#and because there were too many human luggage one of the the non-human luggage was placed on top of the car

[dobaara]

okay let me tell you everything

[thepinkproof]

The Operator

Synopsis: there is nothing normal about Greenwood University. however, the school is your only option. it is even more fearful when the person everyone told you to stay away from, Jungkook , is the one who won’t leave you alone.

parings: yandere! non-human jungkook x reader/ overprotective sibling taehyung x reader

chapter warnings: yandere behavior

word count: 2.6k

series masterlist

Chapter 03: Family Ties

Taehyung swiftly put all of Storm's clothes in the worn suitcase. The anger in him caused him to shove items in the already packed luggage.

"Why are you doing this?" Storm cried. She was too stunned to even try to stop Taehyung.

"You can't fucking live here Storm. You're right its a bunch of men here and you don't even belong at this school! If you are smart you would leave this place!"

"You're the one who told me to come and how you were so excited to have me here just for you to kick me out!" She yelled.

"Quiet the fuck down! The boys are sleeping. Here, 125 bucks! Take this money and take the next bus ride far away from here. I'm sure you will run into many homeless shelters on the way."

Storm threw the money in Taehyung face in disbelief.

"I'm trying to protect you Storm!" Taehyung spoke. He took a deep breath. "Listen it has nothing to do with you. I told you to come here because I miss you, it was wrong of me to make you come to this college. I was selfish, I just wanted my little sister back. Now I'm being selfless, this university is even worse then you think I think you might be in danger. Please, leave. " Taehyung continued but Storm just shook her head shocked at Taehyung words.

"Does this college have ghosts or something? What is your deal Taehyung! Last year was the hardest in my life and you never protected me then? Now, when I think maybe my brother is finally caring for me, you tell me to leave. I get it now. All those years when you claimed you were a brother to me were lies. You are probably just tired of me like everyone else who left my life is. Gosh what is wrong with me? Why do everyone want to leave me! If that’s what you want Taehyung then fine! I will leave this house and your life." Storm spoke sobbing in between words.

Taehyung wished he could tell his sister that he will always be a brother to her and that he is sorry but he only watched her as she took the suitcase and money and left the house.

————

Storm anxiously thought about where she would go. It was 2:00am and she was aimlessly walking the streets. If she wasn't kidnapped first perhaps she would catch a cheap motel and then find a job the next morning with the rest of the money.

She thought about Elaine, maybe she could ask her if she could stay over. However, her thoughts remembered the incident of Elaine and her roommate fighting and Storm did not want any part of that.

"Oh love. You dropped this." Storm heard a voice behind her say. She thought maybe she should ignore him and keep walking but when she reached into her pockets and realize her money was gone she had no choice but to turn around.

There she saw a boy who was slightly taller than her with black hair. The man slowly approached her and gave her the money.

"Thank you, sir." Storm said staring at him. He looked a little bit older than her.

"May I ask, are you in any trouble?" The man asked curiously.

Storm thought about giving him a vague answer as she do not know his intentions.

"Oh no sir! I am on the way to the hotel, uh my boyfriend is expecting me."

The man laughed. "Oh please! You do not have a boyfriend."

"I do sir. Now i'm going to leave." Storm retorted.

"You are wearing the most worn clothes and suitcase, walking at night? Your roomate obviously kick you out. My guess is you go to that dump Greenwood University and you are catching a rat infested hotel to stay over the night." Storm was shocked at his words but kept her composure.

"Maybe. And you are wearing expensive clothes so my guess is that you own or work for some established company. Yet, you're on this street near Greenwood University's poverty stricken but peaceful neighborhood. My guess is you wanted to get out of the high society life so you went out when everyone is asleep and can't notice you." Storm confidently spoke.

"Oh, you are spot on. I am the CEO of Park Industries, you probably familar with my hotel attraction in North Greenwood. It brings in alot of tourists." He spoke with pride.

"No, I'm new here but I have heard of your company its the city's biggest pride. I just thought some old man ran it though."

"Well, eh nobody really knows I'm the CEO. I like to keep it low-key. You know I'm also new here, I moved here from England and before that Korea."

"So, you tell a stranger you own the company but you like to keep it low-key?" Storm questioned. Honestly, she thought this man was cute, something about his smile made her trust him.

"I don't know something about you seem pure." He said staring at her brown eyes. They stared at each other for a few seconds before he spoke. "Um, look. I know you probably don't trust me but I'm Jimin. You can stay at my hotel there's hundreds of people there so trust me, you will be safe. I can give you money to get there or I can give you a ride."

"It's ok Jimin you can drive me there. I think you are no harm.”

————————

Taehyung, Jungkook, Lance, Ford and Yoongi all sat in the lunch table reserved for them. Yoongi didn’t even attend college he was just there for the food. Unlike the tables where the regular people eat, theirs was elevated, had seats with comforters and a expensive table.

"Jungkook, you never guess who I'm working with next week. I'm not going to spoil the surprise but if you get ahold of him then we will have the whole music industry with us." Yoongi spoke cheerfully earning a mischievous smile from Jungkook.

"Well, Jungkook oppa I've been trying to hack into some organizations recently and -" Lance spoke before being interrupted by Taehyung’s laugh.

"Oppa? You aren't even Korean. Oppa is what girls say to older boys, stupid." Taehyung laughed making the whole table chuckle.

"Why are you laughing Ford? You're a Pukka! I don't understand why Jungkook let you hang with us! You could be using your football status to help him yet you do absolutely nothing." Lance angerly spit.

"Oh, so now you're questioning my actions, Lance." Jungkook stated hiding his anger. He hated when people questioned him.

"N-No sir! Please forgive me." Lance choked. Tears started rolling out his eyes. The other boys watched while eating their lobster tail for lunch, while the rest of the students ate old taco meat.

"Ah ok. Leave this table Lance and do what I asked you to do earlier."

"Tae, where was your sister? I didn't see her this morning. Jin made her breakfast and was wondering." Ford asked making Jungkook lift his head in interest.

"Um Storm won't be staying with us anymore She's probably moving back." Taehyung said earning curiosity from the whole table.

Jungkook had been thinking of Storm all morning. He wondered why he was thinking of her, he never cared about her last year. He came to the conclusion that seeing her in real life reminded him of his past life.

He thought Kim Nari, more famously known as Storm, was very pretty. Yet, it wasn't just that. Jungkook figured when he met Nari she would be an Abom. If she was anything like Taehyung atleast.

Aboms were people who were unforgivingly sinners. Yet, Kim "Storm" Nari was innocent.

Jungkook had two options.

Corrupt her.

or

Protect her

But why would the same girl Taehyung been speaking of nonstop for years suddenly leave? The way Taehyung was acting the last few days explained it.

Ah. Taehyung is scared of Jungkook's interest in her so he kicked her out. Oh, his best friend Taehyung will pay for trying to take his butterfly away from him.

Jungkook's worries fades when he entered his next class and there Nari was.

When Jungkook walked into any room everyone looked at him in admiration and fear. Yet, their fear faded when they saw who Jungkook was staring at knowing that they was not his new victim. Storm was.

"Move." Jungkook spit to the guy sitting beside Storm. The guy jumped in fear and let out a sob as he stumblingly moved from Storm.

Storm took a slight glimpse at the commotion as Jungkook sat down next to her.

"Hello butterfly." Jungkook said resting his head on his hand as he stared at Storm. Storm tiredly look back at him with a shy wave.

"Why are you so quiet today?"

Storm slowly looked at Jungkook. Did he not know his "bestie" kicked her out in the middle of the night?

"I didn't get much sleep. I'm sorry."

"Oh don't apologize love. I know what your brother did. Trust me he will pay for it." Jungkook said giving Storm a light rub on her back. Storm usually would protest and ask following questions but she was too tired to even ask what he meant by "pay for it."

"You know I'm the one who owns the house. You can always move back in. Taehyung has no authority over it."

This invitation made Storm's perspective of Jungkook change. Why would Jungkook help her over his best friend? If he was such a good person why do everyone seem scared of him?

"Thanks Jungkook. I actually found a place though." Storm mumbled since class was starting and she didn't want to disrupt.

Jungkook wondered where Storm was staying at. He didn't like the fact she was staying anywhere else than his place. As soon as he was going to ask he felt a head resting on his shoulder and light snores. She had accidentally fell asleep on his arm.

Jungkook froze and he felt something this his inhuman body usually don't do. His heartbeat was racing.

Jungkook mentally cursed out the bell as it rang after the class was over. Way to ruin a moment.

Storm slowly got up and blushed as she realized she fell asleep on Jungkook and during the whole class.

"I'm sorry Jungkook." Storm whined in disappointment. How embarrassing it was for her.

Jungkook chuckled. "It's fine sleepyhead. You have 20 minutes before your next class I know a place where you can sleep in peace, and don't worry you can borrow my notes."

Storm suspiciously looked at him before nodding in agreement. Although part of her wanted to say no, she also figured since Jungkook was a junior, he would know where campus places are.

Jungkook led her through a staircase that nobody was using. After what felt like thousands of flights they were finally at the rooftop of the school. The windy rooftop had couches and tables, it was quite beautiful up here.

Storm greedily layed on the couch as Jungkook sat on the couch across from her. She peacefully closed her eyes before opening it.

"You know you don't have to stay up here with me." She said to Jungkook.

He gave her a small smirk. "Well, i wouldn't want anyone to kidnap you, love."

"Nobody wants to kidnap me, I'm ugly." Storm mumbled closing her eyes again.

"Don't fucking say that you are beautiful."

"I am not. Literally, do you see the clothes i'm wearing? I've had them since high school and they are all second hand."

"Clothes don't make a woman beautiful. Preferably, I like my woman without them."

Storm made a disgusted face at his comment. "Well, nobody thought cinderella was beautiful until she got out of them rags and wore a beautiful dress? Am i right?" Storm challenges.

"Ah." Jungkook paused for a second. "Storm, do you really think if you had money that things will be better for you?"

Storm halted to think about the question.

"No, I don't want lots of money. Having that type of stuff changes people. I'm fine being poor."

Jungkook gave her a sour look. Who wants to be poor?

"Not everyone changes when they get money. You can have wealth and keep the same attitude. I think you can be two different versions of yourself. Everyone loves Spiderman but he is still Peter Parker. He doesn't let it get to his head."

" Yeah but Peter Parker could never balance both lives. If I had money would I still do things a poor person does? Maybe. But after a while one life catches up with another. Peter Parker kept his identity a secret because he wants to keep part of himself. At the end of the day he cared about Mary Jane, not the fame Spiderman gets. I would rather be myself then have riches and if i have it one day then I would use it to help others. I would never leave one life, or an old part of myself, behind." Storm explained.

The more Storm talked the more Jungkook fell in love with her.

Also, the more she talked the more he hated Taehyung.

Storm and Taehyung had the same upbringing yet Taehyung hides the fact he was a foster child. Taehyung spends most of his skills he learned in fashion majoring to make fake luxury clothes for himself to make it seem like he is rich. Taehyung sold himself to Jungkook for money and never once has Jungkook seen him help anyone with it besides his sister.

Taehyung works hard to hide his past and Storm works hard to make a better future for herself and others with the same past as her.

Jungkook will not lie, his plans were to turn Storm into an Abom and corrupt the pure out of her.

Now his plans has changed. He realizes now that Storm is just like him, a past version of himself. A version of himself that is buried deep but still there.

Jungkook imagined how powerful they would be together. Now his motives has changed, he is determined to have her all to himself.

She will be his.

chapter 04

[nutty1005]

A Dream Like a Dream – Chengdu Stop Lower Half by Addison20999

Original article: https://weibo.com/6596396544/KkVEp7NPS Original author: Addison20999

Image Cr. REDOct·肖战

Chengdu Lower Half Repo (Only watched lower half and read the book, Seat was 1280￥)

I knew that he would be lying on the hospital bed, hence once I entered I was arranging my binoculars to look at him. I only saw the blanket pile, he was sleeping under it, not moving, like a little mound. The blanket was like the curtain, fully covering him, and it also meant that the story had not started yet. The female doctor was already in character, she was at the foot of the bed, moving her hands with the rhythm of breathing.

Then it was the warm reminder, the stage became dark, then the light came onto the hospital room. The story has begun.There was heavy breathing in the background, “In~ out~ in~ out~”, the doctor was still performing her ritual.Suddenly, No. 5 drew open his blanket and questioned her, the heavy breathing had annoyed this man who had a fever for many years. (This was my first time seeing him and his No. 5, his face was so clear before my binoculars, I was slightly stunned, hence this part of the repo might be very “subconscious”.)

No. 5 started telling his story to the doctor, the story where he went to seek Gu Xianglan. At the other end of the stage, the story was also being performed. The No. 5 today sat on his hospital bed, he was deep in thoughts as he looked across to his experience, and started filling up the story being enacted then. As he said, he looked across the audience, there was an instant where he looked past me, and on my end it felt like we locked gaze. What kind of eyes are those, so bright and clear, there was no possibility to explore or think about what kind of lines created such alluring eyes. When I’m seeing him live, I can only see his bright gaze, I can’t see anything else!

Luckily, the No. 5 on the hospital bed was a narrator, I still had ears.The voice in the lines were No. 5’s, the No. 5 who was being crafted in the play. The resonance from his chest voice, the lines were superb, they carried the discomfort from No. 5’s illness, they were low, helpless but not deliberate, very natural, and every syllable was clear. (Lines in plays are really important, especially when many people spoke at the same time, if you weren’t clear no one would understand what you’ve said, the lower half had Shanghainese dialect, and even though I’m from Zhejiang, I wouldn’t really understand every dialect, so having good lines is really important!) Xiao Zhan’s voice was like a piano, it’s already so gentle and attractive, when he adds in the sickly tone and the melancholic emotion, truly, only those who heard it would understand.

Very soon, No. 5 went off stage, and soon it was old Gu Xianglan narrating her story with the Baron, or rather, the past lives of No. 5 and his wife. This story was very long, it encompassed Shanghai and France, it encountered republic era, World War II, the French restoration from occupation to 1966 when Wang Debao passed away, it spoke of Gu Xianglan lifetime as a man’s plaything seeking the true nature of art, abandoned and becoming a road sweeper, a maid and a nanny, and finally returning to Shanghai with Wang Debao. Xu Qing is undoubtedly an actress who could influence her audience very well, I had seen a lot of cliché stories before, but yet I was drawn into her Gu Xianglan’s life as a famous courtesan in a high class brothel, as a famous French artist in the saloon…After Gu Xianglan ended her resentment with the Baron in her own method, the No. 5 who came to ask about old Gu Xianglan was about to appear.

When it was still gloomy, I discovered that the central stage had many shadows overlapping, as though there were many patient beds in a row. When the light lit up the stage, No. 5 was holding old Gu Xianglan’s spotted hands, side seated by the bed, deeply concerned and patient as he listened to the old lady talk about her life. The old lady was already dying, it was unclear if she mistook him or she saw the true nature of it, she called No. 5 “Henry”, the man who abandoned her to the chaos of France. Old Gu Xianglan spoke to No. 5 the words she never managed to tell the Baron, and from that she found her closure, release and the relief from feeling that they no longer owed each other anything. Whereas No. 5’s emotions was affected by Gu Xianglan, he said, when he saw Gu Xianglan being upset, he was upset too. Perhaps because this was also a part of No. 5’s story, he was already within the story, and naturally he could not help himself.

I could only see No. 5’s side profile, I saw a side profile of very smooth lines, very different from the adorable him when he just debuted, the collagen at his current age is just too perfect, there weren’t too much or too little, the lines and his bone structure combined together to sculpt all kinds of stories.After Gu Xianglan passed away, No. 5 walked around the stage, it was very different from how Xiao Zhan usually walked, the theme for this part of the story was “redemption” and “closure”, it was the long gloomy day, the sudden calm that came after a lifetime of glory and tribulations. When he walked before the audience, and looked at us with his already red and puffy eyes, how could anyone not be touched by him? He stood there, his eyes reddened and full of tears, his expression helpless and sorrowful. I thought, I was already absorbed into that story because of his gaze, I really wanted to hug him so that he wouldn’t be so upset. I could not bear to let him stand there, so frail, and allow him to go through so much trials because of his previous lifetime! But, he was No. 5, his happiness and sorrow had been predetermined by that previous lifetime, I could not help him, I could only watch from afar, watch his life be crushed without reason, shattered, pieced together again, and barely survive. He could only bring his luggage away from us, and leave us with a slightly hunched shadow. This path was so long, and he walked so long.

At the end of the road, was a late farewell in the lower half. He returned to Jiang Hong’s apartment, with heavy panting, he took a long time to climb that staircase. I was regretful that I didn’t watch the upper half to make comparisons.He opened the non-existent door to the apartment, in that apartment he looked over to the white chapel faraway. In that instant, I felt that he coincided with the Gu Xianglan, who also looked over to a chapel as she drew in a dark attic, it was the keen loneliness and desolation that connected both of them.

No. 5 found the letter Jiang Hong left for him in the floorboards, he kneeled on the ground as he read, first it was his voice and Jiang Hong’s, then Jiang Hong continued reading solo. Jiang Hong described how she lived after No. 5 left her, perhaps it was also Gu Xianglan’s thoughts after the Baron left her: “Instead of letting that period of time extend to become an eternity of memory, I’d rather live fully in that period.”, “You and I could have such a period of time together, and it was so good, that’s great”… As the letter was being read, No. 5’s teardrops fell drop by drop, these teardrops were not teardrops, but they were the mixture of emotions, every drop, was the resonance to a long sorrow, the yearning of the short-lived happiness, the saudade for those who left him… The man kneeled before me on an empty stage, his surging emotions crystalizing into teardrops that crashed onto my heart. I didn’t think of wiping away his tears, because he was No. 5, he needed to complete his life journey on stage. Following the thread of fates, he came to the place where the Baron and his African lady lived and met his daughter from his previous timetime. Thereafter, he sat there alone, and gave himself to the surrounding sorrow left behind by his fate.

Finally, he returned to the castle, carrying his completed handicraft, although his emotions were like he was still walking through the gloom, he had already put on his coat of polite smiles. After all the twists and turns, once again he returned to the lake side, this time, it was a special millennium eve ritual: to place all the things you do not want to bring into the millennium, such as illness, wars, inequality and all that is bad, into a box and throw it into the lake – “let all the things you do not want to bring with you stay in that mysterious space”.

The ritual started, singing, applause, cheering, dancing, flowers and hugging. But “smiles and songs do not belong to him”, No. 5 stood with his back facing us, quietly watching the lake in the distance, it was like he was a traveler tossed here from a mysterious space, in the chaos of light and shadow, interlaced in the cheering crowd. Was he really able to leave the things he didn’t want to bring with him behind? Everything was preordained in the cycle of fate, in the predestination, everyone had to face the consequences of their actions, no matter whether it was this lifetime, or the next lifetime. Perhaps this also indicated the closure between Gu Xianglan and the Baron, that it would no longer impact the next lifetime.

He stood by the lake, stood in his own world, and I could not get in.After completing the farewell in No. 5’s life, we have to bid farewell to him as well. In this scene, he was the observer, he simply stood still. The half beam of warm light could not light up the entire darkness, I could only see his face. Precisely because he stood still, hence I had the chance to study and record him into my memory. Even light would fall in love with his side profile, brow bone, the outlines of his eyes, his nose, his philtrum, his lips, the clear jawline, smooth, clean, exquisite – these were my only sensations. I worked hard to hold onto my binoculars, but it was unavoidable as my hands shook when I breathed. As they shook, I subconsciously fell into a surreal state, it was like an exquisite porcelain doll, like an extraordinarily crafted human CG effect, even went beyond the boundaries of gender. He stayed still, so far and so frail, as though if I “shook” harder, he would disappear on the spot, and that would be all my fault. Really, photographs and videos could not record such beauty, it could convey beauty, but not the whole beauty, and this perhaps was left for us to see him vividly in life.

Finally, he stood there, facing us as he sang us a poem:

“Did anyone see my face? I think I remembered, I think I forgot, You used to linger in my dreams; I think I remembered, I think I forgot, I used to sing in your story; I think I remembered, I think I forgot.”

In the first phrase, he solemnly set the tone of the tune, and led the audience to immerse themselves into the life that he sang. When he sang to “forgot” of the second phrase, I clearly saw that he smiled gently, as though he was smiling at his life, heavy but yet as weightless as smoke. The third phrase when he sang “I” of “I think I forgot”, it was like this world, including his No. 5, had forgot what needed to be forgotten. “Reality is in fact an illusion that could not be captured, the problem is, this illusion keeps continuing.”

He simply is No. 5.

[sideblogformindtrash]

SUMMER OF WHUMP - DAY 25 - ISOLATION

BBs tragic tale continues

CW: nudity (non sexual), pet whump, claustrophobia, abusive relationship, hair grabbing, human trafficking, environmental, gag

Oreos was happy. They had been for a while, living with their face glued to the truck's windows, always mesmerized with how… big the world actually was, as they passed through endless roads, surrounded by mountains, forests and fields. Oreos had never seen more than a couple of streets and most of their life had been inside a couple of rooms.

It was a bit lonely. The world was immense, and knowing that, made Oreos feel so small. Especially the way they crossed so many other people, never really talking to any of them. They weren't surprised the Master had decided to get a pet to accompany them on their journey. It must have been lonely, all the nights sleeping on that truck alone, only the vast, vast sky above them.

Master seemed more than content to have Oreos to cuddle with. And, sometimes, he'd let Oreos talk on the radio. Oreos was kind of famous even among Master's friends! They all thought it was adorable when Oreos was on the radio. Adorable!!

And Master had teached Oreos how to help, too. Oreos could help him with repairs and refill, and even unload the cargo, when it wasn't too heavy. Oreos liked that, as they got to go outside for a bit.

They'd also stop at places to get gas and supplies. Oreos loved those stops. Sometimes, the places had showers so Oreos could get clean. They were timed, but usually warm. And Master always, always let Oreos pick one item from the shop. Usually, this ended up being a snack. After all… Oreos loved that they could eat, again. They loved not having to struggle for food, and getting extra snacks was a fantastic luxury the pet would never have hoped for. But sometimes, Oreos risked other things, like colorful magazines, small toys, and even a pair of star shaped glasses. Master never questioned, as long as it was just one item.

The only thing Oreos didn't like…Was when Master went home.

When Master took Oreos to his home, he was happy to show them to his family but… They didn't react well. They got angry that Master had made this purchase, spouse didn't want Oreos on their home, they despised the very idea of pets.

And so, Oreos was confined to the truck, when Master was home. Sometimes, that was only one day or two. Other times… Oreos had to wait for weeks. The truck was fine, when the world outside was beautiful and big and ever changing, but it was small and claustrophobic when it was always parked on that same street, nothing ever changing.

It got very hot there, sometimes. And Oreos only got to go out once a day, after spouse and kids were asleep, and Master would sneak them into the bathroom for cleaning while he replenish their supplies.

It was only a couple of minutes, and then, Oreos would be locked away again. Still, they knew how lucky they were for having all they had in there: a bed, comfy clothes, as much food as they wanted and a Master that was kind enough to visit them for a few minutes most days.

Some others… there was fighting. A lot of shouting from inside the house. Sometimes spouse would wake up while Oreos showered, and all hell would break loose.

Oreos was even pushed out of the house once, naked and still dripping soapy water from the shower, while the spouse threatened Master with "divorce" if they helped the pet again.

Lucky for Oreos, Master ended up sneaking them in a few hours later, so they could clean the soap and go back to the truck safely before morning.

Yet, one day… it wasn't the Master that appeared to take Oreos. It was the spouse, smiling with contempt. Oreos tried to protest, because they didn't want to go with spouse. They would obey Master, only Master…

But spouse shoved a gag on Oreos, and dragged them to the car, having little difficulty despite their struggling. They drove away from the house, the truck, the Master and life Oreos loved.

...The spouse sold Oreos for a thin, tall man that smelled like cigarettes and had a cold, harsh stare. They grabbed a fistful of Oreos hair, so hard it hurt, while Oreos still fought to get back to the car, to go back to Master.

...They fought until the car disappeared in the distance, and heavy tears fell through Oreos face, as they saw the only happy part of their life be taken away. They… They didn’t even get to say goodbye.

They turned to face the new Master, letting their body limp and calming their breath. Now… All they could do was be good. Accept that their life had changed yet again. Maybe this one would be nice, too. If not… that’s okay.

"...You have a name, pet?"

"Oreos, sir"

...A harsh slap.

"...Not anymore. You are just Pet. And it's not ‘sir’, I'm your Master, now, and you'll address me as such" they smiled, and pointed at a big luggage bag "Now… get in there, love"

tagging:  @summer-of-whump @pinkraindropsfell

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair

Chapter 14: Unexpected Visitors

Summary: Visitors disrupt the Fraser household.

Read on AO3

Read chapter 14 on tumblr below the cut

Previous, master list, next

Chapter 14: Unexpected Visitors 

***

The next morning, Claire’s perfect tranquility was interrupted by a terrifying brring-brong. 

She jerked wildly around from her place on the “couch”, her heart racing in her chest, before she remembered the last time she’d heard that sound and Jamie had explained that it simply indicated there was someone outside. With cautious steps, she made her way toward the door and pressed her ear against it, listening. No sound of anything threatening at least. But also no sign of Jamie— who was upstairs in the shower.

Claire remembered the other day when there had been a man with something to give Jamie. It was probably that again, and if it was something important, she didn’t want him to miss it. 

Fumbling the odd shaped thing that opened the door, she tugged at it, but it wouldn’t budge. Then she spotted the problem and freed the sliding bit. After struggling with the oddities humans had for securing their place, Claire finally managed to free the door and it swung open. 

She was greeted by blue eyes— Jamie’s eyes— staring at her in astonishment. His sister. Claire had only gotten a glimpse of her the other day but there was no mistaking the fierce dark-haired woman that shared many features with her Jamie. 

“Who are you, then?” Jenny demanded. 

Claire was momentarily struck dumb. Thoughts of the last conversation— or rather, confrontation— that Jenny had with Jamie whirled in her head and made her feel dizzy. He hadn’t wanted his sister to know about her. But obviously that stone had been turned over, because here she stood in front of the woman, mute and motionless. She wished she could just disappear.

This whole being-seen-by-humans thing had its drawbacks. 

“Cat got yer tongue? Answer me! Who are ye, and what are ye doin’ answerin’ my brother’s door?” 

The expression Jenny was wearing could safely be classified as accusatory. Her eyes were narrowed, hands rested on her hips. Claire had to take a gulp of air. 

“Cat…?” Claire echoed. She glanced behind her to where Adso the cat was basking in the morning light— who very clearly did not have her tongue. Bewildered, she placed a hand to her mouth and shook her head, brows furrowed. 

She knew Jenny had said more after that strange human expression, but Claire was buzzing with anxiety so strongly that she couldn’t quite seem to remember. 

“Who are ye?” Jenny demanded, more slowly this time, clearly agitated by Claire’s befuddlement. 

A swallow. “Claire,” she managed, but she was unequal to the task of providing her with any more information.

Where was Jamie?

All of a sudden, Jenny shouldered her way past Claire and inside unceremoniously. It was only then that Claire realized a man was standing behind her. Ian, she surmised, based on what Jamie had told her after the last visit. He walked closer a few steps and held out his hand, saying in a pleasant tone, “I’m Ian. Nice tae meet ya.” 

Claire had no idea what to do with the proffered hand. She wasn’t inclined to touch strange humans and took a hesitant step back with her gaze fixed on it. She glanced back up at Ian and helplessly offered, “I’m Claire.” 

He gave her an odd look and then slowly lowered the hand. 

“Nice tae meet ye, Claire. Ye’ll have tae excuse my wife, she doesna seem to have any manners when it comes tae her brother.” 

Claire gave a shaky nod, unsure how exactly to proceed, and then simply stepped aside to allow Ian past her. 

Jenny was waiting for them, hands on her hips. 

“So I suppose ye’re the trollop then? The one from the fittin’ room? Ye’re the reason he’s been missin’ all this work?” 

Claire shot a glance over her shoulder, hoping beyond hope that Jamie would choose this moment to appear. But no one came to her aid, and Jenny was inclined to continue. 

“Well…” Claire wasn’t sure what a trollop was, but she understood the last part well enough, “I suppose. But-” 

“-I kent my brother was a fool, but to bring his little play thing into his home…” 

“Dinna speak of her that way,” came a low, menacing voice. 

Claire felt a wash of relief as Jamie appeared across the room behind his sister, already glaring daggers and squaring up for a fight. 

“Jamie!” Jenny exclaimed, whirling around to face him, “What are ye thinkin’? Do ye even ken this lass?” 

Jenny seemed to grow red, and— sensing the burgeoning conflict— Claire needed a retreat. She inched her way across the room warily, slipping around Jenny, and then pressed herself to Jamie’s side. He was also thrumming with tension, his gaze never leaving his sister and his full height utilized, but as Claire slipped her hand into his, he seemed to calm a bit. The red energy around him began to ease in the slightest. 

“Aye, I ken Claire. And if ye didna come in here rarin’ for a fight, maybe ye could get tae know her too,” he said evenly. 

Claire wasn’t sure she was quite inclined to get to know this aggressive woman. Jenny was still bristling, occasionally shooting her a dark-eyed glance. Still, anything that was important to Jamie was important to Claire, and he’d told her how much he loved his sister and her family. She resolved to give this woman a chance, but she still wouldn’t make a move away from Jamie. His hand was warm and solid around hers, and it calmed her spirit. 

“Aye,” Jenny acquiesced after a tense silence, throwing her hands up, “explain yerself then.” 

No one made any move for a long second. 

“What would ye like to ken?” Jamie asked, and Claire could tell he was trying to keep his voice even and light despite the obvious frustration humming through him.  

“What is she to you?” Jenny demanded. 

Jamie floundered at this. His face went red, and he glanced toward Claire, back at Jenny, then to the ground. “She’s…” he started as he looked toward Claire again, but he obviously wasn’t sure how exactly to explain the relationship. 

“He’s mine,” Claire stated simply to save him the trouble. 

Because how else could it be explained better than that? 

Jamie’s face went impossibly redder, and his sister’s mouth fell open. Jenny glanced toward Ian, and Claire felt like she was caught in the middle of a spider’s web of gazes. What was with these people and their non-verbal communication? Just say something already! 

“Well then, I’d better sit down,” Jenny said begrudgingly. 

She promptly sat down on the couch, and Ian followed, sitting down next to her. Jamie, in turn, walked over to the chair across from them. Claire trailed after him before setting herself straight down on his lap. 

Jamie jerked in surprise as she situated herself as always, twining her arms around his neck and curling up. She saw as his eyes went wide and the tips of his ears (having only just now faded from her last words) flared deep red again. She liked his blush ever-so much but wasn’t sure exactly why he was reacting this way. She’d sat with him plenty of times like this. 

“Maybe find yer own chair for now, lass?” Jamie whispered into her ear. 

She felt confusion and something like disappointment rise up in her. Jamie was hers, and she didn’t understand why he was embarrassed. But she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, so she quickly slipped off his lap. Grabbing a nearby chair, she couldn’t resist the urge to scoot it closer to Jamie’s. She needed him within arm’s reach. Finally, all was settled, and the only thing left was to begin the conversation.

The air felt heavy around them, and Claire’s apprehension grew. There was a pressure on her shoulders— she realized. His family’s opinion meant everything to Jamie, and Claire was suddenly overwhelmed by the prospect that Jenny’s disapproval could drive them apart. 

Needing the reassurance of his touch, she reached out and took ahold of Jamie’s hand. 

***

When Jamie had come down the stairs to find Jenny facing off with Claire (well, facing off wasna exactly the right term, because his puir faerie was practically trembling in the face of Jenny’s confrontation) and heard the things his sister was saying about her, irritation and something even deeper flared within him, and he quickly jumped to Claire’s defense. 

But the lass certainly hadn’t made things easy. First she’d declared him to be “hers” to Jenny, proudly and possessively, and then she’d sat straight down on his lap— making his sister’s eyes bulge and mouth gape. Jamie loved Claire dearly but needed to keep the situation in hand, so he’d quickly shifted her off of him with only a slight twinge of regret. 

Now, he sat with her hand in hand, ready for Jenny to launch in, as clearly his sister was ready to do. As much as he knew that holding Claire’s hand in front of Jenny would only increase his sister’s ire, he couldn’t dream of withholding that comfort from the faerie. Jenny had been studying their clasped hands for a long second, but then let out a sigh and turned to Claire.  

“How do you two know each other?” she asked, the veil of politeness over her voice quite obviously a front. 

Claire looked toward Jamie, looking unsure about what he would want her to say, and he hastily jumped in. 

“I met Claire at university in Paris. We kept in touch, and she decided tae come for a visit. She got in on Saturday.” 

Jenny and Ian nodded at this, and Jamie felt a sense of relief. 

“And since I’m certain ye’ll ask… the airline lost all her luggage, which is why we were at Mrs. Fitz’s. And no, we werena doin’ anything, I was jes’ helping her do up a zipper.” 

Jenny gave an eyeroll at this, but didn’t otherwise comment. 

“And how is it that you have come to be spending the weekend in sin?” she accused bluntly. 

“We’re no’ livin’ in sin, Janet,” Jamie sighed. His exasperation had almost exceeded tolerant levels. 

“What about what ye said last time?” 

“Last time I let ye believe that simply to make ye shut yer gab. I didna say I was sleepin’ wi’ her, because I am verra much no’. Claire is only stayin’ wi’ me.” Jamie was about a second and a half from kicking Jenny and Ian off of his property and not speaking to his loud-mouth, rude, intolerable sister for a good couple years until she’d learned some manners. 

While all these thoughts were rolling around in Jamie’s head, Jenny was looking pointedly at their clasped hands, obviously not believing that they weren’t sleeping together. 

“Well,” Ian jumped into the conversation before Jenny could make another ill-advised comment, “Claire. What is it ye do for a livin’ then?” he asked politely. 

Claire’s eyes widened like a cornered fawn, the poor lass. She’d never heard that phrase before, let alone was she prepared to come up with an answer of a suitable profession. Jamie quickly jumped to her rescue. 

“She’s a botanist,” he said as he gave her hand a squeeze. He could feel the flutter of her rapid heartbeat in her wrist and hoped the whole ordeal wasn’t too much for her. Stretching his thumb, he ran the tip gently over her pulse point in reassurance. 

“Still tongue-tied, lassie?” Jenny asked with a hint of a sneer. 

“Lay off, Janet,” he growled. 

His sister raised her hands in exasperation. “The lass has said barely a word since we’ve arrived.” As if that explained why she was so hostile toward her. 

“If ye continue to speak so disrespectfully I willna allow ye to stay in my home another minute,” Jamie said in a firm, severe voice. 

“It’s alright, Jamie,” Claire broke in, giving his hand a squeeze. She turned toward Jenny and gave her one of her mega-watt smiles that made Jamie’s knees weak every time. Astonishingly, it did not have the same effect on Jenny. His sister just sat there, cold as ice, gaze locked on Claire’s, without giving a single inch. “I know I’ve been quiet. I’m just nervous about making a good impression on Jamie’s family. I know how much you mean to him.” 

Jamie wanted to throw his arms around his clever lass. Never once had she been in a situation like this, and yet she was so quick on her feet to say the right thing in a tense situation. 

Ian smiled at this, looking back and forth between him and Claire, obviously seeing the palpable connection between them. 

Jenny, on the other hand, was not impressed. 

“Ye shouldna worry about makin’ an impression, lass. Ye willna be around long,” she said dismissively, even going as far as to give a derogatory wave of the hand. 

Jamie’s mouth fell open in incredulity. Jenny had been hostile before, downright rude, but this was on another level of animosity. He let go of Claire’s hand and stood with surprising force, scooting his chair back a couple centimeters with a loud skidding sound. 

“This is you comin’ over tae apologize, Janet?” he roared, “No! I willna have it. Ye’ve said more than enough. Get out. Ye may return when I invite ye and no sooner, and that will only be when ye’ve managed to pull yerself together and apologize tae Claire.” 

Jenny was standing now too. Instead of the deep red of shame that she should have been wearing, though, Jenny was just as riled up as he was. 

Things were escalating far out of hand. 

“Ye bring this lass intae yer life and disappear wi’ out a word, and ye jes’ expect me tae take it as if it’s the most normal thing?” 

“Yes!” he exclaimed in exasperation, “that’s exactly what I expect ye tae do! I’m 29, Jenny, and ye’re actin’ like I’m some 12 year old who brought a girl home askin’ if she could spend the night. I make my own decisions!” 

Jenny’s shoulders seemed to slump. Not in defeat, but in acceptance of the fact that Jamie would be doing whatever he wanted and she didn’t have the power to stop him. 

And she said as much. 

“Fine. Ruin yer life wi’ this trollop. I’ll see myself out. And dinna worry about me comin’ back uninvited, I’ll no’ be gracin’ yer stoop for a long while, that’s for certain.” 

Poor Ian had been sitting motionless the whole time, gaping up at his wife in horror. He occasionally shot glances toward Jamie and behind him to Claire, but mostly Ian’s brain was churning with the conflict he was being dragged along with, forced to be on Jenny’s side. As the brazen besom turned toward the door, Ian rose from the couch. He looked helplessly at Jamie, his brown eyes wide with apology, and then followed after his wife. Jamie didn’t even make to shut the door, simply listened for it to bang close behind them. 

The second they were gone, he turned to Claire, ready to face a teary-eyed faerie horrified by the vile that had just spewed from his sister, ready to offer comfort and apologies, but— to his surprise— he was met with completely calm honey eyes. 

“Are you alright, Jamie?” she asked before he could. She reached out to run a soothing hand up his bicep. 

“Am I alright? Christ! Are you alright? I’m sae sorry ye hadta endure that.” 

“It’s not your fault, Jamie. She was being unfair to you,” she said softly. 

Jamie shook his head back and forth, “she was bein’ unfair tae you! Listen to me, mo nighean donn. I’m sure she didna mean it. She’s angry and hurt because she thinks I’m keepin’ secrets, and she’s protective and brazen and rude. But I ken one day she’ll come around.” 

Claire looked a little heartbroken then. “I’m not sure…”

Taking a step closer, he took her gently by the shoulders, his hands dwarfing the dainty curves of them. His voice lowered to a tone of incredibly gentleness, “are ye really alright, Sassenach?” 

Her eyes lowered. “She just.. scared me,” she admitted with a shrug. 

Jamie’s wame clenched. Jenny was making his worst fears come to fruition. He hated the thought that Claire felt she didn’t belong in this strange world, especially in his life (where he wanted her to stay forever), and here his sister was saying those things to her face. The puir lass was completely cut off from her home, and now even his own family was trying to drive her away from the one shred of security she had. 

He could only imagine the homesickness she must have been feeling at that moment. The longing for the acceptance of her people— her family. 

Unlike his, who was making her hate the human world. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, “nothin’ she said was true. And I’m verra glad ye’re in my life, no matter what my pig-heided sister says.” 

Claire was staring at him deeply, emotion reflected in her eyes. A mutual understanding passed between them, greater than any words. 

Then, abruptly breaking the surreal moment, Claire asked, “what’s ‘pig-heided?” in a terrible mimicry of his accent. 

Jamie burst out laughing, doubling over in half-surprise and half-mirth. A stitch quickly formed in his side as his air ran out. Tears were pricking at the corners of his eyes as he laughed, a release of all the pent up emotion. 

“Have— do ye ken what a pig is, then?” he asked breathlessly, still heaving with laughter. 

To his delight and relief, Claire was laughing softly along with him (or maybe at him) and didn’t take offense to his hilarity. 

With a smile, she shook her head, answering helplessly, “no...” She let out a chuckle. 

“It’s a fat animal that spends its days rollin’ in mud. I’ll show ye one sometime,” he explained, his hands still rested on his knees in his doubled over position. 

Claire nodded in acceptance of his answer and reached out for him. Her wee hands slid down his forearms, raising goosebumps in their wake, until she grasped his hands and pulled him upright. 

He wasn’t quite expecting this, and the force of her tug sent him up and stumbling into her. 

Their bodies collided, and in an effort to keep her from going over, his hands grabbed her around the waist. He stomped his free foot down to regain balance and pulled her flush against him. He must have overcompensated, though, because they both went stumbling a step in the opposite direction this time, their bodies pressed completely together. 

They ended this odd dance with a fit of giggles, clinging tightly to one another as they finally regained balance. 

“Sorry,” she laughed. 

“No, I am,” Jamie chuckled, “but I think we needed a good laugh.” 

“We did,” Claire agreed, more softly this time. They were settling now, Claire looking up with him with big, soft eyes, and the mood shifted starkly from hilarity to something… intimate. One of her hands was pressed to his chest, the other holding on to his tricep, and he could feel nearly every inch of her against him. 

The silence spoke louder than anything, and he couldn't seem to the break eye contact that was quickly becoming dangerous. Every bone in his body screamed at him to kiss her. 

Letting go of her abruptly and taking a step back, he plunged them both back into reality.  

“Come now, lass,” he said hollowly, “I’m hungry. Care tae help me prepare some food?”

***

a/n: I forget if I added this note to tumblr last week, but there’s two more chapters to go in arc I-- ahh!!! I’m so excited (and nervous) for you guys to read them. Hopefully arc II will follow shortly :). Thanks so much for reading, lovely tumblr folks!

Next

[neverthrive]

Just gonna leave this old ass fanfic here

Adventuring is a rewarding occupation, providing an abundance of wealth, the respect of peers, and even a fulfilling sense of self worth. Even so, the constant action takes its toll, and every once in a great while an adventurer has to take a step back, breathe in deeply, and just get away from it all. Which is exactly what Jake had been planning for himself and his human brother.

It was a simple idea; take a break from their regular schedule of evil slaying, butt-kickery and all around, nonstop awesomeness. Find some remote location that holds nothing but tranquility in store for the duo to just chillax at for a few days. Just the two of them, a dog and his boy. It was perfect, but like any other well laid plan, there was a monkey wrench destined to find its way into the cogs of said perfection and jam Jake's precise synchronization up something awful. This particular monkey wrench goes by the name of Marceline.

"What are you dweebs up to?" Inquired a melodically cynical voice that belonged to none other than the ancient noirette in question. Marceline stared down ever curiously at the mixed species siblings and their growing mess as she liesurely drifted on the air over their heads. From what she could tell, her mortal friends appeared to be gathering heaps of useless garbage and stowing the junk in their already cramped luggage, for some reason or another.

Finn took a moment to acknowledge the vampire's presence, looking up from his loaded pack to face her. "I'm not actually sure, myself... Jake just told me to start packing my crud, and I guess that's what I'm doing, so does that answer your question?"

"Not in the least." she replied curtly before turning her now suspicious gaze in Jake's direction. The dog paid Marceline no mind as he continued to toss his various and mostly useless possessions into a sack. A rubber duck, a length of rope, a jar of peanuts, a pair of socks... Finally, he stored two empty glass bottles and closed the sack, still oblivious to the vampire's questioning stare. "Jake, what the plum is with all the hullabaloo?"

"Nope." Jake snapped, mildly irritated.

"'Nope'? Nope what?" She pressed him, ignoring the dog's tone.

"No. I'm not gonna tell you because you'll just want to come with us and muck it up. It's s'pose to be just me and mah bro, and you have no part in it. So no, Marceline, you can't come camping with us." Jake retorted in his best attempt at sounding authoritative, but in trying to iterate just how serious he was, the fact that he was suppose to be withholding information had slipped his mind a tad. He soon realized his mistake and growled in frustration. "Forget I said that last part!" But ironically, that last part about ignoring that previous last part was ignored by both teens.

"We're going camping?" Finn and Marceline asked in unison, excitement bubbling up in their throats.

"Yes, Finn, WE are. And no, Marceline, WE are not. Got it?" Jake answered pointedly. "It's camping time with Finn and Jake. I didn't hear Marceline anywhere in there, so step off sister!"

"Well fine! Maybe I didn't want to go on your stupid trip anyway!" Marceline pouted sorely and turned to leave, but Finn, being the model peacekeeper he is, blocked his friend's exit. "Get out of the way, Finn. I'm obviously not wanted here anymore." The vampire queen tried to push the boy aside, but no matter how hard she shoved, the squishy blob of flesh and heroism persisted to keep her from leaving.

"Come on, Jake's just being a butt. You don't have to leave on account o' him bein' a Mr. grumpy pants." Finn gently wrapped a hand around Marceline's forearm and began to lead her back over to his brother so as amends could be made.

"He doesn't even wear pants, dude." she huffed out in retortion as she let herself be pulled back towards the junk heaps that the magical dog was still busying himself with sorting through and packing into napsacks and suitcases and the like.

"Jake..." Finn verbally nudged his brother to outstretch the olive branch to Marceline, but an apology seemed hesitant in forthcoming. "Come on, man. You know you done bad in yourself bro, and I know you know how to make it right again." Finn's prompt appeared to have worked this time, eliciting a defeated sigh from Jake.

Dropping his bags of assorted and worthless loot, Jake turned to face Marceline who now had her arms crossed over her chest and was avoiding eye contact with him. "Look, I'm sorry, alright?" Marceline untensed a bit at that. "It's not you, It's just that I really wanted to have some bro time with Finn, y'know? To recapture those times we used to share when we was wee pups." Jake inhaled deeply, breathing in the musty scent lingering about from the, until recently, long forgotten contents of that once overstuffed closet in the corner. He had a feeling in his gut that he'd regret this decision later, and his gut was almost never wrong, but he couldn't ignore his guilt and empathy for Marceline. She just wanted to hang with her friends. "So... You want to come with us, then?"

The vampire's sour mood dissipated immediately, her pout rapidly shifting to a grin stretched from pointed ear to pointed ear. "Heck yes I wanna go camping with you guys! So when are we leaving?" Marceline asked almost giddily.

"Well I guess since you're coming with us, we probably shouldn't be heading out 'til just before sundown." Jake answered thoughtfully. Having so much time before they were to depart allowed Jake some spare moments to cool it with all the preparations and freed up his thinkin' schedule a bit. Suddenly, a thought pervaded his mind that the dog rather took a shining to. "If we're bringing guests along now, Lady Rainicorn's coming too!" and with that, Jake took off to go inform his girlfriend of how he'd decided she would be spending the next few days. The matter was entirely non negotiable.

Finn and Marceline stood idly by as Jake hastily absconded out through a nearby window. The young hero turned to his immortal friend "You know, he actually does wear pants..."

"Really?"

"Yup."

A quarter hour before dusk would settle in, the four campers had reached the landing Jake scouted out beforehand. It was a small pocket within the forest, not too far from a river, vacant enough to comfortably fit everyone but with a dense enough canopy to shade any vampire from daylight at high noon. Having acquired a suitable base of operations, the only thing left standing in between Jake and his cherished relaxation was setting up camp. The duties were divied up between two groups.

"So Lady and I are gonna pitch our tent, by ours I mean hers and mine. I don't know what either of you are doing so... Sleep under the stars or whatever. But also, we need a campfire, so you guys should maybe gather some sticks and twigs and stuff, and it'll be math. 'Kay." Jake then spoke something in a language neither Finn nor Marceline could comprehend to Lady, who laughed in response, and the two magical creatures diligently began piecing together the frame of their shared tent. The rainicorn giggled lightly every time Jake slipped a tent pole into the corresponding connector she held.

Marceline narrowed her eyes at the spectacle and made a face. "Gross..." She thought it best to linger around the couple and their disgusting adorableness as little as inhumanly possible and began to head towards the surrounding thickets. Finn soon followed suit, tailing behind his friend into the thick of the forest to gather materials for their fire.

"So like, sticks, huh?" The human remarked as he bent over to scoop a discarded twig from the earth.

Marceline turned to see Finn's pitiful offering. Their fire would need a lot more fuel than some measly green branches. "No man, we need bigger stuff than that." she explained. "And preferably a little more dead." she added.

"Bigger?" Finn thought it over for a moment. "Alright, bigger." Turning to face a tree, the stout teenager grappled the trunk and with all his might attempted to pry the poor unsuspecting eudicot from the soil. "I need your wood, tree! Give it up, yo!" Finn continued his struggle while Marceline cackled at his random act of foolishness.

Seeing no sign of Finn relenting any time soon, his undead friend intervened. "Finn, we don't need a whole tree. And you most def don't gotta yank one out'a the ground. C'mere, ya goober." she beckoned while barely supressing her laughter. Finn looked from Marceline then back to the tree in his grasp, releasing the bark from his grip and gaining nothing from his efforts but sore arms.

"Look," she pointed to a fallen branch that looked as if it'd been laying on the forest floor for a few seasons now. "This is the kind of stuff we're gonna need. Big enough to burn, and not impossible to pick up, got it? Now get it." Finn did as instructed, bending to take the dry, rough chunk of high octane campfire fuel in his arms. "Alright, now just find a lot more like it and we're good to light 'em up."

"How many more?" Finn asked wearily.

"I don't know. Lots, I suppose. Have to keep it going for a while." she replied, venturing deeper into the woods to search for any more decent firewood she might per chance stumble upon. Figuratively, that is, it's hard to sumble when your feet don't touch the ground.

"Bleh..." Despite his contempt for such menial labor, Finn once again followed the vampire to gather what they needed. It was an easy enough job, but way too dang boring for a man of action. Finn needed excitement, and lugging sticks around wasn't providing.

When they'd finished gathering the firewood and the time came to actually light the fire, Finn demanded he be the one to do the deed. And so there they sat across from one another, a neatly arranged pile of dead wood between them. Finn furiously stroked the sticks together in a fruitless attempt to catalyze a spark.

"This usually works! These things must be broken, or something..." Finn pouted and heaved the useless wooden shafts into the nearby shrubbery in frustration.

"Here," Marceline moved herself closer to the bundle and spawned a small flame in the palms of her hands. Touching the flame to the tinder, the pile of miniature lumber and bark ignited almost instantly. Finn stared down at the blazing fire, then glanced up to Marcleline, a smug, toothy smirk plastered across her face.

"You cheated!" he yelped, pointing accusingly at the girl who succeeded so easilly where he so miserably failed.

"Finn, don't be jelly of my totally sweet vampire powers." Marceline replied, her expression never faltering.

"I'm not jelly! Maybe jam, but not jelly. Just admit you cheated! Vampire powers is cheating fo' sure." he insisted.

"Nope." The vampire playfully let her forked tongue slide out from between her fangs, mocking the disgruntled human.

"Whatever..."

"Hey, you guys made the fire! Rad!" Jake exclaimed as he padded his way over to the two from his now fully assembled tent.

"Yeah, we totally did it! 100% group effort here." Marceline chimed almost sarcastically. "So who wants to roast marshmallows?"

"... Then the puppy looked under his bed, and saw two glowing green eyes! The pup was so scared, it almost wee wee'd!" Finn stood over his three friends, the crackling fire below lighting his features in distorted illumination. He raised both hands above his head, digits stretched and curled as claws in the most menacing display the boy could muster. "The nebelung under the bed reached out to the scared little puppy and..." Finn paused, turning to Jake who'd heard the story right along with Finn in their youth and knew what came next. "TICKLED THE PUPPY!" Finn pounced on his brother and poked his wriggling fingers into the dog's soft flanks. Jake snorted and snickered at the human's tickle attack as the two women watched on. Lady found the sight to be quite amusing, adorable even. Marceline just sucked the red from a can of kidney beans in stark indifference.

"If you two are done with your brotherly gropefest yet, maybe I could tell a real ghost story?" Marceline cut their fun short and assumed her position over the campfire as current story teller as the brothers returned to their seats. "This isn't the first time I've been in these parts of the woods. I came through here some years back, how long ago exactly is a little fuzzy. But I wasn't alone. No, I had friends with me, just like I do now, and just like now, there was a dog among my group.

"We were just hiking through, you see, we had no intentions of staying. No, that would be foolish! We knew better, we'd heard the stories of what happens around here after dark. Weird stuff... Spooky happenings, y'know? But the dog, he got lost-"

"Oh no! Not the dog! The dog always dies first!" Jake interrupted with his sudden fearful outburst.

"Well anyway..." Marceline shot him a scornful look, and continued. "The dog must have started straggling, because when we stopped to rest, he was nowhere to be found. Of course we looked for him, we stayed together as a group, we weren't about to split up so we'd all be lost in 'The Forsaken Forest'. But no matter where we searched, there was no sign of the poor lost doggy. It wasn't 'til well after dark when we found him. He was huddled in a bush maybe twenty or so yards from where he was last seen, shaking uncontrollably with his face in his hands.

"He wouldn't show us his face. He just kept on mumbling some nonsense about 'whispering trees' and 'eyeball rockets'. When we finally pried the dog's hands from his face, he had no eyes! Just two gaping sockets where his looking globes used to be! Once we got him to calm down, he told us the whispering trees of the forsaken forest used some hoodoo to turn his eyeballs into jet packs and they flew right off of his face. Wait..." Marceline stiffened and tilted her head to one side as if intently listening to some faint noise off in the distance. "Did you guys hear that?"

"Hear what?" Jake squeaked, cowering into his girfriend's embrace. Cuddling with Lady Rainicorn made him feel secure, but it wasn't enough to make him totally forget he was in the alleged 'Foresaken Forest'.

"It sounds like..." she leaned in toward Jake, and with a completely straight face, with a hint of what might pass for something distraught in her tone, answered "Whispering."

That's all Jake needed to hear. He gave his friends a surprise performance of his scream song and tore off to his tent as fast as his four legs would carry him, separating himself from the 'evil' trees outside with a thin layer of nylon. No way in the flippin' Night-o-Sphere was he letting some piney mischief makers steal his precious eyes. Lady chuckled and followed after him, knowing Jake wouldn't be able to sleep alone tonight after that fright.

Finn and Marceline shared a laugh at Jake's expense. When their howling merriment subsided, they realized they were alone once more. Finn fed a few more branches from their dwindling supply into the blaze, stoking the flames.

"So, have you really been out in these woods before?" The boy asked, now feeling uneasy not knowing if the vampire's story was true or not. Finn'd witnessed stranger things, so believing tall tales came easily to him.

"Yeah, I have. But not how you're thinking I did, that story was bogus." Finn was relieved. "Naw, my old man took me camping somewhere around here when I was younger, before that whole 'fry incident' happened. It's one of the more pleasant memories I have from my upbringing." Marceline sighed and watched the flames consume their fresh meal through hazy, half lidded eyes. The age-old young woman contently recalled the time she and her father shared out in this forest so many years ago.

"Is that why you like camping?" Finn pulled her out of her train of thought. "Becuase your dad brought you?"

"Yeah, probably." she admitted. "It's just nice to chill out in the wild, with some friends or family or whatever. It's kind of peaceful. So how 'bout you, Finn? Have you ever been camping?"

"Well, once pop took me, Jake and Jermaine out for a weekend of fishing. Y'know, a father and his boys." Finn still missed his parents, they were such kind old folk. No one else would look twice at the human freak, but they raised him as their own. "But it was actually just the back yard, there was a pond there too, and we were told we couldn't go inside the house 'til the weekend was over. Dad made us some sort of little shelter out of some dead trees and ferns and all we ate was the fish we caught, but Dad made sure to stock the pond with lots of fish beforehand, so we had plenty. It was a pretty good time, even if it wasn't the wilderness like this."

"It's not where you're at, Finn, all that matters is who you're with." Marceline asserted, and felt a certain truth to her words resonate. In her experience, this was an immutable fact, in good company, fond memories could be made anywhere. Finn always seemed like good company, and he'd given the vampire an abundance of fresh memories she hoped would not fade any time soon.

"Yeah," Finn nodded gingerly. "that's deep." The human stretched his arms wide and yawned in deeply. It was getting late, and an adolecsent boy needs his sleep. "I'm gonna hit the sack."

Finn took a few paces away from the campfire and found one of the various packs he'd brought with him on this excursion at the base of a large tree. Opening the zipper, he reached inside and withdrew a very large, very new looking gortex sleeping bag and unrolled the bundle of fluff and warmth, laying it across the ground. The tuckered hero wasted no time before hopping into the over sized, silky feeling cocoon, but before he could drift of to the land of Sweet dreams, he was disturbed by a familiar voice.

"Where am I supposed to sleep?" demanded the very abandoned feeling vampire queen.

"You're nocturnal." Finn retorted bluntly before rolling over to face away from the dying fire.

"But I've been up all day!" she protested. "My sleep schedule is wack, and it's pretty much entirely your fault."

"Hey, it's your own choice to pester us during the day. You made your bed, now you gotta sleep in it. Hehe." Finn laughed at the irony of that figure of speech used in this particular instance and noted that he's not exactly one to be clever with irony, and it was mostly just coincidence, but an awesome coincidence at that. "Can't you just like, sleep hangin' from a tree or somethin'? Bats do that all the time."

"No! For one, that's actually an insulting generalization, and two, I don't think I can maintain myself in bat form while I'm sleeping." Marceline explained. It sounded logical enough of a reason to rule out sleeping in trees, and there was no way she was about to sleep atop the cold dirt. "Scootch over, I'm getting in with you." she ordered.

"No way! Why didn't you bring your own sleeping junk?" Finn countered.

"Because I didn't think of it and vampires were never bestowed with the gift of foresight, now make room!"

"You can't!" Finn barked.

"Why can't I?" she challenged.

"Because... You're a girl..." Finn's face brightened with reddish hugh.

"Are you saying you'd rather sleep with a boy?" Marceline asked slyly, raising an eyebrow in playful inquiry.

"Well no... But..." Finn sputtered, "This isn't fair!"

"Life ain't fair, get used to it," the dead girl shot back while making her way to Finn and his comfy looking sleeping bag that he was being oh so greedy trying to keep all to himself. Finn hesitated, but after seeing Marceline was dead set on gettin' all up in his bag, he reluctantly relented his opposition and allowed her entry, slipping in beside him.

Marceline noticed how spacious it was inside, still comfortable enough even with the both of them fully encased up to their necks in the puffy fabric, and she almost couldn't help but to be suspicious that Finn's end game was to share this sleeping bag with someone all along. Silly human, he'd only have to ask, no need for reverse psychology and mind games. But then she realized this was Finn she was thinking about and how his intentions never run any deeper than face value. Marceline couldn't see Finn, the genuine goober he is, devise some elaborate plan entailing sleeping bags and psychological warfare all to result in getting her to sleep with him, speaking only in the most literal sense of the term.

Then Marceline realized something else. She was dreadfully uncomfortably laying in this position. "Finn. I need a pillow." she informed.

Disturbed once more from the verge of slumber, Finn exhaled audibly and cracked his sore and crusty eyes. Scanning about the surrounding darkness for something that might sate the relentless vampire's pestering, Finn peered a fairly large, stout stone not far from where they lay. Removing his arms from the confines of the sleeping bag he was now being forced to share, he grabbed hold of the rock and placed it by Marceline's head with a dull thud. "Use that." he instructed coarsely before returning to his previous position and trying once more to sleep.

Marceline stared at the rock in awe for a long moment before deciding it was a horrible candidate for a pillow. No, she'd need something softer, with some give. Something... Squishy. And per chance, it just so happened that there was something exceedingly squishy laying right beside her. So with no further thought or reasoning, Marceline curled herself around Finn and layed her head on the softest point she could find between his shoulder and chest.

"What the flip are you doing?" The hero questioned when feeling his friend's arms snake around his body.

"Shut up." she hissed, momentarily lifting her head from his chest to make eye contact. "You're lumpin' comfortable, so deal with it. Now lay there and be quiet like a good pillow." And with that, she nuzzled back into the fleshy swells of Finn's torso.

As awkward as this situation was, Finn couldn't deny that it was maybe even a little pleasant. But also mostly uncomfortable, for him at least. So to right this, Finn hauled his arm out from beneath the cuddly vampire and repositioned it around Marceline, so now they were in some ungraceful, and clearly completely platonic embrace. Nope, nothing going on here, just a couple o' bros in a sleeping bag is all. Snuggling? Naw, none of that going on here, bro.

Feeling Finn's arm wrap around her back and rest somewhere near her waist, reciprocating her cuddle, Marceline grinned into the adolescent adventurer's chest. "I know you're enjoying this, probably more than you're letting yourself believe, but don't expect it to happen often." She took a moment to glance back up to meet Finn's embarrassed gaze. "You just so happened to have been the most comfortable place for me to spend the night." Reaching up to play with the ears of Finn's hat, she added "Y'know, you're no Hambo, but you're quite the snuggly little bear."

Finn's face flushed skarlet, or maybe it never stopped being that color, he couldn't tell. But either way, he definitely felt significantly warmer around the collar after that remark. He wasn't too sure he liked being Marceline's 'snuggly bear', he imagined it might be something reminiscent of what Lady Rainicorn would call Jake, if she spoke english. And Finn for sure didn't think he was ready to have with Marceline what Jake had with Lady. But here they were, closer to any other girl than he'd ever been, unburnt by her touch and unscalded by any callous words that carelessly fell from her mouth.

Finn gave some thought to this and realized it wouldn't be so bad to be more than simply friends with Marceline. She was probably the greatest gal he knew, and almost certainly the least complicated, even if that's not saying all too much. But he could easily envision their relationship taking a turn for the romantic. By the time he'd worked up the courage to profess that thought to her, a rather obnoxious snore seized his attention. Finn snapped his eyes down in his bed buddy's direction to find she'd already fallen fast asleep. So, the adventurer, pushing all silly thoughts of relationships aside, closed his eyes for what seemed like the umpteenth time that evening and was finally allowed rest.

It wasn't the muted sunlight shining through the leaves overhead, ticking at his eyelids, that woke Finn that morning, nor was it the stirring of the girl still in his arms. It was the earpiercing shriek of utter shock and surprise let loose from his older brother's agape maw. Finn's eyes shot open, sitting up quickly and turning his attention from Jake to Marceline, taking in the situation and how it might look to anyone outside of the sleeping bag.

"This probably isn't what it looks like!" Finn piped up defensively almost without thinking. His brain kicked in and told him that whenever someone says those particular words, it's almost always exactly what it looks like.

"Oh my grawd, dude! You guys didn't... Did you?" Jake gasped, flabbergasted. "Just tell me you kept it PG13, please."

"Dude, what the hey! We're both fully clothed, okay!" Finn stepped out of his sleeping bag to prove he was, in fact, not in the nude. "She just forgot to bring any camping gear, so I shared. Alright?"

"Yeah, alright... I guess I might have been overreacting a bit..." Jake mumbled ashamedly, averting his gaze from his two friends he just so blatently accused of indecency.

"A bit?" Finn chuckled. "It's a'ight man, let's just forget about it." Finn's stomach let out a low growl. "So what's for breakfast, homie?"

Jake felt a mite cheerier now that they'd moved on past that terrible misunderstanding. What an awful, horrible revelation to wake up to first thing in the morning. "Canned food, yo. It's all we got since we pollished off the marshmallows last night."

"Sounds good, man." Finn responded with a nod. He looked back to his vampire friend who was still wrapped in his sleeping bag. She was in a sitting position, watching the two brothers, holding the poofy top of the bag up to under her chin with strangely bare arms. "C'mon Marcie, stop being a lazy butt. It's time to get up." The human coaxed.

"Remember that thing you said about how we're both fully clothed?" she asked with a bashful smile. "If we've learned anything this morning, it's that you guys are great at jumping to conclusions." She motioned with her eyes, directing Finn and Jake's attention toward a pile of her discarded flannel shirt and ripped jeans.

"What the flip, Marceline!" Finn cried out, bordering on the hysterical.

"What, I got hot! Besides, it's not like I'm completely naked. Glob Finn, don't be such a perv!" Marceline huffed indignantly, floated up from the ground sleeping bag and all, snatched the shirt and pair of jeans from where they lay and was gone into the dense forest, presumably to get dressed.

"What in the flip just happened, Jake?" Finn asked flatly as he continued to stare dumbfoundedly out into the woods where he last saw the lunatic who wore his sleeping bag like a toga.

"Sounds like you're having girl troubles, bro." Jake answered, gingerly giving the confused human an empathetic pat on the back.

[honyakuninakunaru]

A Whimsical Snowdome // Mithra SSR Card Story

CHAPTER 1

(Snow Market)

Akira: "Alrighty... And with that, we've gotten presents for everyone back at the manor. It was hard to decide since there are a lot of unique things here at the Snow Market."

Chloe: "Right? I completely lost track of time while looking for this many souvenirs. By the way, are you hungry, Master Sage? Just now, I saw a stand that looked like they have some delicious meat. It's clo—"

Mithra: "They have meat, you say?"

Chloe: "Ah!"

Akira: "Oh, hi, Mithra. Are you perhaps hungry as well?"

Mithra: "Yes. So, where is that stand?"

Chloe: "Ah, um... It's the one right there, with the blue sign..."

(Sounds of footsteps)

As Chloe modestly pointed in the booth's direction, Mithra languidly made his way towards it. When he did, Chloe breathed out in relief.

Chloe: "Sigh..."

Akira: "Something the matter, Chloe?"

Chloe: "Well, Mithra's a northern wizard, and he's quite strong, so I'm a little scared, you see... Of course, I'd like to get along with him better, but..."

Akira: "I see... He does have the presence of someone with power, or rather, a unique aura."

I looked at the stands and saw Mithra, who was just sinking his teeth into the freshly obtained goods. The gesture of licking his long, sticky with overflowing sauce finger held sex appeal capable of overwhelming others, even those of a coarser nature.

Chloe: "....."

Mithra: "What? Do you two want some? I'm not sharing, you know."

Chloe: "Ah, no, no! I was thinking of giving you my handkerchief if you'd like to use it... But, uhm, my luggage's too much, I can't take it out."

Mithra: "Is that so. You are carrying a lot of bags, though."

Chloe: "These are the presents Master Sage and I chose for the others."

Akira: "I'm indebted to everyone for always taking care of me, so I have to get them something. Aren't you going to give anyone a gift too, Mithra?"

Mithra: "No. While it's true that occasionally, humans would give us tributes, the opposite isn't a thing. Is there even a difference between a tribute and a present?"

Chloe: "Eh!? A difference, huh... W-well, a present could be something that's filled with your feelings of gratitude? ...Ah, I found the handkerchief! Here you are."

Mithra: "Thank you."

Akira: "Psst, Chloe, Chloe!"

Chloe: "Hm? Why are you whispering, Master Sage...?"

Akira: "Looks like you were able to talk with Mithra very naturally just now. Isn't this your chance at getting a little closer?"

Chloe: "N-now that you mention it, I wasn't as nervous as before. The way things are, we should try and invite him to go around the market together..."

Mithra: "What are you two whispering over there? Oh well, not like I care much."

(Sound of footsteps)

Chloe: "Ah! Mithra, wait up!"

CHAPTER 2

Mithra continued to walk past the lively stalls without paying them any attention. His stop was a shop with a stylish feel and a line up of brightly coloured candy.

Bunny Bartender: "Welcome! What kind of candy would you like?"

Mithra: "Those blue ones."

Chloe: "Waah, they're so pretty...!"

Mithra: "Oh, you followed me. Did you two get thirsty as well?"

Akira: "No, not exactly... Never mind that, isn't this a candy store?"

Bunny Bartender: "Our shop’s service is to make cocktails using the candy picked by the customers. You can choose alcohol ones, too."

Akira: ("Cocktails from...candy? I can't imagine that at all...")

Akira: "Um, can I order as well?"

Mithra: "Go on. It's not like I'm the one making them."

Chloe: "I-I'd like one, too! There are so many to choose from, though..."

Akira: "I get you... All of them are so pretty. Which are the non-alcoholic ones..."

Mithra: "Chloe should go with the red one, and you with the purple one."

Akira and Chloe: "Huh?"

Mithra: "My drink is never going to come if you two keep on choosing forever, you know."

———

Bunny Bartender: "Pardon the delay."

A mysterious looking liquid was poured inside a tall glass. Its purple jewels were sparkling and shining as if being melted, making it look like a real piece of art.

Akira: "It's so tasty...! It tastes mild and grape-y!"

Chloe: "And this one is apple-flavoured! It has just the right amount of sweetness and sourness! I'm really liking this! Thank you for choosing them for us, Mithra."

Mithra: "Good thing that I was here, truly."

Akira: "I never noticed this shop because it's so far at the back. I want to bring the others here too... Right! Should I get them these as a present as well?"

Mithra: "More presents? Really? Well, even if you wanted to, you can't make a cocktail with them if you don't have the magic recipe. You'll be bringing back normal candy."

Akira: "That's fine too. I can tell them about this store over some candy-eating."

Chloe: "I think I'll do the same! Shylock might get happy if I get some for him."

Mithra: "..... Can anything be a present? Like a skull or a even poisonous plant?"

Chloe: "W-well... If it's going to make the other person happy...?"

Mithra: "I see."

Akira: "Speaking of, this store has a more intimate feel to it, unlike the other stalls that are rather public. There must be some unusual stuff here... Ah, this...!"

CHAPTER 3

What caught my eye was an array of snow globes. The snow inside them was swirling while a charming, cat-shaped dolls in the middle spun in a dance.

Mithra: "Have you taken a liking to this?"

Akira: "Yes, it's so pretty! There are so many to choose from... Ah, doesn't the cat inside this one look like you, Mithra?"

Chloe: "You're right! Its fur is the same dark red colour as your hair."

Mithra: "How rude can the two of you be. I'm nothing like this hairy ball. And if it's all because of the red hair, then you're the same, no?"

Chloe: "Ah! G-guess you're right! But my hair's a bit curlier compared to yours..."

Mithra: "On the other hand, doesn’t this black one remind you of Oz?"

Akira: "Of Oz...? When you say it like that..."

Mithra: "Here, look closer. It has a sore expression and isn't cute at all, just like that man."

Akira and Chloe: ("Um, not that I agree...")

Mithra: "Oh, right. Why don't we trap Oz inside this? We can just leave him there to dance with his cat look-alike. I can cast a spell on it and offer it to him as a gift. You said that a present can be anything, as long as it makes the other party happy, right?"

Chloe: "W-wait just a minute! I'm not sure Master Oz would be happy to receive something like this..."

——— (In front of the Christmas tree)

Chloe: "Wah, time flies so fast when you're enjoying yourself... The Snow Market is so fun."

Akira: "I'm glad I was able to go around it with you two. We've made some good memories."

Mithra: "...Right. Master Sage, give me your hand."

Mithra plopped something in my hand with a troubled expression.

Akira: "Ah, this is the snow globe we saw earlier...!"

Chloe: "D-don't tell me you really plan on cursing Master Oz with this..."

Mithra: "Excuse me? Look closely. It's me who's inside."

Akira and Chloe: "Eh...?"

Peering into the snow globe that rested on the palm of my hand, I saw the dark red-furred cat we compared to Mithra, dancing amidst the falling snow.

Mithra: "I'm giving it to you since you looked like you wanted it."

Akira and Chloe: ".....S...co..."

Mithra: "Huh? What mosquito...?"

Akira and Chloe: "So~ co~ol!"

Mithra: "So~ noisy... Please don't yell all of a sudden."

Akira: "Thank you so much, Mithra...! I'm so happy! I will take good care of it!"

Chloe: "Your present was a success, how good is that, Mithra!"

Mithra: "I guess you're right. Well, anything given to you by me is of the highest value. Feel free to thank me to your heart's content."

Big thanks to @/_Zeotrope_ on Twitter for providing the raws for this story!

[happypeachwhispers]

Fries Meet Guys: ALEX HØGH ANDERSEN - I DIDN'T THINK I WAS A PERSON WHO SHOULD TALK ABOUT ANXIETY - Part Two: Performing, Friendship

Thank you for your patience, here’s the long awaited part two! Are you crying, cause I’m crying. He’s such a profound human being.

Taglist: @ivarsrideordie @tgrrose @shannygoatgruff @youbloodymadgenius @boltslightning @alexein13 @ivaraddict @jupiter-sagittarius

PART ONE HERE

PARTS THREE TO EIGHT

I was all over the place, like I always am, after all, and I enjoyed that experience a lot, it filled something inside of me. I always knew I needed something else. I sure was a pain in the ass for many people, but then I met a whole group of people just like me and I learned what acceptance means. What was percieved as “different” in my daily life became normal and I felt at home. I was certainly the most determined one, the first time at the Eventyrteatret I was the only one of 50 kids in the room who didn't live in Copenhagen and had to take a long trip to get there. It was so crazy and chaotic. It was so strange that they sang and danced, and then they all danced in sync into a song they prepared for the annual performance. Well, back then I thought it was weird, but a month went by and it became completely normal for me. “I'm one of you”.

It was a new experience. You suddenly started singing and dancing in Copenhagen, how was that recieved back at home in Skælskør?

I think it took some time for the people I used to hang out with to understand that. I have to say I may remember feeling a little bit out of place. But it also has to be said, I've always been pretty comfortable in school, honestly. I have never been the one who has been so unpopular or I have struggled extra hard, I think. So it was, maybe, a little bit difficult. It might have been hard for me not to be accepted anymore because I was accepted before. Their point of view wasn't the big challenge for me, I actually think it was more an internal challenge with myself, I could feel there was a completely different world. I didn't know anything about it but I just made room for myself and I discovered there was a part of me I had no idea was there in the first place.

Was it difficult to maintain frendships in school when you were busy driving back and forth between Skælskør and Copenhagen?

It has actually not been that bad in primary school. But I have to say in high school, yes, it was. I have some friends from high school I talk to every now and then, but no, I didn't maintain any close friendship. I basically lived a double life throughout high school, where I was either at the Eventyrteatret or I was shooting the advent calendar in Aalborg. So I was pretty much not there, my social life was in Copenhagen. I had a girlfriend there too. I just didn't feel the need for a social life in Skælskør. And the free time I had was pretty much all absorbed by my profession.

I think we can all relate.

Yes but usually Danish kids in high school when they have free time they wanna party, that's what happens when you're part of a group of friends in high school.

We have had some other guests in the studio who have had very different experiences. How is your situation friendship-wise in school at this point?

I had some friends in high school, in my class and in other classes, absolutely. But I spent almost all the time with the group of friends in Copenhagen, so I was not influenced by my high school mates and their choices that much. I've felt a lil bit different because I've had a double life. I mostly had different group of friends in relation to the activity I shared with them. The group of friends I acted with, the group I went to college with and then a small group I talk to from time to time mostly individually.

Do you have both female and male friends?

Yes, I do. I would say I have more male friends tho. It's a mixed bunch of ordinary people, both women and men.

Is the way you communicate with your female friends different from the way you communicate with your male friends?

Definitely. You have to be more of a listener, I'm pretty good at listening, I think you have to adapt and communicate in a different way based on who is in front of you. See, with men you talk a certain way, that sort of street style if you will.  It comes natural because that's the way you talk to each other since the first day you met. But when you have in front of you people who are pretty cool and you have to impress them, you just have to do this and that, and that's what it's needed. But I would like to be able to be honest, always. And it's not hard at all, I’ve been really good at surrounding myself with some really, really pleasant people. I can afford to be myself at all times and they can be one hundred percent themselves with me.

What does it mean to be your authentic self for you?

It means that one can afford to have not only a good day but also a bad one. To be able to be stupid and not have to be slaughtered for it. I can be weird and crazy and say some stupid things without having to go half an hour afterwards and hit myself in the head. These are little things that are so insanely hard to find. I'm very lucky. I can pretty much talk about everything with them, we are very very honest with each other. In January, I was in Tenerife with three of my friends, and we brought along our stories in the luggage. I was suffering from anxiety and I had a sore stomach, it lasted four months, I was finally getting better. Another friend of mine, he's extreme. The love game hits him immensely. The other one suffers from depression. He generally has a hard time figuring out what he wants and what he doesn't existentially. And then we have number four, thank God, he doesn't have the same big problems. He holds us all together. It was a great experience, I remember us four sitting around the table and talking while eating pizza with shrimps. We sat for three or four hours talking non-stop about nothing but our problems that one could imagine they are extremely taboo for other groups.

Did sharing with each other give you something on an emotional level?

Oh yes, absolutely. We support each other by sharing and it's awesome to have people you trust so much to share such personal issues with. And so I think in 2019 in today's Denmark, that's what it means to be a man. To be able to comprehend people and understand. I see instead a lot of carelessness and stereotypes.

Didn't you encounter those qualities in other men, as an adult?

No, not at all. It's not about stereotypes. We have just as many problems as everyone else and we are extremely worried about it financially and emotionally. Anxiety. Social education, existential issues. It can be anything. All my friends, all the people I have in my life, they all have problems to a greater or lesser degree. Absolutely. But that's what it means to be human. And that's what it means to be a man. It means you are making mistakes, you are imperfect. You are a fool, and you must be allowed to be a fool, and you will also stand on your own. You're going to hurt other people because you're human. But you must also be forgiven, and you must also be able to forgive. You just need care and understanding.

Were you able to find the care and understanding you need?

Alex groans – Yes and no.

Do I have to change subject?

Alex laughs – No, it's ok. I am open to recieve care. It's just that I stress a lot about my mistakes, your head plays games with you and you just have to survive.

You can't control everything you can handle, what a funny paradox. You describe yourself as a person who likes to take up a lot of space and fill a lot. And then I also sense that when it comes to emotions, for example, to take a seat and ask for help, then it's a whole different thing.

Yes, that's true. I don't know, I'm fucking complicated and I don't know how to handle it at all. I believe in nature and creativity. I have always had a lot of willpower and then I had my mother showing me the right path, then you grow up and learn to control yourself. But I have a hard time talking about it. I told you, I don't know. Yes, I am a human being who goes through a lot and thinks such extremely deep thoughts, I put all that in my creativity, in my work. That helps me. Then I have moments when I'm completely wrapped in my own thoughts, but I think, generally, I'm a relaxed person. I do my very best just not to do all that thinking and that takes a lot of effort. I won't let those thoughts get under my skin because I know all too well that it's not good for me.

END PART TWO

Ask me in messages if you wanna be tagged // Feel free to like, comment and share, thank you!

[sunsetinmyvein]

The Radio Station - Chapter Three - Stay Another Hour or Two

A/N - Sorry this one’s a smidge late, guys. Been laid up a bit these last 48 hours. 

19th of September, 2013

 Unbeknownst to her, Matty had been just as excited about a second interview as she was. After the praise she had given both him and his music the first time, he had found himself a bit smitten. Waiting for the next time he was in London to hope that the station reached out again had been mildly nerve-wracking, but his patience had been worth it. It gave him the chance that he wanted. He had given her his number in the hopes that maybe she'd make a move. If she came to him first, that saved him a lot of trouble and allowed him to side-step any awkward tension if it turned out she wasn't into him. She hadn’t managed to get out to Reading around her other work obligations, but she’d let him know that she tried. He had hoped this would be the start of more frequent communication. But, they hadn't really had much of a chance to act on anything in that regard. Because as soon as the full-length album was out, the station wanted Matty back on the show.

“It feels like it was only yesterday that I was here.” Matty laughed from the seat across from her as she fiddled with a few things on her side of the desk.

“It’s only been a month, I think?” She mumbled, clearly focused on something.

“About that, if I recall.” He nodded.

  “No George this time?” She asked absentmindedly.

“I'd rather have you all to myself.” She hummed a noise in response that made it hard for him to work out if his flirting had landed or not. But he did think that maybe she was trying to avoid looking directly at him. And... maybe blushing? “Been up to much in the last month?” He segued.

“Not particularly.” She said with a shrug. “You? Touring?” She asked back, but he skipped right over that.

“Haven't been painting the town red? Going on dates? Suddenly acquired a boyfriend?” He asked as nonchalantly as possible, suddenly busying himself with his phone.

She let out an abrupt laugh as she finally looked over at him, “No, Matty.” He just nodded thoughtfully. “Come on, you dork. Let's do this.” She said, looking fairly amused by his antics as she pulled her headset back on.

  “And we're back, with a voice a few of you might find familiar as he was on the show only a month ago.” She gestured to him to do a little introduction.

“Hi, it's Matthew Healy from The 1975.” He spoke in a calculated voice into his mic.

“Back again so soon?”

“That's what I get for complaining it was too long last time.” He said with a light laugh.

“But you've done a lot in a month! Your full length, self-titled album is out now, you played Reading and Leeds, and you're even playing at the O2 Sheperd's Bush Empire tomorrow.” She listed off.

“Yeah! We never stop, really.” He chuckled as he shook his head a bit. “The acceleration over the last six months has been crazy fast. But we’ve been a band for such a long time so it feels justified.”

“Your enthusiasm and motivation is truly next level.”

“Gotta keep the hype going, you know?”

“Has it left you guys feeling a bit worn out?” She questioned. “That sort of non-stop lifestyle would've burnt many people out by now.”

“Ah, no way! We’ve had five years of doing nothing. This is fun.” He grinned broadly. “I’ve got a break of about a week and a half  over Christmas, but I’ve gotta move into  a new flat. I’ve got loads of stuff to move. I had to buy luggage while on tour. I have so much fan stuff now – letters, drawings, puzzles of my face.” She couldn't help but laugh at the thought of that and how surreal it must be.

  “So, the album is out now. Have you been happy with how it was received?” She asked.

“Like everything that we do, it was totally down the middle. Half the critics absolutely loved it, half of them hated it. I think Vice called it the worst album of the year.” He said with a loud laugh. “It’s so funny how subjective music can be. But I don’t really care, you know. Our fans have embraced it massively.” He smiled.

“Well, it went to number one!” She reminded him.

“Yeah! That was pretty awesome. The fact that it went to number one is amazing.” He huffed with a look of giddy disbelief as he pulled a hand through his hair. “We didn’t really need any kind of statistical validation to be proud of that record, we were as proud of it as we could be as soon as we finished it. But it was nice to know that people still like good music.”

“I can imagine that would've been quite satisfying for you guys. It definitely deserved to reach number one.” She said with a nod.

“You've listened to it?” He asked in curiosity.

“Yeah, I’ve listened to it a bit.” She confirmed with a nod. “Actually, 'a bit' is probably an understatement.” She corrected.

“Oh really?” He blurted out eagerly before clearing his throat and trying to dial it back. “That’s cool.”

  “Are you able to tell us a bit about the thought process behind the album? What ties it all together?” She questioned. He noticed she didn't have a notepad this time like she had previously.

“I don’t think there’s a concrete narrative that runs from the beginning to the end. It's not that sort of album. We knew we wanted to make a long album. Sixteen tracks, you know. But I suppose it’s all about me and my relationships, like the EPs…” He hummed for a moment as he tried to pull his thoughts together. “The album ended up being like a scrapbook of conversations and situations that kind of, when it was all put together, made this story of our youth? I think that’s what the album is.”

“Stylistically it’s all quite different, some of the songs sound like they could be from entirely different artists, let alone on the same album.” She noted.

“There’s a bit of a stylistic polarity, it’s quite genre-bending, the sounds.” He nodded in agreement. “But then again, we kind of wanted to make one of those records like the best pop records from the 80s. Like Michael Jackson on Bad. That was kind of the vibe we wanted to do. We didn’t pull any punches. We didn’t think we need to be a bit ‘cool’. We thought we’d just do exactly what we want.” He explained simply.

  “That attitude seems to have resonated well with your fans.” She continued.

“Well, we wanted people to feel about our record the same way we felt about records that were really important to us. I want people to love the album, I want people to be able to not listen to the album because it reminds them of someone, I want it to bleed into humanity.” His passion for his music was unmistakable. She felt it was a shame that her interviews weren't filmed, so much of his personality and sheer enthusiasm came through in his expressions.  

“It's interesting that you've been able to achieve that sort of appeal with something you've described as so personal and so heavily based around your own experiences.”

“The more specific you are, and the more honest you are about you, the more grandeur the idea becomes. Because if you give someone a really, really specific idea instead of something vague, they can read into it so much more.” He said thoughtfully. “It’s immediately captivating. Rather than a vague idealism that you may or may not have experienced. Whereas if you hear a really specific thing, hopefully across the album there will be something that someone could really,” He clicked his fingers with a look of sincerity, “immediately feel you’ve experienced.”

  “You would've definitely gained some new fans now that the album is properly out. I believe I've even heard of a few big musicians singing your praises.” There was always seemingly some artist or other causing a stir on Twitter by tagging The 1975 in their tweets. “Do you guys have any biases towards someone who's famous being a fan? Or do you see all fans as equal?”

“Oh, well, you know, all fans are equal. I mean it’s nice to be validated by those you respect and interesting to be validated by those that you don’t. But that is a nice thing about it – when your heroes become your peers. But…” Matty made a face like he was trying to pick his words carefully, “I don’t really care about the whole celebrity thing very much, it doesn’t really mean anything. My parents are famous. I grew up around it. I kind of understand what it means – or more importantly, what it doesn’t.”

“Do you find that sort of celebrity complex of what that attention means gets to you?” She asked.

“Sometimes.” He shrugged. “It's weird reading so much about yourself. Am I actually this celebrity person I see on my phone or am I me? I don’t really know.”

  “Leading on from that then, how are you finding being a role model to so many people now that your celebrity status has grown so much?”

He instantly grimaced. “I’m really uncomfortable with it. Part of me thinks, it’s better they look up to me than a lot of people I know. But I shouldn’t have that responsibility as a 24 year old guy… y’know?” He huffed. “It’s hard for me, because I don’t really hold dear a lot of the values that fame presents. But the world of fame, the world of celebrity, has picked me up from a life of obscurity and put me into this whirlwind of money and bollocks and girls… I think we kind of invest in our own relationships a lot.” He stopped himself for a minute as he took a drink from the mug of tea she'd given him. “I don’t know what to say to a lot of these kids. The whole thing of becoming a figure of sexual desire, that’s understandable. That comes with the territory, that comes with young girls, that comes with them growing up. But the idea of me becoming a figure of intellectual desire? Something people look up to as almost an orator or a speaker or somebody with opinions? That makes me feel uncomfortable.” He shook his head as he scratched at the back of his neck. “Because I’m not this honest person that’s been depicted in the media. I’m very, very defiant about being honest lyrically, but that doesn’t come from a place of genuine lack of care – I’m actually really neurotic and insecure. The only reason those lyrics are like that is because I wrote that album before anyone knew who we were. I didn’t have to think 'am I being too honest?' ”

  She paused for a moment as his words sank in. It hadn't been her intention to get him onto such a heavy topic, but he certainly seemed to have no trouble dissecting his thoughts on the matter and she was certain her listeners would be enjoying the insight. “Let's shift onto a lighter topic.” She started, knocking him back to reality. “I've probably heard interviewers ask you about the origin of the band name... three dozen times by now since I asked in our first interview?” Matty chuckled at that, but urged her to continue. “Is it validating to know people are so interested?”

“Good question… I don’t know. I think because… I get a bit tired of it. “ He admitted truthfully. “I really, really appreciate it when someone looks at an interview from my perspective and how it might be for me, because I’m the one who does the majority of them. I don’t know why people are so interested in the name. But then I think, hold on a second, if I didn’t know where a bands name came from would I be genuinely interested? And maybe I would… I think people like to understand music. They like music to be something that’s really consumable and palatable and understandable. Whereas we’re the total antithesis of that, aren’t we?”

“I'm almost tired of hearing it come up in interviews.”

He laughed loudly, “Yeah, so am I.” He nodded. “So. Am. I.”

  “That seems like a good point to cut away to a few tracks.” She said with a sigh as she pushed herself back into her chair. “Do you have any requests off the album, Matty?” She asked.

He thought about this for a moment, “What's your favourite off the album?” He asked with a smirk.

“At the moment? I've been listening to Girls a lot.” She answered as she began queuing it up.

“Then let's hear that.” He nodded decisively.

“You heard it, folks. This is Girls off The 1975's self-titled album.” She said into her microphone as she watched Matty take his headset off and sink back into his chair. “Sorry for getting you onto such an intense tangent there.”

“It's all right, I'd rather have an intellectual conversation than have to repeatedly explain the band name.” He said with a short laugh. “That's why you do good interviews - you ask proper questions.” He added as he finished the tea.

  They chatted a bit about what they'd been listening to lately, what bands they thought were going to headline next year's festivals, before eventually the interview picked up again. “We're here with Matty of The 1975, and just before we heard their song Girls. Now, Matty,” She leaned forward, and for a moment the look in her eyes made him feel like he was in for another hectic question. “I heard a lot of controversy about the video clip for that song being in colour.”

He couldn't stop himself from chuckling. “Yeah... But it wasn't our first video in colour!” He said defensively. “When we put out the album version for Sex, that came from the idea that everything got so big so quickly, but we still wanted the album version out there before the album came out, you know, to impose our identity and say this is who we are. With that we did a new video for it and it was in colour, it was the first video in colour and everyone went mental. We were made aware that a lot of kids were saying stuff that we were ‘conforming to a major label’ you know, the whole cliché’d band getting too big.” He waved his hand dismissively. “And we got obsessed by that idea because it’s… so not true. It’s so ridiculous. And we wanted to make a video about that – about conforming to a major label. Because music videos are silly, we wanted to make a tongue in cheek video. We just wanted to make a pop video that was really aware it was a pop video. We knew it was obviously gonna split people down the middle but… whatever…” He finished with a shrug. “It was funny.”

  “I agree, I thought it was pretty funny.” She replied with a smile. “What do you hope people are getting out of the album now that it's out there for them to listen to?”

“I can only hope that they react in the same way that I do. Because I can only make music for me. Therefore I can only expect people who are likeminded to embrace it in the same way that I do. When we finished Robbers, I cried my heart out. When we finished Settle Down, we went on a night out on the Friday, and it was like five in the morning and I made the engineer steal the keys to the studio and we went back and broke in to listen to the record all the way through. If a song doesn’t make me laugh through joy, or it doesn’t make me dance, or it doesn’t make me cry, or it doesn’t provoke me to be really introspective, then we just fuck it off. Just leave it.” He answered, before quickly trying to summarise himself. “I want our music to make people think about their own life more than our music.”

“That makes sense. The best music always reminds you of specific moments and people in your life.”

“Exactly.” He grinned.

  “I heard rumblings that you're already working on the next album?” She asked, watching as he nodded a bit. “I suppose I shouldn't have expected any less given how little time off you allow yourself.”

He let out a laugh, “Yeah, you'd be right. Although, we've had this one ready to go for nearly a year and had some material leftover from it that didn't quite fit in, as well. The new album sounds mental already… it’s very... weird…” He frowned down at the desk as he played the tracks through in his head. “I can’t really tell you what it sounds like. I think it’ll probably be closer to the EPs. We’re so confused now about our lives, that I think this record will be a genuine representation of our confusion in different cultures and different cities and different mindsets.” He explained. “But who cares? We’re only making it because we wanna make it.”

“And from what you've said, song-writing is a big part of your expression.” She prompted.

“One hundred percent. I can’t have a record that is so self-deprecating and self-aware and then be interviewed and not have that translate in the way that I am. Because this band is a genuine extension of my identity, all of the music is me trying to figure myself out lyrically.”

“Has that process taught you much?” She questioned.

“Yeah. It's helped me get my head straight about a lot of stuff. But mainly I’ve really learned that I have a creative responsibility. I used to think I didn’t have any responsibilities when it came to my art, because it was mine. But I’ve realised that so many people genuinely invest in it. I do have a responsibility for it at least to be as good as whatever preceded it… hopefully better.”

  “All right, we're nearly out of time.” She sighed, straightening up in her chair. He threw a disappointed look her way, forcing a smile out of her. “But before we call it, last time we spoke was right before Reading and Leeds. How was it?” She asked.

He let out a bewildered sound before speaking, “Reading and Leeds was like a culmination of everything that has happened. It was amazing.” He started with a faraway look in his eyes. “We went to that festival – it was the first festival we ever went to as a band. Just to watch. You don’t expect more people to come and see you over the course of one festival period, because it seems too fast. But we were definitely pulling much bigger crowds by the end of the Summer, it was mental.” He said as he shook his head in disbelief.

“I told you that you guys would be really hard to get a hold of in the future.” She reminded him. “We've had Matthew Healy of The 1975 on the show with us discussing their latest self-titled album. It's out now in stores. Go do yourselves a favour and give it a listen. Thanks, as always, for chatting, Matty.” She said with a sharp nod.

“Always a pleasure.” He said with a grin.

  By now, she was expecting him to hang around as she talked through her outro and switched back to the music. He stood up and walked around from his side of the desk, leaning against the wall as she faced him.

“So, where are you off to now?” She asked as she pulled her headset off and placed it on the desk. “Gonna go fill up your free time with overworking yourself more?” She added with a playful smile.

He scoffed, “We don’t get free time. When we do have free time, it’s in London, where we don’t live, when we’re in a hotel, and you have one day off which you do your washing in.” He answered as he rolled his eyes. “But, I assume that you do live near London?”

“Around these parts, yes.” She said vaguely. “Why?”

“We're stuck up here for a couple of days, if you wanted to get a drink or anything.” He suggested with a casual shrug.

“I appreciate the offer, but stand by what I said before.” She started. “It's easier to keep work separate. I've seen it get messy for colleagues.” She elaborated.

He nodded in understanding. “All right, well...” He let out the breath he was holding. “You have my number.” She watched him walk out of the studio as she tried to get her heart rate back under control.

  * * *

  She probably should've known better than to go out that night knowing that Matty was around London. But her friends had invited her out for a drink, and it was Thursday, it was close enough to the end of the week. And most importantly she felt like she needed a drink after being in such close confinement with that man. Thankfully, her professionalism was easy enough to maintain at work (despite his best attempts at flirting). However, when she was faced with the dilemma of George and Matty walking into the bar they'd been in for the last couple of hours, after she'd already had a few drinks, the lines between work and social life were suddenly a lot less obvious. She shrank back down into her seat slightly, hoping that he wouldn't notice she was here and she wouldn't have to deal with the uncomfortable feeling in her chest. But it was too late. George noticed her and instantly pointed her out to his mate. Fuck sake, George. Matty flashed her a friendly wave, which she returned anxiously. At least he didn't walk over. He and George walked across to the other side of the bar and started playing pool.

  She mentally checked out of her friend's conversation after that - finding it too hard to not focus on Matty when he was in the room. The magnetism he radiated was annoyingly undeniable. She nodded occasionally and made approving noises here and there when there was a pause in the conversation for a response. But eventually she was dragged back to reality and actually had to give a response when she heard one of her friends calling her name. She looked over to them with her eyebrows raised, asking them to repeat the question.

“I said,” They laughed before repeating themselves, “we’re going to grab some food down the road. Are you coming?”

“Uh…” She mumbled, suddenly meeting Matty's gaze across the room. “No. I’m not hungry.” She shook her head. “Might hang around here for a bit.”

“Suit yourself.”

  Her friends grabbed their things, promptly leaving the bar and thus leaving her to her own devices. She briefly considered that staying here might be a bad idea, but that thought was quickly squashed by the smile Matty threw her way. “Fancy seeing you here.” He grinned as she walked over to where he and George were standing.

“Should've known you'd find me somehow or another.” She said in amusement as she watched George sink one of the smalls.

“Hey, don't blame me.” He held up his hands in defence. “This bar was his idea. Right, George?” He asked as he turned back to the table.

“He's right.” The drummer nodded.

“We just wanted to get out of the hotel for a bit.” He explained with a look of innocence. “You wanna get in on the next game?” He added, suddenly looking eager.

“Sure.” She shrugged as she pulled a barstool over and took a seat.

  As she watched them play out their game, she noticed that George was a much better player than Matty was. “You don't seem to be very good at this.” She noted as Matty missed another shot.

“It's still our first game. I need to warm up.” He replied as he rolled his shoulders.

She hummed thoughtfully, “I dunno, George is kicking your arse.”

“George, tell her that I'm not that bad at pool.” He said with a frown.

He shook his head, “I’m not getting involved. This is between you two.”

“I'll show you.” He grumbled under his breath as he took a sip from his beer. “Next game. You and me.” He said with a nod.

“You're on.”

  The game took a little longer to finish up than what she had initially expected as Matty tried to hone his skills. She ended up excusing herself to get another drink right before George sunk the last shot.

“Good game, Matt.” He said as he cracked his back. “I'm gonna head back to the hotel. You coming?” He asked as he nudged the singer in the ribs.

Matty eyed the girl standing at the bar. “Nah, I'm gonna stay for a bit.” He answered.

“All right. Don't kick on too late.” He said as he clapped a hand down on his friend's shoulder. “Remember, we've got a show tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah. I won't.” He said as he brushed off George's hand. Matty racked up the balls and set up the table again as she came over with her drink.

“Where's George?” She asked, quickly looking around.

“Went back to the hotel.” He answered abruptly.

“Oh.” Was all she could muster in response. No longer having the buffer of someone else suddenly made this situation feel quite... different.

“I've got a wager for you to prove I'm not as bad at this as you think.” He said as he held out the pool cue to her. She raised an eyebrow in question. “If you can beat me in a game, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“And if I don’t beat you?” She questioned with a sceptical look.

“Then you’ll have to buy your own drink to have with me.” He shot back, holding her gaze. He offered out his hand and waited for her to shake on the bet. After a moment of weighing up her options, she shook his hand firmly. “You break.”

  For a man who wanted to make a bet on his skills, they hadn't really seemed to have improved any since the last game. After about ten minutes of playing, he had only sunk one ball in comparison to her four. It seemed that he was practically handing out free shots.

“I feel like you’re losing on purpose.” She accused eventually.

“What gives you that impression?” He asked as he shot the cue ball directly in between every possible ball he could’ve hit.

“What were you even aiming for just then?” She huffed with a laugh.

“I was trying to do a bounce shot off the cushion into the five.” He lied as he took a drink. “Your shot.” He handed the cue back to her.

She looked back at the table, seeing that the five was nowhere near where he ended up. “Sure.”  

  “So...” He started, leaning back against the table. “I thought you said earlier that you like to 'keep work separate'?” He asked casually as he busied himself looking at his fingernails.

“What a good thing neither of us are working right now, then.” She muttered as she sank another ball.

“Hmm, seems that way.”

“And I didn't exactly intend to hang out with you this evening.” She added, taking her second shot and holding the cue out to him. “It's not my fault you invaded my Thursday night.”

“You say that like you're not having a good time.” He frowned as he took it back.

“I wouldn't be here if I wasn't having a good time.” She answered honestly. As soon as he heard that, he sank his final shot. He watched as the eight went straight into the corner pocket. “You… you just lost the game?” She asked in confusion.

“What a shame.” He sighed. “I guess I owe you a drink.” He said with a shrug as he brushed past her and walked to the bar. She should probably feel a bit more confronted about the fact that he'd just lost that game to spend time with her, but her brain was too clouded with the knowledge that he'd just lost that game to spend time with her.

  They continued playing pool as Matty brought over the next round, and for some sudden reason, they seemed to be a lot more evenly matched. It was unquestionable how easily the conversation flowed between them, and it was also pretty easy to see the chemistry quickly forming.

“I'm not as good with girls as people think I am.” He debated as he took his shot, after hearing her prattle on about how much women fussed over him on the internet.

“You don't need to be good with girls at this point.” She said as she rolled her eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think you realise how many people want to date you, Matty.” She laughed. “I mean, you’ve got a queue longer than the one to get into Glastonbury.” He couldn't help but join in with her laughter at the reference.

“That doesn't mean anything if I'm not attracting the right people.” He pointed out.

“What sort of people are you aiming to attract?” She asked in an attempt at nonchalance, intentionally looking away from him to hide her nerves.

“Someone like minded. Other musicians, people in the industry,” He paused, waiting until he had her attention before he finished his sentence, “cute radio presenters. That sort of thing.”  

  As her brain ticked into overdrive at this, she heard the bartender call out for anyone wanting last drinks. It was getting late. “I really need to be getting back home.” She groaned.

“Ah, but the bar doesn't close for another hour!” Matty protested.

“I've got work tomorrow.” She said, shaking her head. “And you,” She punctuated her sentence by jabbing him in the shoulder. “have a show.” He gently took her hand in his, using it as an excuse to pull her closer to him.

“I've done worse than play a show while I'm tired.” He argued, trying to convince her to stay a little longer.

“Well, I have a level of professionalism to uphold.” She smiled back at him. “When are you back in London next?”

He thought about this for a moment, “January.”

“That's forever away.” She said with a frown.

“Good thing you've got my number then.” She nodded slightly, suddenly finding herself losing her voice when she noticed his expression shift. He leaned in closer, and before she'd really had time to properly process it or kiss him back, he'd already moved away. “Keep in touch, love.” He grinned.

Taglist: @imagine-that-100 @dot-writes @tooshhhy @robinrunsfiction @approved-by-dentists

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

[hela-avenger]

poison & wine- part 2

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1503

Summary: Prince Loki of Asgard is in need of a date to take back home. That’s where you come in with a task of your own to make the whole trip with an insufferable prince worth it. Too bad that things don’t always go as planned and you end up giving more than you can take. Fake-Dating AU.

Hela-Avenger Masterlist

“So you are leaving after all?” Thor asks as he watches his brother prepare his bag. Loki hums and nods making Thor more confused than before. “I thought you couldn’t leave until you found a human ambassador to join you.” 

“You’re right...” Loki draws out. “And so I did.” 

“So who did you ask to accompany you? I heard you were having trouble finding someone.” 

“Not that it is any of your business,” Loki mutters as he continued to ignore his brother's set gaze. “But some girl named Y/N.” 

“Lady Y/N,” Thor smiles at hearing your name. “I didn’t realize you knew her.” 

“I don’t,” Loki snaps. “But she offered and who was I to say no.” 

“Yes, who were you to say no,” Thor jokes. “I heard every person you asked said no and for whatever reasons they may be, Y/N was up to the challenge which I’m glad she is. Lady Y/N is very kind and sweet as well as smart enough to handle your own wit. She’s a great partner to have on your journey home.” 

Loki can’t help but slow down in his packing. His curiosity was getting the better of him in the current situation. 

“How well do you know her?” 

A grin takes over Thor and Loki despises the sight of it. It was a usual sign of his idiotic brother's rare use of his own brain. 

“I’ll tell you about her if you tell me why you insisted that the human ambassador father requested you to bring had to be a woman. ” 

Loki rolls his eyes and scoffs. He should have known his brother would use this rare opportunity to strike a deal with him. Loki didn’t particularly like letting his brother inside his plans but he knew there was no other choice at the moment. 

“King Odin’s respect is hard to earn and you and I both know his respect for Midgard is almost non-existent,” Loki explains. “But if he insists on having a human ambassador, the only way for it to work would be if he had to speak to a woman. Your father at least has the decency of respecting women no matter the species.” 

Thor wished he could argue for his father’s defense but he knew Loki was right. If his father were presented to a male ambassador of Midgard their task to create a partnership between the realms would be more complicated. If it were a woman, Odin was respectable enough to give them a chance. Either way, male or female, gaining his father’s favor was not an easy task for any Midgardian. 

“Does she know any of this?” Thor asks. “Of the task ahead?” 

“No,” Loki answers. “But what does it matter? She already agreed, gave me her word and everything. There is no turning back.” 

Loki closes up his bag and sets it by the door. He turns to his brother with arms crossed and he could tell that Thor was ready to argue against his decision.  

“Now, a deal is a deal,” Loki cuts him off before he’s able to argue in your defense. “Tell me more about this Y/N.” 

“Can you believe him?” you snap as you grab your toiletries from the bathroom. “I tell him I’ll go with him to Asgard, a job that no one was willing to take, and he has the audacity to ask me who I am? Who I am? We’ve met like five times already and he couldn’t even bother to remember my name. Of course, I had to introduce myself and all he does is roll his eyes and tell me to pack a bag because we’re leaving as soon as we’re able to.” 

Tony just shrugs writing it off as typical Loki behavior. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Tony asks in concern as he watched you throw the toiletry bag onto the bed. He was seated on your bed scowling every time you set something inside your luggage. “I know you’ve been itching for a new adventure but this is a bit much, don’t you think? You experienced it yourself. Loki isn’t a good guy and he’s…” 

“Tony, I know who Loki is and what he’s done,” you interrupt him. “I also know that he can’t do anything to harm me seeing as he’s supposed to be all rehabilitated in his perspective of humans and Earth so I will be safe.” 

“But all of this for just an adventure, Y/N… I don’t know… I thought you were smarter than that.” 

“And I am,” you sigh out as you look up at him. “I’m not doing this because I’m bored or in need of a change, Tony. I’m doing this because this might be the only chance to go to Asgard and find the answers I’ve been looking for my whole life.” 

Tony knew your history. He had to after Fury left him in charge of the Avengers with his faked death. You became his responsibility and he had taken that role seriously which was why he was scowling at you once more. 

“You might not like what you find up there.” 

“I know,” you agree. “But that’s a risk I’ll have to take in order to get rid of these questions I have.” 

Tony lets out another sigh and pats the bed next to him prompting you to take the offered seat. 

“I’m going to ask again,” Tony states. “Are you sure about this?” 

You open your mouth to respond but Tony interrupts you before you’re able to. 

“And before you say yes, let me just remind you that all of your friends are here and that you have a home and a family and…” 

“Tony, I’m coming back,” you laugh. 

He doesn’t seem to agree as the concerned scowl remained on his face. 

“Alright it’s time for the wild card,” he sighs out. “What if I told you that Manchurian Candidate is coming back soon?” 

“Tony, the nickname? Really?” you hiss at him. 

Though you were mildly annoyed at him, you couldn’t help the way your heart was racing a bit at hearing of Bucky’s return. You glance over at Tony who seems to notice your hesitation.

“He’s coming back from Wakanda,” Tony states. “Got him all pardoned up for his time spent in Hydra. He’s getting his life back together. It would be good for you to see him again especially after…”

You take in a deep breath and shake yourself away from the memories that Tony was trying to conjure. 

“I will see him when I get back,” you answer and you take a hold of his hand. “Because I will be coming back.” 

“Sure, kid,” Tony sighs out. “Sure.” 

You knew there was nothing you could say to ease the worry that Tony had for your upcoming trip so you simply squeezed his hand in assurance before letting go. 

“What should I tell everyone?” he asks. “About you leaving again and so soon?” 

“Just tell them the usual,” you answer with a shrug as you pick up your bag and swing it over your shoulder. “Tell them I’m off searching for adventure.” 

“With the prince of hell?” Tony scoffs. “You’re just begging for them to kill me and by them, I mean Natasha and Wanda.” 

You hesitate at hearing their names. They never understood why you kept leaving and this recent departure would really make them question you more. 

Yes, you were a wanderer, a nomad, an explorer of sorts, but that was all for the sake of remaining unattached to those around you. You’ve lost so many people already and you couldn’t handle losing any more which was why you made the decision of keeping them in the dark. 

“You can’t tell them, Tony. You can’t tell them why I’m really doing this.”

“But…” 

“No,” you snap. “This is my secret. One you vowed to keep when you first met me. Do not go back on your word, please.” 

Tony hesitates but he knew that the choice was clear. He offered you a small smile and simply nodded. 

“Thank you, Tony.” 

“You know what they say,” Tony shrugs with a grin. “You gotta respect your elders even if they make very dumb decisions.” 

You smack his arm causing him to wince but you don’t care as his laughter fills your room. 

Miss Y/N, Loki has requested you meet him at the courtyard. You are to leave once you get there.

Tony’s laughter dies out at the sound of Friday’s statement. He sits up from your bed and takes the bag out of your hands. 

“Last chance,” he states. “Are you sure you wanna go?”

You take a deep breath swallowing all of your fears and insecurities. There was no space for you to carry those in your travels. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” you answer as you take a hold of his arm and have him escort you out of your room. “I have to be.”

poison & wine tag: @damalseer​ @just-the-hiddles​ @jessiejunebug​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @smollest-soybean​ @assassinoftheworld​ 

Loki Tag:  @unicorniorosacomefrutillas​ @thesilentbluesparrow​ @oddly-drawn-muse​ @josiehosiedaninja​ @hp-hogwartsexpress​

All Works Tag: @not-zari-tak @jmb959​ @astudyoftimeywimeystuff​ @hellocookiecutter​  @steve-rogers-personal-hell​ @buckybarnesyard​

[adverb-slut]

The Purgatory Hall Boys Are Bad at Road Trips (Fanfiction)

I just *clutches chest* really love the boys at Purgatory Hall and felt they needed more spotlight so here they are being big dummies on the road.  Oh, I also posted this on AO3 here. 

Title:

The Purgatory Hall Boys Are Bad at Road Trips

Summary:

On a R.A.D-sanctioned road trip to the Caverns of Degeneracy, the Purgatory Hall boys prove that they have just as many brain cells as the demon brothers (read: none).

Genre:

Humor/Fluff/Slice of Life

Rating:

T

Word Count:

6870

-

Hour 0

Our story begins just outside the gates of Purgatory Hall, where two of its three non-native Devildom residents stood near a rather expensive-looking, immaculately-maintained vehicle. 

The short, prone-to-fits-of-righteous-anger one yanked behind him a wagon, which was piled high with duffel and overnight bags, all made of a stiff white and gold fabric straight from the Celestial Realm.  

The other, older man, who never left home without a mysterious smile and his magic wand, too, tugged the handle of his own luggage—although his was a wheeled backpack which sagged due to the weight of the approximately seven-hundred souvenir keychains from around the Human World that he had clipped onto it.

The pair were waiting for their third friend—who, in every sense of the word, was an angel—as together they were planning to embark upon a new R.A.D tradition, which the Demon Prince Diavolo had appropriately christened—Our Annual Road Trip to the Caverns of Degeneracy (A.R.T C.D for short).  The Caverns of Degeneracy were on the far outskirts of the Devildom, over six-hundred-and-sixty-six miles away from the R.A.D campus, and yet, for some asinine reason, Diavolo had decided that they were the perfect spot for hosting the academy’s yearly Bleeding Hearts Festival.  

(Many of the Student Council Officers and faculty had wagered that the Demon Prince had just wanted an excuse to take a road trip—a phenomenon he had recently been introduced to through one of Leviathan’s video games.)

Diavolo himself planned for his personal driver to ferry him and his butler, Barbatos, up to the Caverns a day early so he could begin preparations for the festival and encouraged all students to find their own means of transportation in order to get to the event on time.

The R.A.D Student Council Officers—all of whom resided in the House of Lamentation—had decided to pile themselves into Asmodeus’ tour bus (he had bought it specifically because once he became a famous DevilTuber, he would need it to do meet-and-greets with his fans and also because it had a “bear-y adorable design”) and drive down together.  

As the Purgatory Hall boys had no modes of transportation to call their own, Lucifer had graciously allowed them to borrow Mammon’s Demonio 666 Lexura (fits had ensued à la the secondborn but were ignored), which both Luke and Solomon now hovered around.

However, as Solomon poked and prodded the vehicle, commenting admiringly under his breath at the paint job, the young angel peered nervously at the sorcerer’s backpack.  

He cleared his throat, bent on sounding as polite as possible—but failing miserably—and said, “Solomon, er—are you the one who’s bringing our road trip snacks?”  He followed this with a silent please say no, please say no, Father please let him say no.

Solomon raised an eyebrow.  “I thought you were bringing them.”

Luke dropped the handle of his wagon.  “No!  I would’ve made some snacks if I had the time but I was helping those,” he gagged, “wretched demon brothers pack using some low-level Celestial Realm magic.”  

“Oh, that’s right,” Solomon said, snapping his fingers.  “I just remembered that I volunteered to make the snacks, but Simeon heard and immediately offered to do it for me.  Then he sent me on a bunch of errands to buy groceries, but it felt more like he was trying to get me out of the kitchen.”  He laughed at the last part and shook his head because there was no way that such a criminally calm angel like Simeon would be that underhanded.  

“No!” wailed Luke, yanking his hat off and clutching it to his chest in despair.  “Don’t you know what this means?”    

“It means you don’t like Simeon’s cooking as much as you let on,” decided the sorcerer with a smile at Luke’s theatrical display.

Luke shook his head so vigorously that Solomon had to hold in a laugh based on how much the angel looked like a chihuahua shaking itself dry.  “For trips, Simeon only makes the most nutritious, most energizing food.”  He screwed up his face in disgust as he seethed, “The most disgusting food.”

“The stuff Simeon cooks for dinner isn’t particularly unhealthy and you seem to like that just fine,” pointed out Solomon.

Luke frowned.  “Yes, b—but I’m talking about real healthy stuff here, so we’ll all have lots of energy throughout the trip!  L—like entire salads squished between two pieces of bread and ‘yummy morsels’ of banana slices dipped in cashew butter and drizzled with mung bean and coconut water paste!”  He gestured toward himself.  “Look at me, Solomon!  I was made for jam-filled pastries and perfectly-iced cakes!  No—not,” he shuddered, “health foods.”

“You’re serious?  He’s really going to bring that kind of stuff?” Solomon’s eyes widened.  “I guess I should’ve given in to my gut intuition and made some pork pies as backup snacks.  ‘Snackups,’ if you will.”

Luke could feel bile rising up his throat at the thought of Solomon’s cooking.  “Er—no, I don’t think that would’ve been necessary!”  He spotted a figure exiting Purgatory Hall.  “Oh, look, there’s Simeon, now; we can just ask him what snacks he brought.”

“And then burn them,” finished Solomon.

The younger angel gave a scandalized gasp at the comment as Solomon nodded at Simeon, who walked closer to the pair.  

A lone celestial blue suitcase trailed behind the elder angel as he beamed at his traveling companions.  “Is everyone ready?”  Before waiting for an answer, he turned toward Luke with a gaze that was almost motherly in nature.  “And has everyone gone to the bathroom?  We only have a day to drive to the Caverns of Degeneracy and I want to see some of the Devildom sights along the way.  I even brought an instant camera to take pictures.”  

He pulled out from his cape pocket said camera and an enormous stack of printed DevilmapQuest directions and began to rifle through them, trying to decide which of the landmarks and tourist destinations he wanted to visit most.  

“S—Simeon!  Why did you have to stare at me when you asked if we all went to the bathroom?  I may be young, but I at least know that I should go to the bathroom before long car rides!”  He then blushed and handed Solomon his wagon handle.  “A—and that being said, I—I have to go to the bathroom.”

As he ran inside, Solomon peered over Simeon’s shoulder at the map sheets and laughed.  “You know, most of these directions are online.”

“I know, I know,” admitted the older angel.  “But reading the directions off of a D.D.D requires knowing how to operate one, and you know I’m not too good at that.”  

Solomon smiled and said, “That’s fine, then.  We three will take turns driving and meanwhile, one of the two who aren’t behind the wheel will navigate.”  

“Haha, you’re aware Luke can’t drive, right?” asked Simeon, turning to give Solomon a look that cautiously strode the line between tolerant and what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you.  

“Well, I guess he’ll be the one giving directions, then,” replied Solomon, without missing a beat.  He couldn’t help but silently add he’ll be doing that, either way.  

As Simeon continued to sort through the DevilmapQuest papers and double-check all the items packed in the messenger bag slung across his shoulder, Solomon began to load everyone’s luggage into Mammon’s car.  He couldn’t help but envision himself playing Tetris as he carefully arranged in the trunk the seven blocky bags that the group had among them—six of which belonged to Luke, who packed as if he were planning to change his clothes at least twelve times a day.    

His own backpack—and Simeon’s messenger bag—would be staying with the trio in the cabin space of the car.  He hadn’t felt the need to pack nearly as many outfits as Luke and most of his bag consisted of medical supplies, while Simeon’s was supposed to be filled to the brim with road trip snacks.

Speaking of snacks, Solomon felt his mouth turn dry as he mulled over the healthy monstrosities that Luke believed the older angel had created in place of actually palatable food.  He turned to Simeon.  “Er, Simeon—what’s on the menu in terms of snackage?”

“‘Snackage?’” Simeon laughed.  He pat his messenger bag and said, “Let’s see, well, whenever I go on long trips, I try to make foods that provide a lot of energy, since we’re going to need it—especially you and I, as we’ll be driving.  Here, I made dried, salted edamame and roasted chickpea trail mix, almond-butter-and-white-bean-stuffed dried dates, and oatmeal-honey-sesame-black-bean balls with dried pineapple, coconut, and avocado.”   

Solomon did not like how many times Simeon had mentioned “beans,” for as far as he was concerned, road trip food was junk food exclusively.  He took a deep breath and carefully twisted his mouth into a smile.  “That sounds well … delicious. Ten out of ten.”

“Excellent.  Now, where is Luke?”  Simeon peered behind them toward Purgatory Hall, where a munchkin of a silhouette now appeared.  “Ah, there he is.”  He tossed Solomon the keyring Mammon had tearfully given him the day before.  “Mind starting the car?”

Solomon nodded and after examining the gaudy charms that adorned Mammon’s keys, he clicked open the car and stepped toward the driver’s seat door.  “I’ll take the first shift.  It’ll take us fifteen hours of sheer driving to get to the Caverns of Degeneracy, so we’ll take three-hour turns.”  

As Solomon yanked the car door open, something tumbled out of the front seat.  He jumped back, and Simeon and Luke rushed toward the commotion.  

“M—Mammon?  What are you doing here?” exclaimed Luke.  

Simeon laughed, his brows furrowing in confusion.  “Hoping to hitch a ride?”

Solomon had to swallow his smile when he saw the almost-comical tears that ran down Mammon’s face.  “Did your brothers leave you behind?”

“N— no!  They’d never leave without me, The Great Mammon!”  Mammon hastily wiped his nose before sprawling his hands over his Demonio 666 Lexura.  “I just couldn’t fathom leavin’ my beloved baby for so long!  I had to say goodbye!”

“Speaking of saying goodbye, you do know that Asmo’s bus already left a few minutes ago, right?” asked Simeon.  “I caught a glimpse of them before I came out here and they were already on the road.”

Mammon’s face paled.  “Wh—what?  They wouldn’t! Wait—of course, they would!  Those bastards!”  He immediately turned into his demon form, planted a kiss on his car’s hood, and sped off into the horizon.

“I suddenly understand what the term ‘speed demon’ means,” commented Luke as he watched Mammon’s quickly disappearing form.

“I sure hope he manages to catch up to them,” Solomon said, rubbing his chin.  “Anyway, everyone, pile in.  It’s time to get this show on the road.”

Hour 1

After they had driven well out of the bounds of R.A.D’s campus, Solomon announced, “All right—first item on the agenda—”

Luke raised his hand from the back passenger seat as he strained against his seatbelt.  “—What’s an ‘agenda?’”

“Oh.  An agenda is basically a list of things we have to do,” explained Solomon.

Simeon’s eyes widened in concern.  “I didn’t know we had an agenda.”

Solomon nodded gravely.  “Oh, yes—an unwritten road trip one.  And the first thing on it is picking some tunes.”

Again, Luke raised his hand.  “I have a suggestion!  I have a suggestion!”  From the pocket of his shorts, he drew out a CD case labeled 1001 Hymns to Praise Him.  “This album is my personal favorite.”

Solomon began coughing violently in attempts to cover his laughter, while Simeon smiled and took the CD from him.  “That’s a great idea, Luke, but how about we play this when I drive, and when Solomon drives, he’ll pick the music.”

The sorcerer handed Simeon his D.D.D, keeping his eyes on the road as he instructed, “Here, go to my Akutify account and play my Travel playlist.  Hope you guys don’t mind that I managed to export my entire Spotify account onto Akutify, so we’re going to be listening to Human World songs for now.”

It took Simeon seven tries to carry out Solomon’s orders, but before long, “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys blared through the state-of-the-art stereo system of the Demonio 666 Lexura.  

Luke was silent for a few moments before he innocently asked, “I don’t understand, Solomon.  What do they want ‘that way?’”

Solomon shook his head.  “I’ve been trying to figure that out for years.”

Hour 2

It didn’t take very long for Simeon to discover the first location on his list of places to visit along their trip.  

“The Maw of Beelzebub,” Simeon breathed, taking in their dark, ashy surroundings from the passenger seat.  “I’ve seen it in pictures when I researched for TSL, but I never fathomed I’d get to see it in person.”

Luke pouted as Simeon exited the vehicle.  “Don’t tell me we’re going to see those dumb demon brothers.”

“Nope,” Solomon said, unbuckling Luke from his seat, despite the vehement protests from the little angel.  “The Maw of Beelzebub is a chain of three volcanoes, actually.  The two smaller ones that form the ‘eyes of Beelzebub’ are active, but the huge, massive one that we’re going to walk across by way of that bridge,” he pointed to a shaky overpass that was suspended over a volcano crater a thousand miles wide, “is dormant.  However, you can still see the enormous pool of lava bubbling inside.  Tourists like to drop things down into it—and of course, it disappears into the molten lava—which is why it’s named after Beel because no matter what you feed him, he’s still hungry as if he’s never eaten.”

“Remind me again, then, why we’re walking across it?”  Luke asked as the trio wandered over to the entrance of the precarious bridge.  

Simeon looked at him curiously.  “Don’t you think it’s exhilarating, Luke?  To be so close to something so much bigger and powerful and dangerous than yourself?”   

The younger angel pondered that for a moment before deciding, “Father is so much bigger and powerful and dangerous than me.  I think that’s enough.”   

Simeon laughed.  “So it is.”  He wiggled his fingers under Luke’s hat to rumple his hair.  “But let’s go see it, anyway.”

 Hour 3

“Psst,” Luke hissed, “Simeon.” The elder angel seemed to be too enthralled by the latest song in Solomon’s playlist, “What Makes You Beautiful” by One Direction, to hear him, so Luke reached out to poke his shoulder.

If he wasn’t strapped to his seat by his seatbelt, Simeon would’ve jumped about fifty feet in surprise.  “Ah, you startled me, Luke.  Did you need something?”

Luke adamantly refused to meet Simeon’s eyes as he flushed and muttered, “I have to go.”

“Don’t worry, Luke—there’s no shame in needing to go to the bathroom,” assured Simeon.

“There is when you just went ten minutes ago,” mumbled Solomon under his breath, but he swerved into a gas station, nonetheless.  “I guess we’re due for a tank refill, anyway.”

Simeon put up his hand.  “You paid for the gas last time—let me do it, especially since Mammon left explicit instructions that his car is supposed to be ‘fed’ premium gas only.” 

Solomon grinned cheekily.  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”  He followed Luke, who had already gone into the gas station convenience store.  “I guess I’ll just have a look around, then.”

However, before he got more than a few feet into the store, he heard someone whisper-screaming his name.

“Psst!  Solomon!  Over here!  Behind the candy stand!” 

He followed the voice, only to find that it belonged to Luke, who was very much not in the bathroom and rather ripping open a packet of fruit snacks.

“Whoa, I didn’t know you had it in you to employ the much-loved five-finger-discount,” Solomon said, nodding appreciatively.  “Considering you’re an angel and all.”

Luke stared at him with blank eyes.  “I don’t know what that means, but these were in my pocket from earlier!”  He motioned for Solomon to come closer and poured a few of the gummies into his hand.  “This is my last pouch—eat them fast.  They might be our last bit of yummy food before we have to eat Simeon’s nightmares.”

Solomon bobbed his head, before dumping the fruit snacks into his mouth all at once, savoring their sweet taste.  He gestured toward Luke.  “Do you always keep those on you?”

The angel’s offended gasp could be heard by all the demons in the convenience store.  “I’m a ten-year-old, Solomon!  Of course, I keep fruit snacks in my pocket!”

Hour 4

It wasn’t that Simeon was a bad driver.  It was just that driving in the Devildom (and the Human World) was very different from driving in the Celestial Realm.

Here, in uncontrolled intersections, it wasn’t customary to say “hello” to the drivers rolling to a stop in all directions.  Even stranger, the traffic lights weren’t celestial blue, gold, and white, but rather red, green, and yellow! 

Luke, who had discovered a “2020 Devildom Rules of the Road” manual crumpled inside one of the cupholders, was forced to bark instructions at the eldest angel, all while offering condescending commentary on how imbecilic the rules of driving in the Devildom were.

“Simeon!  Listen to this!  In the Devildom, you have to obey the posted speed limits, or else you’ll get in trouble!” realized Luke.

“Wait—you don’t have speed limits in the Celestial Realm?” Solomon asked.

Luke replied smugly, “No, because angels have the sense to know how fast they should or shouldn’t be driving.”

“Wow, that’s honestly impressive.”  Solomon grimaced as Simeon ran through another red light.  “Remember, if the light is red, then you have to stop.”

Simeon offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’m so used to remembering that blue means ‘stop.’”

Solomon slunk low in his seat, knowing better than to rile up the angel, who was rumored to have a feisty side when he got angry.  “I just hope the police or whatever they have here don’t catch us for breaking so many traffic laws.”

“What’s a ‘police?’” asked Luke.

“Oh, you know … people who are supposed to make people follow the laws and stuff,” replied Solomon.  His eyes widened.  “Do you not have a police force in the Celestial Realm?”

“The Celestial Realm is a perfect world, Solomon,” answered Simeon.  “We don’t need police.”

Hour 6

Solomon didn’t know that he could get sick of songs.  Sure, he got tired of the “Despacito” remix after the first dozen times it was played on the radio—but he meant real music.  

“Amazing Grace” in particular.

Luke’s favorite album, 1001 Hymns to Praise Him, really should’ve been called 1001 Ways An Angelic Choir Can Sing “Amazing Grace” because Solomon swore about ninety percent of the songs on the album were just renditions of the classic hymn sung by different groups of angels.

And this seemed to bother neither of his driving companions, who crooned along to the choir in heavenly tones—it seemed to be a prerequisite for angels to be divine singers—without missing a beat.  

He hadn’t even known all the words to “Amazing Grace,” but now he could recite all six verses on demand.  He fought the urge to smash the “eject” button on the CD player, but he worried that Luke would throw a fit or Simeon would look at him with a stare so full of disappointment that Solomon would be willing to throw himself off a bridge just to rid himself of its gaze.

But one could only hear the line “amazing grace, how sweet the sound,” so many times.

He had to do something.

“Hey!  I have an idea!” Solomon chirped.  “Let’s make up our own song!”

He had to fight the urge to smack himself upside the head.  Why did he say that?  He had no ideas for potential song lyrics!

“I like that!” Luke pursed his lips, deep in thought.  “Here, let’s have the first lines go like this: ‘Father, You are all that I need!’”

Simeon used one hand to snap out the beat, and continued, “‘Father, listen to my creed!’”

Solomon sighed.

He did not know if this was any better.

Hour 8

“Luke, wake up.  We’re here.”  Solomon couldn’t help but layer on the desperation thick as he shook the younger angel awake, despite the fact that they were in no danger whatsoever.

Luke shot up, trying very hard to hide the fact that he had been drooling all over his shoulder.  He rubbed his sleep-filled eyes. “What?  Did we beat all the other demons here?  Are the Caverns of Degeneracy as hideous as I imagined?”

Solomon unbuckled Luke’s seatbelt and dragged him out of the car.  He snickered, saying, “We’re not at the Caverns, yet.”  He gestured toward their surroundings, which now consisted of precarious cliffs and rocky crags instead of the open road of the Devildom. 

Simeon stood a few feet ahead of them and turned around, spreading his arms wide in wonder.  “Welcome to Sinner Falls!”

Luke stared at the dark stone formations.  “I don’t see any waterfalls.”

“That’s because Sinner Falls isn’t a waterfall,” Solomon explained.  “You probably better know it as ‘the Abyss—’”

“‘The Abyss? ’  Why didn’t you say so?”  Luke exclaimed, his eyes glittering excitedly.  “The place where demons are tortured for a thousand years during the Millenium has always been one of my dream places to visit!”

Simeon smiled, a little taken aback by the younger angel’s enthusiasm.  “If we’re lucky, we might get to see Abaddon, Angel of the Abyss. He’s supposed to be guarding the canyon up ahead.”

“If we see him, do you think he’ll let me call him ‘Abba?’” teased Solomon, even though the remark earned him a kick in the shin and a “He most certainly will not!  How dare you even say such a thing about one of the most high-ranking angels!” from Luke.

“Careful now, Solomon,” Simeon warned, as the trio walked toward the deep canyon amongst the cliffs.  As far as anyone could tell, there was no end to the inky, suffocating blackness that was visible when looking down into it.  He pointed into the canyon.  “This is the Abyss—er, Sinner Falls.  Us angels cannot pass this invisible barrier—” he pressed his hand out to the ledge of the canyon, only for it to smash against some kind of unseen wall, “—but any human or demon who falls down into it falls for eternity, never to come back to the surface.”

Luke beamed. “That must be why it’s called ‘Sinner Falls!’  Because most humans and all demons are sinners!”  Despite this, he grabbed Solomon’s hand to prevent him from wandering too close to Sinner Falls’ ledge (as he was wont to do), because, despite their bickering and mutual pestering, Luke had a soft spot for the sorcerer.

Simeon followed in suit and intertwined his fingers with Solomon as the trio looked down into the great Abyss, wondering if any of their demon friends would be among the many thrown into it one day.

Hour 9

Simeon rifled through his messenger bag, intent on looking for something to eat.  He had made sure to pack plenty of goodies and was pleased as to how nutritious the snacks he’d made had turned out.  He scooped a handful of edamame and chickpea trail mix into his hand and turned to Luke, who was hunched over a map in the back passenger seat. 

“You haven’t eaten anything in over eight hours; aren’t you hungry?”  Simeon offered him the bag of trail mix.

Luke gulped, as he beamed and shook his head.  “N—no, no!  I’m okay!”

Simeon shrugged and held out the bag toward Solomon, who was driving.  “Do you want some?  I can pour it into your mouth if you want, so you don’t have to take your eyes off the road.”

“As titillating as that sounds,” said the sorcerer, “I’m afraid I’m not hungry at the moment.”

“I guess that’s more for me, then.”  Simeon poured more of the trail mix into his palm, but before he could eat any of it, he heard a strange sound.

It was a low rumble, but very, very loud.

It almost sounded like … stomachs growling?

He whirled to face Luke and Solomon and scratched his head in confusion.  “Are you two sure you’re not hungry?”

When the pair shook their heads furiously, Simeon raised an eyebrow.  He yanked out from his bag the stuffed dried dates and the oatmeal-honey-sesame-black-bean balls.  “So … you two wouldn’t mind if I ate all of the snacks?”

“Yeah, sure, go nuts, Simeon,” Solomon assured.  He winced as his and Luke’s stomaches rumbled in unison.  “You wouldn’t actually have any nuts in that bag o’ treats, would you?  Preferably of the chocolate-covered variety?” 

“The dates have almond butter stuffed inside them,” pointed out Luke helpfully, although his expression was less-than-enthused.

Simeon raised his other eyebrow.  Clearly the pair were hungry but refusing food.  What kind of rebellious spirit had gotten into them?  Didn’t they know that food was essential to oh, survival?   His left eye twitched as he felt a black miasma of rage cover him. “If you two don’t eat, I’m turning this car around.  That’s a promise.”

Solomon exchanged nervous glances with Luke at the normally calm angel’s outburst. “Angry Simeon is scary,” he whimpered.

“If you don’t eat, you’ll see just how scary I can be,” promised Simeon with a smile that bordered downright terrifying.  He plopped an oatmeal-honey-sesame-black-bean ball into Solomon’s mouth and handed a stuffed date to Luke.  “Now, eat your snacks.”

He definitely didn’t miss Luke’s grumpy, “Yes, mother.”

Hour 11

“Solomon, I hate to complain—” which earned a snort from the sorcerer, as Luke continued, “but do you really have to play that now?”  He gestured toward the sound system, which, now that it was Simeon’s turn to drive, blared 1001 Hymns to Praise Him.  “Seven Lyres is my favorite orchestra and their take on ‘Amazing Grace’ is simply the best!”

Solomon, who had purposely pulled out a reed pipe from his backpack in an effort to drown out the nine thousandth chorus of “Amazing Grace,” sighed and put it down.  He knew he wasn’t an expert in playing the reed pipe—in fact, this was the first time he’d ever seen the instrument, but the racket was so soothing.

“Where did you even get that from, anyway?” asked Simeon.

“Found it in my backpack.  I didn’t pack it, but considering there was a note attached to it that said ‘Blow,’ I think Asmo put it there as some kind of visual innuendo.”  Solomon shrugged.  “Now seemed like as good a time as any to play it.”

 Luke tapped his chin thoughtfully.  “What’s an ‘innuendo?’”

“Something you’re not allowed to make until you’re much older,” replied Simeon sternly. 

Luke seemed satisfied with the answer and held out his palm toward Solomon.  “May I try?”

Solomon handed the reed pipe over and cocked his head.  “You know how to play?”

He received his answer when Luke gestured for him to lower the stereo volume (which Solomon did with immense pleasure) and began to carefully place his fingers over the openings and gently blow into the instrument.

The young angel played masterfully and Solomon would’ve given him a standing ovation if it weren’t for one tiny thing.

“Why don’t you play a different song besides ‘Amazing Grace?’”  he suggested.

Luke furrowed his brows.  “It’s the only thing I know how to play!”

Hour 12

“I don’t like this place, Simeon,” Luke mumbled, yanking his hat over his eyes.  “It looks like something straight from the End Times.”

He, of course, was referring to the town at which’s city limits they stood in front of.  It was one of the last tourist spots that Simeon had wanted to visit, and it was renowned for being one of the Devildom’s most haunted ghost towns.

Solomon nodded.  “I’m with the Chihuahua.  I’m super excited for the end of the world, and even I’m not getting a good feeling from whatever-this-place-is-called.”

“Deathblow Beggar’s Pass,” answered Simeon, ogling the city entrance sign gleefully.  “They say it’s the most haunted district in all of the Devildom.”  He took a step onto the creaky wooden path that led into the town.  “It’s been evacuated for centuries and now, even most demons are petrified to go inside.”

Luke gripped Simeon’s cape so tight, his knuckles turned white.  “Then why do you want to visit this place?”

“Don’t worry, Luke,” the older angel said (avoiding the question, which the young angel noticed), laughing, as he tousled Luke’s hair under his hat.  “I’ll make sure none of the scary ghosts come near you.”

Luke’s eyes widened.  “Sc—scary ghosts?”  He cleared his throat when he realized how incredibly uncourageous he sounded.  “I—I mean I’m not scared of any g—g—ghosts!”

Solomon and Simeon shared a secret smile at the angel’s feigned bravery, and instead of teasing him, Solomon turned to Luke very seriously.  “I strictly deal with demons, not ghosts.  How about you do me a favor and sit on my shoulders to be my lookout in case any of those ghosts try to pull anything?”

“W—well if you need my help, I’m definitely willing to offer it!” Luke blushed as he climbed onto Solomon’s shoulders.  “It’s my duty as an angel to help humans, after all!”

“That’s the ‘spirit,’” Solomon said.  He laughed when he saw the angels’ unamused faces.  “Get it?  ‘Cause we’re walking into a ghost town?”

Simeon laughed stiffly as to not hurt the sorcerer’s feelings before straightening his posture and looking ahead.  He channeled his inner fantasy writer as he declared, “Get ready, everyone!  We must put aside our doubts and fears as we charge forward into Deathblow Beggar’s Pass, where no creature has exited without releasing screams that could curdle the blood of the Demon Lord!  We might not be of this world, but we certainly can brave its most terrifying sites!”

It would have been a very heroic speech if it weren’t for the fact that not five minutes after the trio entered the city limits, Solomon and Simeon sprinted out, with Luke wailing loudly.

“That was the worst ever!” the little angel blubbered, yanking Solomon’s hair.

The sorcerer didn’t even have enough energy to flinch as he panted, “What in the name of all things unholy was that?”

There was nothing but fear in Simeon’s eyes as he doubled over, trying to catch his breath.  “We should’ve known the saloon bathroom stalls wouldn’t be empty.”  He gagged.  “I never want to see millennia-old demon penis again.”

Hour 15

“Simeon, are we there yet ?” asked Luke for the twenty-first time in the hour.

The other angel sighed.  “Almost, Luke.  Just a few more minutes.”

“Don’t you have the map?” Solomon pointed out as he honked the horn in irritation at a slow driver ahead of him.  “Shouldn’t you know where we are?”

Luke fussed with the multitude of papers that were stacked on his lap.  “I only have the stuff for Simeon’s places.”  His eyes opened wide in realization.  “Wait—how do you guys know where to drive if my maps don’t lead to the Caverns of Degeneracy?” 

“Diavolo said as long as we travel along Route 666 until we see the sign markers, we should have no problem getting there,” explained Simeon.  He peered ahead and squinted at one of the upcoming signs.  “And look—that sign says that the Caverns of Degeneracy are ten miles up ahead.”

“I hope we’re the first ones there,” said Luke.  “It’ll be nice to see all the looks on those dumb demons’ faces when we get there before them.”

Solomon pursed his lips.  “Speaking of those ‘dumb demons,’ I wonder if they’re all right.  We haven’t heard from them since we left Purgatory Hall.”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Simeon assured.  He let out a laugh as he continued, “Assuming they haven’t killed each other already.  It must be hard having all seven of them cooped up in one small space.”

“We can only hope,” said Luke solemnly.  He paused for a moment as he shimmied as far as his seatbelt would allow him and peered over Solomon’s shoulder to look at what was going on in the front seats.  He pointed at the gear shift. “What does ‘D’ mean?”

“I’m not supposed to say that word in front of you,” answered Solomon as Simeon simultaneously replied, “Drive.”

“Oh.  What does ‘R’ mean, then?”

Simeon replied, “Reverse,” before Solomon could say anything.

At the elder angel’s preemptive glare, Solomon widened his eyes and innocently said, “I was going to say ‘reverse,’ as in ‘Uno Reverse Card.’’”

Luke turned toward the dashboard.  “What’s ‘E?’”

“I feel if I say ‘Evanescence,’ Simeon is going to yell at me, so I’ll just go with ‘empty,’” pouted Solomon.  

“Empty what?”

“Gas.”

“So … since that line-thingy is almost at ‘E,’ that means we’re nearly out of gas?”  

“Yep.”

Simeon turned around to cover Luke’s ears at Solomon’s next sentence: “Holy shit—we’re almost out of gas!”

The older angel’s eyes promised murder as he stared at the sorcerer, before directing his stare to the fuel gauge.  “We’re running on fumes.”

“We need to refuel, stat.  Simeon, grab my D.D.D and look up the nearest gas station,” directed Solomon.  “I always forget that Mammon’s car is a gas-guzzler.” 

“What should I do, Solomon?” asked Luke, eagerly awaiting orders like a baby soldier.

The sorcerer nodded, deadly serious.  “Sit there and be cute.”

Luke pouted as Simeon—with surprising speed—brought up a log of the nearest gas stations on Solomon’s D.D.D.  “There should be a station three miles ahead.”

Solomon frowned as he analyzed their fuel gauge.  “I’m not sure we’ll make it.”

“We have to!” cried Luke.  “How will we ever beat those demons if we don’t even make it to the Caverns of Degeneracy?”  

“We’ll have to trust that Mammon’s baby is strong enough to get us to the gas station, then.”  Solomon stroked the dashboard as if trying to offer the vehicle some kind of encouragement.  

And as the car’s fuel began to peter out, Simeon and Luke began to cheer in chorus, “You can do it, Mammon’s car!” while Solomon exclaimed, “You’re a fierce, strong woman who doesn’t need any man to tell you that your fuel gauge is empty!”  

After an eternity (okay, it was more like five minutes), the Demonio 666 Lexura finally eked it’s way to the first pump at a Demobil gas station. 

As the engine sputtered out, the trio let out a cheer, and Solomon and Simeon shared a hug in the front seat.

“Thank Father we made it!” exclaimed Luke as he unbuckled his seatbelt and exited the car.  He pat Mammon’s car.  “Also, thank you for getting us here, even if you belong to the scummiest demon in the Devildom.”

Solomon grinned and turned to Simeon.  “You spotted the gas bill last time, so I’ll do it now.”

“Are you sure?” asked Simeon.  “My TSL royalties are huge, even after I’ve tithed my ten percent.  I’ve got no problem paying.”

“Nah, it’s fine—you can go stretch your legs.” With that, Solomon exited the car and began to work the gas pump.

Simeon nodded and together with Luke, walked toward the attached Demobil convenience store.  By the entrance stood a higher-level demon, who appeared to be selling bouquets of fresh flowers.

The vendor, who had noticed the pair exit Mammon’s car and had seen Solomon get up to pump the gas, called to Simeon, “Flower for your Mister?”  He gestured toward the white-haired sorcerer. 

Luke gasped, absolutely scandalized, and huffed, “Simeon would never settle for a human!” while Simeon chuckled, replying, “I’m sorry, he’s not my ‘Mister,’ but I’ll take a bouquet, anyway.”

After exchanging Grimm for the flowers, Simeon and Luke strolled back to the Demonio 666 Lexura, where Solomon was just closing the fuel tank. 

“Simeon bought you flowers!” announced Luke.

The angel nodded as he handed the sunny bouquet to Solomon.  “It matches your wand.”

“How did you know gerberas are my favorite?” laughed Solomon.  “These are great—thank you.”  As they all piled back into the car, he carefully arranged the flowers in one of the cupholders and beamed, because God,  sometimes the angel was so nice. 

The group drove in silence for a few moments before Luke commented, “I didn’t know gerberas smelled like … salt?”

Simeon sniffed the air.  “I think that’s the sea.  After all, the Caverns of Degeneracy are right along the beach.”

Just as the angel spoke the words, Solomon pulled right into a parking lot that was situated right next to miles and miles of black sand.  

Luke cheered, kicking his feet at Solomon’s seat excitedly.  “Yay!  We’re here!”

Their road trip had finally come to an end.

Destination

After wandering the beach for a few moments, the trio eventually found themselves at the mouth of the Caverns of Degeneracy, which turned out to be several huge caves filled with glowing pastel stalactites and stalagmites.  Hellfireflies twinkled in the air, while friendly gentlemanbugs strolled about the cavern floor.  Some kind of glittering pink moss had been used to adorn the walls with the words, “R.A.D Bleeding Hearts Festival 2020.”

In the middle of it all stood Diavolo, who was discussing the festival decorations with Barbatos.

As soon as he saw the Demon Prince, Luke raced up and, bobbing uncontrollably, asked, “Are we first?  Are we first?” 

Diavolo let out a hearty laugh.  “Welcome you three!  And first for what, Luke?”

Solomon sauntered up and answered, “To arrive.”

“Luke’s been very anxious to know if we’re the first ones here at the festival,” elaborated Simeon, placing his hand on the younger angel’s shoulder.

“You make it seem like it was a competition to get here first—which, yes, you three are,” said Diavolo.  His eyes lit up.  “That’s an excellent idea, though!  Next year, we’ll make the R.A.D C.D a contest to see can make it to the Caverns the fastest!  First place will get a coupon for teatime with me!”

Luke wrinkled his nose.  “Teatime with you?  That sounds—”

“Incredibly fun,” cut in Simeon smoothly.  He turned to Diavolo.  “Have you gotten any word from those seven demon brothers?”

Diavolo grimaced.  “It seems that they’ll be late.  Beelzebub ate all their road trip snacks immediately as he entered Asmodeus’ tour bus, so they had to stop for food at every fast food restaurant they could find because he still wasn’t satisfied, Belphegor kept falling asleep at the wheel, and Mammon got so many speeding violations and every time the police showed up, Asmodeus tried to seduce his way out of their ticket, which only earned them more fines and lectures from Lucifer.  It’s comic-con season, so of course, Leviathan had to stop at every convention center along the way, and unsurprisingly, Satan’s road rage forced him to get into out-of-car fights with every driver he encountered when he was at the wheel.”  He sighed.  “They managed to turn a fifteen-hour trip into a twenty-two hour one.”

Solomon smiled as he said, “I guess we should’ve expected that.”  His grin grew even wider as he gestured toward his traveling companions.  “Meanwhile, we did all fifteen-hours of driving—courtesy of me bending the speeding rules quite a bit when there was no traffic— and saw some of the sights of the Devildom along the way.”

“Oooh, did you manage to get any pictures?” asked Diavolo with an excited gleam in his eye.  “I always want to travel around the Devildom but never get the chance.”

Simeon nodded as he pulled out from his messenger bag some of the pictures he had asked fellow tourists to snap with his instant camera.  He handed them one by one to Diavolo and beamed at the goofy scenes.

The first one was from when they stopped at the Maw of Beelzebub: Solomon teasingly dangled Luke’s hat over the bridge’s railing while the young angel cried and stomped on the sorcerer’s foot in retaliation.  Simeon, meanwhile, tried to rescue Luke’s hat.

The second photo showcased Solomon sitting at the ledge of Sinner Falls with his feet swinging over the bottomless canyon.  Luke and Simeon posed obnoxiously as if they were going to fall into the Abyss, even though as angels, they were unable to.  

The final picture was the only one he had from Deathblow Beggar’s Pass, and it was of the trio crouched in front of the sign that spelled ��Enjoy your stay at Deathblow Beggar’s Pass!”

Diavolo examined the images wistfully.  He sighed as he handed the photos back to Simeon.  “You three looked as if you made some fun memories.”

The angels and the sorcerer exchanged contented glances and chorused, “We most certainly did.”

[princecharmingmendes]

Paris | Day One

When your parents decide to travel with your best friend’s family that you haven’t talked to in a while, who you have a massive secret crush on, what could go wrong, right? Right?! (best friends to lovers)

*It’s my first series, hope you love it!

*Word Count: 6.3k

*Warnings: cursing, slight angst and Shawnie boy being cute.

*Posted: December 7th, 2019

                                                          -*- 

Pants? Check! Gloves? Check! Fuzzy socks? Check! Charger? Check! Passport? Check! Phone? Shit! Where’s it again?! Oh, yeah, I’m holding it.

I rolled my eyes to my own stupidity finishing my mental packing checklist. I think I might have everything I needd with me. Well, I’ll only find out whenever I need something from across the ocean and notice that I probably forgot it on top of the sea of clothes that I decided not to pack laying on top of my bed.

I don’t even know why I’m so apprehensive about this whole family trip thing. We always travel together at least once a year, the only difference is that this time, the Mendes’ family would be joining us, which wasn’t the first time as well. I mean, maybe the first time in a few years, but still, nothing that I haven’t been through before. Shawn is not even going to be joining us! I mean, not that I care.

The buzz from my nightstand captured my attention from my thoughts and I stretched as best as I could to reach for my phone without getting up from the soft spot on my bed. I internally rolled my eyes at the photo of my younger sister lighting up the screen.

“Sup, kiddo?”

“I’m not a kid anymore, you know?” She said trying to contain the anger laced on her tone.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say, kiddo”

“God, sometimes I really hate you”

“Awn, I love you too, Flo, so, why did call the most amazing human being on the whole wide world?”

“Y/N, seriously, you’re so annoying”

“Whatever, but, ‘seriously’” I said mocking her tone, earning a light chuckle from the other side of the line “what can I do for ya?”

“I’m just calling you to check if things are ready, mom’s been driving me crazy” Florence said and I swear to God that I could imagine her rolling her eyes in annoyance, but I could not blame her.

I mean, I love my mom, but she is a general when it comes to traveling, she needs to double check every little thing possible, finding mistakes where you could not even imagine. But after all that stress, you could be 100% sure that nothing would go wrong if she planned everything, because she had a plan “D” for everything. That’s right, a plan “D”.

“Everything’s in the right place, double checked and ready to go” I said between giggles.

“Great, she said you can leave in ten if you want, dad’s just finishing some stuff so that we can go to the airport”

“Kay, I think I’ll just go now, I’m pretty bored anyway”

“Fine, see you in ten”

“See you, kiddo” I said ending the call before she could kill me.

I took a deep breath and got up, closing my huge suitcase, but not before going through the whole mental checklist thing, and with all the strength I had, getting it on the floor. I grabbed my phone and tossed it on my backpack, put my sunglasses on the top of my head and got out of my small apartment. Took a deep breath again to lift my suitcase to put it on my car, and got it, starting it to go to my parents house.

It was weird saying their house, I mean, they bought it, so it’s theirs, but I sort of grew up there and I just recently moved out, so I guess I’m just getting over the fact that I don’t live with them anymore. It’s not like I live that far, it’s just that I decided to move closer to college to make my daily routine easier, so I moved to a small apartment that’s just a seven minute drive to campus, or a twenty minute walk. But it’s not like in a non insane traffic rush it would take me more than 10 minutes to get to their house. And since we moved almost five years ago to Toronto, we got much closer, since we had to readjust and make new social circles in the Big City, so I guess that’s why it’s so weird to me to not be around them the whole time.

After the whole nostalgic thoughts and a few jamming sessions on the car, I entered the building and parked on my spot, typing quickly on my phone saying that I was already there to my sister. She replied almost instantaneously, telling me to wait in the garage and that they were on their way down. So I just sat on the car, waiting for them, scrolling through social media and feeling my heart beat a little faster when I saw a picture Shawn posted on his stories, on a FUCKING airport. That had to be a coincidence. He wasn’t going to Paris with us, he simply couldn’t.

Let me get this story straight. My family and I used to live in a small town in Canada, called Pickering, and we used to be the Mendes’ neighbors. Our parents clicked almost automatically when they moved, because someone took French classes with someone when they were like seven and whatever, you know what I mean. So me and Shawn, Florence and Aaliyah kind of didn’t have an option on not becoming like best friends. Flo and Aaliyah had a similar age, my sister is 17 and Liyah is 16. Shawn is 21 and I’m 20, and since we’re literally at each other’s houses all the time, we automatically became best friends basically since the day we were born. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.

The problem is that Shawn Peter Raul Mendes is the definition of perfection. He’s not just the hottest person to live on earth and probably the whole galaxy, but also the funniest, kindest, most talented and caring human being I’ve ever met. And there’s a bonus, he knew me better than anyone. So it was impossible to not fall for him when I discovered what that is/was. Okay, maybe not fall for him, but I did have a major crush on him growing up, but I never said anything, cause, duh, who would?! I’d never do anything that could make our relationship weird. Even because he never showed any signs telling me he felt something as well.

So yeah, I had to swallow seeing him with other girls, having a heartbreak because of other girls and all that with a smile on my face, like it didn’t feel like having someone pinching my heart every damn time. But what made everything worse was the day I found out we were moving to Toronto when I was like 15. I ran into his house, straight into his room and cried the whole night, and when I told him the reason why, he couldn’t hold it in, so he cried with me. In the end, he helped me pack and promised me that we would still be best friends, no matter where I was moving to, that he would call and text all day, that he would be only a couple miles away, and I believed him. And I can’t say he didn’t keep his promise, at least for the first year.

We would se each other every holiday and text non-stop, but than he started dating some random girl and suddenly, he couldn’t come on the holidays or answer my phone calls. And to avoid another heartbreak, I decided to let it go. It’s not like we don’t talk anymore or don’t see each other in years, it’s just that, it’s not the same as before. But I don’t blame him, this is inevitable, our lives are so different. He’s one year older and he travels a lot, he took a whole year just to wander around the globe with his friends, he’s in music school somewhere and is dating a girl that looks like just got out of a runaway. I’m just someone who finished high school and went straight to college to become a doctor, so my life is quite boring, I study a lot, work an insane amount of hours for a student with my stepfather to gain experience (and that’s it, no money for me), I’m finishing a research and my last fling didn’t go as well as I expected, turned out I was not his only one. So yeah, completely different lives.

He cannot come to this trip and mess with my head that I took many years to get in the right place. He simply can’t.

“Darling?” The voice of my mom reverberated through the whole garage startling the shit out of me.

“Geez, mom, are you trying to kill me or something?” I said jokingly standing up from the seat and going to greet them.

“It’s just a little revenge for every time you scared me”

“Hi, Y/N, where’s your suitcase?” Dad asked me kissing my forehead.

“Hi, dad, it’s in my car”

“Okay, you girls get your stuff on the car and I’ll grab the suitcases, Okay? Karen said they’re already here, waiting for us to go to the boarding area”

“Kay” Flo said getting her backpack and jumping on the backseat of the car. Mom was already on the passenger seat.

“Do you need help, dad?” I said as I watched him get my bag from my car, putting it into his.

“No, sweetheart, I’m done, the rest is already here, thanks”

With that, I just nodded and climbed on the car, that a few moments later was already on the streets of Toronto heading to the airport.

                                                         -*-

“Oh my God, is that Shawn?!” Flo whisper yelled to me, getting my attention that was on my phone to her. We were close to the check-in desk where our parents where checking-in our luggage.

“Dunno, don’t care”

“Oh, come on, Y/N, he’s your best friend and there’s like ages since you last saw him, it was on summer!”

“Yeah, so? Six months it’s not that much”

“God, you’re so annoying”

“What are you two already arguing about? This is vacation you guys, try to chill a little bit and behave, please” Mom said as they approached “Now let’s find Karen and Manny”

“I think they’re there, love” Dad said pointing towards what Flo said Shawn was, but I just didn’t want to look just yet.

“Oh, yes, that’s them, let’s go!”

Shit.

“Karen!” Was the first greeting to be heard as we got closer to the them, obviously it came from my mom, cause she was born without the power of being embarrassed.

“Oh my god! You look amazing!”

And than everyone started talking and hugging and all that stuff. I was a little behind, too focused on the level I was on CandyCrush to look up, but when I bumped into a wall I immediately looked up and tried to stabilize myself, but that was just a stupid idea. It wasn’t a wall. His scent was the first thing to make me weak on my knees. But than my eyes met his honey colored ones and that beautiful grin that showed all his perfect aligned teeth. And before I could fall on my butt, his strong hands gripped my waist firmly, steadying my body and keeping me close.

“Sh-Shawn” I sighed practically a whisper “oh, shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you” and all I could hear was my heart beating wildly and his melodic chuckle.

“S’okay, honey, still playing CandyCrush?”

“Uh... yeah, yeah, it’s a nice game”

“Yes, it is, God, you look so...”

“Y/N, my dear!” Karen cut her son in the middle of the sentence, making my heart skip a beat. I don’t know if I should thank her or be mad at her “Shawn, can you please let her go, I didn’t see her in a while too”

“Sure” He said, cleaning his throat and letting go of me, scratching the back of his neck. Am I really missing his hands on me?!

“Hi, Karen, how are you?” I said smiling politely before being engulfed in a bear hug.

“I’m extremely happy to be here with you guys, and you? Oh, you must have so much to tell me! You look so good, you get prettier everyday! Are you dating someone new? How college?” She asked too many questions making me dizzy for a second.

“Sweetie, calm down, you’ll be with her for a long time, don’t make her regret coming just now, hey there, Y/N” Manny said giggling, making Karen smack his arm playfully.

“I’m good, college is amazing, too much in such a little time, but still amazing. And thank you?!” I said trying to answer everything.

“That’s really good, dear, but don’t worry, we’ll have time to catch on everything”

“I’m pretty sure we will”

“Y/N!”

“Liyah! Loved your hair” I said hugging her.

“Oh, thanks!”

As we walked down the aisles to the boarding area, everyone was talking cheerfully to each other, catching on everything they could. I was a little behind in the middle of Flo and Liyah, listening to her new crush when I felt something reaching for my wrist, making me look back, seeing Shawn with a shy smile on his face, so I went a little to the side to walk beside him instead.

“I never greeted you properly”

“I guess you didn’t”

“Hi, Y/N, how are you?” He said reaching his hand out, I grabbed it smiling and you shook them.

“Hi, Mendes, I’m fine, and you?”

“So much better now” he said winking in my direction, making me blush lightly “I can’t believe that I can still make you all flushed that easily”

“Oh, shut up, pink cheeks”

“Oh, drop it, you’re sister’s right, you’re annoying as heck, but I still missed you”

I froze as the words fell off his lips.

“Everything okay, honey?” Shawn asked turning around with concern written all over his face “did I say anything wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You stopped out of the blue”

“Oh, I just remembered that I have no idea who I’m sitting with on the flight, ya know?”

“Oh, didn’t know that was a issue, are you still afraid of turbulence? Is that why?”

“Hm, yeah”

“Oh, than you can chill, you’re with me, your parents and mine put us together to catch up”

Great. Just what I needed.

“Oh, that sounds nice”

“So, how’s life?”

“Same”

“Really? But what about that guy... Roger?”

“Rick? Oh, turned out you were right and he was a dick”

“What did he do?! Did he hurt you?!”

“Well, he did cheat on me, so he kind of hurt me, but not physically”

Shawn mumbled something I couldn’t hear.

“What was that?”

“Hm? Nothing”

“Shawn...”

“Nothing, honey, I swear” he said looking straight ahead. So I decided to just drop it. He’s just too stubborn.

“So... how’s your life?”

“Mine? Great, I’m moving back to Canada”

“Really? When?”

“Actually, just moved back to Toronto like two days ago”

“I can’t believe it!”

“Me neither” Shawn chuckled “I was supposed to surprise you, don’t know, just show up at your door or college”

“You thought about surprising me?”

“Of course, you’re my best friend, honey”

“Oh”

“‘Oh’? Why do you sound this surprised?

“I don’t know, we just aren’t that close anymore, and we didn’t see each other for like six months, and you didn’t call on my birthday and...” I couldn’t finish because someone was asking for my documents and stuff.

So we went through the whole process and going through the gate, sitting down close to each other on the plane without a word. After what felt like ages, I felt something brushing the sides of my thigh. I look down and it’s Shawn’s knee bouncing. And for now, I just ignored it, knowing he had a lot to say, just wasn’t comfortable enough to do it now. So we got in the plane and sat on our seats, I sat next to the window, and I let him take the aisle due to his gigantic legs.

My headphones were quite loud when I felt the plane starting to move, making my hands grip the seat tighter involuntarily. Before I could start feeling sick to my stomach, I felt a hand covering my knee, giving it a little squeeze. I just breathed in a little deeper and looked at his face, but he was already looking at me. He leaned in, kissing my forehead and letting go of my knee, turning his palm up, so I instantaneously held it, threading my fingers with his.

“It’s okay, princess, you’re fine and I’m here with you, okay?” He said in a calm and low tone near to my ear, making my whole body melt into the seat “do you want me to do anything to make it better?” I just shaked my head “no? Is this enough?” I nodded “okay, so just breath for me, eh? Can you do that for me, honey?”

I nodded starting deep breaths and felt my hand being lightly squeezed, in encouragement.

When the plane was finally stable, I slowly let go of his hand and snuggled into the wall. I could feel Shawn’s stare on me, but I couldn’t simply look at him, so I just closed my eyes and focused on whatever artist’s voice was playing through my earphones.

An hour or so later, when everyone seemed to be asleep, including mister “I miss you”, my bladder decided to work, so I really needed to go to the bathroom. I got up and started trying to jump the sleeping giant by my side, but something made him stir wake while I was literally in the middle of jumping him, with his legs between mine, and he just grabbed me by my hips.

“Hm, Sorry, did I wake you?” I practically whispered, trying to gain some balance I placed my hands each side of his head on his seat.

“No, baby, whatcha doing?”

“I need to go to the bathroom”

“Oh, sorry” he said with his eyes not completely open, in a zone between sleep and consciousness.

I just gave him a tight lip smile and ran to the bathroom. Okay, did he just called me “baby”? I shook my head and threw cold water on my face. Getting back there made my heart get a little warmer. Shawn was laying with half of his body on my seat, with his arms crossed and the softest look on his face.

“Shawnie?” I whispered laying my hand on his chest and he whined still asleep “handsome, I need to get back to my place”

Shawn slowly opened his eyes again, rubbing his whole face, mumbling a “sorry” and sitting straight. I jumped his legs back and sat down.

“Do you want to lay on me, big guy?”

“Can I?”

“Sure” and as I said, he quickly lifted that seat divider and placed his head on my chest, snuggling on my side and wrapping his arms around me.

“Thank you, honey” he said as I started running my hand through his hair, making him groan softly, and in a matter of seconds, drift off to sleep again. So I just chose a random movie to play and tried to fall asleep, since I didn’t have much to do other than stay quietly because of Shawn standing basically on top of me.

Fortunately, I ended up dozing off pretty quickly, but half and hour later, I felt something on my neck making me wake up, but I didn’t want to open my eyes just yet.

“What?” I groaned as lowly as I could.

“Shh, baby, you can go back to sleep” Shawn murmured against the skin of my neck.

There he goes again with the baby thing.

“Shawn? What are you doing?”

“Nothing” he said nuzzling his face even deeper in my neck.

“Shawn?!”

“Shh, baby, there’s people trying to sleep, and you should be doing the same” he said and I felt his lips brush against my skin, giving me goosebumps.

“Seriously, what the hell are you doing?”

“I just missed you, do you want me to back off?” He asked and I pondered for a while, than I shook my head  and he mumbled a simple “good”.

He peppered light feather kisses along the side of my neck, making me feel those damn butterflies on my stomach, and also making me feel like I’m 13 all over again.

“Go back to sleep, honey” he said running his nose through the extension of my neck.

“You woke me, I can’t”

“Sorry, you’re just so warm and cozy, I couldn’t resist”

“Resist...?”

“You” Shawn said like it’s obvious giving a longer kiss on a particular sensitive spot, pulling from me a little whine and making me thread my fingers between his curls. Shawn chuckled lightly against my skin “yes, honey, anything you want to say?”

“You”

“What about me?” He said leaning his head against my shoulder, turning my head by my chin to look at him.

“You’re just confusing”

“I’m confusing?”

“Yes! Why did you wake up?”

“The person behind me tripped on my feet on their way back to his seat”

“Oh, I see that, do you... hmm...”

“Do I...?”

“Do you want to go back to sleep?”

“I wouldn’t mind” he said straightening his back and getting back to his seat.

“Where are you going?” I asked pouting involuntarily and he just smiled. More of a cocky grin than anything else.

“Just adjusting so you can lay on me”

“Oh, okay”

“C’mere, honey” he said patting his chest and I just laid there, wrapping my arms around his middle, and having him do the same “now sleeps, I’ll be right here”.

“Kay” and with that, he kissed the top of my head and held me even tighter, starting to play with my hair. How can you not immediately go back to sleep with that?

                                                         -*-

I woke up a while later with the sound of the flight attendant offering dinner to another people a few seats ahead of us. I grabbed my phone and saw that we still had a four hour flight to Paris and sighed. Well, at least I had a giant warm pillow by my side. I tried sitting properly but Shawn wouldn’t let go of me, so I just gave up and relaxed against his chest, grabbing my sketchbook to look through it.

I got so lost in over analyzing my past few drawings that I didn’t notice that he was awake and looking through them with me. At least, not until I quickly went through one that I didn’t finish and he placed his hand over the page, stopping me from turning it. I looked up to meet his honey colored ones already looking at me.

“What?”

“What is this one?” He said extremely low due to the nap we took, making me warm inside.

“It’s nothing, I didn’t even finish sketching it”

“Is it us?” He said taking his hand from the page and looking at it.

“It was supposed to be, it’s a recreation of that picture we took at your place on Christmas, wrapped up in christmas’ lights”

“Why?”

“Dunno, guess I just missed you a little bit more than usual that day”

“No, why didn’t you finish it?”

“Oh, sorry, I... I guess it seemed odd to draw the both of us, especially because at that time we weren’t even talking because of...”

“Yeah, and I’m sorry about that”

“It’s okay, I guess, it’s over”

“She was wrong though”

“Your ex? Obviously, she was jealous for no reason, you’ve never seen me as more than friends”

“And neither have you”

“Yes, I know that, she didn’t”

“I made a lot of dumb choices, eh?”

“Yeah, you did, Shawn”

“And I wish I could just go back and fix them”

“Fix what’s not broken? You don’t need to fix anything, I’m right here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but you are hurt”

“Am I?”

“Honey... we need to talk about it, we’ll never go back to normal if we don’t”

“I don’t have anything to say, Shawnie”

“But I do, honey” he said taking a deep breath “I know I’ve been the shittiest friend in history, that you didn’t always come first in the past few months and I’m truly sorry for that. I’m also sorry for promising things to you that I didn’t keep, like always being there for you when you need me and stuff. And sorry for the ex girlfriends that made us go further apart, obviously for my mistake, but anyway, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that...”

“Shawn...”

“Please, Y/N, I really need to get that off my chest”

“And I will let you do that, is just that she’s...” I didn’t finish the sentence, just pointed to the flight attendant offering dinner.

“Oh, sorry” he said flashing her a smile that probably almost killed the poor woman. Yes, that’s Shawn Mendes effect.

We grabbed our trays, thanking her and placing them on the little table thing.

“Okay, keep going”

“Okay, and I’m sorry for everything I did you wrong, for example, not calling you on your birthday, just a quick text, but I just did that cause I was so ashamed of all of the things that I did to you, I almost didn’t come to this trip to not put any sort of pressure on you for forgiving me. But specially, the most important thing I should be apologizing for is for making you feel like you don’t mean the world to me and that you aren’t one of the most important women in my life, and I love you with my whole heart and I missed you like hell, and being away from you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my entire life. And I never want this to happen again. I’m sorry, Y/N, for everything”

I couldn’t breath. Really, all the air that was on my lungs simply disappeared. I just stared my shoes for what felt like a really long time.

“Honey? Y/N? Are you okay? Do you need me to leave?”

Oh, okay, it was a long time.

“Hm, Sorry, I’m just trying to, ya know, absorb everything”

“Okay” he said stating the back of the seat in front of him.

“Hey” I said placing my hand on his thigh squeezing it lightly “it’s okay, big guy, I’m not mad at you, I love you too, and it’s okay, I just figured we were going through different times in life and stuff... but it’s okay”

“It shouldn’t be, you should hate me”

“Not really, but I just can’t” I said and he placed his hand on top of mine.

“I love you so much, Y/N”

“You’re my best friend, dude, you kinda have to”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it” he said sighing.

“Isn’t it?”

“Of course it is, honey”

“Good, now can we eat? I’m starving” I said and he giggled.

“Yes, we can, Y/N”

After that, we chose a movie and started watching it. His hand made a discreet way to my knee, and I just looked at it, but didn’t say a word. The movie was a random rom-com movie and I can say it was starting to get boring, but since people around us were falling back asleep, we didn’t have much to do. I felt his fingers starting to come higher on my leg, stopping in the middle of my thigh.

“Shawn?”

“Hmm?”

“What are you doing?”

“Watching the movie”

“Hm, yeah?”

“Yup” he said popping the ‘P’.

“What’s the name of the main character?”

“Susan?”

“Yeah, you’re such a bad liar, where are you, big guy?”

“M’here”

“No, you’re not”

“I’m just... enjoying you...r company” he said tracing random figures with the pad of his thumb “I really missed you”

“What do you mean?”

“I just feel the need to touch you”

“Well, you are”

“I know”

“Do you mind?”

“Not really”

“Okay” he said squeezing my thigh and than grabbing both of them and putting them over his lap, pulling me even closer.

“Dear?” Karen called making us both jump in our seats “oh, sorry, didn’t mean to scary you”

“It’s okay” I said chucking and trying to take my legs from Shawn’s lap, but he wouldn’t let me move “what happened?”

“Nothing, I was just going to the bathroom and wanted to check on you guys on the way back, do you need anything?”

“We’re fine, mom, I think we can handle this”

“I know you do, sweetheart, doesn’t mean I don’t get worried”

“Well, everything’s great, Karen, thank you” I said giving her a smile, which she gave back.

“Okay, I’ll just go back to my seat, we have another two hours” she said going away.

“Shit, she scared me” I said and Shawn laughed “shhh”

“Oh shit, sorry”

“It’s okay, dummy”

And that’s pretty much how we spent the rest of the flight, laughing, talking and watching that movie.

                                                         -*-

A few hours later, we were already at the hotel, checked in and heading to our floors. Both of our parents were at the same floor. Me, Shawn, Flo and Liyah were almost at the top, both of our sisters were in the same room at the left of the hall, and me and Shawn were to the right, but each one in one room.

Five minutes after I closed the door, someone knocked on it, so I turned around and opened it. Shawn was standing awkwardly in the middle of the hall scratching the back of his neck.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

“Hm, nope, I thought maybe you needed some, with the bag and stuff”

“Well, I didn’t even take a look at the view, so I guess maybe? Well, you can come in, I don’t think I’ll be sleeping any time soon, we slept a lot during the flight”

“Yeah, exactly... so, where do you want me to place your bag?” He asked stepping into my room.

“Hm, there?” I said pointing to a random corner of the room and going to the balcony, opening the doors and heading outside, just staring at the view of the Eiffel Tower.

“Holy shit” Shawn mumbled behind me.

“Yeah, it’s so... magical”

“Mhmm” he said standing by my side “we’re lucky we both got his view”

“Really?”

“My room is right next door”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, I think we even have a door between them”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like that, Mendes”

“What do you mean?” He said flushing hard under the moonlight, making those stupid butterflies appear again, making me remember everything I’ve ever felt for him “honey?” He called making ME flush for being caught staring at him.

“Oh, shit, sorry, well, you always like to scare me randomly and stuff, so that would make things a lot easier”

“Do you think I’m twelve?”

“No, of course not, big guy, I’m 100% sure”

“Oh, please” he said rolling his eyes at me playfully and chuckling “let me check that door thing again”

I just laughed as he walked back to the room. I just leaned on the balcony railing, enjoying the view and the light breeze from the cold night, that was giving me light goosebumps. And for a second, just a little moment, I allowed myself to imagine what would be like to have something with Shawn. I mean, I’ve done that a lot when I was younger and stuff, but nowadays I just don’t allow myself to do that, not anymore.

But being with him would probably be amazing. He always do this thing where he just puts his whole heart into everything he does, especially when he loves it. So just imagine being with someone so passionate, and caring, and kind, and sweet, and smart, and hot as him. I just can’t see any bad points in it.

“What’s going on on that pretty little head of yours, honey?” Shawn said lowly next to my ear, making my heart skip a beat and almost die.

You see, I wouldn’t mind the closeness and stuff, cause that guy has no idea of what personal space means. BUT, I would always see it coming and prepare myself to not freak out. But I did not see him coming, and did not expect him to be right behind me, close enough so that I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck, since I was with my hair in a messy bun. His hands grabbed the railing in front of me, standing beside mine. Shit, he’s close.

“Nothing”

“Mhmmm, I don’t believe you” he said pressing his lips gently on my skin, making me bite me bottom lip to hold back a whimper.

“I... it’s nothing”

“See, it is something” he said rubbing the tip of his nose against the extension of my neck “I know you, baby, just tell me”

“I was just thinking how this trip would be a perfect scenario for me to be with someone... you know... romantically involved with someone”

“Oh” he said and I could feel his arms tensioning around me “anyone in particular?”

“Hm?” I said playing with my fingers but I felt one of his hands on my waist, turning me around to face him, but I just couldn’t, so I stared at our feet.

“So...? Anyone?”

“Oh, shit, sorry, no... not a single soul in particular, no one, no”

“Sure?”

“Yeah, sure”

“Yeah, don’t believe you right now, but I think I’m going back to my room to let you rest, you seem really tired”

“Do I?”

“Yes, you can’t seem to concentrate on what I’m saying, and you were staring at nothing in particular when I got here, so I guess you’re just tired”

“Yeah, that’s probably it”

“So... let’s go back inside?”

“Mhmmm”

“Honey?”

“Hm?” I mumbled looking up for the first time since he turned me around, and I regretted it almost instantaneously, why did he have to look so fucking good? And than he smiled, making me feel like my legs were turning into jello, making me grab his arms for support.

“Do you want me to carry you to bed?”

“I need to take a shower first”

“Okay, let’s do it like this, I’ll take you to the bathroom and I’ll let you shower and I’ll leave the door between our bedrooms open, so I can shower and come back before you, than I’ll tuck you in bed and go back to my room, okay? Sounds nice?”

“You’re perfect” I said without thinking and than flushing, because I noticed what just left my mouth.

He just chuckled wrapping his arms around my middle, taking me off the ground and to the bathroom, placing me on top of the sink. He went back to the room and returned a few moments later with my PJs, my shower bag and my bag of underwear.

“I’ll leave you to shower and stuff, and whenever you’re ready, I’ll be waiting for you in your room, okay, honey?”

“Okay” I basically whispered and he smiled, placing a delicate kiss on my forehead before leaving.

I just hopped off the counter top and locked the door, stepping into the shower a few moments later. A nice steaming hot shower later, I had my hair in a messy ponytail, makeup free face, lotion on my body, fuzzy socks and sweats on, and with that, I stepped out of the bathroom only to die a little more.

The room was already dark, only with the tv on, my things were nicely organized on the nightstand or on top of the suitcase, and Shawn... He was laying in the middle of my bed, with his curls a little damp, wearing his flannel plants and hoodie, barefoot, scrolling through some social media, oh so casually. God, he’s going to kill me without even trying.

“Hi” I said in a really soft tone, softer than I intended.

“Oh, hi, honey, are you ready for bed?” He asked and I just nodded “c’mere” he said opening his arms for me and I just crawled into bed with him, getting lost in the warmth of his body and scent.

“You’re the most caring person I’ve ever met”

“Thank you, I truly try to be”

“I know, and you are, and I love you”

“I love you too, Y/N, you have no idea”

Oh, I do.

“Thank you, for everything”

“You don’t have to thank me... but I won’t turn this into a discussion, so... what time are we getting up tomorrow?”

“Dunno, what time is it?”

“A quarter past midnight”

“8:30? So we can be downstairs at 9 am for breakfast? They said they’re going to leave the hotel at ten o’clock sharp so if we do this, we’ll have time”

“Yeah, that’s nice, but since I’ve been to Paris before, if you wanna do something separate or something they don’t want to, just tell me, and I’ll take you anywhere”

“Okay, great to know I have my own tourist guide” I said between a yawn and he chuckled.

“Okay, I really need to let you sleep” he said letting go of me and getting up, straightening the duvet on top of me and kissing my forehead “goodnight, honey, knock if you need me, okay?”

I nodded and held his hand.

“What, baby?”

“Thank you, for apologizing and making up for it, I missed you too” I said and he gave me a half smile.

“I’m still on the process, I hope someday I’ll be able to make it up to you”

“You already have... I... goodnight, Shawn” I said nuzzling on my pillow and letting go of his hand, but not before squeezing it lightly.

“Goodnight, Y/N” he said almost like a whisper as he left the room and I let the slumber take over me.

                                                         -*-

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I'll know if I'm supposed to keep posting this series thing.

*I'm sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo*

-🌙

[red-will]

I don't know what to do with good white people.

I've been surrounded by good white people my whole life. Good white people living in my neighborhood, who returned our dog when he got loose; good white teachers in elementary school who pushed books into my hands; good white professors at Stanford, a Bay Area bastion of goodwhiteness, who recommended me M.F.A. programs where I met good white writers, liberal enough for a Portlandia sketch.

I should be grateful for this. Who, in generations of my family, has ever been surrounded by so many good white people? My mother was born to sharecroppers in Louisiana; she used to measure her feet with a piece of string because they could not try on shoes in the store. She tells me of a white policeman who humiliated her mother by forcing her to empty her purse on the store counter just so he could watch her few coins spiral out.

Two summers ago, my mother showed me the welfare reports written about her family. The welfare officer, a white woman, observed my family with a careful, anthropological eye. She described the children, including my mother, as "nice and clean." She asked personal questions (did my grandmother have a boyfriend?) and wrote her findings in a detached tone. She wondered why my grandmother, an illiterate Black mother of nine living in the Jim Crow South, struggled to find a steady job. Maybe, she wrote in her loopy scrawl, my grandmother wasn't searching hard enough.

This faded report is the type of official document a historian might consult if he were re-constructing the story of my family. The author, this white welfare officer, writes as if she is an objective observer, but she tells a well-worn story of Black women who refuse to work and instead depend on welfare. Occasionally, her clinical tone breaks down. Once, she notes that my mother is pretty. She probably considered herself a good white person.

In the wake of the Darren Wilson non-indictment, I've only deleted one racist Facebook friend. This friend, as barely a friend as a high school classmate can be, re-posted a rant calling rioters niggers. (She was not a good white person.) Most of my white friends have responded to recent events with empathy or outrage. Some have joined protests. Others have posted Criming While White stories, a hashtag that has been criticized for detracting from Black voices. Look at me, the hashtag screams, I know that I am privileged. I am a good white person. Join me and remind others that you are a good white person too.

Over the past two weeks, I've seen good white people congratulate themselves for deleting racist friends or debating family members or performing small acts of kindness to Black people. Sometimes I think I'd prefer racist trolling to this grade of self-aggrandizement. A racist troll is easy to dismiss. He does not think decency is enough. Sometimes I think good white people expect to be rewarded for their decency. We are not like those other white people. See how enlightened and aware we are? See how we are good?

Over the past two weeks, I have fluctuated between anger and grief. I feel surrounded by Black death. What a privilege, to concern yourself with seeming good while the rest of us want to seem worthy of life.

When my father was a young man, he was arrested at gunpoint. He was a Deputy District Attorney at the time, driving home one night from bible study when LAPD pulled him over. A traffic violation, he'd thought, until officers swarmed his car with shotguns aimed at his head. The cops refused to look in his wallet at his badge. They cuffed him and threw him on the curb.

My father is mostly thankful that he'd stayed calm. In his shock, he had done nothing. That's what he believes saved his life.

I think about this while I watch Eric Garner die. For months, I avoided the video, until we arrived at another officer non-indictment. Now I've seen the video of Garner's death, as well as a second video I find even more disturbing. This second video, taken immediately after Garner has been killed by a banned chokehold, shows officers attempting to speak to him, asking him to respond to EMTs. They do not yet know that he is dead, and there's something about this moment, officers shuffling around as an EMT seeks a pulse, that is so bafflingly and frustratingly human, so different from the five officers lunging and wrangling Garner to the ground.

In the wake of this non-indictment, a surprising coalition of detractors has emerged. Not just black and brown students hitting the streets in protest but conservative stalwarts, like Bill O'Reilly or John Boehner, criticizing the lack of justice. Even George W. Bush weighed in, calling the grand jury's decision "sad." But even though many find Garner's death wrong, others refuse to believe that race played a role. His death was the result of overzealous policing, a series of bad individual choices. It would have happened to a white guy. The same way in Cleveland, a 12-year-old Black boy named Tamir Rice was killed by officers for playing with a toy gun. An unfortunate tragedy, but not racial. Any white kid playing with a realistic-looking toy gun would have been killed too.

Darren Wilson has been unrepentant about taking Mike Brown's life. He insists he could not have done anything differently. Daniel Pantaleo has offered condolences to the Garner family, admitting that he "feels very bad" about Garner's death.

"It is never my intention to harm anyone," he said.

I don't know which is worse, the unrepentant killer or the man who insists to the end that he meant well.

A year ago, outside the Orange County airport, a white woman cut in front of me at the luggage check. She had been standing next to me, and soon as the luggage handlers called next, she swooped up her things and went to the counter. She'd cut me because I was black. Or maybe because I was young. Maybe she was running late for her flight or maybe she was just rude. She would've cut me if I had been a white woman like her. She would've cut me if I had been anyone.

Of course, the woman ended up on my flight, and of course, she was seated right next to me. Before the flight took off, she turned to me and said, "I'm sorry if I cut you earlier. I didn't see you standing there."

I often hear good white people ask why people of color must make everything about race, as if we enjoy considering racism as a motivation. I wish I never had to cycle through these small interactions and wonder: Am I overthinking? Am I just being paranoid? It's exhausting.

"It was a lot simpler in the rural South," my mother tells me. "White people let you know right away where you stood."

The problem is that you can never know someone else's intentions. And sometimes I feel like I live in a world where I'm forced to parse through the intentions of people who have no interest in knowing mine. A grand jury believed that Darren Wilson was a good officer doing his job. This same grand jury believed than an eighteen-year-old kid in a monstrous rage charged into a hailstorm of bullets toward a cop's gun.

Wilson described Michael Brown as a black brute, a demon. No one questioned Michael Brown's intentions. A stereotype does not have complex, individual motivations. A stereotype, treated as such, can be forced into whatever action we expect.

I spent a four hour flight trying not to wonder about the white woman's intentions. But why would she think about mine? She didn't even see me.

In elementary school, my older sister came home one day crying. She had learned about the Ku Klux Klan in class that day and she was afraid that men in white hoods would attack us. My father told her there was nothing to worry about.

"If a Klansman sat at this table right now," he said, "I'd laugh right in his face."

My mother tells stories of Klansmen riding at night, of how her grandmother worried when the doctor's son—a white boy—visited her youngest sister because she feared the Klan would burn down their home. When I was a child, I only saw the Klan in made-for-TV civil rights movies or on theatrical episodes of Jerry Springer. My parents knew what we would later learn, that in the nineties, in our California home, surrounded by good white people, we had more to fear than racism that announces itself.

We all want to believe in progress, in history that marches forward in a neat line, in transcended differences and growing acceptance, in how good the good white people have become. So we expect racism to appear, cartoonishly evil like a Disney villain. As if a racist cop is one who wakes in the morning, twirling his mustache and rubbing his hands together as he plots how to destroy black lives.

I don't think Darren Wilson or Daniel Pantaleo set out to kill Black men. I'm sure the cops who arrested my father meant well. But what good are your good intentions if they kill us?

When my friends and I discuss people we dislike, we often end our conversations with, "But he means well."

We always land here, because we want to affirm ourselves as fair, non-judgmental people who examine a person not only by what he does but also by what he intends to. After all, aren't all of us standing in the gap between who we are and who we try to be? Isn't it human to allow those we dislike—even those who harm us—a residence in this space as well?

"You know what? He means well," we say. We lean on this, and the phrase is so condescending, so cloyingly sweet, so hollow, that I'd almost rather anyone say anything else about me than how awful I am despite how good I intend to be.

I think about this during a car ride last weekend with my dad, where he tells me what happened once the cops finally realized they had arrested the wrong man. They picked him up from the curb, brushed him off.

"Sorry, buddy," an officer said, unlocking his handcuffs.

They'd made an honest mistake. He'd fit the description. Well, of course he did. The description is always the same. The police escorted my father onto the road. My father, not yet my father, drove all the way home without remembering to turn his headlights on.

Brit Bennett recently earned her M.F.A. in creative writing at the the Helen Zell Writers' Program at the University of Michigan. She is currently a Zell Postgraduate Fellow, where she is working on her first novel.

[rhinoswriting]

A Life On The Road - Part 1 (A Luke Hemmings FanFic)

Overview: Elizabeth and Calum have been best friends since they were 15/14 respectively. Elizabeth is from and lives in the UK, but her family lived in Sydney for a brief 2 year period which is how the two met. 

With Calum’s band, 5SOS, embarking on their biggest and most ambitious world tour to date, he has invited Elizabeth along to work as a photographer/content creator for their social media. This is in the hopes that travelling with them and getting to explore so many new cities will help Elizabeth achieve her dream of becoming a full-time travel writer.

Elizabeth is acquainted with the rest of 5SOS but doesn’t know them tremendously well. Obviously that changes as they are all forced to be in one another’s company for the duration of the tour. As the tour progresses and new friendships blossom, Elizabeth feels the connection between her and Luke grow more and more.

A/N: This chapter is a lot of story set-up and introduces you to the protagonist.

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

I lent my upper back against one of the work kitchen walls and peered out of the window beside me. Any other day, the grey curtain of drizzle would have perfectly matched my work mood. But today was not a normal work day for me. Today was my last day in this hell hole. I was finally getting out of here to pursue my dream of becoming a travel writer. I hugged my mug of coffee closer, content in the knowledge that nothing was going to step on my good mood today.

“I cannot believe you are leaving me with these people.” Drew complained as he walked over and lent some of his weight onto my shoulder while cradling his own steaming mug.

“I am sorry that I’ll be leaving you here. I truly am.” I told him, and I meant it, “But you know as well as I do how much this place can drag a person’s mental health down. So when a best friend offers to let you piggyback off their career to help launch you own, you take it and make the sacrifice of abandoning your work husband.”

“I hate that you have a famous best friend.”

“Don’t be a bitter bitch,” I laughed nudging him in the side with my elbow.

Drew and I chatted for a minute or two more before making our way back to our desks at opposite ends of the office. When I got to mine I noticed that someone (probably my manager or Josie, the company busy body) had taken my second coffee break of the morning as an opportunity to place an envelope and small gift bag by my keyboard. As I placed my coffee down I noticed that the people on my bank of desks had swivelled their chairs, and thus their attention, in my direction. I also heard the tell-tale sound of high heels on cheap carpet tiles that indicated Josie was making her way over.

“Elizabeth,” Josie cooed in her usual fake friendliness, “I can’t believe it’s your last day here already! We did a small collection for you in order to say goodbye and give you something to remember us by. It’s been such a great three years and eight months working with you. We’re all sad to see you go.”

“Thanks, Josie. I certainly will miss how precise you are with details.” I said trying not to make my sarcasm too obvious.

I rummaged in the tissue paper hoping to bring this moment in the spotlight to an end as soon as possible. First I pulled out a small, sleek rectangle. Through the plastic window of the box I spied a matte black fountain pen -it was a genuinely lovely pen which surprised me. Next I pulled out a small bottle of Kraken rum -my go to with Coke on work nights out- which was followed by a second, identical bottle. The fourth and final leaving gift was a new 10 shot pack of film for my Instax Mini camera.

“Thanks guys...” I awkwardly addressed the room, “These are all really thoughtful and nice. I love the pen. Uhh, yeah, thanks again. Stay cool and all that cliche stuff.”

I promptly sat down and unlocked my PC to indicate that the show was over and I should now be left the fuck alone.

The company’s internal IM program was flashing at me in orange, indicating I had an unread message.

[Drew Clarke - 10:47 am]  I am so sorry they are putting you through this. You look so awkward. I can see you blushing from here.  It is hilarious though :’D I made such a big deal about the stupid pen they wanted to get you having to be matte black Also my leaving gift to you is that I have done everything in my power to ensure Josie knows nothing about your leaving drinks tonight

I responded with a simple gif of some character I didn’t know mouthing ‘thank you’ to acknowledge his last message and then went back to work trying to complete as much of my remaining work as possible.

The rest of the day dragged on as it would any other day of the week. The only difference was that I had the occasional desk visit from a colleague to wish me luck or let me know they’d be at the leaving drinks Drew had arranged for me that evening. 

And then Drew was at my desk before the clock had even hit 5 pm,

“Start packing your shit up then. We’ve got a bar to get to.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------

My leaving drinks were actually surprisingly fun. Which was as much of a good thing as it was a bad thing. 

It was good because who doesn’t love people buying them either shots or rum and cokes? Plus Drew and I had had a beautiful drunken moment where we gushed over how much we treasured each other’s friendship and would definitely, definitely stay in touch always, and who doesn’t love those moments? 

It was bad because I got in at 3:30 am, set an alarm for 6 am and left my house for the train station at 7 am with a hangover headache already brewing.

My morning then got worse when I remembered I had to change trains at Sheffield. Non-direct train journeys are enough of a pain without a hangover, rucksack, camera bag and 2-wheeled large carry-on suitcase to slow you down.

When I finally, and ungracefully, settled myself on the platform at Sheffield I glanced around to locate where I could get myself a coffee and some form of breakfast. I had a 50 minute wait until my next train so there was plenty of time to try and nurse my hangover with coffee and carbs before getting crammed into another train and eventually reuniting with Cal in Edinburgh.

I spotted a place on the next platform over with indoor seating and made my way to it. Once inside the warmth of the glass rectangle I grabbed a twin pack of almond biscuits from the counter display and ordered a large cappuccino as well as a breakfast bagel. I then went and dumped all my luggage (promptly followed by myself) down at the nearest table and waited for my name to be called over the mellow jazz music.

Once I had returned to my table with my breakfast order, I opened my phone to check my messages and view the photographic damage from the night before. As I sipped my coffee I opened my photos app and was pleased when nothing embarrassing immediately jumped out at me from the 50+ square icons of photos and boomerangs that I had very little memory of taking. Most of the photos were blurry and every single boomerang was a fail, so I deleted them to save storage space on my phone. There was a super cute selfie of Drew and I, with his fiance, Adam, photo-bombing us in the background. It made me smile so much that I set it as the lock screen on my phone.

Next I moved on to my messages. There we unread messages awaiting me from Drew, Cal, my mum and weirdly my now ex-manager.

Manager Si: Didd u mange t geet home ok?/?. Gd luk w everythin

Work Hubby: I miss you already. Hope you got home safe! Text me by midday so I know you’re still alive x

Mum: Good luck on this big new adventure of yours! Do not forget to call us when time zones allow. Your Dad and I will always b here to support you and cannot wait to see you succeed. Say hi to Calum for us. Mum & Dad Xx

Cal: Hey, hey! So stoked to see you later and have you come oN FREAKING TOUR WITH ME!!! See ya in Edinburgh! X

I responded first to my mum, because I was raised right. I flat out ignored my old manager’s drunk text. I assured Drew that I was still alive because if I was dead it wouldn’t feel like there was a gremlin hammering away inside my skull. I followed that up with a screenshot of my new lock screen. Finally, I replied to Calum:

Morning :) Feeling rough after my leaving drinks last night. Have I already begun my new rock n’ roll lifestyle?! So fucking excited to see you again!! You are not prepared for the hug you’re gonna get! X

With everyone replied to (or ignored in Si’s case) I put my phone face down on the table and tucked into my breakfast bagel. Then as I still had 20 minutes to kill I thought what better place to slap some make-up on than the middle of a train station coffee shop?

Looking and feeling more human, I made my way from the coffee shop to platform 4 as they announced my train was about to arrive. 

I hopped on carriage L, placed my luggage in the overhead rack and settled into my seat for the next 3+ hours. I quickly shot a text to my parents and Cal, letting them know I was on my last train. Then I pulled my noise cancelling headphones on, opened up a relaxing Spotify playlist and promptly fell asleep.

[starker-eternity]

Going Once, Never Twice

So I’m sitting down, watching a favorite musical of mine and I’m hit with a Starker drabble idea... wow, I need help. In other words, you know you’re in trouble when everything starts prompting fics/drabbles... Trying to write a soft, fluffy piece and my mind runs away screaming...

Pairings: Starker with background Stucky, Phlint, Thorki, Brutasha

Warnings: AU, no powers, kidnapping, inference to non-con/rape, human trafficking, characters aged up, dark avengers

****

NEW YORK CITY

In the hallway of the building, the squeaky wheels of a cart could be heard as it was pushed by the closed doors. No one paid it any mind if they heard it, background noise as it was. As it neared its destination, music could be heard coming from behind the door that it stopped at. The European folk music that was playing completely covered the slight noise of a key being slid into the well-oiled lock and the door opening.

A young, auburn-haired woman was sitting on a couch in the living room, back to the opened door. She was humming along to the music playing as she was browsing on a Stark tablet.

All of a sudden, hands came into her vision before her face was covered with a sweet smelling white cloth. The woman struggled for a brief minute before her body went limp. A pair of strong, leather covered arms lifted the sleeping woman and deposited her body into the waiting cart. The music was turned off and the apartment was vacated, squeaking wheels echoing in the hallway.

****

STILL NEW YORK CITY

Ned laughed at MJ’s latest quip about Flash’s latest embarrassing debacle at Columbia University, the prestigious university that all three attended. Flash Thompson was one of their high school tormentors that unfortunately followed them to the same place for higher education. The guy was a Class A Douchebag, but he was sadly also intelligent. Luckily for them, he was too busy being a “small fish in the suddenly bigger pond” to give them much trouble.

As they passed a smaller newsstand, one of the dying breeds that sold physical papers, both young adults waved to Mr. Lee, the owner. Neither paid the loud headlines “HOW MANY MORE WILL GO MISSING?” from the local newspapers any attention.

Ned opened the door to their apartment building, The Priscilla, and was about to hold it open for M.J. when her raised eyebrow made him think better of it. Knowing her disdain for “gallant gestures”, even if they were more suited to be labeled “general politeness”, Ned rushed through the door and M.J. followed. Both automatically headed to the front desk to see if they had any mail waiting on them.

As they neared it, both noticed a young man standing at the desk, two medium sized suitcases and a back pack lying on the floor next to him. Ned took note that the man was a respectable height, with a head full of chestnut curls. His body seemed to be on the leaner side, but hard to tell as it was covered up by a shapeless tan sweater and baggy jeans. MJ was more interested in his non-descript luggage, trying to see if she could deduce where he was from without asking.

As both young adults stopped near him, the young male turned and gave them a shy smile. “ Hello,” he greeted, his voice light and cheery.

“Hi!”

“What’s up loser?”

The young man looked surprised by MJ’s caustic greeting, so Ned quickly rushed to assure him. “Don’t mind MJ, that’s how she greets everyone she doesn’t find currently offensive. It means she might like you if you don’t do anything incredibly stupid.”

The other man’s smile grew strained as he replied, “That’s both encouraging and terrifying really.”

MJ stared at him for half a minute before she gave a smirk and declared, “Cool. I’ve decided you can hang out with us. You know, if you want. I’m MJ.” She shook his hand briefly before turning her gaze on Ned.

“Oh! I’m Ned. MJ and I live on the 14th floor, apartments 1402 and 1404.”

Ned shook his hand as the brunette started to introduce himself. “Pleased to meet you, I’m Peter -“

“Here’s your ID back, Mr. Parker. Everything seems to be in order.”

Ms. Hill, the front desk manager, interrupted the introductions, coming back to the counter from the back room. In her hand was the aforementioned ID, which she handed back to Peter. As Peter busied himself with putting his card back into his wallet, Ms. Hill turned to Ned and MJ.

“Afternoon Mr. Leeds, Ms. Jones.”

“Afternoon,” they both chorused.

“I see you’ve already met Mr. Parker.” As they both nodded, she continued to state, “Excellent. He’s moving in today. Short notice, but lucky for him we had a vacancy. If he has any questions and can’t reach someone at the desk, he can ask either of you. Makes my job easier. He’s actually your neighbor as he’s leasing apartment 1403.”

Both Ned and MJ looked at each other in surprise. Ned spoke his thoughts first, “1403? Wasn’t that leased to Wanda Maximoff? She just moved in!”

Ms. Hill looked at Ned, a slightly annoyed look on her face. “Wanda Maximoff just moved out,” she replied. “Said something about missing Europe too much and not being able to handle Americans very well.”

“Wow,” MJ murmured. “She didn’t even give it a chance.”

Ned and MJ shrugged at each other while Peter stood by, his fidgeting fingers a clear indication that he was slightly uncomfortable. MJ looked back at Ms. Hill and asked, “Mail come yet?”

“Mail was delivered, always something for you two,” she said, even as she was leaving the counter to retrieve it.

Ned looked at Peter and explained, “Mail is delivered to the front desk everyday and the building staff sorts it for everyone. Since the desk is usually manned 24/7, you just ask for it.”

Ms. Hill came back and handed a few envelopes to MJ and several to Ned. “Looks like your mother wrote you, Ms. Jones and there seem to be several letters from Ms. Brant, Mr. Leeds.”

Ned blushed, but said, “Yeah, Betty’s on her 6 month Humanities Internship and has no access to email or WI-Fi. Snail mail is her only option. Luckily her handwriting is much better than mine.”

“You still have to send her replies, dork,” retorted MJ.

“Oh, that’s right,” Ned replied, his expression falling for a moment.

Ms. Hill shook her head slightly before looking at Peter. “Will you be receiving regular mail from family members or significant others, Mr. Parker?”

Peter smiled sadly at the older woman before shaking his head. “I don’t have anyone to write to me,” he explained. “My parents died when I was 6 and my aunt and uncle died last year. I don’t have any known family left.”

Ms. Hill’s gaze suddenly grew sharper at Peter’s words. Her body straighted and she suddenly seemed much more interested in the conversation. Peter noticed this immediately, but dismissed it as neither Ned nor MJ seemed to noticed. Ms. Hill looked him straight in the eye as a slightly creepy attempt at a sympathetic smile crossed her lips. “So sad to be all alone in the world,” she murmured.

Peter nodded and dropped his gaze from hers. He was uncomfortable, but didn’t want to insult the staff of his new landlord on the first day.

“Well, make sure to come to our social Friday night, Mr. Parker. I’m sure you’ll make dozens of new friends,” assured Ms. Hill.

“Yeah, and we’ll help introduce you to everyone on the 14th floor,” cheered Ned. The trio moved away from the desk, Peter moving to grab his suitcases and backpack. He followed the other two to the bank of elevators, a necessity in a high rise building.

“So the 14th floor? How many residents are there on the one floor?” Peter asked Ned as the trio waited for a lift to arrive.

“Actually it’s the 13th floor, but the complex was built by superstitious engineers. They didn’t want to label the floor with the unlucky number 13, so they skipped it and labeled it 14 instead.”

As the arriving elevator doors slid open, allowing the three to enter and began to close, MJ could be heard saying, “And according to urban myth, the hotel is actually built on an ancient burial ground. Some say they can...”

Maria Hill waited until the trio was definitely gone before she called out, “Jasper? Come man the desk. I’ve got to talk with Fury.”

****

MALIBU

Genius. Billionaire. Playboy. Philanthropist.

All tags that accurately described the 35 year old man that sat in the conference room, signing some digital paperwork. Impeccably groomed and well-dressed, Tony Stark was a man that exuded wealth and privilege. His genius was not a trait detectable with the naked eye, but anyone who owned a smart phone or tablet clearly held the results of just two pieces of his work. Of course he was a philanthropist, he had to constantly work on his public image. Not only for the good of his company, Stark Industries, but also so that nosy paparazzi didn’t focus on other things that went on in his life.

Playboy. Naturally his other titles encouraged every gold digger and fame seeking maniac to accost him. Men and women, he loved them all. But after almost two decades of flitting amongst the debutantes and trust fund babies, Tony was tired. He wanted to settle on a more permanent arrangement. Something similar to what his friends had. Alas, he hadn’t found “The One” yet.

His friends.

Tony looked around at the men and woman he chose to surround himself with. All with talents and gifts of their own, they had all combined their resources together to form Avengers Incorporated. AI was a company that just about had their fingers in every pot. Military weapons, espionage, technology, bio-engineering, pharmaceuticals... the list went on. Stark Industries was his legacy left to him by his father, but Avengers Incorpoated was his baby. And it was because of some of the work done by AI that the government and law enforcement turned a blind eye to darker activities that might cross their paperwork and desks concerning the founding members.

Tony cracked his neck before setting his tablet down and said, “Well, congrats to us, Gentlemen and Lady. We’ve just closed the deal that will net us an easy $500 million in profit.”

Smiles were shot his way as the others wrapped up their paperwork. “I think we deserve some R&R,” he declared. “Let’s escape to The Compound for a few weeks. Let Pepper and her team earn their ridiculous salaries and hold the fort down. Bring all of your partners.”

Natasha, a fiery red-head, gave Tony a sharp grin. “It’ll do Bruce some good to get out of his labs for a bit. He won’t admit it, but he’s getting stressed.”

Phil, head of AI’s legal legions smiled softly. “Clint’s been such a good boy lately, he deserves such a treat.”

Tony swiveled his head towards the other two men in the room. “How about it, Point Break? Buckaroo? Steve and Loki are the newest pets to the group. They good for an escape?”

Thor frowned, but he agreed, “Loki needs some discipline work. It would be good to get him isolated where I can devote my full attention to his conditioning.”

James, or Bucky to his friends, nodded his head. “Steve’s not completely there yet. It would do him good to interact with Bruce and Clint. See that it’s okay to surrender. Little punk keeps trying to test the boundaries,” he added, his tone fond despite his criticism.

Natasha turned to Tony, “What about you?”

Tony grinned at her, “ I’m sure I can find -”

Tony was interrupted by a chime coming from his phone. It was a chime that was echoed simultaneously by every cell phone in the conference room. The tone was unique, easily recognizable by everyone present. With raised eyebrows all around, each adult took out their phone and opened the text they all received.

AUCTION LOT 23-WM-PBP. 5 Min. Click link if interested.

Tony leaned back in his chair, even as he clicked on the provided link. He was prepared to be disappointed, as the last several dozen offerings had left him uninterested. As the link was loading, he noticed the others putting away their phones. Made sense, after all they had already won their auctions and had their prizes. No need to look anymore for them.

As the link opened on his phone, Tony took one look at the provided pictures and nearly fell out of his chair.

Perfection.

Clearly pictures lifted from an ID card and from a surveillance camera, the details were still captivating enough to knock the breath from him. Whisky-colored doe eyes stared up at him, almost teasing beneath a delightful mop of chestnut curls. Pale skin, complimented by smooth lips in an adorable grin, teased with a light brushing of freckles across an impish nose. A full body shot hinted at a lithe body, but gave no more tantalizing details.

Tony felt interest immediately spike in his lower regions, just from looking at those lips. He could already imagine those eyes filled with shining tears as those lips were wrapped around his cock. A red collar would look stunning around that pale neck. He eagerly absorbed the provided basic details.

AUCTION LOT 23-WM-PBP

23 year old Caucasian male.

Name: Peter Benjamin Parker

Status: Orphan

Current Location: New York City, USA

Height: 5’10”

Weight: approx 167lbs

Hair: brown

Eyes: hazel

Availability: immediately

Starting Bid: $100,000USD

Tony clicked on the provided link, which he knew from experience would redirect him to a secure server that housed the auction house, Black Noire. He was going to win this auction, no matter the price. And he was absolutely sure it was going to skyrocket.

As he waited the few precious minutes before the bidding frenzy went live, he glanced up at his friends. By now, they all had noticed he hadn’t put his phone away in disinterest, so their curiosity was piqued. He smirked, waggling his eyebrows, watching as delighted smiles crossed his friends’ faces.

Another soft chime echoed from his phone, indicating bidding was now open. As he confirmed his first of what he suspected would be many bids, Tony couldn’t help the already possessive chant going through his mind.

MINE.

[duncvns]

Numb Like Novacane

Summary- After you get into some trouble, your parents send you to rehab of sorts. Except this rehab was a month, without any electronics and no contact with the outside world. Oh, and with the man you’ve been fantasizing over for your entire life. Duncan Shepherd. 

Words- 4377

Warnings- Age gap, drug use, explicit drug use, degradation, teasing, deepthroating, unprotected sex, slight non-con, sex under the influence, everything is consensual and cocaine doesn’t affect your decision-making process

Notes- I wanna give a special 🙏 to @gremlinkween for reading through this and giving me suggestions (i absolutely love you asher😪❤) 

You knew it was wrong. You told yourself it was wrong. Every time you thought about his sinful lips, those long fingers so capable of pinning you down, and that painfully slow, thick voice, it sent shock waves down your spine. You were holding back. It felt so wrong but at the same time, you didn't give a damn how naughty it was. All you knew was that you wanted him so bad. It was damn near criminal in society's eyes. A nineteen-year-old fucking a twenty-four-year-old just sounds... dirty.

He was your brother figure. He held your small infant body when you were born, promising to watch over you and be your human shield from the wrong-doings of society. However, that plan went to shit when he was shipped off to boarding school. He got into some trouble and you two drifted apart, only exchanging a text or call every once in a while. He relocated to DC and you stayed in your less than exciting small town you spent the entirety of your life skulking around.

Duncan Shepherd was only everything you loved in a man- beautiful, lanky, powerful, and (even though you hated to say it) rich. He carried an aura of power anywhere he went, making anybody who he associated with, fall under his spell. He could wave his finger, and at least ten women would be tripping over their overpriced pumps to fetch anything he asked for. Who wouldn't, the man was breathtaking. So incredibly beautiful in every aspect, even the way the man walked managed to stir up excitement within the pit of your stomach.

He had men and women fighting for his attention, just begging for those majestic green-blue eyes to lock on them for even a split second. He didn't even notice how many people wanted him. The man was oblivious, just thinking he attracted so many people because of his charm. Sure, he was charming, but people were interested in his looks, his oh-so-powerful smirk, and that little thing he did with his tongue that, personally, drove you wild.

It was a little over a year ago when you started dabbling with drugs. The group of friends you hung around, promising the illegal substances would make you 'popular'. Of course, being the naive teenager you were, desperate for popularity, you sucked in a deep breath and snorted that line of fine, white powder. Immediately, you regretted the decision when a white-hot chill ran through your veins. Your head was light and all you could focus on was the warm fog that clouded your vision.

You stumbled home that night, a delectable mix of hard vodka and cocaine pulsing through your veins. Tears pricked your eyes as you kicked the front door open, hating yourself for being so susceptible to pressures. Your parents didn't even notice you've come home as you slithered up the steps, almost tripping over your worn converse.

The next morning, you were a mess. Vomit coated your tongue and the front of your shirt as you rolled over, the unforgiving morning sunlight burning your sensitive scleras. A low groan slipped from your throat as the burn in your stomach grew even more painful by the second. You looked down, the converse still adorning your feet as you rolled off of the mattress.

That night, you went out with your friends again, this time even more cocaine and vodka clogging up your bloodstream. You eventually grew used to it. You started to enjoy it. You even found a hookup through one of your friends. Every day when you came back from school, you would toss back a glass of cheap vodka, reveling in the burn before blowing a line of your favorite white dust.

Your parents caught onto your behavior. You wouldn't get up for school, too hungover to even roll off of the mattress. Police attention bloomed around you after you endangered a life driving under the influence. Thousands of dollars in jail bonds later, your parents finally decided to confront the issue head-on. They tried everything. Rehabilitation, boarding school, even homeschooling, etc.

Nothing worked.

You just went straight back to your old habits.

Your parents knew how much you missed Duncan. they were even positive that him leaving caused you to spiral out of control. They were right, somewhat. You did miss Duncan, you missed seeing him every day, you missed his voice, his smell. His memory drove you crazy and the only time you could get any peace was when you were high or drunk. They thought the only thing that might sober you up was time alone with him. He was strict, and once he found out about your addiction, he agreed to let you stay in his elaborate DC penthouse just for a month. Just long enough to get through withdrawals comfortably.

That's where you were now. Standing outside of the large glass skyscraper with your suitcase fitted tightly in your hands and your mother standing directly to your left. You didn't know exactly what to feel. On one end you were ecstatic to finally have some alone time with the man you swore was the love of your life, but on the other side, this was your punishment. Being locked in an apartment all day with a strict Republican didn't sound like a party.

The large glass door of the complex swung open. Your eyes flitted up to see who caused the action when Duncan stepped out, his gray trenchcoat blowing in the breeze. He looked just like you remembered him. Tall, lanky, brown hair, scruffle, absolutely, painstakingly handsome. All you could think about was the pretty pink vibe you hid in your luggage for when Duncan got to you a little too much. His cool blue-green eyes met yours, a mix of disappointment and excitement hidden under the color. He walked to your mother first, wrapping his long arms around her shoulders and pulling her into a hug. They exchanged a quick welcome, making up briefly for all the lost time.

He straightened up and turned to you, gaze still slightly disappointed. "Long time, Y/N." He cleared his throat. "I missed you,"

"Yeah..." You nodded. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in for a hug similar to your mothers. You tapped his back awkwardly as his deep, expensive scent filled your nostrils, sending your head swimming. "Don't think I'm pleased with you," He murmured before snatching your heavy suitcase from the concrete heavily. You rolled your eyes as he walked towards the door before turning back around. He waved farewell to your mother before holding the glass door open for you. You walked in with your tail between your legs like a kicked puppy.

"I'll be checking this bag, and once we walk through that door, your phone is mine. Am I clear?" You groaned audibly, the thought of losing your electronics for an entire month not sitting well with you. "Are you going to ignore me?"

"Fine. Yes, I get it." You snarked, crossing your arms across your chest. He shook his head before unlocking his door with a brass key fitted in his pocket. He swung the door open before walking in, of course holding it open for you to walk in. He dropped your bag at the entrance, making sure the door clicked shut behind you. He held his hand open to you expectantly. You look down to his hand and shrugged, not really knowing what he was getting at. "Your phone."

"Jesus fuck." You sighed, fishing in your pocket for the device before slamming it in his hand. "There,"

"Thank you." He slid it in the pocket of his coat before turning and walking further into the home. The penthouse was modern. White walls and glass fixtures littered the space elegantly and you looked around. Duncan stopped abruptly in front of a door, almost causing you to ram into his back. "This is where you'll be staying. The door doesn't lock, so don't try it." His large hand wrapped around the knob before pushing it open, revealing a mainly white room with a few black accents situated proudly in front of you. The sleek queen bed stood proudly in the middle, sandwiched beside two black end tables. Tasteful paintings littered the wall, giving the room a general aura of wealth.

"There's a bathroom beyond that door. Again, it doesn't lock, so try even try it." He placed your suitcase down on the heated marble flooring, ushering you in.

"Duncan, are you fucking serious?" You raised your voice ever-so-slightly. "I'm 18 years old and I can't even lock the bathroom door?!"

"Oh, calm down, you drama queen. At least I didn't remove the door,"

"Well, you should've." You huffed, glaring back at the beautiful scenery in front of you.

"Ok, then I will."

"Wait! Duncan, I was kidding," You quickly retorted. He chuckled slightly before turning towards the door.

"I will give you a little while to settle in. Although, I do expect you to be out in the living room by five." You nodded, finally glad to have some alone time for the first time today. He quirked a smile before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. You took a minute to just... breathe.

You would be staying with your crush for over a decade for an entire month, as a punishment. In a way, you were being punished. Duncan was acting like such a bitch, and you didn't have any electronics, and the sense of privacy in the modern hell-hole was slim to none, but you'd rather be here than at some facility for drunks.

You brought your suitcase over to the bed and unzipped it, numerous shirts and jeans folded neatly inside. You dug through it, the clothes tossed until you found it. Your candy pink vibrator nestled deep in the corner of the luggage. You placed it on the bed before continuing to dig, your fingers snatching up a baggy of cocaine. Quickly, you licked the tip of your finger before burying it in the bag, a tiny amount of the substance transferring onto your finger. You swiped a bit of it on your gums before sucking your finger clean. You could already feel the warm hum in your mouth that you missed so much as you stuffed everything back in your bag.

You collapsed onto the bed, its sheer softness knocking the breath from your lungs. You traced patterns onto the bedsheets, Duncan's scent still enveloping you wherever you went. It was nauseating in all the best ways. You found yourself drifting off to the thought of him.

-

You've been with Duncan for a little over a week. It wasn't horrible, per se, but it wasn't fun. You were cut off from the world, only being able to call your parents on Duncan's phone, and when he gives his permission. Your small supply of coke was running thin and you could feel the withdrawal of the alcohol already hitting your body.

Duncan was strict. You had to be in your bedroom precisely at ten and he would awaken you at nine in the morning. He was suffocating, your entire sense of privacy being stripped from you. During the night he'd crack open your door and see if you were sleeping. If not, he'd scold you on the effects of not getting a full night of sleep. You'd grumble a quiet 'fuck off' before burying your head in the pillow and drifting off.

He worked from home while you were there. The point was to never leave you alone, even if he needed to go shopping, he would have it delivered or drag you with him, no questions asked. Sometimes, if you were lucky, he'd treat you to dinner at an overly-expensive restaurant and actually spend some time conversing with you. It was nice really, being treated like an actual adult instead of a disobedient child. Sometimes, if you were good, he'd sneak you a bit of his wine and make you promise to not tell anybody. You'd giggle an 'okay' and down the entire glass, reveling in the small amount of alcohol it held.

You found yourself fantasizing over him again. At night you would stare up at the ceiling, thoughts of Duncan running through your mind. How he would get out of the shower and sometimes walk out into the house, a small towel wrapped around his waist leaving very little to the imagination. You'd have to shut your eyes, willing the undesired arousal away. He preferred to walk around the house semi-nude, either in his towel, or his very tight boxer briefs.

Sometimes the man made you want to bang your head against a fucking wall.

A cool chill ran down your spine as you stared haphazardly at the TV playing some random show you didn't much care for. Duncan was, of course, in his office typing furiously at his desktop, trying to cram as much work he could before he got too tired. You were so bored, it physically hurt you. Usually, when your boredom reached its peak, you'd walk into Duncan's office and just annoy the shit out of him before he'd yell at you to leave.

You unraveled your legs from their unnatural position of the couch before venturing to the closed double doors of his office. You contemplated knocking but you know he'd just ignore you to tell you to 'shoo'. The door creaked open softly, the golden light spilling into the dark hallway. You could see the back of him, his hair disheveled from running his hands through it one too many times. His back muscles were tense as he typed quickly, an audible sigh escaped his mouth as he continued, not even noticing your presence.

Your footsteps were quiet as you inched towards him, the clacking of is keyboard growing louder and louder by the second. You lightly traced your fingers over his shoulders, only the tips of your nails dragging over the fabric of his black turtleneck. "Go away, you see I'm busy," He barely acknowledged you, his computer swallowing the lot of his attention.

"But you're always busy," You whined, turning his chair around and sitting on his lap. He cursed under his breath, murmuring how he never could get any work with you around.

"Because I have a fucking job that needs to be done. Just because I'm babysitting our defiant ass doesn't mean I'm going to put my job on hold." He forced you up before turning back to his laptop. You watched him work quietly for a couple of minutes, his eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated. You thought he looked absolutely delicious when he was stressed. The small bite in his throat when you talked back to him and the tiny stress line in his forehead made you just want him even more, if that was possible.

"Duncan," You stalked behind him, resting your head on his shoulder.

No reaction.

You tried again, whining needily in his ear, only to be ignored once again. You huffed in annoyance before leaving the office in a frenzy. You wanted to cry but you also kinda wanted to get high. As soon as you think you're over your unhealthy addiction to the man, he does something to change your mind and it drove you crazy. Even if it was something as simple as droning your name out in warning.

You swung open your bedroom door, making sure it closed before falling to your knees and reaching behind the bed, where you kept your stash, safe from Duncan's prying eyes. You could feel the arousal bubbling in the pit of your stomach as you ripped open the small baggy of your drug of choice. You saved this for times like these when you just needed to be distracted.

You dumped the contents of the bag onto the sleek black bedside table, forming it loosely with your nimble fingers, as you were too lazy to find a razor; Duncan probably hid them anyways. Quickly, you dropped your head closer to the fine powder before sniffing the toxic substance in, already feeling your body numb with pleasure.

You collapsed onto the bed, letting the euphoria set deep within your veins. Just as you thought, any and all thoughts of Duncan left your mind, the only thing present was the delicious slow-searing burn of the drug working its way into your system.

You kept like that for hours, humming happy tunes before Duncan called you out for dinner, as he did every night at the exact same time every night. You wondered if he actually cooked tonight as you made your way into the dining room. 'No', you told yourself. 'Duncan doesn't cook'. You giggled haphazardly as you stumbled into the room. He wasn't anywhere in sight, probably preparing your plates in the kitchen.

Gracefully, you tried to sit in one of the chairs, only to miss completely and fall on your ass with a yelp. Duncan walked into the room, two plates of chicken and pasta balanced in his hands. He looked down and saw you on the floor, struggling to stand up with a sigh. He set the plates down on the table before lifting you up quickly and setting you down in the chair. "I didn't cook, I hope that's ok," He murmured, sliding the plate over to you slowly.

"Duncy! You never cook!" You grabbed onto the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer towards you. "I bet your food would taste as good as you do," he stared at you, mouth agape. He stood up quickly, capturing your face in his hands as he studied your eyes, noticing your dilated pupils.

"You're high, aren't you?"

"......no..?" He squeezed your jaw harder, a scowl curling onto his face.

"You....brought drugs, into my home?" You could feel his warm breath on your face and suddenly you were a little too hot. "Answer me!" He bellowed, eyes hard with anger and disappointment. You gasped lightly, the outburst stirring excitement within your core. You've noticed, that when you're high, the slightest situation could have you on your knees, begging for cock.

"'m not high," You crossed your legs together, alleviating the dull ache between your legs, so prominent that it was almost painful. You bit your lip seductively before boldly reaching your hand to stroke Duncan's crotch. He scoffed and pushed your hand away. "Duncy, please?" You whined, painting a frown on your face.

"You're high... and you want me to fuck you?"

"Pretty please?"

He ignored you, scooping you up from under your arms and carrying you deftly into your bathroom, setting you down on the edge of the bathtub. "Undress, now." You nodded slowly, biting your lip as you peeled off your clothes, watching as Duncan filled up the tub with cold water, hoping to shock you and bring you back down.

You put on a show of pulling off your clothes, biting your lip and wiggling your hips as you slid your panties from your legs. He kept his eyes locked on the water slowly filling up the marble bathtub, ignoring your attention-seeking moans. He ran his hands through his hair as he ordered you to sit in the water. You stepped in quickly, hissing at the cool sensation before settling down.

"Don't think your parents aren't going to hear about this," He grunted as he used a rag to wash you, mercilessly scrubbing the flesh until you were red. "I knew I couldn't trust you; I knew I should've checked all of your fucking bags when you stepped foot here." He pushed you forward, scrubbing your back until, once again, it was red and raw.

"You should punish me, Duncy, I've been such a bad, bad girl." Once again, you reached your hand out, boldly palming his crotch through his black skin-tight jeans.

"Is that what you want?" He dropped the rag into the water before wrapping his hand around your throat, roughly pulling you towards the edge of the porcelain wall. "Is this what you've been acting like a fucking heathen for? Walking around the house in nothing but a sweatshirt and those sinful knee high socks, blushing and crossing your legs innocently when I walk by?" His lips trailed down your neck, teeth grazing your sensitive skin lightly.

"Maybe all this time I wanted you to bend me over your desk and show me just how much of a bad girl I've been," Your breath was warm on his skin. He hummed, biting down suddenly on your collarbone. You yelped, the bathwater splashing loudly from under you.

"Shut up, you fucking slut." He growled, kneading a handful of your chest roughly. "This is what you wanted, wasn't it? For me to fuck you raw?" He gave your neck one final bite before standing up abruptly. He unbuckled his belt, sliding it through the loops before wrapping it around your neck, pulling you closer to his crotch. "Go and get it,"

Instinctually, your hands traveled up his legs, only to be slapped down. Duncan tsked lightly before repeating himself. "I said go and get it." You huffed in annoyance, finally picking up his hints. You pulled his fly down slowly, the deft sound bouncing off of the tile. He popped open his button and shoved the tight pants from his hips.

Your mouth watered at the sinful sight of his cock, wet and straining against his tight boxer briefs. You never thought you'd ever be this close to what you've yearned for ever since you knew just how badly you wanted this man.

With his belt, his lead you to the bulge. You opened your mouth, running your tongue over the salty fabric, humming lowly at the taste it left on your tongue. You could hear him hiss quietly above you, eyes watching every flick of your soft, wet tongue. "That's enough," He let up on the belt holding you in place before pulling his boxers down, his hard cock springing free from its constraints. You moaned audibly, the tip angry and flushed, leaking small beads of pre-cum. Duncan pressed the head to your lips, which you quickly parted, desperate to feel the weight of his heavy cock on your tongue.

He wound his hand around the belt before pulling you further onto his dick, gagging you. Your eyes watered and your stomach clenched but you couldn't care less. The man of your dreams was fucking your mouth, and you couldn't get enough. He guided your mouth with his belt, secured on the back of your head. He was deaf to your gags, the only thing he was focused on was the warm sensation you were leaving on his cock, sending his legs weak.

You would never tell him this, but you this was your first time sucking cock.

And holy hell, were you good at it.

Tears dripped down your neck as his dick slid in and out of your throat with no resistance. You steadied your hands on the slippery bath wall for purchase, accidentally gagging yourself when your hands would slip. After one too many times of that happening, Duncan pulled you off of his cock, his peak reaching closer and closer by the second. Your eyes followed his every movement, curiosity (and arousal) piqued.

"Get back in the tub, hands, and knees," he ordered. Quickly you slid into position, hands slipping against the water drenched floor. Duncan was quick with his actions, not wasting a single moment if it wasn't needed.

"Duncan are y-"

"If you slip, you'll be sitting on eight inches of my cock, so I'd recommend you not move," A rush of wetness pooled in your cunt at his words. You were so close to feeling him inside of you, that you could feel the heat radiating off of his flushed tip.

The breath was knocked from your lungs as he pushed in ever-so-slowly, hissing at the sheer tightness of your unstretched walls. A high-pitched breathy moan parted from your lips as he slid in, inch by inch until you were filled to the complete brim with his cock, the head brushing uncomfortably against your cervix.

"God, you're so fucking tight. The tightest I've ever fucked." He groaned, steadying himself before pulling back out slowly, easing your walls open for his thick member to slide in and out easily out of.

Your eyes were squeezed shut tightly, teeth biting into your fleshy bottom lip to the point of blood draw as he bottomed back out inside of your leaking cunt. A steady stream of your wetness kept straight down your thighs and into the water, mingling with the soap and pre-cum already in the tub.

His thrusts became quicker as you opened up for him, the only thing audible in the room was the quick sound of skin slapping skin and the delicious harmony your moans and grunts made together. All you could focus on was the hotness of your orgasm approaching and the crisp contrast of the freezing cold bath water just barely keeping your body from over-heating in sheer pleasure.

Duncan's thrusts became uneven, his grunts louder and deeper as he plowed into you, his only mission is his release that was so close he could almost taste it. Without warning, he pulled out, a long groan falling from his lips. He let his load fall onto your lower back, watching as the sticky substance dripped down your ass, mingling with your arousal.

You slumped against the wall, sweat dripping from your face as you took a couple of deep breaths, steadying yourself. You watched Duncan from the corner of your eye, watching as he stepped out of the bath water and straight into the shower, turning the warm spray on. The water cascaded down his body quickly, almost making you want him again, then and there.

He cracked open the shower door, his hair heavy and dark with water as it fell in his eyes, he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear over the white noise,

"Clean yourself up. And I don't want to see you for the rest of the night,"

Tags-  @icylangdon @langdonsrapture @lvngdvns @wroteclassicaly   @ccodyfern @michael-langdon-appreciation @langdonsdemon @queencocoakimmie  @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @katiekitty261 @sojournmichael @langdonsoceaneyes @jimmlangdon @holylangdon @xlangdons-evilbabygirlx @1-800-bitchcraft @ladynuwanda