beverages on this planet and people just saw it as cheap ingredient for a sad cocktail in their plan to get smashed with as little money and effort as possible. Which he and Virgil did too, so he could not really judge that.

Virgil.. Virgil who was looking at him, head tilted and exposing his neck a bit. His pastel purple shirt around him was loosely hanging from him and barely covering his collarbone and general neck area.

The tall pastel boy reached for the bottle before Remy got to unscrew it and made sure to empty the rest into his big mouth. Remy just blinked at the other, shaking himself in disgust for a moment before he received the empty bottle in his hands and finally shut the holder of horribly disgusting sweetness.

“Good”, Virgil reviewed with a click of his tongue.

A pleased expression settled on his face and he looked like a peaceful statue of stone that would sit in some temples and parks.

Remy shook his head, his piercings clanging together with silent sound akin to jingling bells. The taller datemate cleared his throat again and pointed ta the stove.

“You gonna come.. come and uh.. help me cook?”, he asked softly as he looked at his lovely datemate. He was such a handsome piece of man. A fine man in black from head to toe, even his earrings and piercings were black (safe for the septum in silver than graced his lovely nose).

The smaller goth got down to the floor and quickly wrapped his arms around Virgil’s soft middle.

“mmmh”

Remy hummed and gently snuggled up to the walking softness that was one of his boyfriends. Sometimes he just realised that they had not touched in a while and it felt ridiculous.. wrong, in a way.

The closeness was remedying the little void in his touch-o-meter. He snuggled up to Virgil’s chest, hugging him close and simply enjoying how the embrace was returned. Virgil’s large arms folded around him, carefully holding him and shielding him from the touch-starved life without him. The taller one softly started rocking after he pressed a little smooch to the top of his head.

“Got you, Smalls”

Remy let out a sound of protest but stayed within the hold. No fight, no resistance. It was just cuddling softly, eyes closed and hearts opened as the warmth of affection lulled them in. Slowly, the weight in Virgil’s arms became more present, the pressure against his chest a little uncomfortable as Remy dozed off, falling against the tall pastel bean.

“ m nodt smahls”

His eyes fought to open again and he lethargically burdened himself with blinking at the other.

“Ssure not l-llove”, Virgil giggled in return and leaned down to hug more of his little lover.

Emile was still not with them and it was nagging at him.

“m!”, Virgil argued, pulling away from Remy at once, “We clan - can!Uh ... um.. Cook and and then be up um.. for uh.. for when Emile uh .. retwurns back uh .. home!” He bounced a bit in his spot and turned his attention back to the stove, quickly moving to put some oil into the pan he had put out before.

“He-he can eat th-the food and ...b..uh.. be proud of us!”

Virgil got on to it, totally absorbing himself in the magical art of fucking preparing food - a meal, even so. The only thing was that the whole process seemed a little lost on him. Once the oil was in and the stove started to heat up the pan along with the oil, he was a bit.. clueless and left to the devices of a person just as unknowledgable as a child. Or, well, a drunkass FULLY grown adult who does not understand life but is tall enough to eat BABIES.

Helplessly, he turned to Remy as the oil startd to change. It did not look just the same as before, there was something happening. There were small bubbles and it felt like some bride’s veil was just dropped in this shit and now everything was slowly whitish but in a really weird and odd blur. Holy fuck, it got more.

There was even more. They got more and more by the minute, soon enough covering the bottom of the whole pan and effectively taking over the oil.

Oh no. It was... It could not be!

This shit was fighting the oil.

“REMY”, Virgil yelled instinctively as he grabbed his smaller man and hugged him close, effectively trapping him in the sweet embrace of absolute and immediate anxiety edging on panic.

The smaller individual stared at the oil, the whitish bubbles in it and saw the sizzling, witnessed the soft little sounds, almost friendly enough to woe him into believing its innocence but he was smarter than that. He would not be fooled into falling for this cheap trick. He was a serious and super intelligent man. He was capable, strong, handsome, gay, hungry and even more fucking gay if he did not mention it before.

Nothing and nobody would or should ever mess with a Queen, a Diva like Remy.

Not even oil. No matter how tasty and delicious it seemed to be .. or smell. How did simple greasy shit already smell so aromatic? Honestly, this was peak restaurant ambient!

Remy held his tall boy and hissed back at the rude intruder.

“Oh, you -”, he challenged with the sudden flow of determination hitting him. The alcohol was driving into his bloodstream and fuelling his confidence to the point of proud idiocy.

He eyed the pan... quickly, he could realise the oil jumping at them, starting the fight, picking up weapons and hitting the first men!

“TAKE COVER!”

The malicious entity has chosen.. death. Ah, alright. Remy saw that. Remy understood.

He was a clever man.

He blinked, refreshing his mind and eyes at once. Within SECONDS - because he was a genius among mortals - he had calculated e v e r y t h i n g.

The oil was coming for them, launching missiles of little white bubbles and hot hard pain at them. It was seething, it was cruel and it was not the last word of blood and injury spoken between them. Remy predicted the attacks swiftly, his mind working overtime at the task of working out a plan as he threw himself against Virgil to dramatically shift them out of shooting range.

They needed to be safe from this evil monster, the ill-spirited being of oily disasters and compromised bubbles of seething, white rage.

“Virgil, Virgil we - “, he started, gasping his words out as if a terrible injury was keeping him from breathing and speaking properly, “we need to stop it!”

The long man nodded, gaze shifting from the monstrosity of oil he had unleashed and the alarmed face of Remy’s usually so calm features. He reminded him of a person at gym, you know, those fitness coaches that were really into physical exercise and they would push you to your limits so hard, you wanted to cry. Kinda. A weird cry of yes and no but it was no maybe, not really. Actually, it was not maybe at all.

It was weird and it was painfully feigned enthusiasm for self-torturing devices.

Wait, how did he - Oh yes, the oil.

“We, um.. uh .. stop it”, Virgil agreed.

A small tinge of regret stabbed him like the shady little bitch it was. Just a fucking little backstabber getting back at him - literally, pun not intended - when he least expected it, when he was exposed and vulnerable. Okay, he was always vulnerable.

Virgil waved his hand around as if to fan the danger away with his magical drunk powers of dummy-thiccness.

“We can distract it”, he slowly suggested, his voice slowing down significantly, “away from us.”

His hands were parallel to one another, as if to indicate a certain length that was the space between his hands. The palms faced one another and he moved the pair of hands from one side to another with an air of importance surrounding him.

Remy nodded with great authority.

“Amazing plan!”

He agreed with a cheer and stared back at the raging fireworks of oil bullets littering the kitchen with greasy spots and defacing destructing. The situation got out of hand, slowly but surely so.

Burning olives could be smelled. They were the souls of the dead, the fallen and forgotten. Their sacrifice would not be for nothing, it would not be dismissed as collateral damage.

Virgil dashed forward, running straight through the shower of oily precipitation raining down on him, his vulnerable pastel soft self. He screamed, screeched and cried in battle demeanour and aggressively threw his head back to face his opponent.

“I will take it from here!”

Virgil stared at the pan, the drawer underneath it heavily attacked by the angrily steaming monster. It was where all the lids were.

“Ri!”, the pastel baby called through the loud hissing and shrieking of the raging dumpsterfire that was hot and burning oil, “You go bash that meat into this shit”

Virgil swallowed hard, the words on his tongue too much for him to comprehend, tears forming in his eyes as he came to terms with what he was about to announce. “I will go get the lid and shut this fucker up”

Silence.

When radios or TV channels hit an error, there was that weird static sound, somewhat intense and monotone but persistent. It was this kind of sound that seemed to dominate the battlefield the oily savage had forced upon this kitchen. Their kitchen..... It would pay for it.

Remy’s beautiful face of love and darkness was derailing into a shocked movement of mouthing protests, proposing empty alternatives to the plan. Virgil shook his head decidedly, not even paying mind to the multiple Remys before him.

It was just an oil job. That shit had messed with their kitchen enough but it would not mess any further with him and one of his dear beloved ones.

He looked down at his arms, spots of burned skin meeting his vision. Future scars of the heroic action he was about to complete. There was flesh missing in his mind, in this kitchen. It was lost like the comrades they had forever missed in battle. The salt shaker, the cocktail glass... The little spoon with sugar crystals still on and around it. They had fallen and they were to never return.

The two engaged in eye contact for a moment lasting longer than a heart’s eternity. Their eyes longingly connected, just a bit, only a second.

Remy gulps down his hesitation and fear. While the oily giant was harmless at first, it was fear-inducing and absolutely horrifying by now. It was teaching them the lessons of obedience and pain - the hard way. Their hearts knew love from each other but they also felt the terror blown into them by the horrific enemy rising in their kitchen.

Virgil nods.

The time has come.

The nod was slow, an exaggerated movement in order to make sure Remy would not miss it. Compared to the following actions, it was basically slow motion. Then, everything happened at once, happened in quick succession and happened incredibly so.

Remy dashed forward to the meat and just flung it right into the pan at once while Virgil slid all over the floor to the drawer and Pulle out a lid just to immediately smash it on top of the pan, covering up the oily mess and saving them from the dictatorship or violence and hatred.

Just like that it was over, they counted their wounds and embraced each other as shivers and memories crawled up their spines. They knew what have been through and they wouldn't be able to just live it down. It would stay.

The raging fire of the defeated oil could still be heard but it was contained at last, it was not out there to hurt them anymore. they were safe and sound in each other's arms. Remy squeezed the pastel blob in his arms, the slightly taller male wincing at the friction and pressure against his wounded skin. His exposed arms smelled like burned meat.

Or maybe it was just the actual minced meat cooking in the pan. They didn't know.

The sage hand turned down the heat of the stove and Virgil gently nuzzled his boyfriend's neck, his fine face quickly hidden in the collar of Remy's black jacket. Not even at home was the place for Remy to take it off. He was more comfortable in it and he absolutely was right in just how stunning and badass he looked with it decorating his biceps.

Virgil gently dove deeper into the embrace and just sighed, softly mumbling nice things, little praises and compliments for his beloved datemate. The other carefully reassured him, told him he was proud and that it was over.

The oil was still angrily boiling and loudly seizing the meat inside.

Remy carefully nudged his love and have his cheek a little smooch.

"We did it" he concluded and gently squeezed his hands. Virgil nodded, lips curved up and humming in affirmation. "You're a brave one, Rem", he shot back.

The addressed man let out a small sound, something akin to a groan. His cheeks were dusted in red feathery delight of a warm blush. He gently shook his head and peppered a few more kisses all over Virgil's scarred face.

"No, you", he softly countered.

Virgil giggled and shook his head as he pulled away and turned to the food. The smell of cooked meat was reaching up to their nostrils, spoiling and temping them with the luxurious scent of a promising meal.

His stomach rumbled in anticipation.

"Cheese?"

Remy tilted his head as he carefully pushed Virgil out of the way to stir the food without getting hurt. Even with some oil spilling around and shooting into his direction, the jacket protected him. Virgil's soft appearance wasn't covered up enough for him to be safe from the deathly syringes of oil doses. He got the hint and stumbled around to get his jacket. Emile and Remy had hade it for him.

He loved it so much.

"Yes, cheese. Of course"

The two, now oddly sober, cuddled up before the stove and got into the whole cooking process.

Virgil got cups of actual water for them at last and they both drank this. They didn't feel ask dizzy and odd anymore, nor just focused and immersed in the idea of eating food. The smell really did it to them.

Virgil had added some spices and Remy sneaked some more crisps into his mouth, occasionally feeding some to his beloved soulmate. Well, one of them.

He softly rests his head against Virgil's shoulder as he stirred cut tomatoes into the mix. Some herbs and beans were added by Virgil at this moment.

Who would have thought they would eventually get to make food at all? They certainly believed in it, during the times when they actually remembered wanting to make food.

The pastel pal snuggled up to Remy, leaning against the much stronger one and simply dozing to the delicious smell of probably just slightly burned food. Remy nudged his datemate to the couch to doze a bit. Virgil was hugging a bundle of blankets rather than covering himself up. He looked ready for more hugs as he silently whimpered for Ri to give up on the food and just cuddle him.

Meanwhile, Remy mixed grated cheese under the food and added fresh lettuce like the genius he was. His mind was young, hungry and drunk but he was also wild and free. Especially free of logic. The emptied cans were cluttered all over the kitchen and barely any space was left unoccupied from the drunk ramblings of idiot amateur cooks.

Towels, trash, cutlery and plates were all over the place, some cutting boards adding to the mix and obviously many bottles and cups. The oily mess all over the counters and the floor wasn't even spoken of at this point. There were still so many other stains in the usually so clean and tidied up kitchen. Usually, Remy would take care of cleaning the kitchen, keeping it neat and clear at all costs but right now, he was not in the mindset. He was drooling over the food the had made. It was probably way past midnight, yet he was focused on the food.

The steaming hot goddess was lazily falling from his big cooking spoons as he stirred and mixed stringy cheese into the mix of spices and meat and so so many tomatoes. Considering their state, they could have cooked worse food. The heaps of reddish "stew" heavily fell back into the pot. By now the strings of molten cheese were drawing lines and twirl through the wonderful creation.

Oregano tickled his nose.

He got a big bowl and basically spilled 80% of the stuff into it. The bowl greedily absorbed the food, taking it in and deliciously spreading itself with the tempting smell and sight. in Remy's mind, he had halved the whole drunk masterpiece of smells and tastes but reality didn't exactly reflect his beliefs accordingly.

He didn't mind the few bits of mashed-up food staining the sides around the bowl. Not that the kitchen was suddenly turned into a worse mess by this. It wasn't a significant addition but rather the cherry on top of a true mess.

Anyhow, the food was done and ready to feed them. He got three spoons in all his laziness and wobble his tickling legs into the living room with his love. Emile would be bs ck soon and he would be able to eat with them and enjoy it along with them. It was just a matter of minutes, right?

The goth popped up next to Virgil, dropping the bowl on the table with the flattering spoons clashing onto the glass table in front of them. Virgil was curled up in his corner, stubbornly and lovingly hugging the pile of pink blankets. They had a rose pattern all over them. As much as Remy adored seeing the contrast of Virgil's mostly white and pastel pink appearance with the more intense rose colour and the floral patterns. Green and reddish hues seemed so stark and radical next to the soft colour scheme that he presented with his peaceful figure of a dozing drunk cuddlebug. Still, the knowledge this used to be a gift his ex had given him didn't sit right with him. Not exactly, at least.

Remy nudged him.

"Love, the food is done", he gently reminded him, him voice pressing against its ground and keeping it as low. It was a ducked down figure in a dark corridor at night when everyone was asleep but the little figure that was the voice.

"huhmm", the pastel punk mumbled softly and stirred ever so slightly, his curled up body opening up for Remy to fill his arms rather than the blanket. His halfway covered face was more visible by now since he tilted it a bit.

Remy smiled a tad.

"Come over love", he invited gently and patted his lap as he brushed over Virgil's arched back with his other hand. "mwmm"

Remy hummed back in return.

The pastel bean shifted over into his boyfriend's lap, resting himself in it with the upper half of his body as he curled up on the new space, now with his arms loosely wrapped around nothing but the love between them.

He felt Remy brush one hand through his dyed hair and his lungs immediately relieved a breath which came out in the form of a sigh. The smaller of the two giggled.

He hummed.

''You slee..sleeby..?'', he asked softly, his voice ending in a low hum.

Thoughts and words were mentally swirling around like noodles in a nostalgic childhood soup. You know – the ones with noodle letters in it. They were aimlessly whooshing from side to side, queerly dancing in an uncertain rhythm with uncoordinated movements guiding them into the unknown. Neither Virgil nor Remy were ready to bring order into the mess of lost letters and unconnected pieces.

There was some sense between them when Virgil basically purred under the ghastly touches, these bare fingers gracing his skull and caressing his pounding head. The tall man curled up into a ball, reaching out to lazily grab one of the hands Remy needed to keep around him somewhere. In his hazy state of mind, Virgil just somewhat expected a random Remy-hand to float around before him because surely the hand to touch him was in front of him .. logically. Yes, he totally deduced that by means of not looking around because his eyes were so heavy with the pleasure of being touched so delicately, the satisfaction of being handled with great care as if he was a fragile glass of thin sugar – just a moment about to break apart, melt away or dissolve into sugary water.

Sadly, his extremely intense and complex calculations turned out to be – surprisingly – wrong after all, leaving Virgil wondering just how he ended up with an empty handful of nothing but all the needs for more body contact he had harboured in it before his attempt at catching more of at least one of his beloved datemates. Involuntarily, he let out a sound of disagreement, a sort of angry hamster sound.

His hand fell over Remy's lap, simply collapsing over it with the sound of frustration and slight anger accompanying the dramatic fall of his unmotivated limb. Virgil instinctively curled further into his fetal position as Remy tried his best to conceal the chuckle rumbling up from within his chest.

He was trembling with amusement but, picking up on the distressed Virgil-sounds, he reminded himself to maintain at least a small amount of countenance in order to not repeatedly poke his sensitivities. The goth was not making fun of him after all or finding his distress to be somewhat entertaining at all. His drunk brain just... short-circuited at how adorable yet odd his lovely idiot sounded when he randomly stretched out his arm just to immediately let it flop down onto his lap and just groan at it as if moving was the worst punishment to ever happen to him.

Virgil's hands were already working up to his hood, confused finger tips tugging at it and letting it clumsily slip through them because fabric was so hard to hold onto. His uncoordinated grip on them caused him to lose his motion many times as Remy leaned back to give him the space he needed to curl his fingers around the hem of his hood. He squealed and screeched in anger at the exhaustive process of getting this right.

Eventually, though, he got his fingers tightly buried in the hood, knuckles turning white as his tired kind just moved his head along with motioning the hood to lower over his head and prevent the access Remy's gentle fingers used to have to his soft hair.

''Oh, darling, nu'', Remy tried softly, his voice attempting to reach out to the closed off taller bean before him. ''Hey there, lil' coff'he bean''

He poked around, carefully searching to reach the long nose in the excess of fabric that stretched over a great part of Virgil's face. It averted itself when Remy fianlly got around to brush against his nose.

''Nu'', he spat out at once, his hands trying to pull the blanket over him as well.

Remy patted his head but the so-called ''coffee bean'' was retreating and hissing at him.

''Com'on, my coff' bean'', he cooed once more, his voice softly sneaking into Virgil's mind, into his heart. Slowly and surely, it got around to actually stop his fingers from pawing at the damned blanket. This cursed stupid pink fabric with its silly roses and vines all over it.

...M.. Shtupid.. roses.. n stupid ''Princey'' guy.. This was their Virg. Theirs only.

Remy kept himself from narrowing his eyes at the enemy. There was no time to be jealous when his little bean curled away from him. This was worse heartache to him than a past lover he and Emile had clearly helped Virgil get over. He nudged him again and the pastel ball returned another hazy noise in reply. It sounded much like a stubborn ''nu-uh!''

''I didn ..laugh about yu, my dear'' He cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes patiently. '' 'm just laughed b'cuz ..am so hap-...happ...happy to be wif..wiff you-you'', he started, a little hiccup interrupting him, ''and to see you“

Another hiccup rudely disrupted his flow of speech.

''in mah lap, hun.''

The charcoal-clad man nudged his love's cheek tentatively, barely managing to draw a response from him. ''mmm.... mean'', he retorted insistently.

''Virgiiiiiiiiiiiil'', he whined at once, ''I made fuuuuuuud!'' He inhaled deeply, sitting a moment for the dramatic effect. Or really, he was just waiting because his mind drew a blank on whatever else he had intended to say at some point in time. Uh.. he had made food.. there was food and he was with Virgil and he made the fud for him and Emi and.. uh..

Ah! Yes!

Remy blinked excitedly and nodded to himself, congratulating his genius of a mind that suddenly recovered the thought process lost to the alcohol dampening and slowing down his cognition. He leaned in, bowing deep over the protesting bundle of purple and black. From the lack of words, he wanted to think that Virgil was dozing off and forgetting about the little misunderstanding between them.

''If yu... wan...nn..wanna'', he slowly suggested, ''I can.. feeed you-hoooo''

Virgil slowly blinked, his eyelids breaking open to reveal his dark embers of small orbs.

''Mh?'', he murmured. His head pushed back to Remy's lap and quickly nudged his chubby stomach with careful, uncoordinated movements of a person not just anything but sober but also sleepy and full of feelings.

He tasted love on his lips and gently brushed his tongue over them. ''Ri'', he demanded, voice soft with sleep and heavy in the exhaustion from fighting to stay awake, stay conscious and mindful of his surrounding enough to understand his present datemate at least.

The addressed man patted his hooded head softly.

''Com’up'', he mumbled back and tugged at the sleepy giant in his lap. Virgil was soon sagged against Remy but at least sitting. His left still fruitlessly brushed over Remy's lap.

Hug... He.. He wanted a hug.. Hug.. Hug Remy.

''Riiii'', he soothed softly, voice still just a whisper if any. The goth drew an arm around him and pulled him closer against his shoulder. ''M here, hon'', he assured patiently, mind already wondering just what they were doing again, '' gotcha close.''

He nuzzled the top of his head and carefully left a not of his love on it with a little peck.

Virgil snuggled up to him, his body fitting just perfectly to his side. They were a perfect match, all that was missing was a bit of food now. And a bit of Emile, of course. Emi would make it all perfect. Remy drew him closer and simply let them hug one another for a bit longer. More like waiting for Virgil to slowly gather up his energy and bodily control to eventually embrace the other fully and just rest in each other's love.

The taller one hummed against his collarbone, eyes comfortably closed in contentment.

''You said.. fud..?''

Remy laughed.

''Yeah''

*** The night draped over the village, hugging every little building and lamp post for comfort and love as it lovingly warmed everyone into a world of dreams and happy thoughts. It was the end of the day, it was late and actually almost time for yet another day.

Emile rubbed his eyes, keys to his car jingling in his hands as he approached the door. He had never expected a catch-up to take this long but the afternoon just spun further and further into a late evening and eventually, they had switched locations in order to extend their get-together beyond the point of midnight.

Any texts of updating information to his lovers had been to no avail. Emile thought they were having too much of a good time or perhaps even went to sleep when 3 am had arrived. He did not know how they were doing but he trusted them to be fine, to relish in just being two chaotic yet lovely cryptids together.

He straightened out his dark blue suit and ran a hand through the strawberry blonde mess of formerly gelled-back hair.

His hands worked to unlock the door and once he stepped inside, he shut the door behind him. At once, a certain.. smell hit his nostrils.

He was not sure what it was but it was obvious that the flat had not been aired out properly. The air was thick enough to try and grab a piece out of it. And the scent? It reminded him of a greasy fast-food truck. If he had to guess, maybe something like chilli cheese hot-dogs? He was not sure but there was something spicy in the hair.

It kinda stung.

Emile blinked and switched on the light, quickly taking off his dark overcoat and the first layer of his suit along with his dress shoes. He was left standing in his vest that was hugging his firm statue, accentuating each and every part of his muscular body.

A part of him wanted to call out for his beloved ones but he knew them, he knew the partying souls living in the calm giant that was the pastel-soft Virgil. He was more than familiar with the outgoing and extra kind of behaviour Remy would display with just a bit of party around or in him. He did not intend to torture them with loud noises when he knew they were wild spirits just waiting to run free and roam around without any constraints. They deserved to rest well after partying hard, to be honest.

Emile slowly moved into the bedroom just to find it .. void of the silent snores and little shuffles that came from the drunk sleep of his beloved mates. Instead, there was nothing and he simply frowned at the empty bed. The bed was made, still so it was obviously untouched. Nothing had happened here and none of his lovers happened here for sure.

A part of him wanted to call out for them by now but something held him back. This something was lingering within him as he peacefully stripped his body off the suit and changed into his pyjamas. When he came across his phone, he decided to tap their contacts and just call one of them and then the other, just in case they went out and one did not pick up at first. With the two being tipsy or even drunk, there was no knowing for sure.

He put the phone on speaker and got into his flannel PJs.

Toot.

Toot..

Faintly, somewhere, he could hear something. At first it was so distant and weak, he nearly overheard it, due to the sound of his pyjama stretching over his body being louder than the faint tone in the background. However, once he stilled his movements and stopped dead in his tracks, he was able to identify a sound - even the nature of it.

“I’m on the battlefield like OH MY GOD”

It was Remy’s ringtone.

“Yes, I’m a one woman army”

Emile blinked, the song now clear as day in his mind as he finally identified the muffled sounds. He picked up his phone, fingers flying to grip it and shut the loudspeaker.

“oh la la, oh la la ~”

The song was indicating him to come closer, luring him in and playing hint for his curiosity. The mind was working as he took it step by step through the dark apartment. The end of his pants were dragging over the floor as he sneaked over the ground, his feet merely separating from it with every step he took. His feet ate every bit of sound as he walked, progressing at a speed so slow and cautious, he felt as if he was walking on eggshells rather than the socks Remy had made him by hand.

The sound was getting closer, the persistent, cocky voicelines of the singer were shooting through his mind as he carefully approached the scene. Before him was the darkness leading up to the kitchen. The light from their bedroom was illuminating his way to it.

With a usual movement as if everything was as it used to be, as if there had never been a war and losses in this field of tragedy and blood, Emile switched on the lights and revealed the graveyard of oil and hopes.

The sight was quite a bit- Pans and pots were stacked on top of one another. Spread over a turned off stove and the abused sink who witnessed it all. Stains of any kind seemed to repaint the counter, floor and partly even the ... the ceiling? How did they do that! Unbeknownst to Emile, the horrors of battle drew consequences nobody would be able to imagine. Of course it would paint the world into a new picture, it would change reality and distort beauty into true abominations of cruelty.

There was a bloody puddle of oil on the floor, a pool of death juice tainting the world of the living with what used to be, what used to exist and live and grow. It was no more.

He slowly, respectfully stepped forward, deeper into the red flags of the forbidden zone. There was desolation and chaos. Cutlery, foods and spills whatever in any place and spot free enough to accommodate it. His feet slowed as he progressed further into the field of war, the area of missing people and lost souls.

He walked through the mess, skipping over dead utensils and empty packages. There were bottle caps all around and the worst was little glitter particles and sparkles all around. Maybe they had mixed drinks with glitter. In the context of the battlefield, it looked like the luck and happiness that used to wield yet now it was broken and scattered in the wind of change, the breeze of ends.

Emile watched the drain in horror as he identified tiny pieces of fruit stuck in it. Cocktail cherry bodies blocking the water from ever flowing into the sweet relief of the sewers. It was forever trapped in the sink along with the dying cutlery.

He strove through the devastated lands, through the chaos and destruction. His eyes did not see the past, did not see the struggle to stay alive - to be safe. He was blessed with the ignorance of arriving fashionably late to the scene and just luckily skip out on all the war. He never had to experience the torture of the oil giant. Emile did not even realise how much of a chosen man he was with the entitlement of being spared with mercy and love.

His innocent soul floated above the rotten land, the stabbed and wretched floors and towels soaked with tears, blood and sweat. The salt of ruined soil was poisoning the roots of a new generation. He simply skipped through it, free of guilt or memories. He was not drawn to the tragedy of what used to be. Instead, he marched over to the living-room to finally find the treasure he had been looking for. His flannel-clad self, the pirate of the suffering lands was here to take advantage of the tired soldiers of oil wars.

As unexpected, there was a bundle of black and a bundle of rose snuggled up together, the colours weirdly merging into one fusion of softness. The pattern of roses naturally fit the blackness it was curled up around. It seemed like the most natural occurrence, a home-grown batch of adorableness. Emile blinked, his eyes behind his glasses still needing to adjust to the dark image before him. It was dark because he refused to switch on the lights when his loves could and actually did camp in this space.

“You two are lucky I love you so much”

His whisper slowly weighed down onto them, gracing them in their sleep and rocking them in warmth and affection. They were in the lap of love and safety, dressed in their own schemes and shenanigans with contentment painting their features and highlighting their position with lazy sparkles and soft contact to one another.

Emile bowed over them to draw another blanket over the two, just to make sure to cover them both in the warm coziness they deserved.

For another short moment, he relished in seeing the two embracing one another, Virgil curled against Remy and holding him so close, he would usually fear the other could suffocate - yet he knew better than to worry about them. Remy enjoyed a surprisingly large amount of squishing and a comparably lousy amount of space for sleeping.

After this, he slowly and softly walked away, step by step, back to the bedroom to nap on his own, all alone in their big big bed. He snuggled up with his excess of blankets and soon enough fell into a deep sleep, completely unbothered by everything that used to be and will be. For now, everything was different and so cool compared to how it would be per default but that did not mean his night could not be nice. Relieving dreams soon settled in his mind, abandoning all possible worries in his mind.

Morning was soon to come.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Seven

Part Six

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx

Warnings: Language, mentions of suicide, minor sexual situations

Tag list:  @fandomshit6000 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @allieburakovsky @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork  @6ixx6ixx@ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard  @oldschoolimagineblog@thanks2pete @abaldboi @swoopygorl @justjodeye @liith-ium @caos18blog@ytwahsog @shamlessobsessions @scarecrowmax @toadspleen​

**Let me know if you want to be tagged**

-------------------------------------------------------- "How does it feel to be a high school graduate?" My aunt Lily asks me, continuing to stir the cake batter while reading the rest of the recipe from my mother's dessert cook book.

I flip through the rock magazine she brought over, sitting on the counter in a tank top and pair of pajama shorts. 

"Then they're good friends." She finishes her mixing and hands me the chocolate covered spatula. "You're gonna need it to pour the batter in to the pans and spread it out evenly." I remind her and she looks at the cake mixed in the bowl and then at the spatula I'm holding out to her.  "Oh...I knew that." She plucks it from my hand, frustrated with herself. "I swear, I could do everything right when I wasn't sober." She grumbles, pouring the mix in to one of the pans. "I cooked thanksgiving dinner perfectly when I was on coke, and now I can't even bake a cake. I never got pulled over for a DUI when I was using and guess what? I have a big fat ticket stuck to my fridge because I got pulled over for reckless driving last week. Clean as can be. What's up with that?" She scoffs out, pouring the second pan full.  "You mean the thanksgiving you sprinkled cocaine over the brownies instead of powdered sugar?" "I was tipsy and wasn't thinking." She argues.  "Mom had you arrested and vowed to never let me see you until you got clean."  "Because your mom's a bitch." "Aunt Lily, you tried to give me coke brownies."  "It wouldn't have been the end of the world. It's not like it was LSD or heroine." She goes to put the pans in the oven and I stop her.  "Drop them on the counter to make sure they're even and the air bubbles are out." I tell her and she holds each pan above the counter a few inches and drops them both three times, slipping them in the oven, and closing it.  She hands me the spatula to lick it clean and runs a hand through her perfectly styled,  blonde hair.  Aunt Lily was my mother's sister, younger than her by fifteen years, making Lily only a few years older than Nikki, and probably around Mick's age. She was the definition of wild child with her fitted clothes and "trampy" hair, that wasn't really trampy but my mom didn't like it so she called it trampy. She was my age when she fell in love with a some drum player who got her hooked on every drug known to man, and got pregnant for the first time. She ended up losing it when she OD'd on heroine at a Rolling Stone's concert, and her beloved first love left her there to die and never spoke to her again. She was engaged six different times after that, all six of them were up and coming musicians, but I think the eighteen year old inside her clung to any man claiming to be a musician in the hopes of finding someone just like the first one she fell in love with. Although we lived in the same city, I only saw her once every few years. Mainly because she was in and out of rehab, and my mother wouldn't let me near her if she wasn't sober at least a month. The last time she had gotten sober was because she wanted to see me and my mom told her she'd never see me again until she stopped using and stayed sober the rest of her life. She nearly died because she quit cold-turkey just for me.  "So," She nudges my legs with her hip. "I heard Tommy's officially got a ticket to hell." "First class." I add, looking at her with a little smile. "Mom's heartbroken." "I'm sure it's devastating to have to tell a boy who's like your son that he's going to hell with no possibility of redemption." She sighs out smartly. "Poor Charlette. How on Earth will she get by knowing there actually is someone she knows that she can't control?"  "She'll manage." "And does she know she doesn't have you by the ear anymore?" She asks me and I stop my reading and look up at her.  "Wha--" "I go to a lot of the shows on the strip when I can, Viv. I've seen you with them a lot." She explains and I nod, closing the magazine.  "No. Mom doesn't know because if she did, I would be dead."  "Well, you don't have to tell her until you're ready." She assures me.  "Um, I think it'll be sooner when she realizes I'm not at Julliard in the fall." I say and she raises her brows. "What? Why not? You've worked so hard on school and in dance--" "I have other priorities right now. School can wait."  "Does Tommy know you're putting school off for him?" She asks. "It's not just Tommy anymore. I'm friends with all of them, and I don't want to leave them. And Tansy got approached by a modeling agent from New York so she's about to start her own thing, too. I've gotta be here for all of it. These are important people in my life and I can't miss any of it because I'm stuck at school." "When are you telling Charlette?" "When I withdraw from Julliard. I called earlier this week and they're sending me the paperwork in the mail."  The phone starts ringing and I hop off the counter to answer it. "Well, when she kicks you out, and she will, if you need a place to stay or some money or anything, you can call me because I will gladly support your demonic lifestyle." She promises, the both of us laughing as I answer the phone. "Hello?" "Viv, are you busy? Are your parents home?" It's Tansy and I glance at my aunt.  "Um, mom and dad are celebrating their anniversary so aunt Lily came over to babysit, why?" I ask. "You can't panic, okay?" My heart drops to my stomach, worse case scenarios filling my head.  "What's wrong?"  ----------------------------------------------------------- "I am so going to kill him." I mumble, stomping down the hall of the hospital in my pajama's.  Once I get to the room the nurse told us he was in, I see Tansy's waiting for me.  "What the hell happened?" I ask Nikki and he groans, rubbing his forehead from where he's laying in the small E.R. bed. "You called Vivian and snitched on me?" He barks at the small blonde. "It was a seizure. It's not like my heart stopped fucking beating."  "Do you know if you're okay? What were you doing?" I ask him. "Vivian--" He starts but can't finish. "Tox screen is loaded like a .22" The doctor tells us as she comes in with his test results, and looks at me. "Are you the girlfriend he was telling this one not to call?" She motions to Tansy briefly. "Yes." He grumbles, keeping his eyes closed.  "Lots of alcohol, a couple of pills, but I think what got him in to this mess, was the startling amount of Cocaine." She tells me and I glare at him. "Which can cause very serious seizures if used irresponsibly." "How the fuck are you supposed to use Cocaine responsibly?" He asks her. "By not overdosing, dumbass!" I flick his forehead.  "There wasn't any brain damage, but you need to come back if you notice anything abnormal. We're going to keep him here a little while longer until most everything's out of his system, then we'll discharge him." She tells me and I nod, thanking her before she leaves.  "I want to know exactly what happened." I tell him and Tansy, raising my brows when neither of them speak.  "Mick told him he should slow down, and he didn't. When he started seizing everyone at the party left to avoid getting in trouble. Vince didn't want to call an ambulance, neither did Tommy, so Mick dropped us off."  "Stop looking at me like that." He snaps at me and I glance at Tansy. She reads my mind and says: "I'm gonna go look for a vending machine. I'm hungry." Before she steps out of the room.  I turn to face Nikki, thinking of what to say. "Look, I fucked up, I'm sorry, it won't happen again." Nikki tells me, exhausted. "You've been over doing it a lot lately. I think this is your body's way of telling you to slow down," I sit on the edge of his tiny bed, putting my hand over his, brushing his skin with my thumb. "I think you might be getting--" "I'm not a fuckin' addict, Vivian. So shut the fuck up before you even think about tellin' me to go to rehab." He threatens and I open my mouth to speak before closing it, nodding a little.  "Okay, Nikki."  "Okay, Nikki" was my go-to "you're full of it but I don't want to start an argument so I'll just keep my mouth shut and let you do whatever" phrase. I was patient enough to simply say "okay, Nikki" anytime he did or said something I didn't like. That patience lasted through Shout at the Devil, when we all went on tour with Ozzy Osbourne and Nikki, Tommy and Vince were doing everything bad there was to do under the sun. Then I kept that patience with the Theater of Pain tour, in which Tommy and Nikki were doing nothing to contribute to Vince's new found sobriety after he had a drunk driving accident. By the time the tour for Girls, Girls, Girls started, my "okay, Nikki"  patience was used up. We spent the last leg of the tour infuriated with each other. I wanted out of the marriage, he wanted out of the marriage, but neither of us would let the other leave. It made zero sense to the people around us, but it made perfectly good sense to us. By the last few shows, every member of their opening band, Guns N' Roses, was calling me "Stripe" after Izzy Stradlin pointed out I was sweet and fun to be around until Nikki came around, which was the equivalent to feeding me after midnight, and I'd turn in to a Gremlin straight from hell because of it. I should've been offended by the nickname, since I was being compared to a demonic hellion, but I realized it was true. Nikki would enter a room, and his mere presence would piss me off, one of us would start an argument out of nothing, in front of anyone around at the time, Vince or Tommy would always defend Nikki and I would get fed up and try to avoid them, spending most of my time with Tansy and the band that wasn't making me question throwing myself off of a balcony just to get some peace and quiet. But when we first started out, I believed him every time he would look at me after some sort of fuck up and promise me it would never happen again. And all I would say, every single time, was "okay, Nikki."  With the IV fluids he's on, it doesn't take much longer for his system to clean up enough that's he's allowed to go home.  Vince and Tommy gone, probably partying, while Tansy and I make sure Nikki gets inside safely.  "I'll be in the car," She tells me once we're inside, and I nod. "I'll be there in a minute." I assure her. "No, take your time." She gives me a wink I wouldn't have noticed usually, and she takes my keys and heads out. "Do you need anything?" I offer to him and he falls on the couch, closing his eyes with a sigh. "My head is pounding." He complains, rubbing his forehead.  "Here," I motion for him to sit up, and he does, so I can sit down. He leys his head back down in my lap and I start moving my finger tips across his forehead. "I really am sorry, Viv." He says suddenly, almost whispering.  "It's okay." I lie. "Mistakes happen. I'm not mad." "You are, you're just passive aggressive." He points out, eyes still closed. "Would you rather me be aggressive-aggressive?"  "That sounds like it'd be hot." He smirks and I force myself not to chuckle. "You are a cross breed of a twelve year old boy and a bunny." I state and he laughs. Once our laughter settles down, his hand is comes up to grab my crucifix, pulling it off. He just stares at it, a weird, fixated grin on his face, and I watch him. "What's wrong?" I ask, waiting for him to answer.  He just let's it fall to the gross carpet before he sits up, grabs a handful of my hair, and brings my lips to his roughly. I let him, but I have no intention of sex at the moment. He needs to rest. I pull away to breathe after a minute, smiling at his expression, and when his hand goes to take my shorts off, I stop him. "Tansy's waiting outside for me." I tell him but he doesn't care. "It won't take that long," He argues, pushing my jacket off my shoulders, and tugging my shorts off. "I told her I'd be out there in a minute, ten minutes ago." I laugh out as he gets his pants unzipped and unbuttoned, yanking me on top of him. "You have ten seco--" I go completely mute as he pushes my panties to the side and frantically follows my "ten second" rule, before sending me stumbling out the door with sore innards and a hazey high. By the time I get back home, aunt Lily's waiting up for me, eating a piece of her cake. "Is he okay?" She asks, knowing about Nikki's condition when I told her what happened while I was grabbing my keys and shoes before I left.  "Cocaine overdose." I tell her, plopping down on the couch beside her and she raises her brows. "Oh, you've got yourself one of those, huh?"  "Unfortunately." I sigh out, rubbing my eyes.  "Gotta picture of him?" She asks and I step to my bedroom, grab the album from under my bed and grab a polaroid of Mick, Vince, Nikki, Tommy, and Tansy sitting at the booth at the Rainbow. I take it to her, and point at Nikki. "Oh, yeah, that is a whole lotta hair and a whole lotta trouble. Is he one of the reasons you're dropping school?" She says after a moment of silence in the room and I lick my lips.  "I don't recall him officially saying 'hey, you're my girlfriend now', but he told his doctor I was." I avoid her question and she smiles a little.  "Do you feel like you are?" "Yeah. I just thought he didn't want a girlfriend." "Well, he was probably strung out on whatever else he was on, too. He probably wasn't thinking." She explains and I nod.  "Yeah, you're right." "Unless he did mean it..." She continues to examine the photo, smiling softly.  The sound of my parents car door slamming shut causes me to rush back to my room and put the picture up while my aunt cleans up her small mess in the kitchen.  My parents step in to the house, laughing, and my mother's expression falters slightly at the sight of Lily. "Thank you, Lily, for watching her but we're home, now." Is all she says before stepping upstairs. "My pleasure, Charlette!" My aunt calls up after her, and my dad gives her a warm hug.  "Thank you, Lily." He says genuinely.  "I wouldn't do a damn thing for that woman if she married someone like herself." She states and he chuckles.  "Drive safe." He tells her, and kisses my hair, telling me "goodnight" as he heads up to his and my mom's room.  I help my aunt gather her things and as we get to the door, she turns to face me with tears in her eyes. "You are a gifted, beautiful, kind, brilliant girl, Vivian, and I am so very proud of you." Her voice shakes slightly and I furrow my brows. "Don't you dare touch any kind of drug. I don't care what it is. If it's not prescribed to you for an illness, don't take it. Liquor messes with your judgement and at the parties you're probably going to be dragged to by those boys, you need your judgement fully intact or you will get screwed up and I don't need you screwed up. I need you alive, I need you alive so you can live enough for the both of us." She goes on. "Surround yourself with people that make you brave in the best ways possible, and love them. Even when you hate them, you love the hell out of them, understand?" She asks and I nod, still a little confused as to why she's saying these things. She finally exhales, looking me directly in the eyes with a soft expression. "He is very attractive and probably as smooth as they come, but don't ever let that be the reason why you let what he thinks is good for you, keep you away from what you really need." She tells me. "He is not the end-all, be-all, Vivian. You are."  That was the last thing my aunt ever said to me. She ended up relapsing and killing herself when she got back home that night with a switch-blade some wanna be Rockstar left at her house. We later found out it was because Ronnie, her first love, had died of alcohol poisoning a few days before. She had always said she was going to see him again and try to make things right. I hope she was able to do that. 

[pi-cat000]

MSA: Fast Forward (part 1)

Back at it again with another time travel fic. This time it’s a Lewis fic, and he’s travelling forward in time. (LewVivArt)

Self-indulgent, sappy, angst and melodrama. Also, this is leaning towards LewVivArt. Don’t usually focus on ships in my fics so we’ll see how this goes.

Summary: Lewis wakes up in a future where he’s been dead for two years.

Part 2: here 

“You’re sure it’s fine.”

Lewis watches Vivi hover next to Arthur, on her knees, peering under the van to watch Arthur do whatever mechanical thing he did when he lay down on that roller thing to work on the van’s undercarriage.

“Yes, Vivi. Everything is good to go. I’m just giving her a once over for good luck,” Arthur responds, voice slightly muffled.

Vivi leans forward, cheek almost touching the concrete in an attempt to follow Arthur’s movements.

“It made that weird squeaking noise the other day.”

Arthur huffs, “That was the brake pads, which I’ve replaced. Pass me that wrench.”

The arm that Lewis can still see waves towards a slime silver tool which kind of looked like a wrench. Vivi is again distracted, trying to follow Arthur, so he pushes himself out of the doorway and weaves his way around the workshop to grab the tool. He kneels next to Vivi, putting it in Arthur’s still waving hand.

“I’m sure the van is fine Viv. Arthur knows what he’s doing.”

Vivi sits upright to give him a look, “I’m not doubting Arthur. Just making sure there are no more road trip delays. The Mystery Skulls Machine needs to be 100% ready to take on all manner of ghosts that we’re definitely going to find while we solve all those unsolved cases.”

“Lewis hand me the tool next to the one you just gave me,” Arthur interjects, and Lewis glances down, locating and handing Arthur the requested item, before turning back to Vivi.  

“Ghosts,” He starts slowly to be provocative, “Right. I’m sure the van can handle whatever the ghosts throw at it.”

“Is that a hint of scepticism I detect,” Vivi leans forward, taking his bait, giving him a light poke in the chest, “We don’t take too kindly to sceptics in these parts.”

Lewis grins, also leaning in, giving Vivi a raised eyebrow, “That’s unfortunate. What are you going to do about it.”

“Ah,” Arthur’s exasperated voice interrupts, “Can you two shuffle back, I can’t get out with you guys sitting there.”

Lewis, still grinning, heaves himself to his feet, holding a hand out for Vivi. Vivi sniggers, taking his offered hand so he can pull her upright.

“Sorry Arthur,” They both say in unison, watching Arthur shuffle around under the van, finishing up with whatever he’d been doing. A second later he slides out, smears or oil across his cheek, so it matches his off white work shirt.

“Everything good?” Lewis asks, offering a hand to Arthur as well. His friend heaves himself into a seated position, muscles along his shoulders shifting.

“Yeah. It’s all fine. Like I said, I was only doing a tune-up for good luck,” Arthur grips his hand, and Lewis almost forgets to pull, slightly distracted by Arthur’s smile. It’s warm almost reminding him of Vivi’s playful smirk but more relaxed and easy. The mental comparison throws him through a loop for a hot second.

“Well, that’s good, cause I can’t wait to get out of this place and see something that’s not cactus and dirt for once,” Vivi is talking, bouncing with pent up energy, “We should start packing now, so we’re ready to leave first thing tomorrow.”

“Haha, sure,” Arthur laughs, wiping his hands clean on his shirt, “let me just park the van out front to make it easier.”

“Come on Lew,” Vivi tugs at his hand then frowns, face wrinkling, pulling back. Lewis realises a second too late that his hands are now also covered in grease.

“Yuck,” Vivi grouses, “Arthur, how is it that we get covered in this stuff when you’re the only one doing mechanic work.”

“Bad luck?” Arthur offers with a loose shrug, quickly retreating to his van.

“You know where the sink is,” He calls back at them.

Vivi huffs, watching Arthur reverse out of the garage. She then turns and gives him a contemplative glance.

“You know. I only get this oily stuff on my hands when I touch you.”

Lewis eyes snap away from where he’s tracking Arthur and onto Vivi who leans in towards him, wigging her eyebrows.

“Uh. I was being helpful?”

Consideration and maybe realisation flash across Vivi’s face and she grins.

“Helpful. Right. I’m sure that’s all. Nothing else?”

This is new. Lewis stares at Vivi, unsure of what she’s hinting at exactly. He’s still getting used to this flirting thing, and Vivi is better at it than him, so maybe he’s missing something.

“Let’s go wash our hands and pack the van,” He suggests in place of addressing her question. Vivi seems disappointed. He has no idea why, a few seconds ago she’d been all but pushing him out the door in her rush to start packing.  

>>>

Long into the evening, after the van is packed and everything is ready for the road trip, the exchange is still playing over in his mind. It repeats on a seemingly endless loop. Arthur…Vivi. He liked them both. Being officially with Vivi is still new, and he’s getting used to thinking of her as more than a friend. But, he’s never really considered Arthur the same way.

Or had he? Lewis frowns up at the ceiling of Arthur’s living room. He is stretched out on Arthur’s couch, and Vivi is snoring loudly on a mattress next to him.

Now, considering the whole thing, he doesn’t think he’s ever talked to Arthur about him and Vivi being in a relationship. What did Arthur think about it? It’s weird that he has never thought to ask.

He loves Vivi, her energy, enthusiasm, the get it done attitude, can’t image his world without her really. But he also feels the same way about Arthur and his more methodical approach to life and openness with all emotion from happiness to fear. Arthur who is his best friend. Lewis ponders the comparison. He’s not sure what to do with this information. Did Arthur feel the same way? What would Vivi think? Should he broach the topic with either of them?

He doesn’t come to a conclusion instead drifting off to sleep in the early hours of the morning.

>>>

Lewis awakens feeling oldy heavy headed like he has slept longer than he should. He is still on Arthur’s old couch, but Vivi’s mattress has been moved. He stares at the empty floor in slight confusion. Had Vivi and Arthur packed it up without waking him? Strange. He doesn’t consider himself a heavy sleeper and Vivi wasn’t a quiet person so it should have woken him.  

The sound of a oiled pan spitting and the distinct smell of eggs frying distract him from the conundrum. Lewis hoists himself upright to peer over into the kitchen. Arthur’s lounge and kitchen are joined into one open-plan room so he can just make out the back of Arthur’s head and shoulders by the stove.

There is the sound of salt shaker clattering over and Arthur swears under his breath. Lewis lets a small smile pull at his lips. The only time he hears Arthur swear is when he’s trying to cook. He’s not quite sure why Arthur’s decided to make breakfast when it’s usually Lewis who handles anything kitchen related but he’s not about to complain. Though, it is odd that neither Arthur or Vivi had decided to wake him. Weren’t they supposed to hit the road as early as possible?

Lewis yawns, trying to rid himself of that odd heavy headedness, swinging around so he can stand. The curve of his back cracks as stiff muscles loosen. Now he’s standing a few paces from Arthur, the couch and an island benchtop separating them.

Lewis opens his mouth to say something along the lines of ‘good morning’, but Arthur beats him to it, turning,  still holding the pan of eggs.

“Hey Viv, hope you like burnt eggs because…”

Several things happen in quick succession.

Their eyes meet. Arthur freezes, face draining of colour. The pan clatters, falling from Arthur’s hand and onto the floor, cracking against the floorboards. The eggs and hot oil spatter over the bench, ground and other's side.

Lewis makes a sound of alarm, “Whoa Arthur. Are you okay.”

He starts towards the kitchen intent on offering aid and forcing Arthur’s hand under some cold water.

“Stay back,” Arthur snaps, backing up, stumbling when he almost slips on the now cooling oil.

Lewis hesitates at the panic in Arthur’s voice, eyes darting around, trying to find its source.

“What? What’s wrong,”

The sound of clicking across the polished wooden floor draws his attention towards the door nearest to Arthur. Mystery trots in, ears pricked and alert, probably in response to the sound of Arthur dropping the pan.

Lewis doesn’t think too much of it, more focused on helping Arthur, until a loud growl and the flash of teeth has him backpedalling. Mystery’s snap misses by an inch and Lewis takes several steps back, eyeing the surprisingly aggressive dog wearily.

“Mystery? It’s me boy. You know. Lewis.”

Lewis has never seen Mystery attack anyone, so he’s understandably unprepared for the sudden hostility.

“Don’t move,” Arthur is biting, “I don’t know what’s happening, who you are, but your trick isn’t going to work.”

“What are you talking about,” Lewis tries to edge around Mystery and almost gets bitten for his trouble, “What’s going on. Why is Mystery acting up?”

His brain then processes Arthur’s questions, “Wait. What do you mean you don’t know who I am?”

“Lewis has been missing for almost two years now. You’re expecting me to believe he would just waltz back in here like nothing.”

“What? No, I haven’t,” He objects feeling very thrown at the aggression in Arthur’s tone, “Is this some sort of prank because it’s not very funny.”

Arthur glares. Arthur’s never glared at him like that before.

“Whatever this is,” Arthur growls, “just… don’t. Lewis was officially pronounced dead yesterday. You can’t be here.”

“But…” He starts, hesitates, then continues in distressed exasperation, “I am Lewis….and I AM right here!”

Note: Another of my time travel fic which has been sitting around for a while, now out in the world. 

Part 2: here

[ofvivicnnes-blog]

                 hi everyone ! my name’s 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒 and i’m really happy and excited to be here ! i was in a group a v long time ago that had the points system before, so it’s really cool to be a part of a group that has a similar concept ( so shout out to the admins ) ! anyways, i’m 21+ and my pronouns are she/her, but they/them is okay as well. i’ve had kehlani’s mixtape on repeat pretty much since it came out, i have an affinity for writing intros at 2am while simultaneously working on editing themes, i’d let yeji choke me with her ponytails, and jackson wang owns my ass ! this is my very first time i’ll be playing kang seulgi after seeing exactly one (1) image of her on pinterest, and i hope i can do her justice with my mess of a child, vivienne ! 

“who are you & what is one thing that people would know you for ?” 

‘ i don’t know who i am -- i’m a lot of things. on the surface, i’m a daughter. i’m a former idol and a girl who’s still chasing her dreams. i’m vivienne, always, but i haven’t discovered who i am underneath all of that yet. one thing people know me for is my personal life. it’s not all that pretty. ’

“if there is one thing you could change about your career, what would it be ?”

‘ hm, i don’t know if there’s anything i would change, but i wish there were some moments i could have done a bit differently. my career as been great, but it’s nowhere near perfect and it never will be. ’

“what are you willing to do to be in the top ten ?”

‘ anything, but within reason. truth be told, i’m not afraid of anything that might get thrown my way, but i’m not saying i would throw someone under the bus ... not yet, anyways ! ’

name  :  vivienne ba-rom park.

nickname(s)  :  viv, vivi, & v.

age  :  twenty-four ( 24 ).

birthday  :  february 8th, 1995.

zodiac  :  aquarius.

moral alignment  :  chaotic neutral.

gender  :  cisfemale.

pronouns  :  she/her.

height  :  5′6″ ( five foot six inches ).

hometown  :  santa clarita, california.

nationality  :  korean-american.

ethnicity  :  korean.

occupation  : former k-idol, solo artist & dancer.

label(s)  :  the intangible concept, the lost soul & the sybarite.

aesthetics  :  glittery eyeshadow, roses on silk sheets, stained wine glasses, wire rimmed glasses, bare feet in the mornings, messy ponytails, ignored alarms, clear boots, shoes with red soles, messy bedrooms, diamonds, gold jewelry, oversized sweaters, strawberry chapstick under red lipstick, sexual tension, golden sunset, hickeys, long eyelashes & flushed cheeks, fuzzy socks, bright lights on a stage, disco balls, concerts, screaming until you lose your voice, love confessions, holding hands, sharp eyeliner, face masks, ripped denim jackets, fluffy clouds, drinking with friends, red wine, ignoring texts & making eye contact with someone you like.

          vivienne park was born on a cold ( california cold, that is ) february morning to na-young & nam-il park in santa clarita, california. vivienne was a happy baby that brought her parents joy, as they only had intentions to have one child and give them the world. if only the young couple knew that their daughter would grow up to be something like a thorn in their side, expensive perfume, 

          middle school was the time when the couple noticed a chance in their daughter. she wanted to be dropped off a block away from her school, she had a terrible habit of defying her school’s uniform dress code & mostly kept to herself, never inviting friends over for typical things like sleepovers. after watching from afar, vivienne’s parents questioned their daughter as to why she was acting this way. turns out, she didn’t like that her parents drove an older car in comparison to the other kids, whose parents drove newer & fancier cars. she thought the school’s uniform was stupid & it was hard for her to make friends with the other girls because she didn’t have the latest clothing trends or the latest gadgets.

          to put it simply, vivienne believed that she was supposed to have more & that she was ENTITLED to having more, but her parents weren’t able to provide that. her father was an elementary school teacher & her mom was a nurse, so the family lived comfortably, but nowhere near as lavishly as her classmates. vivienne wanted the pricey handbags & shoes, the beautiful blown-out hair & essentially whatever she wanted, so there were a lot of over the top arguments between vivienne & her parents whenever they said, ‘ no, vivienne. you cannot have a handbag that costs a semester’s worth of tuition. ’ 

          despite her slightly selfish & materialistic ways, vivienne was very interested in music at this time. she spent a lot of her time singing in her church’s choir & she was in the theater club at her school, so her life completely changed when she was introduced to k-pop by one of her friends in seventh grade. she immersed herself into the genre & became the girl who spent her time learning the choreography to her favorite songs. by the time high school rolled around, vivienne set her sights on becoming an idol & while her parents thought her dream was a little far-fetched, they eventually allowed vivienne to leave santa clarita for seoul in order to audition for one of the companies. 

          she lived with her aunt for a few weeks before she successfully auditioned ( at the age of fifteen ) & moved into the dorms with fellow trainees. vivienne thought she was doing well, but during her time as a trainee was the first time she felt constant rejection due to always being overlooked when it came to debuting. so, she trained hard for two years & debuted with her group NIGHTMARE x PARADISE in 2012 ! vivienne was the lead vocalist & rapper of the trio, went by ‘vivi’ & they debuted with their ep twinkle. NxP found success with their group & their debut was very well received. they remained together until early 2016, after vivienne was the last to debut as a solo artist with her ep i just wanna dance.

          after NxP’s breakup, vivienne’s bandmates found success in their new ventures, while vivienne slightly spiraled. she was now 21 & after spending the last four years with her bandmates, so she wasn’t really sure of what to do next. vivienne took a hiatus from music ( minus one song she released with far east movement titled don’t speak ) & she then found herself in a relationship with an idol from another company ( think jennie & kai with the way their ‘relationship’ was exposed ). hmm, if i’m being honest i’d love to have that as a wanted connection ( if it fits with your muse ! ) they tried keeping it on the down low since her boyfriend wasn’t supposed to be dating, but a few sneaky fans of his group snapped pictures of them leaving a hotel, so that sparked off a lot of controversy.

          vivienne’s boyfriend had been training to be an idol for a very long time & she didn’t want to be blamed for ‘ruining’ their career, so she decided to end the relationship after four months of dating secretly. one thing that continued to happen was the hate she received on her socials for dating the previously mentioned idol. vivienne liked to believe that she was a girl that didn’t allow anything to get to her, but the constant berating & harassment caused her to delete her accounts and move back to california, where she decided to debut as a solo artist. within a few weeks, vivienne found herself in yet another scandal when she was caught leaving a club with some prominent figure in los angeles, which caused her to fall under the scrutiny of the media & the public once again.

          she was dubbed as something of a sleaze, so she decided to start living up to that title. she returned to social media, but fans of vivienne during her NxP days were a little confused at her new personality ( which is all truly a well constructed act ). the scandal brought her some attention, so she released remember me, the theme song of the disney film coco in 2017. she released her first song as a solo artist, over my skin, in 2018 & signed to columbia records. currently, vivienne’s working on more music & other ventures, but doesn’t really know when she’s going to be releasing anything. vivienne currently lives in a super cute dtla apartment & she finally stopped being a punk towards her parents, so their relationship is better than ever !

          as for her personality, vivienne is very much the girl who puts on a facade. that’s not entirely weird when on stage because different eras usually means a different ‘personality’, but to the public she kind of carries herself as the girl who doesn’t care & she’s like a sexual deviant aka sexually liberated, but in reality she’s the polar opposite. to the public, she’s the girl who’ll be plastered on supermarket tabloids because she got a little too drunk at an album release party or she got papped with some other guy. in reality, she cares ( probably too much ) about what other people think of her, she hates when she feels like people are talking about her when she’s only a few feet away & she truly wants to be liked for who she is & not for what she can do. while her debut as a solo artist has been well received, she does sometimes get overwhelmed with the feeling that she’ll never reach that level of stardom again. tl;dr: she’s actually really nice & really wants to do well in her chosen career, especially now as a solo artist but she’s more than likely going about it the wrong way.

[thirstygirlclub]

Duchess - 6

Chapter 6 – no, I’m a vegetarian

Work was really hard. I never actually realised how hard it was before my trial shift at The Velvet Lounge. It wasn’t like, mentally hard but my whole body hurt after about 2 hours and my feet were killing me. I was told that all I had to do was take drinks from the bar to the table which was easy enough but I couldn’t sit down until I had been there for 4 hours. It was horrible but literally everyone else that worked there was so nice! I met a few people from town and they were really friendly and funny. I had been partnered with a girl called Katherine (with a K) which had made me laugh. She said that people called her Kathy though.

At 7pm I was told that Theo wanted to see me. I dropped my last tray of drinks down to table 5 and skipped over to the bar where he had been working all afternoon, making drinks and greeting people. On my way up I saw about 4 girls walking passed me with what looked like dance bags. Weird but I didn’t think too much about it.

“You wanted to see me?” I asked Theo as I approached.

“Hey Catherine,” he greeted easily, “how are you doing?”

“Oh my feet are in so much pain!”

Theo laughed and nodded, telling me that it was bound to happen after 5 hours on my feet without a sit down.  I had nodded as more girls with bags walked by. I looked at them confused and they smiled and waved at me as they walked by. I waved back then turned back to Theo

“So,” Theo continued, “how would you feel about coming back the same time tomorrow? I’ve spoken to the other girls and some of the guests and everyone seems to really like you.”

“Really?” I asked in disbelief, “me?”

Theo laughed and nodded, “yes, you.”

“Oh gosh! I mean, yeah. Yeah I’d love too!”

“Great! You can get going now if you want, rest up a bit before tomorrow.”

“Thanks! Thank you so much Theo! See you tomorrow.”

I smiled then turned to make my way to the staffroom to grab my stuff. On my way through I saw Kathy talking to some of the girls with the bags. I told her I was going but going back the next day and it turns out she was as well. I was kind of grateful that she would be in so she could show me how to do everything again; I know it wasn’t hard but still…

I waved to them all then to Theo as I walked out the front door. It was Friday. I had been invited by Mrs Chibs to a party with that motorcycle club. I can’t believe I had forgotten about it but I guess I had been so busy with learning how to work that I wasn’t even thinking about it. As I hurried home I called Jack to tell him to get dressed because we had been invited to a party. When he asked whose I told him Jax and I could almost hear his heart beat speed up at the mention of the older man’s name. It didn’t matter how much I told him that Jax would never go for him because Jack was way too young for him and Jax wasn’t gay or even bi (we think), my brother still kept hoping he would be noticed. It was kinda cute though to be honest.

“You think I should wear my leather jacket?” Jack asked, “would it be too much? Like, try hard?”

“Uh, yeah,” I scoffed, “just wear a cute shirt and jeans. If you wear a leather jacket you would look stupid. I’m just gonna wear shorts and a cute top. You think I should wear boots or wedges?”

“I dunno. You think I know anything about girl clothes? Just wear whatever is quick to put on. What are we gonna tell Dad?”

“That we’re going to a party with Jax and his sister?”

“Uh no. You really think he’s gonna be happy about us going to a party with the people that are making him lose money? Nah. I’ll tell him I’ve been invited to a high school party and you’re coming because… I dunno, you’re worried about me drinking alcohol. I’ll tell him now, just be quick. Bye.”

“Bye.”

I hung up and put my phone in my handbag as I almost ran back to the house. I had no idea what time this party started but I guessed these guys were big drinkers and would start early. As long as we were there between 7 and 9 we should be fine.

Finally, I got home and Jack literally pounced on me. He was already dressed and ready to go. I wasn’t even through the door and he was already pulling me up the stairs to get showered and stuff. I told him that I needed to feed Romeo and talk to Greta about my day but he didn’t want to listen to me. I just gave up with a sigh and dragged my feet towards my shower. Jack told me he was going to feed Romeo for me while I got ready. I made sure to lock my bedroom door then the bathroom door, just in case you know?

I washed away all the alcohol smell out of my hair and off of my skin. I was just thinking random things like, about how I basically had a job and Katherine with a K, Kathy. She was nice, I liked her. She showed me how to do everything and introduced me to everyone. I still wondered what those ladies with the dance bags were doing though. I loved dancing; I wanted to dance with them if that was even what they were doing.

“Come on Catherine!” Jack shouted through the door, “you’ve been in there for an hour! I want to get there early and talk to Jax.”

I laughed to myself, finished washing the conditioner out of my hair and wrapped the towel around my body only to see Jack sat on my bed and my bedroom door wide open. My heart thumped in my chest and I shouted at my brother for leaving it open and even coming in in the first place.

“Jack,” I scolded, “how did you even get in?”

“Dad gave Uncle Jerry the key,” Jack shrugged and looked up at me, “I just got it off him if I promised to bring it back.”

Why does Uncle Jerry have a key to my room? Why did Daddy have a key? Only I should have a key to my room. Maybe Greta, but not Daddy or Uncle Jerry. Especially Uncle Jerry. I looked at my door unsurely and held the towel closer to my body and shifted uncomfortably.

“Come on Catherine,” Jack sighed again, “it’s gonna take you forever to get ready if you just stand there.”

“Can you get out?” I asked, trying to hide the shake in my voice, “I can’t get changed if you’re here.”

Jack rolled his eyes and stood up, leaving the room. I heard the lock click as he locked it again. What was the point in even having a lock if everyone else but you had a key. I tried to forget about it and concentrate on getting a cute outfit together. I had literally no clue what the dress code was going to be but Jack looked kind of smart-casual. I wanted to look pretty though. I was deciding between a cute dress or a crop top and skirt combination. The second one made me look more grown up though. It was a dark red silk top and skirt, you know like matching. It was kind of slutty but I knew that Daddy and Mom wouldn’t mind that the skirt was kind of short and the top was really low cut if I wore some like, short black bicycle shorts underneath to hide my underwear. I looked kind of good once my hair and makeup was done. I added on a pretty diamond choker and some black high heels and I was good to go.

I was ready just in time for Jack to tell me that the cab was outside. I sneaked out of my room, looking around for Uncle Jerry or Daddy but they must have been in the office though because there was no one downstairs except for Jack. I made sure to collect my clutch bag with my money and phone, how was I supposed to buy myself and Jack cokes if I had no money, you know?

“Come on,” Jack stressed and pulled me outside.

((I want to split up the story but FFN will literally not let me do anything that I usually do so here))

Happy/3rd Person POV

Viv had been hassling him all day about the party that evening and Happy was getting reasonably annoyed but wasn’t brave enough to argue with her about it; he knew she would only tell him off for shouting at her.

“Are you nervous?” She asked him in a moment of seriousness, “I know you like her.”

“I don’t get nervous,” he told her with a shrug, and it was true, “and I don’t like her.”

Viv snorted with quiet laughter and he just glared at her. She shot him a sympathetic smile and put her hand on his arm, rubbing it gently. He knew that she knew that he was lying but didn’t want to say anything. Viv knew him too well, it seemed.

“She’s a vegetarian,” he told her quietly, “that doesn’t believe in killing things. That’s what I do for a job.”

The young woman was obviously speechless; she didn’t know what to say to make him feel better about that. Happy knew it was bad when Vivania, who was one of his best friends and was almost like his club mother, didn’t have any advice for him. She settled for giving him another gentle pat on the arm and a small, sympathetic nod as Chibs approached to kiss her cheek.

Happy looked away, back to his beer and sighed softly. He liked Catherine; he thought she was pretty and adorable when she got confused. Happy knew though that on the small chance that she did like him back as much as he liked her, she would run a mile when she found out what he did for a living; he was probably not even the kind of guy she would go for. She would probably go for a guy like Jax if any of them, he thought, since he was blonde with blue eyes but also charming. All the things that Happy knew he wasn’t. He didn’t know how to flirt with women, he never needed too; they just seemed drawn to him.

“Come on Hap,” Chibs chuckled, slapping him on the shoulder light heartedly, “cheer up. I’ve got a lot of money on you tonight, don’t forget.”

Happy had forgotten. One of the hangarounds had been out talking shit a couple of weeks before saying that he would be able to beat Happy in a fight but when Chibs had called him out on it, he was getting even more aggressive. Happy hadn’t even said he would do it, Chibs had just bet the guy $200 that he would be able to beat him. He hadn’t cared; he was gonna win the fight easily, even if the guy was a pro-wrestler, but now he knew that Catherine was going to be there to see it he wasn’t so sure about it anymore. Catherine didn’t seem like the kind of girl that would appreciate violence, especially when it was bare knuckle fighting with little to no rules. He just had to make sure he won by a landslide.

He tried not to wonder whether she would look after him when he inevitably took a few hits to the face. It didn’t work though. Happy was imagining her pretty eyes looking at him in the rabbit in headlights kind of way and that she always did, he thought about how she would probably be so gentle with him, she would be too gentle for a guy like him. He found himself smiling at the thought.

Suddenly, something shiny caught his eye from across the room and his mouth fell open when he saw her walking into the bar wearing clothes that actually made her look like an adult instead of a kid. She looked beautiful, he thought, he had never thought anyone was beautiful before but Catherine was. She looked expensive. Her entire outfit and jewellery probably cost more than his rent for the month.

“Hey Cat!” Jax shouted, waving and beckoning her over to where he was sat with Tig and Clay.

Clay stood up and moved to the bar when Jax had shouted the two Duke-Dillinger’s over. That left three seats. Viv grabbed Happy’s arm and pulled him over with her, pushing him towards the chair beside Catherine while her and Chibs cuddled up in the corner of the booth. Jax rolled his eyes with a smile and Chibs winked at him. Happy averted his gaze from the happy couple and looked down at Catherine. She was smiling and talking to Jax and Viv, unaware of Happy’s gaze and the looks that other partygoers were giving her. Happy wasn’t nervous like Viv thought; he just didn’t know what to say to make her talk to him. She seemed happy enough to talk to Viv, Jax and Chibs.

“Oh my gosh!” She gasped suddenly, looking down at her phone screen then back up to her brother, “Jack! Maddi Christie just commented on my new picture! What do I do?”

“Who?” Jack asked with a frown.

“Maddi Christie! You know, tall, blonde, getting married to a like, famous footballer or whatever. She was like, so popular in school. She came to my 21st birthday? We were, like, friends and stuff until she slept with Hannah’s boyfriend and there was just… all this drama. You don’t remember?”

Jack looked as confused as Happy felt. Did it matter who had commented on a new picture?

“Oh Mr Lowman,” Catherine sighed, looking at him for the first time, “what should I write? Here, look.”

Happy lent over to look at her phone to see a picture of her on some social media site or other. She looked like a model, he thought. She wasn’t smiling, looking almost seductive and sexy as she posed underneath a light that he recognised as one that was on the wall outside the club house. Underneath someone had typed “you look beautiful babe, meet up soon? xxxxxxxx” with a bunch of weird picture things and hearts. Happy looked at her and shook his head. He had absolutely no idea what any of that meant.

“What if,” she had turned back to Viv and Chibs, “I just put like, thank you and some kissy faces? You think that would be ok?”

“Yeah sure,” Chibs shrugged and smiled at her, “go for it.”

“Ugh, what if she wants to meet up though? Like, I don’t mind her coming here but I don’t know if I want to deal with all that drama, you know? Shall I just put, ‘thanks babe, lets arrange something for when I get back to la’ with kisses and hearts?”

Happy didn’t know why it was such a big deal but it seemed like it mattered to her so he decided he would take it seriously, her brother, Viv and Chibs didn’t look like they were taking her seriously. He reached over for her phone. Surprisingly, she let him take it and lent closer to him as she watched what he was doing. Mostly he was just looking through the cute little smiley faces on the bottom of the screen.

“Mr Lowman?”

“Hang on,” Happy said, concentrating on the social media.

He typed out a simple, “thanks, will let you know when I’m in LA” and put some X’s afterwards, eight like the other girl had put and showed her the screen. She looked over it and smiled with a nod before taking her phone back and showing him the things that she called “emoji’s” and told him what they were for. Happy was genuinely interested and listened intently as she talked to him as she chose the correct ones that fit the mood of the message.

When he had glanced up, he saw Viv looking at him with a pleased smile and gave him a thumbs up while Chibs and Jax talked to the teenager. Happy sent a small smile and a nod before turning back to look at Catherine’s phone.

“Hey,” an unfamiliar voice said, “you a croweater?”

Happy looked up at the same time the Catherine did to see a kind of drunk man stood behind Jax and Jack. Catherine frowned slightly, clearly not knowing what that meant and Happy felt his blood boil at the thought of her becoming a croweater.

“Oh, no thank you,” Catherine said with a smile, “I’m vegetarian.”

She thought he was talking about an actual person that eats crows. Happy thought it was cute. There was a moment of quiet as her comment sunk in then everyone burst into laughter, everyone except for Happy. He saw that she was looking around at the people around the table with a blush on her cheeks and a small frown on her face and she swallowed, clasping her hands in her lap then looked shyly over to Happy and she looked a bit happier to see that he hadn’t laughed at her.

“Mr Lowman?” She asked quietly, “have I just been really dumb again?”

Happy scowled and waved the guy away angrily before turning in his chair to face her fully. She straightened up and looked at him hopefully.

“No Catherine,” he reassured her with a small shake of his head.

She smiled. She seemed to love it when he had said she wasn’t dumb just like a few days ago. He wanted to make sure that she never felt dumb because she wasn’t. Just because her dad and brother told her she was and treated her like a little kid, it didn’t mean she was stupid. She just didn’t really get some things as quickly as other people did. He gently patted her on the head, careful not to mess up her hair this time and she laughed but didn’t pull away. Her eyes were sparkling now and she looked happy. Maybe she did like him.

Eventually, Jax had taken Jack to show him around the clubhouse since the teenager was looking bored with just talking but his face had lit up when the concept of spending time alone with Jax was mentioned. Catherine had seemed to perk up after Chibs had told her what a croweater was.

“So they’re like your own personal prostitutes? But like, free?” She asked him, nodding when he did to make sure she had got it right.

“Not for me Lass,” Chibs laughed, “I’ve got my girl here. She would kill me if I went with anyone else.”

“Uh huh,” Viv agreed, “the other girl too.”

“What about you Mr Lowman?” She asked, turning to him, “do you sleep with them?”

Happy didn’t know what to say, just gulped and blinked at her.

“I’m not gonna judge you Mr Lowman,” she clarified, putting her hand on his arm just as gently as he imagined she would be.

Happy looked up, panicked, at Viv and Chibs who were smirking at him.

“Yeah,” Happy admitted, “sometimes.”

“Cool. Hey Mr and Mrs Chibs? How long have you been married? You’re like super cute together and I am so jealous.”

They laughed and Happy felt a small sense of relief when she turned back to the couple. She was looking at them with a kind and warm expression that Happy couldn’t stop looking at. Chibs and Viv laughed. They loved her.

“We’re not actually married sweetheart,” Chibs told her, then lent forwards when Catherine looked embarrassed, “but we might as well be right Sweet Girl?”

Viv smiled with a nod, “yeah. We’ve been together for a couple of years now.”

They started telling her about how they met and Catherine was on the edge of her seat with her hands covering her heart and smiling the entire time they talked through their memories together, leaving out all of the illegal and potentially scary details of course. A couple of times she would wipe tears away from her eyes.

What is happening? Happy thought, why was he so captivated by her?

“That’s so cute! I can’t believe how cute you are! I’m literally crying!”

The couple laughed with her and Happy couldn’t help but feel jealous how easily they were talking to her. He was content just listening to her though.

((I want to split up the story but FFN will literally not let me do anything that I usually do so here))

Catherine POV

I was literally in love with Mr and Mrs Chibs. Mr Chibs was such a dad and Mrs Chibs was so obviously such a mom kind of person. I wanted them to be my parents. They didn’t get angry when I was being stupid; they were just really nice and patient and I think I could trust them a lot. I think Mr Chibs looked like he would be really clever.

“Hey, Mr Chibs?” I asked him, interrupting his conversation with Mrs Chibs, “do you know lots of stuff?”

“Uh, that depends sweetheart. What do you need?” Mr Chibs asked, looking at me with a raised eyebrow while I shuffled in my seat.

“Well,” I looked around and saw that Jack was still talking to some people at the other side of the room, “I- ok. Do you know anything about like… locks and stuff?”

“What kind of things about them?”

“Like, changing them. I have a lock on my bedroom door but Daddy and Uncle Jerry have a key so when I go to bed and stuff, I lock the door but then I found out that they had a key so there was kind of no point in it, you know?”

I looked between Mr and Mrs Chibs to Mr Lowman. Mr Lowman was looking at me kind of angrily and I shrunk away from him, not wanting to be looked at like that.

“Why are you locking your door sweetheart?” Mrs Chibs asked me, “has something happened? We’re not gonna tell your dad or brother, don’t worry.”

I swallowed and looked away. I didn’t want to tell them about how I was scared of how Uncle Jerry had grabbed my leg and how I was scared of what else he might do or be doing if he ever came into my room at night. Mr Lowman said my name and I looked up at him. He was looking at me kind of concerned and I found myself spilling out all my worries to him and Mr and Mrs Chibs; telling them all about it and even pulling up my skirt to show Mr Lowman the darkish bruise on my upper thigh. I tried not to cry but I couldn’t really hide it.

“Oh sweetheart,” Mrs Chibs said gently and put her hand on mine, “we’re gonna see what we can do ok?”

I nodded and thanked her a lot, like way too much and she smiled at me with Mr Chibs nodding thoughtfully and when I looked over to Mr Lowman he was still looking at my leg and frowning. I went to recover my thigh with my skirt but he put his hand on my leg to stop me. he tugged it back up and held my knee, moving it so that I was facing him and he could take a closer look at it.

“Mr Lowman…” I mumbled, “it’s not that bad, right?”

“He grabbed you here?” he asked, putting his hand over the obvious finger marks on my leg.

I swallowed and looked at him in shock. I had been scared when Uncle Jerry had grabbed me but when Mr Lowman had, I wasn’t. It was kind of weird but I think I knew that Mr Lowman was a good man, you know? I mean, he saved a dog’s life. I mean, I thought that Uncle Jerry was a good man too though. When I realised I hadn’t actually replied to him, I nodded silently.

“It’s ok though Mr Lowman, don’t worry. Uncle Jerry hasn’t ever done it before and I’ve basically known him since I was born. He sees me like a daughter, I think anyway,” I said quickly, “and he’s always been really kind to me. It was once though, you know? I probably should have just done as I was told and not have tried to leave, ok?”

Mr Lowman shook his head angrily and I looked back down to where his hand was still on my leg but Mr Lowman put his hand on my cheek. I jumped slightly and felt my face go red and I think I stopped breathing when he forced me to look up at him. His face was kind of hard to read but I think he was angry. I don’t think he was angry with me though.

“No one is allowed to do that to you,” he said quietly, “you’re an adult. You do what you want. No one controls what you do.”

I felt tears in my eyes and running down my cheeks. No one had ever said that to me before.  Daddy always told me what to do and I did as I was told. That’s just how it was. I lent forwards slowly and put my arms around his neck; pulling him so that I was hugging him tightly. The only other person that I had ever hugged (other than Daddy and Uncle Jerry) was Jax that one time after that meeting. I was nervous but just kind of buried my face in his shoulder and sighed.

“Thank you Mr Lowman,” I whispered to him, “but Daddy said that when I get married-”

“You don’t belong to anyone,” he said to me, reading my mind, “you belong to you.”

I was about to pull away from him when his arms went around my waist and one of his hands stroked my hair and patted the back of my head gently. I think he was maybe nervous about hugging me too? I don’t know but he was kind of hesitating when he was doing it. I liked it though. He was strong feeling, you know? I felt… safe. I don’t know what I felt safe from.

“Hey Hap- oh shit, sorry. You ok? The ring is all set up for you…” it was Jax.

I pulled away from Mr Lowman and looked away embarrassed and red faced. I don’t know what they were talking about but when Mr Lowman took my hand in his I looked up. He wasn’t looking at me though; he was looking at Jax. I blinked, shocked when he stood up and gently pulled me up with him. I followed him wordlessly as he dragged/led me through the crowd and smiled when he noticed me almost running to keep up with him so he slowed down.

“Mr Lowman?” I asked him quietly, “where are we going?”

“The ring,” he said with a shrug, “I’m fighting tonight.”

“Really? Are you gonna win?”

He looked down at me with a small smile and nodded. I grinned up at him and let go of his hand to link my arm through his as we walked outside. He led me to the boxing ring that I hadn’t noticed before. I had worried that maybe it was too cold but I the small cool breeze was kind of nice on my skin. I watched as he climbed up the small steps to the platform, about to step back into the crowd when he started speaking.

“Come on,” he said with a smirk, “you’re gonna be my cheerleader.”

“I was head cheerleader in high school!” I told him, laughing and trying to hide my blushing cheeks with my hair.

I followed him up the steps, grateful of my safety shorts, and blushed even deeper when he took his white t-shirt off and threw it to me. I gasped when I saw his body. He wasn’t like, over muscly like the guys I had seen on Venice Beach but he looked… strong. I tried literally so hard not to stare at him but I couldn’t help it. He was just covered in muscle and tattoos and I couldn’t take my eyes off of him; he was beautiful

“Ready Hap?” Mr Chibs asked from beside me.

I jumped. I hadn’t even seen him come up with me. Mr Lowman nodded and jumped over the ropes into the ring and Mr Chibs followed him; I guess he was being the referee.

“This way Cat,” Mrs Chibs said, took me to one corner where we stood for the whole fight.

Mrs Chibs was shouting and cheering for Mr Lowman and telling her husband (or not husband I don’t know) to be careful. I couldn’t look away from the fight no matter how many times Mr Lowman got hit in the face, stomach and chest. It was violent, way more violent than the fights that Daddy watched on the TV. It was so scary but the way Mr Lowman moved around the other guy, in the same way I had seen tigers on documentaries do, made me feel kind of… warm I guess. I swallowed and flinched as Mr Lowman hit the other man so hard in the mouth that he spun around and fell to the floor in a heap. The roar from the watching crowd was deafening and I had literally forgotten that they were even there.

I joined in, clapping politely as Mr Lowman lifted his arms in the air in victory. He was covered in sweat and blood which I would have usually found disgusting but I was mostly worried about him. He looked bad even though he didn’t look like he was that concerned about it. When he walked over, leaning against the ropes in front of me and breathing heavily, I looked down at his bloody knuckles then back up to his face.

“Mr Lowman,” I whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes, “you’re… you’re beautiful.”

He looked surprised then let out a small sigh.

“Mrs Chibs?” I asked her, “do you have a first aid kit? I think Mr Lowman needs medical attention.”

“Yeah of course. Come on Hap.”

((I want to split up the story but FFN will literally not let me do anything that I usually do so here))

Happy/3rd Person POV

It was everything Happy had wanted it to be. Catherine hadn’t shied away from him after the fight and she didn’t look too scared. She actually looked impressed and she had called him beautiful and now she was tending to his many wounds gently and carefully.

“You’re doing pretty good there Lass,” Chibs said, sipping his whiskey.

“Thanks Mr Chibs,” Catherine said with a smile but didn’t take her eyes off of the cut on Happy’s temple, “I was trained as a paramedic, you know? Surprised? I volunteered with an ambulance crew for like, 2 years after high school but it was so stressful. I hated it. It was useful though you know? Jack used to get beaten up a lot.”

Happy and Chibs exchanged looks; thinking the same thing. That it would be extremely useful to the club and its members when they were ever in trouble and couldn’t get to a hospital/if Tara wasn’t available. Chibs nodded, signalling that he would speak to Clay about it.

“No way, how are you so innocent?” Viv asked her from where she was sat on Chibs’ knee, “you’re a vegetarian; you’ve never dated and you volunteered to help sick and injured people.”

Catherine shrugged like it was nothing but Happy had been thinking very similar thoughts. He felt kind of panicked when Chibs and Viv stood up and left to sit with Jax and Jack; letting him have some time with the girl they suspected he liked.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Mr Lowman, but you’re kinda scary. Not really scary, but kind of scary. I’ve not offended you right?”

Happy shook his head, wanting her to explain.

“Ok cool because that’s not what I mean, I don’t know what I want to say. I just- I don’t know.”

“I’m different,” Happy nodded in understanding.

“Yeah! Yeah no totally! You’re literally so different to everyone we knew in LA, you know? Like they were so… empty.”

“Empty?” Happy chuckled and she nodded with a small laugh herself as she sat down in the chair across from him.

She reached out and hesitantly put her hand in his arm to trace his tattoos gently. If she noticed him tense at her touch she didn’t show it; instead she gently turned his palm upwards and followed the lines with her finger.

“Plain,” she murmured with a nod and looked back up at him, “no tattoos, you know? No personality and stuff. I didn’t realise until we came here that they were so boring. Everyone here is so... interesting.”

“I’m interesting?” Happy asked with a laugh.

“Yeah totally! You don’t think you’re interesting?”

Happy shook his head. She was still holding his arm in her hand with her fingers on his palm but she didn’t look like she noticed and he wasn’t going to pull away; she was so soft and warm. She looked at him with... sympathy, almost like she felt sorry for him.

“That’s ok,” she giggled, “I’m not very interesting either. We’re just two boring people sat at a table.”

Then, despite everything, he found himself laughing with her. He could see Viv and Chibs cuddled up in their booth smiling over at him. Viv gave him another thumbs up and Happy rolled his eyes but smiled down at Catherine.

“I don’t think you’re boring,” he told her with a nod.

“You don’t?”

He shook his head at her; he found her very intriguing and wanted to know everything about her. She was still looking at him with a smile but then it fell away from her face when she looked behind him towards the door. When Happy turned to look where she was, he stood up immediately in defence of her as Mr Duke-Dillinger and who he assumed was Jerry stalked into the room towards her.

“Catherine Duke-Dillinger,” Jerry bellowed across the room, “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

Happy saw her flinch out the corner of his eye and felt himself bristle up; ready for another fight. Before Jerry could reach her, Chibs and Clay had stepped forwards, stopping him and talking in low, threatening voices.

“Thanks for a nice evening Mr Lowman,” she said quietly and ducked around him to go to her dad who was now roughly dragging Jack away from the pool table towards the door.

“Catherine stop,” Happy said quietly, “do you wanna stay?”

She looked conflicted between him, Viv and her dad. Viv had come to stand beside her and put her arm around her while she watched her own dad and her man arguing with the two business men.

“I need to go, Mrs Chibs,” Catherine said softly and pulled herself away, “I can’t make a scene. I’m sorry. Tonight had been fun though. I’ll probably see you around.”

As soon as she got close to Jerry, he grabbed her by the arm so hard that she yelped and tried to move away in pain. Happy stepped forwards but Viv grabbed onto his arm, looking up at him and shook her head. He could tell that she was heartbroken about Catherine being in pain, especially since Viv’s own childhood was full of that kind of thing.

“You’ll get her in more trouble. We’ll see her soon though, ok? We need to fix the lock on her door. I don’t want her in that house without a safe place.”

Happy watched as the two Duke-Dillinger kids got marched out of the clubhouse. It looked like Catherine was crying.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Happy growled and let himself get pulled back into the chair while Viv patted his shoulder gently.

Clay ordered all non-members out of the clubhouse, excluding his daughter, and told the members to get into the chapel for an emergency meeting. Happy stood up and rubbed his face, ignoring the stinging on his skin.

   I’m sorry!!! – I didn’t desert you I promise! To make up for the lack of activity on here, I made this chapter extra extra long! How interesting that she has some medical training huh? How convenient. She isn’t as dumb as we may think she is!

Also apologies because this is gonna be a slow burn romance story! I think it’s the best option since Catherine is so innocent and nervous and Happy doesn’t know how to express his feelings for her even though he is so in love already, lets be honest!

I kind of love the part where she was showing him emojis and how he took her interests seriously! I think it was really cute!

Anyway, the writers block has gone! I love the way this story is going and it’s inspiring me to write more and more! 

Thanks for being so patient. See you on the flip side

Lots of love from Doe xxxxx

[0carkki0]

Dead character meme: by EastZombie (deviantArt), Jan 5, 2014, 9:54:42 AM Scraps This is a questionnaire for any character/s that has/have died. You can fill it out with one or more characters, and it should be filled out either by role-playing or by first-person answers. Because I hate writing pronouns to be both singular and plural, the assumption is that there's only person, when this questionnaire could work for more. Enjoy. 1. What is your name? Vivs: Vividatt. Nice to meet you. 2. Alright then. When were you born? Vivs: At Metrica Province Hinterlabs. It is notfar away from Rata Sum, our main city. 3. And when did you die? Vivs: Last year for the last time. I have died two times now. The first time took Place little after the Bloodstone Fen incident, which a year before the last time. 4. Now, for the big question, how did you kick the bucket? Be as explicit as you like. At the first time it was an ability to heal issue. Seliene, a human… friend of mine was there to stop me from becoming the world's nemesis after I... lost my senses to my other personality within my mind. We were both quite exhausted from fighting the whole day and it was time for that final strike. I did manage to destroy her heart, but since she was a Dragonhunter, she was able to keep herself alive till her arrow went through my head. After that I found myself from being judged by the judge of the afterlife. I was just hearing my judgement when the judge stopped judging and then told me that I was being summoned back in Exchange. That's when I woke up with Seliene's dead body in my arms. Second time… was when I faced the God of War and Fire in a battle where I wasn't prepared at all. He was actually just playing with me while we were fighting, and then finally killed me with his greatsword. I... would have stayed dead if it didn't bother me that Auriene, a dragonbaby at the time, had just tried to help me just before I died, and was caught. Well… AFter I came back to well… "life" it was obvious that my body wasn't living in a normal way anymore. It was and Still is in a state that shouldn't be able to live. But here I am. Feeling better than ever. 5. Are you upset about dying, or are you at peace with it? Vivs: I'm more upset by the fact that I had to come back. I knew that I couldn't be at peace knowing that Auriene was caught because of me. Then again, I may have come back as a ghost anyway... 6. If you could miraculously come back to life, would you? Vivs: Of course. First of all I could have progeny of my own, if I found a female asura that shared my views of... life with me. Secondly, the chances to die are higher than they currently are. Thirdly, I could feel pain more clearly. *smile* 7. Now that you’re dead, what do you feel was your greatest achievement in your life? Vivs: So far… Probably killing Mordremoth, an Elder Dragon of Plants and Mind. We had to enter inside of his mind to be able to kill him. ANd uh... kill a friend before Mordremoth took over his mind… 8. And your greatest regret? Vivs: Heh... I have a lot of those, but… the greatest one must be that I never told Taimi how I see her mind. Now… it's too late. I'm dead, sort of... Though, once an elder asura said that if you're able to think, you're alive. If only was really that simple. 9. Is there anything you wish you had done before you died? Anything at all? Vivs: It's my greatest regret. 10. If you could go back and relive one part of your life, would you? And if so, what part would it be and why? Would you do anything differently? Vivs: Ahh… There are so many… Probably that time when Seliene and I were inside my... lab. Let's say it was close I didn't lick her. *grin* 11. Did you have any beliefs regarding the afterlife during your life? If so, were they correct? Vivs: Not really. We have an Access to the Mists where all the deceased go, and thanks to our Gates, living may go too. We also have a lot of information about afterlife inside the Durmand Priory headquarters. … It's an Order I joined around when we were just learning more about the Elder Dragon's circle of life. 12. You can send a written message to one still-living person, who is it and what do you say to them? Vivs: Uhh… I'd rather write that after I was really gone, if you don't mind.   13. If your canon’s version of the afterlife allows it, are you going to be a ghost? Vivs: It might be fun. Going through WALLS... And people… Possessing people. And... I think I know who I would LOVE to possess… *grin* 14. Did you leave any loved ones behind when you died? Vivs: Yes. My friends. My Grandmother. 15. If it’s applicable to your canon’s afterlife, were you reunited with any loved ones when you died? Vivs: Not really. I was chasing after the memories of my life in the Domain of the Lost, before I met with the Judge. He sent me back after I did a little favor for him. 16. Did you have a funeral? If so did you see it? Was it nice? Did the people there serve the glory that is your life justice? Vivs: Well, there was no time for that. It didn't take that long after I was sent back here, but I was glad to see my friends after I awoke… I kind of dislike using that Word nowadays, thanks to Palawa Joko... but my friends were gathered around me and it seemed like they actually were sad that I had died. That little seewtheart Kasmeer Meade even shed tears for me. At least I hope she was crying for me... ^ w ^` 17. If it’s applicable, what happened to your body after you died? Were you buried, cremated, made into pencils, or was your body unrecoverable in some way? Are you an organ donor? Vivs: I have asked to burn my body if I die for good. 18. Was your death expected or unexpected? Vivs: Both. I'm sure Balthazar, the God of War and Fire, was expecting it. Me? No. And I don't think the others did either. 19. If you could go back and prevent yourself from dying, would you? Why or why not? Vivs: Of course. Like I said, I'd rather be alive fully for thereasons I already mentioned. 20. If you could to pick one person to die, and it had to be somebody you knew, would you pick someone? Why or why not? If you do pick someone, who would it be and why? Vivs: Me. For good. I don't like myself. And I'm sure a lot of people would be saved without me. 21. Where did you die? Did you die in a hospital, in an ambulance, in a car, in your sleep, in a factory, in your house, or where? Vivs: Crystal Desert, Elon Riverlands, Skimshallow Cove up at the spire. 22. What was your general goal in life? Vivs: It Still is saving Tyria, and my friends. Though, sometimes I wonder…. 23. Did you achieve it? Vivs: So far we have destroyed an Elder Dragon Zhaitan, Mordremoth and the Rogue God of War Balthazar. And of course the Lich King Tyrant, Palawa Joko. 24. If you were murdered, why did someone murder you and are you angry with your murderer? Did they see justice? Vivs: *remembers the fight with Balthazar* I'd say. 25. If you committed suicide, what drove you to kill yourself? Vivs: … What? Why would you think it was a suicide? It obviously wasn't, since he really wanted to kill me. 26. Are you happy with the live you lived, why or why not? Vivs: Don't you mean life I lived? Yes and no. A lot of mistakes. A lot of friends died. A lot of people saved and friends were made. Still, I'm sure my friends can continue the World saving even if I'm gone. 27. Name at least one thing you wish you did differently. Vivs: The study of the parasite minion. If I knew that THAT was the cause of all this, I never would have tried to summon it. 28. Did you die single or in a relationship? Vivs: *sigh* Single. 29. If you were in a relationship, do you think your significant other will move on? Do you want them to move on? If it’s applicable to your canon’s version of the afterlife, will you move on? Vivs: Of course. It would be unfair and stupid to expect them to stay loyal to me when I can't give progenies. I'm DEAD. My body Works completely differently from that of a living. Including the body liquids. 30. Is there a God? If so, did you meet him/her/it/whatever? Did you think there was a God while you were alive? Was he/she/it/whatever what you were expecting? Vivs: There were GodS. Six of them, actually. Dwayna, Goddess of life and air. Grenth, God of death and ice. Lyssa, Goddess of beauty and water. Melandru, Goddess of nature and earth. Kormir, Goddess of truth and spirit. And lastly Balthazar, God of war and fire. I've seen only two of them, though. Kormir and Blehthazar. Kormir I met when we were looking for ways to stop Balthazar, and that's when she told us that the Gods were all gone. Yep! I did feel a bit like they had like "fuck this shit I'm out" -kind of attitude… They just left. Why? Don't know, but she said that this was our problem to solve, so... we solved it. 31. Was your death significant to your canon’s plot? Vivs: Yes. I met Palawa Joko in afterlife, and I just had to tick him off before I returned. He somehow got free from the prison inside the Domain of the Lost and attacked… Taimi. It was… my fault she got nearly suffocated to death… 32. Was it necessary for your canon’s plot? Vivs: Of cousre! I just can't go on without causing a bit chaos here and there. Well, I suppose the Elonians are now free from the Lich's tyrannical grip, since he's now part of Auriene and her droppings. 33. Do you still have a physical form? If so, do you look the same as you did before you died? Explain any change. Vivs: I used to have very pale skin, but because I died by the God of War and Fire's greatsword, my sking got darker for the burns. My hair also got a little strange color reaction with death and magic... It's now purple, when it used to black. I think it turned white first, but because of the magic it took the color of purple. My heart beats rarely. WHen it does, it tend sto fill my lungs with liquid, which I then puke out. I also am not so sensitive to pain as I was while I was alive. But because of the parasite minion, my uh... greatsword of love is stuck in an erect position. 34. Did you go to another life? Vivs: Sort of. The Mists is a whole other World... 35. Do you think there’s any chance of you being reincarnated? Vivs: Could be. But I don't think that has anything to do with my current situation. 36. If you had the choice of being reincarnated or not, would you take it? Would being able to chose who you’re reincarnated as make a difference in your decision? Vivs: Of course. I would like to be reincarnated as a cat. 37. How long have you been dead for? If you don’t know, try to guess. Vivs: About a year and a half. 38. What is the worst thing you did while you were alive? Vivs: Ayy… Let's see… There's that… and then there's that… It has to be the massacre of asuras inside Rata Sum. 39. What’s the best thing you did? Vivs: Hmm... Killing Zhaitan. It gave hope to many people. 40. If you got to meet one dead famous person, who would it be, and why? Vivs: Easy. Snaff the Master Golemancer. 41. Would you describe dying as a scary experience? Vivs: To me it's like going to carnival. 42. If you had to go back to the land of living, and be alive as yourself again, would you live your life differently? Vivs: Deffinately. I would let someone else be the hero of Tyria, which people apparently call me. 43. Would your views on life change at all? Vivs: They would stay Small, since I wouldn't travel as much as I do now. I just have to go where the next opportunity of dying for good rises. 44. What where your last words? Vivs: If I remember correctly, I said "No, Auriene…" 45. If you could change your last words, would you? If so, to what? Vivs: Probably "BRB". … Be Right Back. 46. Do you have any last words for this questionnaire? Vivs: Don't worry. Being an undead isn't that bad. I can't drown, since I don't need oxygen to stay alive. I do miss the unbearable physical pain, though, and that moment when you can finally urinate after holding in for so long. XP Okay then. Rest in peace. 

I like thinking that he became a scourge after he was killed by Balthazar. X3 Sorry for bad grammar. ^^; I wrote this lateat night right after work. 

[my-random-ocs]

Chapter 2: Second Chance at First Line

Pairing: Stiles x OC (Vivian Byrne)

Warnings: Language, mentions of blood, mentions of dead body

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I am walking down the hall, heading to the lacrosse field to watch practice, after I finish making up a test when I hear a commotion coming from the locker room. I run in and see Scott, in werewolf form, crouched on top of the lockers. I yank Stiles behind me, grab the fire extinguisher off the wall and start spraying just as Scott lunges. Scott falls back, growling loudly as I continue spraying. Stiles and I stumble out of the locker room. I hug the fire extinguisher close to my chest while Stiles has a tight grip on my arm. “You okay?” I ask Stiles. He nods frantically, trying to calm himself down.

“Stiles,” Scott’s voice comes. “Vivian.” I peek inside the locker room and sigh in relief when I see Scott sitting on a bench, perfectly himself again. “What happened?”

I drop the extinguisher on the ground as Stiles and I walk fully into the room. “You tried to kill me,” Stiles says bluntly. He gestures to me. “Viv stopped you.” He kneels next to Scott. “It’s like we told you before. It’s the anger. It’s your pulse rising. It’s a trigger.”

“But that’s lacrosse,” Scott defends. “It’s a pretty violent game, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Well, it’s gonna be a lot more violent if you end up killing someone on the field. You can’t play Saturday. You’re going to have to get out of the game.”

Scott looks at Stiles incredulously. “I’m first line.”

I look at him sadly. “Not anymore.”

____________

After math class the next day, Stiles yanks Scott against the wall. “What the hell are you doing?” I ask as I follow.

Stiles points to two officers- my brother and Stiles’s father- and the principal. “Tell me what they’re saying,” he says to Scott. “Can you hear them?” Scott shushes him.

“Curfew because of the body,” Scott says after listening for a moment.

“Unbelievable,” Stiles says. He gestures between him and I. “My dad and Viv’s brother are out looking for a rabid animal while the jerk-off that actually killed the girl is just hanging out, doing whatever he wants.”

“We can’t exactly tell your dad and Griffin the truth about Derek,” I point out.

“I can do something.”

“Like what?” Scott asks.

“Find the other half of the body.”

Scott and I exchange an incredulous look as Stiles walks away. “Hold on, what?” I ask as I chase after Stiles, leaving Scott to follow.

“Are you kidding?” Scott calls, running after us.

____________

After school, Stiles and I burst into Scott’s room. “What did you find? How did you find it? Where did you find it?” Stiles demands, the words flying out of him as he trips coming through the door. “And, yes, I’ve had a lot of Adderall, so…”

“I found something at Derek Hale’s,” Scott answers.

“What did you find?” I ask, getting excited.

“There’s something buried there- I could smell blood.”

“That’s awesome!” Stiles exclaims. I turn to him, a similar look of confusion on both mine and Scott’s faces. He quickly corrects himself. “I mean, that’s terrible.”

“Whose blood was it?” I ask.

Scott stands, saying, “I don’t know. But when we do, Stiles, your dad nails Derek for the murder. And then you guys help me figure out how to play lacrosse without changing. Because there’s no way I’m not playing that game.”

____________

All three of us end up going to the Beacon Hills hospital, looking for the morgue. When we reach it, Scott goes in, and Stiles and I stay in the waiting room. “Good luck, I guess,” Stiles says as he goes in.

“Is this a thing people say good luck for?” I ask Stiles.

“No fucking clue.”

We walk further into the room and I see Lydia Martin sitting in one of the chairs. Stiles leans over the counter as he notices her. I feel the same pang in my chest that I had the first day of school. It feels weird. I mean, it’s not like I’m sad Stiles doesn’t like me the way he likes Lydia, right? No, definitely not. I mean, I like Stiles, but more as a friend. Yeah, definitely as a friend.

I am interrupted from my thoughts when Stiles straightens and begins walking over to Lydia. “Hey, Lydia,” Stiles says. She looks up at him, and Stiles smiles nervously. I sit in a seat around the corner and pick up a magazine, pretending I’m not totally eavesdropping. “You probably don’t remember me. Um, I sit behind you in biology. Uh, anyway, I always thought that we just had this kind of connection. Unspoken, of course. Maybe it’d be kind of cool to, uh... get to know each other a little better.”

I peek around the corner to see what’s happening. “Hold on, give me a second,” Lydia says, reaching up toward her ear. And she takes out an earpiece. That’s great, Lydia. “Yeah, I didn’t get any of what you just said. Is it worth repeating?”

Stiles laughs nervously. “Um... no,” Stiles stammers. “Sorry. I’m gonna sit. You don’t care.” I quickly turn around just as Stiles sits next to me. “Shut up,” he orders.

“I’m not saying anything,” I say, lifting my hands in surrender. “It’s just-”

“And here we go.” He puts his head in his hands.

“If Lydia Martin doesn’t see how great you are, Stiles, then that’s her loss.”

He looks up at me. “Really?” He asks.

I squeeze his shoulder, nodding. “Really.”

Before we can say anything else, Lydia stands up suddenly, and walks toward Jackson. “Did he do it?” She asks.

“He said not to make a habit of it, but one cortisone shot won’t kill me,” Jackson says, rubbing his shoulder.

“You should get one right before the game, too.” At Jackson’s annoyed look, she continues. “The pros do it all the time. You want to be a little high school amateur? Or… do you want to go… pro?” She steps closer to Jackson with each word before she is suddenly kissing him.

I wrinkle my nose, turning away from the make-out session. “Ugh, we are in a hospital, people,” I grumble.

Stiles grabs the magazine from my hands. "Multiple, so many paper cuts," I mutter, eyes moving from my hands to Stiles. He ignores me and starts flipping through it faster than he would if he was actually reading it in an attempt to distract himself.

Suddenly, the magazine is ripped out of Stiles’s hands by Scott. “O-oh, God,” Stiles jumps.

“The scent was the same,” he says.

“Are you sure?” I ask as Stiles and I stand.

“Yes.”

“So, he did bury the other half of the body on his property,” Stiles says.

“Which means we have proof he killed the girl,” I finish.

“I say we use it.” At that, Stiles walks down the hallway.

“How?” Scott asks as we follow him.

Stiles whips around at Scott. “Tell me something first. Are you doing this because you want to stop Derek, or because you want to play the game and he said you couldn’t?”

“There were bite marks on the legs, Stiles,” Scott says. “Bite marks.”

Nodding, Stiles tells us his plan. “Okay. Then we’re gonna need some shovels.”

____________

That night, the three of us head to the remains of the Hale house. As soon as we see Derek drive away, Stiles drives his Jeep up to the house. Scott holds flashlights while Stiles and I carry the shovels.

“Wait, something’s different,” Scott says.

“Different how?” Stiles asks.

“I don't know. Let’s just get this over with.” I hand Scott a shovel and we all start digging.

After a while, we had dug deep, but we weren't finding anything. Jesus Christ, how deep is this body?

“Should it be taking this long?” Scott asks.

“Just keep going,” Stiles says.

“What if he comes back?”

“Then we get the hell out of here,” I answer.

“What if he catches us?” Scott asks.

“I have a plan for that,” Stiles says.

“Which is?”

“You run one way. Vivian runs another, and I run another. Whoever he catches first, too bad.”

Scott and I exchange a look of disbelief and Scott looks at Stiles in exasperation. “I hate that plan,” he says.

Suddenly, my shovel stops short. “Oh, guys, stop! I got something.” We toss the shovels to the side, reaching down to brush the remaining dirt away before moving to untie the ropes on the sack holding the body.

“Hurry,” Scott says.

“Trying,” I answer. “God, did he really have to tie this thing in like ten thousand knots?”

“I’ll do it.”

With all of us working together, we finally got all of the ropes unknotted. We pull back the burlap bag, revealing a wolf. We jump out of the hole, all of us screaming. “What the hell is that?” Stiles demands.

“It’s a wolf,” I answer, swallowing hard.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“I thought it was human blood you smelled,” I say.

“I told you something was different,” is all Scott can manage.

I shake my head. “This doesn’t make sense. Okay, we’ve gotta get out of here.”

“Okay, help me cover this up,” Stiles says. We all cover the wolf body up with the burlap cloth.

Suddenly, Stiles stops. “You see that flower?”

I follow his eyes and notice a purple flower a few feet away. “What about it?” Scott asks.

“I think it’s wolfsbane.”

“What’s that?”

“Uh… haven’t you ever seen The Wolf Man?” Stiles asks, shocked Scott doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

Scott shakes his head. “No.”

“Lon Chaney Jr.?” I ask. “Claude Rains?” Scott still looks clueless. “Dude, it’s the original werewolf movie!”

Stiles points at me, an impressed look in his eyes. “Now, this one knows what she’s talking about.”

“No!” Scott exclaims. “What?”

“You are so unprepared for this,” Stiles says. He gets up and walks over the wolfsbane. I exchange a look with Scott. What the hell is he doing? Stiles begins to pull the flower from the ground, but finds it’s attached to a piece of rope. He continues ripping it up, creating a spiral around the wolf.

Suddenly, I look down and gasp. “Guys,” I say. Scott follows my gaze, and we stand up in shock. Stiles walks back over to us and looks down in the hole, jumping back with a “Holy shit” once he sees what we see.

The wolf is now a person.

____________

The next day, we are all at the Hale house, and the police are arresting Derek. Scott and I are leaning against Stiles’s Jeep when Stiles suddenly walks up to the police car Derek was put in. Despite our quiet protests, Stiles gets into the vehicle. Scott turns around and I bury my head in my hands, unable to watch what may occur. Suddenly, Stiles is yanked out of the car by his father.

Noah drags Stiles away from the vehicle. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Mr. S. demands.

“I’m just trying to help,” Stiles defends.

Noah nods, obviously not believing his son. “Okay, well how about you help me understand exactly how you came across this.” I rack my brain for an excuse, but can’t come up with anything.

“We were looking for Scott’s inhaler,” Stiles huffs out, not thinking. I inwardly facepalm. Oh, anything but that, Stiles.

“Which he dropped when?”

“The other night.”

“The other night when you and Vivian were out here looking for the first half of the body.”

Stiles nods. “Yes.”

“The night that you told me you two were alone and Scott was at home.”

“Yes.” Just then, Stiles realizes what he said and tries to correct himself. “No. Oh, crap.” I sigh.

“So you lied to me,” Noah concludes.

“That depends on how you define lying.”

“Well, I define it as not telling the truth. How do you define it?”

Stiles hesitates. “Reclining your body in a horizontal position?” He says, but his tone makes it sound like a question.

“Get the hell out of here,” Noah orders.

“Absolutely.”

____________

“I can’t find anything about wolfsbane being used for burial,” Scott says as we drive down the road.

“Just go to how-to-be-a-werewolf.com,” I say.

“That’s a thing?” Scott asks, totally believing me.

I send him a look of disbelief. “No.”

“Just keep looking,” Stiles says.

“Maybe it’s for some ritual or something,” I suggest. “Like, they’re buried as wolves.”

“Or maybe it’s like a special skill. Like something you have to learn.”

“I’ll put it on my To Do list,” Scott answers, annoyed. “Right underneath figuring out how the hell I’m playing this game tonight.”

“Maybe it’s different for girl werewolves,” I wonder.

“Okay, stop it!” Scott shouts suddenly, making me jump at his volume.

“Stop what?” Stiles asks.

“Stop saying ‘werewolves’!” Scott shouts. “Stop enjoying this so much.”

“Scott, you don’t look good,” I notice. He’s not just pale, he looks sick, like he’s about to throw up or something.

”Are you okay?” Stiles asks, noticing how Scott looks, too.

“No! No, I’m not,” Scott says. “I’m so far from being okay.”

“You know, you’re gonna have to accept this, Scott, sooner or later.”

“I can’t.”

“Well you’re gonna have to.”

“No! I can’t breathe. Aah!” Suddenly he hits the roof of the car, causing Stiles to swerve.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” Stiles says as he struggles to regain control of the Jeep.

I look over at Scott and see he is hunched over, looking sicker than he did a moment ago. “Pull over!” I order Stiles.

“Why, what’s happening?” Stiles asks.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s the fact that Scott looks like he’s about to throw up.” Suddenly, my eyes land on Stiles’s backpack. Apparently having the same thought as me, Scott reaches over and opens the bag, revealing wolfsbane.

“You kept it?” Scott demands.

“What was I supposed to do with it?” Stiles asks.

“Maybe throw it in your trash,” I suggest. “Not keep it anywhere near our werewolf friend.”

“Stop the car!” Scott yells. His eyes are now glowing yellow. Stiles immediately stops the car and runs out with his bag. He runs toward the woods and throws his backpack as far away as he can.

“We’re good,” Stiles says. “You can…” he turns back to the car and trails off. I follow his gaze to the passenger seat and realize Scott is not in the car anymore. Shit.

____________

“Stiles, you know you can’t call the dispatch line when I’m on duty,” a voice comes through the communication device Stiles has connected to his car.

“I just need to know if you’ve gotten any odd calls,” Stiles says.

“Odd how?”

“Uh, like an odd person or… a dog-like individual roaming the streets.”

“I’m hanging up on you now,” the person says.

“No! W-w-w-w-wait!” Stiles stammers. There is a click, and Stiles groans.

“I texted my brother,” I say, shoving my phone back in my pocket. “He hasn’t seen or heard anything weird at the station.”

____________

That night, I am seated next to Scott’s mom in the stands. I know Scott shouldn’t be playing, but I also know that there is no talking him out of this. The whistle blows and the players run out onto the field. I’m more worried than I thought I would be. I hope Scott won’t lose it tonight.

I see Scott run toward the ball, and Jackson follows. Just as Scott goes to scoop up the ball, Jackson shoves Scott out of the way. The crowd cheers once Jackson makes the goal. “Do I have to cheer?” I ask. Melissa looks annoyed that Jackson did that, but she claps halfheartedly. I look to the left and see Allison and Lydia holding up a sign for Jackson. At least Allison looks a little annoyed about it.

Everyone sets up for the next play, and the whistle sounds. The ball shoots into the air and before anyone else can reach it, Scott makes a crazy leap and catches it. I groan inwardly. Seriously, Scott, you need to tone down the werewolf stuff. He dodges every player that comes at him from the other team and makes the goal.

The crowd cheers. “Whoo!” I yell, Ms. McCall and I hugging each other in happiness.

During the next play, I notice Scott standing in an almost predatory position. Oh, God. I realize he shifted. He shoots the ball, and it goes straight past the goalie and into the net, bringing us one point more than the guest team.

The crowd cheers again and we all run onto the field. I join Stiles down by the players’ area. “Good game,” I say to Stiles.

“Uh-huh,” I hear Noah  say. I turn and see he is talking on his cell phone.

“Dad?” Stiles asks. “What’s wrong?”

His father holds up a finger to indicate to Stiles to wait a minute. After he hangs up, Stiles asks what was wrong again. After some hesitation from Noah and slight badgering on mine and Stiles parts, Noah tells us that Griffin had called him about how the medical examiner looked at the other half of the body we found. He says that it was an animal who killed the girl, and not a human. Derek is being let out of jail because they’ve determined him to not be the killer. Oh, and get this. The girl who was killed? Her name was Laura Hale.

Derek’s sister.

[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 21)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV.2

Part 22: here

“We’ll be fine,” Vivi reassures Arthur for a third time, spinning to face him, backing up past the assortment of haphazardly constructed ‘keep out’ and ‘danger!’ signage. Behind her looms the cave’s gaping entrance.

“We’ve been through a ton of caves. The worst thing that could happen? We, maybe, get swarmed by some bats,” She continues upon seeing Arthur’s continued hesitation.

“Ah, how about a cave in?” He points out leerily, eyeing jagged stone formations framing the entryway.

“No seismic activity in the area, I checked,” Vivi declares, whirling to march forward, glancing back to call, “You boys coming or what.”

Mystery bounds off after Vivi, leaving him to shoot an apprehensive glance at Lewis. The larger man shrugs, putting a comforting hand across Arthur's shoulder blades, “If this has you really worried we can always wait out here while Vivi takes her supernatural readings.”

Arthur sighs, tempted to take him up on offer, “No. It’s fine. Probably best not to let Vivi go spelunking with only Mystery as back up.”

“Probably,” Lewis laughs, patting his shoulder once then stepping forward, “Just stick behind me. I’m sure this will be just as boring as all the other caves we’ve walked through.”

“Yeah. ‘Boring’…Sure. That’s not the word I’d use but, whatever, let’s go with boring,” Arthur grumbles, shadowing Lewis up to the entrance. The ground underfoot transitions sharply from spotted green to dead twigs and dusty rock.

“Creepy,” Arthur eyes the unnaturally straight line, cutting the cave off from its surroundings. Lewis snorts, amused by his muttering-at least someone is having a good time-walking into the dark like this isn’t the most unnerving place they’ve been to so far.

Just inside the dimly lit opening, he spots Vivi, who’s wrestling with a wrought iron canister holding what appeared to be old-style wooden torches.

“Hey guys, check these out! Mood lighting! ” She calls with apparent gusto. Better make that two people having a good time.

“Lewis. You still have those matches on you, right? I think there’s still oil on these.”

Lewis trades his box of matches for the wooden torch, holding it out while Vivi grapples around attempting to light it. Arthur is surprised the old torch has lasted this long. They can’t have been the only ones dumb enough to explore a ‘haunted’ cave at night. Surely, some other idiot would have used them up before now.

“Can’t we just use the flashlights?” Arthur comments in conjunction with Vivi’s resounding "YES" of triumph. The stone walls around them come to life with a flickering orange glow. High, arched ceilings, almost two stories tall, provide an abundance of space. Arthur can now see several meters down a long tunnel before darkness overtakes it again. He shivers, peering at the many cracks and holes dotting the roof and walls. Everything is coated in a thin layer of green moss which catches the torchlight, giving a green tint. In other words, it looks freaky and unnatural.

“Well, this just went up several points on the Creepy-O-Meter,” He laments, resigning himself to an evening of jumping at pebbles coming loose from the ceiling, gusts of wind, and his own shadow.

“I know! It’s great isn’t it?” Vivi twists, grinning ridiculously, now holding a torch in each hand.

“Watch where you wave those Viv,” Lewis dodges back and avoids a face full of fire, reaching out and plucking the nearest torch from Vivi, “You almost got my hair with that one.”

“Whoops sorry,” A sheepish Vivi shoots Lewis an apologetic glance before carefully lifting her remaining torch to get a better look at the cavernous structures around them. A few seconds of fascinated gawking pass, while both his friends take in their strange new environment.

“You have to admit, this is a lot cooler than a graveyard or an old house,” Vivi voices in awe, moving deeper into the tunnel. She’s got an energetic spring to her step mirrored by Mystery trotting at her heels.  No attention is afforded to the spooky shadows, shrinking away from the torchlight, rushing to close in behind them. It’s admirable.

“Maybe there’ll be an actual ghost this time and not a dude playing dress up?” Lewis adds, glancing about, holding his torch higher, “Definitely has the ambience for it.”

Arthur shuffles closer to Vivi, so he’s sandwiched between the two of them. This way he’ll have plenty of warning when the freaky cave monster leaps out to get them.

“One can only hope,” Vivi laments loudly. Her voice echoes, bouncing along the slimy green walls until it’s swallowed up by the dark. Arthur shudders. Is it just him or does it feel like the cave is listening?

“Ah. Objection,” He interjects, lowering his voice, so it doesn’t jump around like Vivi’s, “A dude in a sheet is plenty scary, thanks. No need for anything esle.”

Lewis laughs from behind, also lowering his voice to a whisper, “Like weird-scary or scary-scary?”

Arthur throws a half-serious glare over his shoulder, retorting, “Both.”

Further conversation is put on pause when they hit a fork in the otherwise straightforward tunnel. The two passageways are significantly smaller, a foot higher than Lewis, and narrower, twisting away from the central shaft. Both are equally uninviting, ghostly, glowing a poisonous green in the torchlight. His shadowed silhouette, elongated in the firelight, appears to shift unnaturally, skittering away into the gloom. Arthur blinks, focusing attention on the spot. There’s nothing there but ordinary rock.

“Let’s split up,” Vivi’s announcement draws Arthur’s concentration away from studying the walls for shadow creatures.

“What?”

Lewis is nodding along, considering both passageways seriously.

“No way,” Arthur waves his arms to catch their attention, wincing at his own volume, then whispering, “Splitting up is a terrible idea. When has splitting up ever worked well for anyone.”

“If we split up we’ll cover more ground and get through the cave system faster,” Vivi points out, already searching through her small rucksack.

“Just remember to take lots of photos. Here have my spare EMF meter,” She shoves the ‘totally legit’ ghost detection devise, an audio recorder, and notepad into Lewis’s free hand, “Don’t forget to actually press record this time when stuff happens, and write a note, so we know to cross check it later.”

"Sure," Lewis pockets the equipment with a laugh,

Arthur slaps a hand over his eyes, groaning. Why are his friends a pair of walking clichés?

“Lewis. You go with Arthur. He’ll need the moral support more than I will.”

“Hey,” His protest is half-hearted.

“I’ll take Mystery down that tunnel. Let’s meet up in, say, an hour and report our findings.”

Vivi walks purposefully forward before pausing to add, “Oh and if it gets too maze-like come back here, so you don’t get lost,” Another step, “And don’t fall down any holes.”  

“We’ll be fine,” Lewis reassures, amused, slinging an arm out and catching Arthur before he can duck away, “Arthur’s got my back.”

Arthur suffers the semi-headlock with crossed arms and a stony expression. It’s not that he really believes they’ll run into trouble it’s more a matter of principle at this point. All it does is make Vivi snort in good humour then hide a grin behind her hand.

“See you boys in an hour,” A cheery wave and Vivi marches away, looking for all the world like a person having the time of their life.

“You okay there Arthur,” Lewis loosens his arm, glancing down. There is genuine concern in his tone now, eyes scanning Arthur for signs of discomfort. Arthur forcibly shelves his exasperation. No need to bring down the mood. Not when this is the first time in weeks he’s been exclusively in either Lewis or Vivi’s company.

A long exhale, and he ducks to disentangle himself from the larger man’s arm,  “Yeah. Come on. Let’s go poke around a dark, damp, tunnel some more.” He injects as much enthusiasm as he can muster, but it ends up more sarcastic.

Lewis hits him with a knowing smile, offering, “Here I’ll go first.”

His friend takes a confident step forward, holding the torch high to provide them with maximum visibility. Arthur follows close behind, trying not to get too freaked out at the way the cave walls seem to shift unnaturally in the uneven light. It’s just his overactive mind seeing familiar patterns where there were none. That was all. 

Down the gloomy stone tunnel, they go, flickering fire illuminating Lewis’s silhouette and the narrow walls enclosing them. Nervously, Arthur picks up his pace, tailing as close to Lewis’s back as he can get. Occasionally, he bumps into the other man when Lewis stops abruptly to examine part to the scenery. Lewis doesn’t appear to mind, being more interested in sporadic wooden support beams which arise from time to time. Everything is pretty much identical until the narrow tunnel opens suddenly to reveal a spacious cavern.

It’s huge. Dotted with wicked sharp stalagmites and stalactites which both hang from the ceiling and raise up from the ground like clawed fingers, it dwarfs them both.

Lewis immediately steps out of the tunnel onto a narrow ledge extending into empty space, transfixed by the stunning view. Arthur makes to follow. Distracted, he stumbles, hand brushing against the cave walls for support. Pain shoots through the limb, and Arthur stops, staring at the appendage, confused. Had he cut himself? He doesn’t appear to be injured.

“Hey, Arthur! Come check out this view!”

Lewis is now standing near the end of the wedge-shaped platform, peering down at the steep drop. Cautiously, Arthur inches out after him, eyeing the pointed rock formations far below.  The way they catch and reflect the torchlight is almost menacing.

Would be such a shame if someone were to fall.

His left leg twitches, and he almost stumbles right into Lewis. Arthur finds himself unfocussed, and he hesitates behind the larger man. What is he doing again? Why is Lewis so close all of a sudden?

His arm is completely numb. It’s tuned an unnatural sickly green colour. The same colour as the walls. That's not normal. A twitch. Arthur watches, confused when his limb jerks up. A second too late he realises that he’s not the one moving it. In an action almost too quick to follow the arm lashes out.

“Lew…” The words of warning are choked off. Lewis turns, too slow to prevent the shove but quick enough that Arthur sees his shocked, betrayed expression. Lewis tumbles backward, face frozen in confusion.

A surprised yell.

Gravity rips Lewis from where he seems to hover mid-air, dragging him down.

He drops.

His friend’s panicked horror is the last of him Arthur sees. A wet thump. The yell is cut abruptly.

Silence.  

“Ouch. Right through the chest. That’s never fun,” The foreign words vibrate in Arthur's chest, accompanied by an unpleasant laugh.

Down, far below on the cavern floor, is Lewis. Unmoving. Arthur wants to scream. He needs to scream, but his jaw is locked shut. Part of his vision goes dark. With his remaining good eye, he can see his arm moving, squirming about like it’s got a mind of its own.

No. No. No. This isn’t him.  IT’S NOT HIM!!!

A jaw filled with rows of shiny white teeth clamps down on the writhing appendage. A flash of bright red. His arm is twisting, being ripped away. The force of the impact spins him around, putting him face-to-face with a giant canine creature. Red. There’s lots of red. His vision is failing. A warm haze gathers over his thoughts, mercifully pulling him from reality.

“Ah Shit,” He hears himself swear over the oppressive throbbing in his head and the growls of the monster above.

“...And STOP...”

The world freezes. Arthur freezes. It’s like someone’s hit the pause button on reality. Suspended, frozen halfway between falling to his knees and standing, Arthur hangs in place. Vaguely, he recognises Mystery looming over him, also frozen, green-hued arm between his teeth. Arthur’s disembodied arm.

“Sloppy. Very sloppy.”

The voice doesn’t echo like sound should in this stone, cavernous environment. It’s detached. Footsteps dull and artificial, mismatched on the rock floor, draw closer. A shadowed figure walks around from behind. Arthur, still immobile, tracks the progress of a lanky man, sporting spiked yellow hair, a familiar orange vest and flat running shoes. Aside from the sickly, off green, skin tone, it looks like him. Another him.

The doppelganger moves up to examine Mystery and the arm dangling from his jaws, shaking its head in disappointment, “Should have known there was something weird about the dog. It’s always the pets.”

Arthur doesn’t care for whatever this creature is saying because, down below, just behind him, is Lewis body.  He’d just pushed Lewis off the cliff.

“To think, that could have been me, stuck in some rotting limb. Ugh. Gross.”

He killed Lewis.

NOTE: It’s the obligatory flashback episode. It only took 30 000 + words, but Arthur finally remembers. Hope I did The Cave scene justice. 

Part 22: here