#i don’t think i’ll ever get back to the same level of love with van der stoffels

[peaceoutofthepieces]

what if i did a 180 and fucked around and finished the prince jens fic for my mental health

[adventures-of-the-creeping-bam]

NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM,  BOOK FOUR: THE HUNT - CHAPTER 30

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Boof 4 Chapter 1 is here …

IMPORTANT:  Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

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CHAPTER THIRTY:  GAEL

The moment the door opens and Vandryss steps inside I know I’m going to die.  I don’t even have to see the particular look on her face to know that this does not bode well at all for either myself or my father, it’s clear enough just from all the noise we’ve been picking up from outside.  Even with the door locked tight I’ve still been able to keep vague track of what’s going on out there, first hearing raised voices from barked orders and what I assumed was a distinctly increased level of concern.  Then much more muffled sounds of struggle and violence from above, as well as more than one particularly large percussive crash that shook the building hard enough, even from all the way down here, that I almost lost my own footing.  And now, finally, shouting from much closer, just outside, including more than one voice I recognised.

At least for a few moments, I was starting to hope, slender as it may have been.  Hearing Shay in particular, it was almost a relief.  Da was a good deal more worried up until then, finally giving up on trying to think of his plans for our escape, or more likely just my own, and instead simply starting to unburden himself as he saw the end potentially approaching for both of us.  He told me that he loved me, that he was so proud of me, that he couldn’t possibly imagine me turning out any more amazing than what he saw before him now.  It was almost enough to make me cry, even as I tried hard to keep his spirits up, telling him we could still get out of this, that my friends could well win through out there.  Certainly it sounded like a possibility.

Now, as Vandryss immediately focuses on me and her brows just start to knit while her lips draw thinner than I’ve ever seen them before … honestly, even if they are winning out there I’m already doubting I’ll actually live to see our victory.  Then I realise that Tavarrat’s stepped in with someone I don’t know in tow, and turns her key in the lock to seal us in before finally stepping into the room proper.  Looking a good deal more fretful than her companion, breathing hard in something approaching shock while her eyes are wide.  As though her mind’s not really here right now.

I take a big step back and the wall’s right behind me, I can’t go further.  Sucking in a deep breath, I raise my hands, trying to come up with something to say that might defuse the mood that’s already pervading the room, but nothing comes.  Not that I could think anything up, I’m getting to know this horrible woman well enough to guess that she’ll do whatever she wants no matter what I say.

Vandryss watches me for a long beat, her eyes slowly narrowing as she looks me up and down, then back up again, her jaw clenching and loosening over and over again just as her fingers keep clenching into fists and relaxing again.  Finally she takes a step forward, then stops, hissing:  “Damn it!”  low but very full of venom.

“We can’t … Van, I can’t just leave him!”  Tavarrat’s clutching her staff tightly, pacing over the same few feet back and forth while she’s staring at the door.  “This isn’t right … I can’t do it.  He’s going to … please, I need you to help me –”

“For fuck’s sake, Luthan!”  Vandryss snaps, turning to give her a sharp sidelong glare while her fists clench again.  “He told you to go!  He’s fucking right, we need to go.  He’s buying you this chance.  Do you want to waste it?”

Gods, this cruel bitch … as much as Tavarrat has burned all her opportunities to make me feel sorry for her, I can’t help feeling some small sympathy all the same hearing that.  But I hold my tongue, trying my best not to draw unnecessary attention right now.

“Yes, you should leave.”  My father strikes up now as I hear the clink of his chains as he starts to draw himself up into a more upright sitting position, at least as much as he can manage given how exhausted and broken he is.  “You should … truly, it sounds like your time’s running out quickly now.  You could all just disappear now, and I’m sure that you’ll be able to get away.  I’m certainly not going to try chasing you.  Not right now.  Perhaps not at all, if you left us both unharmed.”

She doesn’t quite bare her teeth as she turns to him, but Vandryss gives him a sour look all the same as she takes a step his way now.  Even though I really don’t think he’s even speaking to her, I suspect those words are meant more for Tavarrat right now.  Trying to appeal to the more rational of the two of them.  I’m sure he’d find it painfully hard to speak so civilly to our constant torturer after all she’s done to both of us in this room.

The third one … I’ve never seen him before, but one glance at him tells me he can’t be one of their regular henchmen.  The handful I’ve seen in my time here have a somewhat uniform look, motley as they all seem to dress and style themselves.  This one … to be honest, he almost seems more akin to the kind of company I keep these days.

He’s a half-orc, young and quite strapping really, although while he’s broad and solid across his shoulders he still seems somewhat leaner than some I’ve come across in my time, built more for speed than strength.  He’s definitely every inch the fighter his kin are, though, this much is obvious at a glance.  Dressed in a somewhat slapdash mixture of boiled leather and battered pieces of splint armour, the only truly uniform gear he’s wearing is a strange buckskin kilt, long to his knees, more pieces of splint steel stitched across the loose flaps.  I’ve never seen fashion such as this, and I’d be hard pressed to imagine what it’s actually intended for, even if I was more martially minded to begin with.  Mostly I’m just concentrating on how he’s armed right now, anyway, judging how much of an inherent threat he is, seeing a battered longsword hung at his hip and a substantial collection of smaller blades strapped about him too.  Enough to make me think he graduated from a similar school of thought to Kesla when it comes to his steel.

For the most part he just seems confused by what’s going on in here now, like he doesn’t know why they’ve brought him in here in the first place.  Genuinely baffled, in fact, looking Vandryss over with a regard which seems equal parts wary suspicion and badly concealed dislike.  This is enough to convince me that he must be one of the Mallys’ people instead, which makes sense given his obvious sellsword garb.  Not necessarily an enemy in this then, at least not in this specific moment, but unlikely to be an automatic friend either.

“You might want to hold your tongue, Foxtail.”  Vandryss hisses now, stepping closer to my father now.  “I have no further reason to keep you alive now.  In fact it would be far wiser for me to simply kill you now, before we leave.  Sever any ties we might have left here now.  Remove a threat before it presents itself, perhaps.”  She leans close, bending at her waist while she plants her hands on her hips.  “Both of you.  You might be better off begging me for some mercy, at least for your child.”

The half-orc blinks at that, turning to look at me now, and as he does so his frown starts to turn into something more complicated … open worry, I realise after a moment.  I don’t know what that’s about, but it gives me some hope, just a sliver, but better than nothing.

“I don’t see why.” Da growls now, and when I turn back I see he’s regarding her with a particularly desolate look on what’s left of his face that’s not still swollen and bruised.  “You’ve offered none to us so far, only torture and threats of much worse.  You’ve laid your intentions bare and I know any offers you make are as hollow as your cruel, black heart.  I know better than to beg mercy of a monster, Vandryss.  I just want you to see some bloody sense.”

Straightening up, she takes a small step back and turns enough I can make out her face again, and when I see she’s actually smiling I go cold.  Gods … somehow that feels like the worst sign I could possibly see in this situation.  “Sense?  Really?”  She chuckles for a moment, and it’s a discordant, twisted sound that makes my skin crawl, as unsettling and simply wrong as everything else about her.  “That’s fucking rich.  All right, I’ll look at the situation with a modicum of sense.”  She shifts her weight as she taps her chin for a few beats, gazing up at the ceiling in what feels more like a mockery of consideration as a genuine act.  “Hmmm … you know what?  I do see sense.  The sense in doing the smart thing right now.  For us.”

Her sword’s out so fast I don’t have a chance to react as she lunges forward and stabs him.  By the time I’ve realised what’s happened she’s already withdrawing, and I start to run forward, only for the half-orc to react first and scramble forward to wrap me up in powerful, thickly muscled arms, holding me as fast in place as if I was caged with iron too.  I start struggling immediately, but he just tightens his grip so I can’t even move, never mind reach my father as she steps away from him, whipping her sword off to the side to shake off his blood.  Before stepping back to stab him again.

This time I find my voice enough to cry out, no words but just a grating, broken howl that immediately hurts my still tender throat, and even though I already know this is pointless I try to break free regardless.  I’m no more successful than the first try, all I can do is sob as I watch my father gape down at the gushing wounds through his chest in pure shock.  He tries to speak but nothing comes, just a ragged, winded gasp that sounds horrible.

Giving her sword a few more expansive flourishes to the side, Vandryss turns away from him before sheathing it again and stalking up to Tavarrat, who’s still pacing back and forth as she gawks at the door.  She reaches out and grabs the rogue wizard’s shoulder, roughly turning her around as she grabs the other and immediately starts shaking her.  “For fuck’s sake … snap out of it, just stupid bitch!  We have to go!  Get your shit in order and work your fucking magic!  Now!”

For a moment Tavarrat just stares at her, her mouth working but nothing coming out, so Vandryss just lets go with her right hand and winds up to slap her very hard indeed across her face with a truly savage backhander.  It hits her hard enough I don’t doubt she’d go straight down if the pale woman wasn’t still holding onto her like grim death, and as she reels back, taking another long beat to focus, I see her lip’s split and bleeding badly.

“Oh … ow … Van, I … what are you –”

Vandryss shakes her again for good measure, then finally releases her to stumble for several shaky steps before she finally finds her balance again.  As she frowns before starting to cast about, finally finding her staff and bending to collect it again, she spits a little more blood out on the floor and groans before grunting:  “Ah … damn you … all right, just give me a moment, for Minerva’s sake.”

Hearing her invoke our beautiful goddess that she’s so gravely sullied with her awful treachery finally loosens my tongue, and I just unleash upon her, feeling my face flush as the heat rises from the anger surging through me, making my head swim with noise.  “Oh you bitch … you wicked evil bitch,  how dare you use that name in our presence?!  Have you no fucking shame?  You’ll burn in ten thousand hells for what you’ve done, I promise you!  Minerva will never forgive you for this!  You’re cursed, I swear it!  You’re fucking cursed!”

She rounds on me now, wide-eyed, watching me for a long, drawn out moment as her grip tightens on her staff.  Then her face hardens and she turns away quickly, hissing something I can’t make out under her breath before shaking her free hand out.  “Damn it … come on then.  Let’s just be done with this.”

“All right, then …”  Vandryss hisses the words, and as she steps close to me again I look down at her hands to see they’re working again, clenching and loosening like before, suggesting that she’s preparing to draw one of her blades and stab me too.  Oh gods … no, I’m not ready, I can’t … no, I have to see him again, I have to tell him –

Clearing her throat, Vandryss steps close enough I can almost smell her horrible breath again, standing up straight enough she almost doesn’t need to crane to look up into my eyes.  Suddenly she seems alarmingly calm, but right now that really does feel worse.  “We’re going now.  You, what’s your name … oh never mind, I really don’t care.  When we’re gone, kill this one.  I really don’t care how, I just want you to make it slow.  I made a promise to her father, after all.  Make it hurt, make her suffer.  Some humiliation wouldn’t go amiss, either.”

As she backs up, starting to turn to join Tavarrat now, I feel the arms around me start to loosen, not enough for me to break free, but still noticeable.  His breath is hot on my ear as he speaks, sounding flustered now, and I detect a subtle accent in his speech, nothing so thick as the half-hob cleric’s but clear enough.  Abharet, I should think.  “”What are you … no, I don’t reckon I will, there’s no way –”

Turning back, she looks right past me now with hot, blazing eyes, giving him a truly savage look now, and it’s enough to chill my blood all over again.  “Yes you fucking will.  You owe us, I’ll remind you now, you stupid little boy.  Your useless bitch of a leader already agreed to this, she’s obliged and so are all of you.  So if I tell you to murder this little bitch here, and do it slow, in the worst way you possibly can, you will do it.  Or I promise I will have every single one of your friends die in the worst ways I can possibly imagine.”  She steps closer now, craning again, more to get to his height as her eyes seem to bulge now, she’s staring at him so hard.  “Do not test me, boy.”

Whipping around without another word, she stalks straight to Tavarrat and takes her hand as it’s offered … then they’re gone in the blink of a half-glimpsed dimensional doorway that seems to close right through them both as the wizard utters her incantation, and we’re left alone in relative quiet now, just the two of us.

For a long beat nothing happens, I just wait here in his still iron hard grasp as he breathes more heavily against my back now, and even though I can’t see his face I can feel the tension in him all the same, the indecision.  I’m about to speak, thinking perhaps I could try appealing to his better nature, he certainly doesn’t seem like an evil person, any more than the other two I’ve met from his crew seemed to be.  Then he lets go and I almost fall forward onto my face, it’s so sudden that I’m entirely unprepared for it.

Instead I stumble forward for a few steps and then, as soon as I’ve caught myself, turn on the spot and rush straight to my father.  I fall to my knees just before I arrive and reach out, my right hand going to his face while my left hovers just shy of his wounds, hesitant to probe these awful gaping breaches in his flesh that already look to have spilled so much of his blood into his lap.  I’m sobbing again, my vision blurring as the tears come, and when I speak now my voice is already cracking, my sore throat suddenly thick.  “Oh da … oh my gods … what did she … oh no, please don’t … what can I … I can’t … what do I do?”

At first he just sits there, still gasping and heaving as he tries and very much fails to drag in fresh breath, and it’s immediately, painfully clear to me why, she’s run him clean through both of his lungs.  Even as he’s bleeding like a stuck pig they’re both filling with blood, and he’s drowning right here where’s he’s sitting.  When he finally musters enough strength to try talking all that he can manage is a rasping, choked wheeze and a little splash of particularly bright, bubbly blood that splatters my face.  This only makes me cry harder, and now I can’t speak either.

Then I hear the subtlest hissing whisper of steel on leather behind me, and two slow, hesitant footfalls, and when I look up into my father’s eyes I see them grow wider as they look above me.  Behind me.  At what’s approaching my back.  I already know what I’ll see before I turn to look.

“I’m sorry … please, just … I’m sorry.  I got no choice.”

The half-orc’s drawn his sword now, and while the blade is made from just the kind of workmanlike steel I expected it still looks strong enough for the job, and the edges and sharp, needle-fine point have been kept wickedly keen too.  It’s an implied threat all on its own, despite his reluctant, troubled face and locked-off stance, sword dangling low at his side as though he’s not already committed to what he’s about to do.  But he still takes another step towards me, and I hear my father wheeze again, trying to speak with greater urgency now.

Meanwhile I get up, very slowly, and as I turn towards him I raise my hands, just as gradually, wary of making any sudden moves now as I start to take similarly careful steps to my side.  “Okay … all right, Master … no, I’m sorry, I don’t know your name, can I have your name, at least?”

Frowning a little, he pauses for a beat, licking his lips as he watches me.  “I … what?  No, I … I can’t just … Kuth.  It’s … it’s Kuth …”

“Kuth.”  I roll it around my mouth for a moment before repeating it.  “Kuth … it’s very … it’s good to meet you … um … sorry, yes … well met, Kuth.  I’m Gael.  Gael Foxtail.  You seem like a smart, careful, kind boy, you really do.  I’m sure you are.  You don’t want to kill me, you’ve already made that clear.  And I definitely don’t want to die, Kuth.  I’ve done nothing to harm you, and so far, I’m sure you haven’t done anything to harm me either.  So there’s no reason for any of this.  You can just put that away and leave, or you could even help me, perhaps … help me save my da, I don’t want him to die either … please …”

“No …”  he grunts, taking a more focused step towards me now, his frown deepening as his jaw tightens, and now he raises the sword as he takes another step forward.  “No.  No, I … no.  I can’t do that.  She’s right, I got no choice, I gotta kill you.  You don’t understand, we’re stuck, Dram said as much, none of us got any choice in this.  I have to kill you.  I’m sorry …”

“Please …”  da manages to choke out, but it makes him cough up significantly more of that awful bubbling blood as he does it.  “Don’t … please don’t … not my … not my … please …”

As Kuth looks to him for a moment I take a few quicker, more urgent steps to the side and push myself back towards the wall, waiting until my back’s to it before finally stooping to pick up a big handful of the chains still attached to the bands around my wrists.  When he turns back and sees me here now his face darkens considerably, his eyes starting the inexorable roll from yellowed amber to deeper red as he bares his teeth and takes a bigger, more focused step towards me.  Then another …

On the third he sets foot on the exact spot I was hoping, absolute praying he would, and in that instant I send up a silent prayer to Minerva that this actually works, otherwise I know I’m going to die.

Ever since I was last left alone in here with da, I’ve been wracking my brains, desperate for any way to get us both out of this horrific situation, the slightest possible tactical advantage I could possibly muster.  There’s almost nothing at my disposal, Tavarrat has done a remarkable job of severing both of us from all of our magic with these invocation fetters, even without the chains lashing him to the pipes da would still be as helpless as a kitten, and I am too.  Or at least that’s what they all thought.

Perhaps it’s just that she’s so much further removed from her time in the Academy than I am, my own extensive, intensive magical education still so usefully fresh in my memories.  Or maybe she just overlooked it in her overconfidence.  Whatever the case may be, she missed one extremely subtle flaw in her logic that, if it does work, will allow me to circumvent the fetters’ deadening in one key way.

When Kuth puts his foot down on that third step, he steps on a sigil I drew on the hard stone of the floor, under a piece of carpet I was able to prise up and then tack back down, and completes an otherwise inert magical circuit.  When they first came back there were a few moments where I worried they might have rumbled me, that Vandryss at least, with her uncanny, horrible ways, might have caught on, might have smelt it if nothing else.  Keyed in on the smell of still relative fresh blood in the air, perhaps …

Partly it was just that I have nothing else to write in, Tavarrat stripped me of my components as well as my robes so I have no chalk or charcoal to draw lines on any surfaces.  But in fact the blood is very much the key in this.  I’ve explained this to Kesla more than once, I remember, that blood is the most powerful component we have in magic.  So I rubbed and tugged and scraped my left wrist as much as I could, chafing and abrading it against the cuff over and over until it bled.  I hoped I could pass it off as just desperation, trying to yank my hand out after all, if they did see it hopefully they’d just chastise me for being so foolish as to try something so pointless.  Instead they missed it, clearly distracted by far more pressing matters going on outside which they were desperate to run from.  Meanwhile I now had the perfect ingredient to make this work.

Because the invocation fetters only deaden my magic, they don’t destroy it, I still have it flowing through my veins, dormant but ready and waiting for me to unleash it, I simply can’t while these bonds are clamped around me.  But when my blood is outside my body, I can at least use an otherwise inert cantrip to set up a booby trap that someone could blunder into and activate without even realising it …

Despite the thin, cheap carpet laid over the top of it, I still catch sight of the sudden flare of bright blue light as the sigil keys in under his foot, and I feel the throb of the sudden activation pulse through me as my own otherwise deadened blood responds in sympathy.  The first Kuth knows of anything happening, however, is when bright, crackling arcs of dancing static race up his limbs with blinding speed to quickly encompass his entire body, shocking him to his core.  For a few moments he stays where he is, shuddering and quaking in place as all of his muscles seize up at once while the immense power of several miniature lightning bolts lance right through him … then the charge shorts out and he just sways for a moment, stiff and still as he smokes heavily, before finally dropping backwards like a felled tree.

I stay where I am for a long beat, watching closely as I slowly drop into a tight crouch.  Not quite holding my breath, but I can feel my heart pounding in my chest even so, the potential threat of violence still hanging in the air enough to keep me anxious.  Then I finally start to relax by increments, hoping that maybe it’s done enough damage to at least put him out of commission for a while.  I doubt he’s actually dead, he’s still pretty big, and a half-orc to boot, they’re notoriously tough.  But hopefully that’s still it from him, at least for now.

So I take a deep breath and start to inch forward, approaching with caution as I lean forward into a low, wary creep towards him.  I’m easing my way around him, close to his sword arm now, when he suddenly gasps, as if he’s only just started breathing again, and his hands finally uncurl from fists so his sword finally clatters to the floor beside him.  It’s enough to make me jump, springing back on my tight flanks, and I clutch the bundled chains close to me as I watch him for another fraught, nerve-wracking moment, waiting to see if he moves again.

He doesn’t but after another moment he starts to groan, very faintly, a long, low note of profound pain.  I have to clench my jaw tight and purposely ignore him now to keep from feeling profoundly sorry for what I’ve just done, instead inching towards his sword now, reaching for it with due caution.

The moment I touch the hilt it burns my fingers horribly, the pain is genuinely shocking, like accidentally putting my hand on a stove I had no idea was blazing hot, and I almost fall on my backside pulling back this time.  I give my hand a furious shake with a wounded hiss, before sticking all of my fingertips in my mouth and sucking on them hard, feeling fresh tears pricking my eyes again.

Then da coughs again and tries to speak:  “Gael …”  Once more he descends to coughing, but tries to muddle through.  “Oh … go.  You need … to go … go now.  Don’t worry … about me …”

As he pitches another coughing fit which brings up even more blood, I wince in sympathy while my chest tightens along with my throat and my tears start to run free again.  “Oh, but … no.  No, what about … I can’t just –”

“GO!!!”  He manages to snarl the word, and then just vomits up even more blood.  More coughing follows, wetter than before and a good deal more ragged, and with each spasm of his chest more blood spills from his ragged wounds.  I almost defy him, wanting to return to him so badly, to try to plug those holes, but I know I have no way to stem that awful flow, the only hope for him now is out there, if my friends really are fighting their way through to us now.  Which I know they must be …

So I start to move for the door, carefully picking my way past the sprawled form at my feet, swiping my cleaner sleeve across my face while I take a big, snotty sniff.  “All right … but I’ll be right back.  I’ll get –”

A very hot hand grasps my ankle before I can get all the way past and I go down long before I have a hope of catching myself.  It jogs my shoulder badly when I land, and while it’s long since been healed from when I broke it last week my body seems to remember the pain all the same, and it’s bad enough to make me cry out.  I suck in a desperate breath and yank my foot free of those steely fingers, starting to kick away from him now as he rolls over with a wounded groan and blinks bloodshot eyes that take a moment to focus on me.  But he’s still got too much of his old strength in him as he reaches for me now, and I shuffle back as fast as I can on my backside, desperate to clear as much distance as I can from him before running for the door.

Except that I forgot about the chains in all this confusion, so when he grabs hold of a handful of trailing links he yanks me over onto my side again and starts to tow me towards him again with alarming speed.  Looking supremely angry now as he gnashes his bloody teeth, growling senseless gibberish that nonetheless manages to sound terribly threatening.

Lashing out as soon as I’m close enough, I crack my boot-heel as hard as I can across his face, but this just produces a furious little snarl as he spits a little blood and, from the look of it, a few teeth.  He loses his grip, but nowhere near as much as I’d like, barely giving me enough slack to start pulling away before he renews his efforts and works on towing me back again.

So I do the only thing I can think of in the moment, with the only weapon I have to hand.  Picking up a long coil of loose chain, I wind it up behind my head and give it a good sharp twist before snapping it into his face.  It strikes him across the bridge of his nose with a savage, clinking snap, and he lets go immediately, cradling his now well-broken nose with both hands as blood starts to spurt between his fingers.  He utters another hollow moan as he doubles over, while I take full advantage of the distraction to roll over and shove myself to my feet, already starting to bolt for the door.

The chain snags again before I even get close to it, and this time I’m moving fast enough that it jerks me right off my feet.  I don’t have a chance to catch myself as I tumble backwards, landing hard enough to batter all the air out of me while my head spins for a long moment as I try to shake some sense back into it.  By the time I’ve rolled up into a sitting position I can feel the chains start to tug on me again, and I scramble to scrape up as much of the remaining span as I can, digging my heels hard into the carpet under me now as I take up my end of the slack.  Only now feeling the angry, sore line of hot pain across my tongue where I bit it when I crashed down, tasting blood filling my mouth which I spit out without care for where it actually goes as I finally start to get angry.

For the first few moments I manage to hold myself there, but I can’t drag in any more of the length strung out taut between us as it becomes clear that, even after the massive jolt I gave him, he’s still a good deal stronger than I am.  I wind as much of what I’ve still got as I can around my forearms as I lean back and tense my legs as much as I can, but within moments my shoulders and back and thighs are screaming at me and the links start cutting into my hands.  Then the carpet starts to tear under my heels and I realise this just won’t work.

When the threadbare material under my feet finally gives out entirely and rips loose in one long frayed strip right under me, he starts to drag me back so forcefully I spin right around before I can catch myself.  I feel the cheap weave burning my arm right through my sleeve and back as I’m pulled right into his grasp, and as he starts to rear up on shaky knees I kick out to try and fend him off.  It doesn’t do anything, it’s like kicking a solid oak log wrapped in boiled leather.

Letting go of what little chain I’ve still got in my grip, I just start pummelling him with my fists as he starts to awkwardly straddle me.  I make contact at least half a dozen times, landing two pretty decent punches in his face that nonetheless don’t seem to much of anything, he just batters my hands aside and rears back to swing down and crack me across my face in return.

It's like stars exploding in my skull, a bright flash before everything turns into dancing lights and a kaleidoscope of crazy colours that I’m slow to realise is my vision gone all kinds of blurry as it spins wildly.  I try to will my arms to work enough to strike him again, but I can’t feel much of anything beside the dull but bright ache across the whole lower half of my face so I have no idea if I even make contact this time.  The next thing I do notice is when he grabs hold of my collar and pulls me up off the floor just enough to shove me back down good and hard, slamming me into the floor with enough force to thump out all of my air again.  I’m left lying where I am, wheezing violently, as my senses finally come back to me.

Just as he leans down and, almost leisurely, curls the fingers of both hands around my throat.  In the back of my mind I hear some small part of my cry out:  Oh for the love of the gods, not this again! … but mostly I just become immediately, desperately aware that I’d barely had any chance to get any air back in my lungs in time before he did this, so within moments I’m starting to suffocate as he proceeds to choke me.  Squeezing with even more force than Vandryss used before, I can already feel the tendons in my neck starting to bend and tear under the sheer force of it.

Within moments I’m fighting for my life, my legs kicking violently underneath him while I try to batter his arms away, but it’s like fighting two worryingly thick spans of solid steel, it only hurts me.  Meanwhile my lungs are burning and my head is swimming while my vision starts to dim and compact into a narrow tunnel edged with red-rimmed black.  I can hear my father trying to cry out from a thousand miles away, but mostly I just hear that awful rushing sound in my ears, just one of the many things I hoped I’d never experience again that are all coming at once expressly to torment me now in my final moments …

Looking up through that narrowing hole of existence at his face now, slipping further away as I watch, I can see he’s not really there anymore, he’s just a mask of furious rage, his green-skinned face flushed dark while his teeth are clenched tight and his eyes bulging.  Their irises are even more red than the blood still streaking his teeth and smearing his lower face, there’s no more sense in them now than mercy.  Right now he might murder me without even realising he’s doing Vandryss’ bidding after all …

I don’t even realise I’ve reached out with my right hand, not even knowing where I’m grasping, until I find one of the knives at his flanks and drag it free to plunge into his side.  There’s a moment of resistance that’s probably the armour under his arm, but this pops after a beat and the blade slides in with a strange hot sizzle that’s my first indication that the knife is just as hot as the sword was before.  The pain comes a moment after as I feel the hilt sear my palm and fingers, but I just grit my teeth and push it as deep as it’ll go, right up to the hilt.

This doesn’t seem to have much of an effect, so I just drag it out and drive it right back in again, more forcefully this time so there’s less resistance, and I keep doing it over and over, waiting for him to finally notice.  It must take at least a dozen quick, deep punctures in his side, from waist to armpit, before he starts to falter, but the grip at my throat barely slips, and I realise now that I have seconds before I pass out, and then I know I’m truly fucked.

So I don’t bother with the side this time, instead drawing the knife back to jab up into the side of his throat, just under his broad jawline.  Again I drive it in right to the hilt, giving it a little twist as the blood starts to jet furtively under my curled thumb.  Some of it hits me in the face and I wish I could turn my head under that brutal grip, but he still doesn’t relent.  So I grit my teeth tighter and work on forcing it across the front of his throat, following the line of his jaw as I try to open the whole thing up all the way across.  If I had any air left in me I would scream with the effort.

This time enough blood splashes my face that I immediately go blind, tasting it too as it pours down my throat while I gasp from the suddenness of the spray and the shock of it filling my eyes.  But this seems to be the final straw as he reels back, his hands jerking away from my throat to leave me coughing and spluttering as I almost vomit up the blood I’ve already swallowed.  Dragging in massive lungfuls of air that make my aching throat and tortured lungs burn, I swipe my free sleeve across my eyes to clear enough of the blood from their lids to start blinking again, and when I’m finally able to look up again I see him stumble away.  The moment my legs are free I scramble back with my heels and elbows, still gripping the knife in my tightly locked fingers, watching him grasp his gaping throat, trying to stem the flow as a truly awful gurling sound issues from his severed windpipe.  In truth I’m a little amazed I actually managed to carve right through that …

He starts flailing his way towards the door now, but he must be losing a pint of blood with each pumping spurt of his ruined throat and his limbs are turning to jellied rubber, threatening to spill him onto his face with each failed effort to stand.  Watching his withdrawal I feel my anger flare, and I don’t even try to fight it, jumping up to charge forward on admittedly clumsy legs myself, mostly just stumbling onto him now.  As I flounder across his back I clumsily mount  his hips and rear back with the knife gripped in both hands now, finally unleashing the scream I was previously denied as I bring it down in a forceful stab between his shoulder-blades.  I can’t tell if it’s this or just the weight of my landing on him that finally bears him down, but he collapses while I drag the knife out and stab him again, doing the same over and over again long after he’s stopped moving.

I don’t even register the pounding on the other side of the door until something gives and it spills out of its frame, seeming to yield in the very top corner I originally predicted.  Seeing this is what finally breaks me out of my catatonic action, slumping onto my elbows as I gawk with a slack jaw at the door crashing to the floor with a particularly large woman on top of it.

Kesla, grunting with visible pain as she grasps her side while flashing her white teeth wide as she thumps down and then bounces before finally settling and rolling over onto her back, whimpering a little as she does so.  For a long, drawn out beat I just look at her, not quite able to believe she’s really here, but then the last of my lingering resolve breaks and I slump forward as I start bawling.  Finally crashing as the adrenaline that fuelled my desperate battle for survival peters out and the tears come to drown me right here, doubled over on what must surely be a lifeless corpse.

Eventually I feel a strong hand touch my shoulder, soft and hesitant, while I just shiver and sob with my face pressed against the tough leather on the late half-orc’s back.  Ragged and wet, I start to realise, as sense starts to return to me, warning me I must have my face laid right where I’ve been stabbing away with the stolen knife.  Getting covered with the still warm blood seeping from the wounds.  Not that I care much.

The touch at my shoulder grows firmer, and it doesn’t make me start, I know well enough who it is without having to look up.  So when those steely fingers start to search for a better grip before finally curling around my upper arm and then start to pull me off the corpse’s back, I don’t fight it, I just let it happen.  Finally catching sight of my friend as she pulls me into her lap.

Seeing Kesla looking down at me now, in significant pain even though I can’t see any real damage despite the state of her, but still just relieved to see me, almost kills most of my sorrow right now.  I reach up to touch her face, I can’t help it, even now I still need that tactile reassurance she’s really here.  She reaches up and grasps my hand with her own and starts to smile, a little tight from her pain but still so warm even so, and I think I might see a little moisture starting to well in her eyes too.

Then I remember what’s happened in here, and in particular beyond my own experiences, and I stiffen as the tears start to come again in earnest.  “Oh … oh no, Kesla you have to … you have to help him!  Quickly, he’s hurt!  It’s so bad, Vandryss, she …”  My voice breaks now, every word I say is like prickling needles inside my throat and it all comes out in ragged croaks, it’s a miracle I even manage to say that much before it just turns to sobs again.

Looking up, Kesla must catch sight of him almost immediately as her eyes widen and she stiffens too, only to wince as soon as she does.  Even so, she still turns around enough to shout out behind her, betraying so much more pain in her voice now.  “Shit!  Shay!  SHAY!!!  GET SOME HELP IN HERE!!!  RIGHT NOW!!!  Get Krakka, ANYBODY!!!  Just DO IT!!!  QUICK!!!”

Now she curls up and pulls me further into her grip, wrapping her arms around me as she hugs me tight, and as I sink into the warm familiarity of her embrace I just start to go away.  The floodgates open again and I let all the grief and terror and just pure sorrow of all I’ve been through these past few days spill out of me, all at once.  She squeezes tighter in response, letting me get it out, and it’s enough to let me know I’m finally safe again …

TO BE CONTINUED ...

[haley-cassandra]

I don’t think we’re breaking up tho. We’ve talked a lot about it, I’ve not tried to justify or make it okay in anyway. A lot of listening going in on my part. We had tequila for breakfast, and rum when the tequila ran dry.

This just sucks because like. I don’t know what to do. Do I make the decision to leave or do we stay and work try to work on it? Is it going to hurt him more in the long run or is it going to help him if we break up right now? One thing I do know for absolute certainty is that it would crush Connor, but I don’t want to think about that because we try to keep him separate from our relationship issues because there’s never a need to drag a child into the middle of that, they’re not pawns.

And his friends already hate me, and I literally just had to stop being friends with Bek because he really hates her. And like. Now I’m on tumblr, typing. Because it makes me feel better, I think?

I don’t know if I even want to be in a relationship with him anymore if he can’t trust me and his reasoning for not trusting me is valid and justified. But I’m not the same person I used to be, and that doesn’t take away from the fact that there are repercussions for my actions and that’s literally what this is. The only real question I can think of is am I willing to set my pride down again so he can rebuild trust in me. And it sucks because “again? FUCKING AGAIN?” Like. Yes. Again. I’ve fucked up a lot in this relationship. A lot a lot. And like I do not want to ask him to be in a relationship with someone he doesn’t feel like he can trust. Where is the happiness in that?

And Damnit man I don’t trust him. And I’ve done a lot of reflection on that and I think I figured out what happened because I’ve not trusted any dude I’ve dated, ever. So me not trusting him isn’t just because of things he’s done, it’s because I got trauma like a motherfucker. I hurt this man because Jessie hurt me. And I never got past that hurt. And I think that’s why I kept trying to talk to Jackie, because Jess hammered into my head to stay away from him and subconsciously I thought it would hurt Jessie if he found out I was talking to his brother. Which is delusional on levels I didn’t know were possible until I sat down and got real with myself. I never dealt with the fact that I had no idea I was being cheated on for 6 months, lied to, treated as an option, put into a toxic submissive state that I never left, made the mold for how I would view love and relationships and marriage. And it sucks. That dude sexually abused me, I used to be covered in bruises all over my chest, stomach, thighs. He punched lockers when I didn’t give him what he wanted, and once while I was leaning against the lockers for support he punched the locker so close to my face I felt the wind off his fist. He pushed me so hard that when I fell into Hannah, we both fell and pushed the trashcan across the hall. He would constantly tell me that he wanted to get back together with me, and then he’d kiss Brittany in front of my locker, and then he’d turn around and act like we’re friends again just to keep hurting me. He forced me to put his dick in my mouth one time in the backseat of my mom’s van in the dark because I had been telling him no and I was afraid. He would scream at me and make me feel like shit and play the victim because I didn’t want to lose my virginity on the floor of the boy’s bathroom. But he would walk to old bell high to get wifi in the snow just to tell me he loved me and goodnight and he couldn’t wait to see me. He would surprise me with cute little love letters that made my heart skip a beat because finally someone was choosing to love me. And I never got past that, and I didn’t know I hadn’t gotten past it because I stopped thinking about it. And I do not want to be the type of person who does that to people, not anymore, I can’t. And I can’t ask Chris to stay in a relationship with me because I’ve hurt him so much, and he doesn’t know if I’ll hurt him again and that’s going to make it so much harder for him to stay with me. And I don’t know if he’s thinking clearly. Breaking up with me was probably the right call. Backtracking that and telling me we don’t have to break up after he calmed down a little, I don’t know if that was a good call. I wasn’t pushing one way or the other, I will be taking my play calls from his book in this game.

[angelmavmurdock]

The Boy Next Door

WARNINGS: SMUT, ORAL (fem+mal), DIRTY TALK, PRAISE, CHOKING, THIGH RIDING, MENTIONS OF DRUGS.

inexperienced!reader x stoner!tom

(inspired by Ginny and Georgia)

The new house was a lot bigger than our last house. But of course that's due to my mother marrying a man 30 years older than her who owns some workout company. She's a gold digger is what I'm trying to say. Ever since I can remember, whatever guy she was dating dictated where we would live, where my brother and I would go to school, what I'd wear, how I'd act and even what friends I had. Or, lack there of. Always being the 'new girl' was beginning to get exhausting so I never really had friends. If I gained any friends then I knew that we'd get close then I'd move and we'd stay in touch for about a month before they move on and forget about me.

y/n. Always the new girl.

"y/n would you help us, please?" Mum asked in an annoyed tone, brushing past me with a box in her hands.

I rolled my eyes and sighed, walking to the car and beginning to lift stuff out and into the house. It was a huge driveway - unnecessarily large - and everyone on the street was the same. Everyone in the town was the same. It was a rich, suburban area. No place I hadn't seen before but we definitely didn't belong. My Mum just shapeshifted into whoever she thought Greg would want. Greg being my 'step-dad'. He's 63. My Mum is 33. How is that even allowed.

We unloaded everything from the cars and waited on the trucks arriving with everything else. Cameron and I scuffed our shoes as we strolled through the huge house, taking in everything and familiarising ourselves with our new home.

"I'm so glad I'm not at school anymore because being in a class with snobby assholes like these people would be shit." Cameron said, crossing his arms as he gestured to the family across the road.

I walked over to him and watched too. A family of 5 - two girls, one boy, Mum and a Dad - were dressed rather nicely in dresses and suits. They came out of their house and waltzed to their Tesla nonchalantly with their noses in the air. The eldest girl looked around my age. She would probably be in some of my classes.

"I'm not looking forward to Monday." I groaned.

We stood in comfortable silence, watching the Tesla inquisitively as it drove off with the family inside.

"Trucks arrived!" Mum called from the front door.

We both shared our sibling look with one another then walked back out with reluctance. Mum was standing in the middle of the driveway with her hands on her hips, watching as Greg approached the van and signed some forms off. Cameron and I walked down and stood either side of her. She grinned and wrapped her arms around us, rubbing both our backs simultaneously.

"I've got a good feeling about this, guys." She took a deep breath.

"At least someone does." I remarked.

She ignored the comment and we watched Greg do practically nothing. I mean he was basically an ancient artefact.

"I've heard your new school is wonderful. The pass grade levels are insanely good and there's a lot of people there to befriend." Mum spoke positively.

"My last 6 schools also had a lot of people to befriend but of course, I always lose them because we move so bloody much." I clenched my jaw.

"Well...this time it's different."

I scoffed, "You always say that."

"I swear this time!"

"And that!"

"y/n I don't know what you want me to do. Greg is a great guy who is supporting us fully! I mean, look at this place! Surely you can't be mad we're living here." Mum shook her head, removing her arm from my waist.

"I'd rather live in a box with just you two than live in a huge house with some random guy in a town I hate." I argued then stormed away dramatically up the driveway.

I got into the house and slammed the door, grabbing the banister and stomping up the flight of stairs. There was one flight then a landing then another flight. This house was too bloody big.

I finally found what was meant to be my new room and slammed that door shut. Just for good measure. I huffed and sighed as I leaned my back against the white, wooden door.

The room was stark white and empty, only a bay window to give some character. I might hate Greg and my mother and this whole situation but I loved this bay window. I snaked in between the boxes and suitcases and sat on the wooden ledge. I kicked my shoes off before sitting my feet up and watching outside. My room faced the front of the house so I could see the movers offloading furniture and boxes off while Greg stood helplessly.

I groaned and leaned my head back, closing my eyes, just wanting to crawl into a shell and hide.

A slam of a car door forced my eyelids open and I jumped slightly.

"Where do you think you're going?!"

I heard a woman's voice from outside. I looked outside curiously, scanning the street with my eyes to find where the noise was coming from. It finally caught my eye and I had to sit up and switch sides of the window to look properly.

A red-headed woman and a curly headed boy were standing in the driveway.

Our next door neighbours apparently.

The boy was around my age, maybe a little older. He stumbled a little as he walked up the drive, his mother - I think - watching from behind her car door.

"I'm going to bed!" He shouted back.

"Not now you're not, you have to talk to me, Thomas!" She shouted, slamming her own car door.

Thomas.

He hung his head on his shoulders, "I need to sleep, mum."

"Well I just had to bail you out of jail for marijuana possession and use so you better talk to me."

Oof, I thought. He was a stoner. A criminal basically. But he was attractive from what you could see. Dark brown curly hair, tall enough, a sharp jawline, a good body from where I was sitting and a good style too - a hoodie with a denim jacket and jeans. But he was my neighbour. And a stoner.

"Mum can we just talk later?" He pleaded, running a hand through his hair.

"Tom we will talk about this right now." She said sternly.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning his back to her and walking away. I watched him with a slight smile. He really was attractive.

"Thomas Holland you get back here right now!" His mother shouted.

"When I'm not on drugs, I'll talk." He stated.

His mother stuttered then just grunted in annoyance, allowing him to go inside.

I kept my eyes on him, my smile still on my face as he started to walk into his house. He suddenly turned his head with a confused expression then looked up. Straight at me through my window.

I froze in shock, eyes widening, mouth parting. He slowly smirked and nodded his head at me before going inside.

I sunk off the window ledge in humiliation, snaking to the floor and mumbling how stupid I was and how embarrassing that was.

"y/n! Come meet your neighbour!" Mum shouted up.

My ears perked up then I leaped up to look out the bay window. The boy next door's mum was standing outside, chatting to my mum.

-

I hardly learned anything talking to his mum. Her name was Nikki Holland, she had a husband named Dominic who was a comedian and a writer. She was a photographer. Along with Tom - the oldest - she had three other sons: twins named Harry and Sam and then Paddy who was a good bit younger. I can't remember the exact age. My mum had nosily asked her about Tom and that was the only part I listened to.

"He's 18,"

"Dropped out of school last year,"

"Says he wants to be an actor,"

"Oh today? He got in trouble from the police about...you know what, that isn't important."

"You look so young to be a mother to a teenager. How old are you?"

"And you're 18, too?" "Still in school?" "What do you want to do?" "Ah, smart girl."

The conversation was brief and slightly awkward. She was clearly stressed about Tom and his situation so I slid out of the engagement pretty fast and escaped up to my room.

During the entirety of the weird conversation, the movers had put my bed, mattress and desk into my room. It felt a lot more homier.

-

It was the next night and I had finished dinner and immediately gone upstairs. I was not participating in any sort of 'family time'. I sat down on my bed and scrolled through my phone aimlessly.

A thump outside drew my attention away and I looked to my right at the regular window which faced our neighbours house.

I sat up and squinted to see out into the dark. It was Tom. He was halfway out his window.

I didn't even realise our windows faced each other. And here he was, one leg out the window and his other following on. He had thrown a backpack down which caused the dull thump on the grass - which I only assume contains weed - and now he was escaping his house.

I got out of bed and walked to the glass, peeking out to see what he was doing.

He climbed impressively down the wall and jumped the last few metres, landing in a Spider-Man like pose. Admirable, I thought as he picked up his back pack and slid a skateboard out from a bush. He brushed it off then slotted it under his armpit.

He was sporting a black t-shirt with a dog-tag necklace and some distressed deep blue jeans with a denim jacket over top and a baseball cap placed on backwards that sat on top of his curly head of hair.

He looked around in case he was going to get caught then looked up. Directly at me. Again.

This time I didn't shy away. I just made a gesture and mouthed 'what the fuck?' then he laughed to himself and looked back up at me.

'Don't be so nosy, neighbour', he mouthed.

I squinted and shook my head in disapproval. He just smirked boyishly then walked to his driveway where he flipped his skateboard and skated off into the night.

I gulped and sat back on my bed, feeling my heart rate slow back down.

But curiosity filled my brain.

Where was he going?

-

Just as Sunday night came around, I had finished decorating my room. My pictures and paintings hung on the wall, along with some mirrors to fill the blank space of the white walls. My bed was cosy and was filled with throw blankets, fluffy sheets and way too many pillows. My desk was organised and my laptop sat atop the white surface, making it look a lot more professional than I had anticipated.

I had turned my bay window into a reading nook. A few blankets lay on the ledge and a couple pillows too, along with my current read.

I had seen Tom sneak out a few nights ago but I tried to stay away from the regular window, only ever sitting on the bay one because I couldn't see Toms room from there.

However, it didn't shield me from him completely.

I would see him outside in their front garden playing games with his brothers and sometimes I'd watch them from just over the top of my book. The way he played with their dog was cute. I had gathered her name was Tessa and I knew she was a staffy because we used to have one. He'd throw balls or sticks for her and sometimes she'd clamber on top of him with excitement. He'd dodge her licks but still clap her because she was excited after all.

Every once in a while he'd catch me looking down at him or I'd catch him looking up at me. Whenever it happened, it seemed as if everyone and everything disappeared. Like it was just us. Tunnel view. But then one of us would look away or stick the middle finger up or mouth 'fuck off'. Our unusual and silent rivalry was the closest thing to a friend I'd had in years.

But now, Mum, Greg and Cameron were going out to a nice dinner to celebrate the first week of living here. I thought it was an incredibly stupid idea so I decided to stay home alone and eat pizza.

They all left and Cameron immediately texted me.

Cammando: I hate you for leaving me

y/n: your fault not mine :)

I didn't really know what to do. I walked around the house and asked Alexa to play some songs but I couldn't be bothered dancing. I wasn't really in a dancing mood.

I just gave up and went back upstairs into my room. My windows were still open so before I got changed I went to close them and put down the blinds. I closed the bay window and then I went to the next one.

I looked straight ahead into Toms room and my jaw dropped.

He was hopping and hyping himself up in front of a punch bag...shirtless with gloves on. I watched as he punched the bag skilfully, moving his feet as if it was a choreographed routine. His damp curly hair hung onto his forehead and I could see glimpses of airpods in his ears. His back muscles tightened and flexed as he threw punches.

He moved around the bag and now I could see the front of him. He had a very visible six pack. I definitely didn't expect that from the stoner boy next door. If I thought he was attractive before...now I don't even know what I would call him.

Otherworldly, perhaps?

He suddenly looked up and I gasped, turning and slamming my back against the wall next to the window, wincing at the pain. Hopefully he didn't see me...

It was creepy to be staring at him. I shouldn't have done it.

I peeked back and he was back to beating the poor punch bag.

God, he was so hot.

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks and ears, burning with lust. I gulped and looked away, closing the blind to stop myself from looking anymore.

I got changed into shorts and a burgundy Cambridge University jumper that used to belong to my Dad. He gave it to me the first time he properly left for a while and I still have it even though I see him more often.

I hopped downstairs and played some music while I sorted the pizza and chips out to eat.

I sat and ate while listening to music. Once I was finished, I cleaned everything up then went back upstairs into my room, shutting the door behind me and jumping onto my bed.

I scrolled through tiktok aimlessly, just filling the time before it was an acceptable hour to go to bed as a teenager.

I switched apps to Instagram when I lay on my side, my back facing my windows. I scrolled through for a while but a certain picture caught my eye.

I had to blink a few times to really look.

It was my so called 'best friend' who I hadn't talked to since I moved twice after befriending her and my ex-boyfriend. My ex. My only boyfriend I've ever had. My first kiss, my first date...my first time. My only time. We only had sex twice. Three if you count foreplay but I faked it. Actually I faked it all of the times. He was never good at it and I had no idea how to go about telling him because to be honest, I had no idea what to do either.

But my ex-best friend and my ex-boyfriend? She didn't even tell me. She didn't even think to ask me.

They were dressed nicely and holding each other's waists. It looked a little awkward but most of those pictures are because they are being taken by parents.

I looked through the comments.

OMG! Hot couple alert! You two are the cutest just marry already yall are too happy it's been the best year of my life baby

"WHAT?!" I exclaimed, sitting up sharply.

They had been together for a YEAR.

"Ugh!" I groaned and threw my phone across my room, hearing it basically break against the wooden floor.

"Rough night?" A voice spoke from my window.

I screamed, jumping with fear and successfully landing my ass on the floor.

I panicked and grabbed the first thing I could use as a weapon. A glass of water. It would have to do.

I quickly flung the water at the intruder, "WHAT THE FUCK, GET OUT!" I screamed, my eyes closed tightly in fear.

I heard the water splash over them but they still came in. I just threw the glass at them. It thumped against them dully and then crashed onto the floor.

"Ouch."

I slowly opened one eye and looked up at the figure who had just entered my room.

It was Tom.

He was in a grey t-shirt and black basketball shorts with a baseball cap placed on backwards, a backpack thrown over his shoulder.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING CLIMBING INTO MY ROOM?!" I shouted, standing up.

He was taller than me by a few inches but we were basically at eye level.

"I was clearly looking for some company but you then threw water over me and then a literal glass." He spoke calmly, wiping a hand over his wet face.

"How the hell are you being so calm about this?! You just intruded into my home!" I exclaimed.

"Well, darling, I have a thing called weed. It's great for calming you down. You clearly need some." He slung his bag around and went to open it.

"W-what? No, I'm not smoking weed!"

He sighed and slung his bag back, "Well, why are you being so uptight about this I just wanted to say hello." He smiled boyishly.

I licked my teeth in annoyance. He was so fucking attractive but he was so fucking annoying and I didn't even know him.

"You need to get out. I didn't invite you in here so you are not welcome." I stated, crossing my arms.

"Okay, yes. But also- my mother nearly just caught me sneaking out so it's a cover if she comes round here."

"Why would she come here?" I asked.

"Because she's a mad woman who hates me having a life apparently."

"You're an 18 year old who sneaks out of the house to smoke weed. I wouldn't call that a life." I remarked.

He smirked, "You know what, I like you."

He sat his bag down then started to walk slowly around my room, inspecting my pictures and decorations intricately.

I stuttered, not knowing how to react to this whole situation.

"I'm sorry, what the hell are you doing?" I asked, brows furrowed.

"You're quite an interesting person, I must say."

I sighed and shook my head at the ceiling.

"Ah, this makes sense." He picked up one of my camera's.

I scoffed, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He sat it down and picked up the next one, shrugging with a smug smirk.

"You like looking at things."

I gulped, red rushing to my cheeks.

"Clearly very beautiful things." He said, referring to my pictures on the walls.

"I'm just honoured I'm one of them."

I rolled my eyes and scoffed, "You wish you were."

"Oh but I am, aren't I?" He challenged, sitting my camera down.

I licked my back teeth and watched with heavy breath as he paced towards me slowly.

"I've never taken a picture of you before." I said matter-of-factly.

"You might not have but you definitely love a good stare, don't you?" He asked, his left eyebrow quirked cockily.

I noticed the unusualness of it and then looked into his dark, dilated eyes.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I said quietly.

He laughed lowly, "So you weren't staring at me earlier when I was working out?"

I stuttered as we came face to face.

"You're stubborn but I feel like I know you," He placed his fingers under my chin, tracing up my jaw and to my ear where he tucked some of my hair behind.

"Because I've been looking at you, too." He whispered.

I practically melted and a whimper left my mouth, eyes rolling back.

He chuckled, "Already needy for me I see."

I looked up at him as his thumb swiped over my lips.

This whole situation was insane. I didn't even know how we got here. I didn't know how to feel, either. I had never been turned on like this before.

He slowly pushed his thumb into my mouth and I moaned around it, tasting his skin.

"Good girl." He praised, taking his thumb out and replacing it with his tongue.

I moaned again, feeling his lips on mine. His hands gripped my waist and I tangled my fingers into his hair.

He tasted of weed but I didn't mind it at all. He pushed me backwards until I hit the wall next to my bed. He gripped my hips tightly and I kept my hands in his hair. He must have gone for a shower since his workout because he smelled fresh and clean and his hair was damp.

I couldn't believe I was doing this. I was kissing a stranger. Who climbed into my room.

"Wait-" He pulled away briefly.

"Is your family home?" He asked.

"No, they're out all night." I answered breathlessly.

He smirked, "Good."

He suddenly lifted me up and I squealed, automatically wrapping my legs around his taut torso.

His tongue slipped between my lips again and I welcomed it. He lay me down on my bed and started to kiss down to my jaw and my neck.

I gasped and tugged his hair when he started kissing a certain spot on my skin. He got the message that I liked it and started licking and sucking on it. I arched my back slightly, moaning as he worked his tongue and lips on my skin.

He left the spot on my neck but kissed over my skin as he started to lift my jumper up. Panic and nerves suddenly settled in and I grabbed his hands, stopping his movements.

"You alright?" He asked breathlessly.

I swallowed, "I uh...I've never-"

His eyes widened, "You're a virgin?"

"No, no. I've had sex it just...it just wasn't that great." I bit my lip nervously.

He encased my lips in his and I relaxed to his touch.

"Do you want to?" He asked against my lips.

"Yes, fuck yes." I practically moaned into his mouth.

"I just need you to guide me through it." I said in between kisses.

He pulled away, "I can do that." He smiled.

He started to lift my jumper off and this time I let him. I sat up and he removed it, throwing it off the bed. He admired the pink bralette I was wearing and immediately pressed his lips and tongue to the valley of my breasts. He nipped and sucked on my skin and I moaned as he palmed one of my boobs while leaving marks on the other.

He came back up and kissed me again but flipped us over so I was now on top. He sat up and shuffled back against my headboard and pulled me onto his lap.

He brushed my hair off my shoulders and cupped my chin, taking me in.

"D'you wanna try riding my thigh?" He asked lowly.

I gulped, "S-sure."

He smirked and I straddled his left thigh, holding his shoulders.

"Just rock your hips back and forwa-"

"Fuck," I moaned, the rubbing of the different materials causing my core to clench.

"Does that feel good?" He asked, his breath fanning over my face.

His hands rested on my hips and he helped my movements.

"Feels so good." I moaned.

"Yeah? You like riding my thigh?" He prompted, his hands making me speed up.

I fisted the material of his shirt in my hands as my mouth fell agape with pleasure.

"Riding my thigh like such a good girl." He praised.

"Fuck!" I hung my head back, his words going straight to my core.

He chuckled cockily, "D'you like when I call you that? Huh?"

I nodded, too flustered with these new senses of pleasure to speak.

His hand travelled up into my hair and tugged on it by my roots. A louder moan than I would have liked escaped my lips.

"I asked you a question, answer me." He said sternly.

"Fuck! Yes, I love it when you call me that." I answered pathetically.

"Good girl." He praised, letting go of my hair and rocking my hips on him.

I felt an immense amount of pleasure build up and it felt as if something was going to snap in me.

"Oh shit, I- fuck!" I furrowed my brows in concentration and confusion.

"R'you gonna cum, darling?" He asked, almost shocked.

"I don't- fuck - know!" I moaned, feeling the knot inside my stomach about to snap.

But before that could even happen I was being flipped back onto my back and Tom was ripping off my shorts and panties, diving in between my legs with lust.

His hands held my thighs and brought me closer to him. His lips attached to my clit and sucked, giving me a whole new feeling.

"Oh, fuck! Yes! Yes!" I moaned shamelessly, tugging his hair and fisting the bedsheets.

"Go on, darling. Cum in my mouth for me. Taste so good. Please, love."

The mixture between his words and his nicknames for me and the fact his mouth was working wonders on my core completely sent me over the edge: an experience I had never had before.

"Holy shit! Tom! Yes!" I subconsciously tightened my thighs around his head and my hands practically pushed him completely onto me.

He continued riding me through my high until I unclenched my thigh and he pulled away slowly.

I lay breathless and in a state of shock and euphoria at the same time.

"You okay?" He asked soothingly, rubbing his hand over my bare thigh as he came up to kiss me.

"Yeah I've...I've never-"

"You've never came before?" Tom asked, baffled by me.

"Nope..."

He kept his eyes on me but slipped a hand down to my core again. I bucked my hips against his hand with a gasp as he moved his fingers in circles over my core.

"You've never even touched yourself?" He asked lowly.

I bit my lip and shook my head.

"You're so wet for me, darling, fuck." He cursed.

He suddenly dipped a finger into my core and I moaned. He curled it up and I gripped his arm tightly.

"What d'you want?" He asked.

"I want you, Tom, please." I bit my lip.

He smiled and sat back, his hand coming away from my clit, leaving me feeling empty. He shed his shirt and I finally got to look at his chiselled torso up close. He then slid his shorts and boxers off and my jaw dropped at the sight of him.

He was semi-hard but he was already bigger than my ex. A lot bigger.

He pumped his member in his hand, "You sure about this?"

I stuttered, completely distracted by his actions than his words.

"What? You like the look of it? Hmm? Wanna suck me off?" He asked, his hand cupping my chin and sliding his thumb into my mouth again.

I moaned at his words and nodded.

"You want to suck me off, darling? You sure?" He asked, removing his thumb.

"Yes, fuck Tom, I wanna suck you off." I moaned.

"Good girl." He praised.

We switched positions so he was sitting against the headboard and now I was in between his legs.

"I don't know how to..." I said shakily.

"You're okay," He gathered my hair up in his hands.

"Do whatever feels natural and I'll tell you if it's good, yeah?"

I nodded and gulped, moving my mouth closer to his member. I pumped him in my hand a few times and I could almost feel him harden right there. I had done this part before, at least.

I lowered my mouth onto him, swirling my tongue around his lip. He hissed slightly and gripped my hair tighter. I slowly let my mouth down on him and came back up.

"That's it, good girl." He praised.

I moaned and continued bobbing my head slowly on him, finding a rhythm. I held his thigh for support as I got faster, easing into it.

"Fuck, darling, feels so good." He groaned.

The taste of him in my mouth was amazing, pre cum already escaping onto my tongue.

I slackened my jaw and took as much of him as I could then pumped the rest in my hand.

"Holy shit! Fuck!" He held my head there and thrusted up.

His member hit the back of my throat but I didn't mind it at all. He made sure I was okay then did it again. And again. And again. Until he was continuously throat fucking me. I enjoyed it, surprisingly. The obscene sounds my mouth was making was not only making Tom more aroused, but also me.

I felt some drool drip down from my mouth onto my chin and even onto his lower stomach but I didn't care.

"Fuck, love those pretty little sounds coming from your throat, baby." He groaned.

I moaned, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

"Such a good girl."

But then he pulled me off of him. I looked at him in confusion but he flipped me onto my back sooner than I could say anything.

"Need to be in you before I cum, princess." He said, kissing me deeply, his tongue exploring my mouth.

"Ready?" He asked.

I felt his tip brush up and down my folds. I gripped his arms and nodded, closing my eyes to concentrate.

"Hey, look at me." He said.

I looked up into his gorgeous chocolate eyes.

"Breathe in," He instructed.

I did as he said.

"And out."

As I breathed out, he pushed into me slowly.

I moaned and arched my back at the feeling of him inside of me. His technique worked.

"You okay?" He asked caringly.

I nodded, biting my lip.

"You can move."

He started thrusting slowly in and out of me, my arousal making it a lot easier for him to move.

"So fuckin' tight, darling." He cursed.

I wrapped my thighs around his waist and he bottomed me out.

"Yes!" I moaned, my back arching so our chests were touching.

"Does that feel good?" He asked.

I hummed, "Faster, please."

He smirked, "As you wish."

His thrusts got gradually faster and my mouth hung open in a silent moan. He brushed past my g-spot with every movement and I scraped his back with my finger nails.

"So fucking good," I gasped.

He sped his thrusts completely and his head fell into the crook of my neck, leaving sloppy kisses on my skin.

"So big! Yes!" I moaned pornographically as he perfectly met my g-spot.

He reached a hand down and started rubbing my clit in skilful circles. I screamed out in overwhelming pleasure as I felt the now familiar feeling come back in my stomach.

"So good for me, darling. Been such a good girl. You gonna cum?" Tom whispered his praises into my ear.

"So close! Oh my god!" I curled my toes and dug my fingernails into his back.

"Come on darling. Feel so good around my cock. Feel so fucking good. You're a fucking angel, y/n. Fuck." He moaned.

I rolled my eyes back at his words. God his words.

"I'm gonna cum!" I squealed, eyes squeezing shut.

"Look at me when you cum, love."

I could hardly hear his voice anymore as I felt my second high approaching.

"I said-"

I gasped as I felt his hand around my throat, pressing the sides of my neck, activating some unknown pleasure button.

"Look at me when you cum all over my fucking cock." He grunted, his dark, dilated eyes staring into mine.

I kept my eyes on him as my high began to wash over me. His thrusts kept the same pace but his fingers moved faster, spurring my orgasm along.

"Yes! Fuck, feels so- yes!" I moaned.

I was extremely loud, I'm surprised the police hadn't come knocking asking about it.

My high seemed to be everlasting. Tom began to pull out but I kept my legs wrapped around him.

"Want you to cum in me, Tom. Please." I begged.

"You sure?" He asked, holding his orgasm back.

"Yes! Please! Need your cum in me." I moaned seductively against his lips.

"Fuck- so good for me- yes!"

I felt as he stilled in me, and as his cum painted my walls. His face contorted in levels of pleasure as he finished and I was finally coming down from my own high.

He pulled out after a second and collapsed next to me.

We both lay together, not saying a word, just listening to each other's breathing calm.

After a minute or two, he turned to face me.

"That- was so fucking good." He laughed.

"It was." I smiled back.

He reached a hand over to my face and brushed my hair behind my ear. I softened into his touch and hummed.

But that bliss was broken quickly.

"Hello?! We're home!"

I gasped, shooting up on my bed.

"Is that your mum?!" Tom whisper shouted.

"Yes! You need to go like now!" I whispered back.

He scurried off the bed and into his boxers and clothes, shakily putting on his shirt and attempting to put his shoes on quickly but leaving them untied.

I grabbed his backpack and handed it to him.

"Thank you," He smiled, taking it from me and heading for the window again.

He swung a leg out but then hesitated.

"Oh and uh-"

He held his hand out.

"I'm Tom, by the way." He grinned.

I smiled, shaking his hand.

"I'm y/n. Nice to meet you, neighbour."

"Nice to meet you, too." He winked, before climbing out the window, down the wall and back into his own house.

Nice to meet you indeed.

-

A/N: this is written for my amazing friend Caitlin and it's her birthday today! and she gave me all the details for this piece so i hope you guys enjoyed!

[gaiuswrites]

Ashore

Part one | Open Waters

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader

Summary: You and Frankie leave the beach with only one thing on your minds.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 3.6k~

Warnings/tags: smut, ✨butt stuff✨, oral (f receiving), some lovey-dovey shit

Notes: Here we are friends. You don’t necessarily have to read Open Waters to understand the contents of this chapter (considering it’s mostly just booty bumpin’). You can thank heathens @javierpcna and @whataperfectwasteoftime for the debauchery to follow. It’s been a while since I’ve written and I’m genuinely nervous to post this lol but alas. We have arrived. Is it shit? Is it pure filth? Who’s to say hehehe. Cheers bebes x

Masterlist | read it on ao3!

The worst part was, you had to get gas.

Frankie drives. You sit beside him.

The return trip is hushed with anticipation—with sullied stain-glass imagery occupying the void. You've said next to nothing since you packed into the car; the only noise comes from the radio—the preset station phasing in and out as you wind along the backroads leading away from the shore—Journey, Jimi, Led Zep and the like all crackling dry through the speakers.

Everything, each micro-movement, feels stifling— like burning ants under a magnifying glass— each gesture riddled with intention, Frankie’s words echoing clear in the caverns of your mind.

He glances left right at an intersection.

‘Anything?’

He flips on the turn signal, blinking one two one two one two.

‘You gonna let me have your tight little ass?’

He steers the wheel with the heel of his palm.

‘When I cum, it’s gonna be here—filling you up.’

The engine rumbles as you idle at a red light—stalling. Dawdling. The sun spills lazily from the horizon, draining the last of the afternoon’s light with it, bleeding the sky scarlet—emboldening the horizon— and you watch as the setting glow catches the hair on his arm—there, resting on the console between you. His hand fists over the gear, knuckles creasing as they tense around the worn, leathered head. You’re playing a game—a silent, ruleless game. You know he can sense you observing him, can feel the heat of your gaze weigh on the flex of his fingers—the same fingers that had ripped an orgasm out of you not two hours before.

You almost unbuckle your damn seatbelt and fly out of your chair. You nearly break with it, with the unspoken tension filling the car like gas and fuck, how you crave him; how you yearn to put those fingers in your mouth and suck—lave the summer clean off his digits and bob around the long width and—

The light turns green.

Frankie resumes his hand to the wheel, your lewd fantasy dissipating along with it.

It’s minuscule. You would have missed it save the fact that you’re so acutely aware of every fucking breath you two share in the aluminum confines of your old Jeep. It’s a subtle thing: Frankie adjusts his hips— innocent enough— but your eyes flicker over to find the groin of his drying swim trunks tented.

You’re not ashamed to say it— your mouth fucking waters, you salivate— and as if on cue, he squirms again, seeking relief from both the blood rushing south and the blister of your stare. His lips part— the rasp of an inhale as he prepares to speak—before his focus is torn down to the dashboard, an orange symbol popping up in the gauge stealing his attention.

“Shit,” Frankie mumbles under his breath. Looking around, he scans for a nearby station and groans at the realization that he’s just passed one, spotting it in the rearview mirror. “Shit.”

You swivel towards the passenger side window, attempting to hide the I told you so expression pulling wry at your mouth. Not that you’ll hang it over him, but you did inform Frankie that the tank was empty on the way to the beach. You hear another muffled curse come from the man beside you, and the world goes topsy-turvy and reverses itself— the act of Frankie making a grumbled U-turn.

He puts the gear into park with a huff, Van Halen’s solo abruptly cut short mid chord.

The car door opens with a rusty squeal and Frankie clambers out, fishing his wallet from his back pocket and swiping his card through the reader at the pump—but not before he squeezes a palm into the plush of your thigh, thumb searing like a brand into your skin. I’ll be quick.

Fuck, you could have cum right then.

Your gaze follows his movements, dogging after him as he waits on the gas to fill— arms folded across his chest, strong build leaning on the frame of your car.

It’s not a novel concept to you, but God is that man broad. The ratty t-shirt he wears clings to him, pulled taut between the plane of his shoulders, the cut of his tricep apparent even from your vantage point; the corded muscle running up his neck flashing as he watches the digital numbers on the screen tick higher.

Shit, you’re aching for him— you can feel yourself throb into the crotch of your swimsuit. You’d have him right here—in the backseat, steaming up the glass— if it weren’t for the overencumbered bags and rickety beach chairs crowding the space.

With herculean effort, you wrench your eyes off him in search of a distraction, letting them drift to the dark flooring of the car. It’s been dirtied—white flecks speckling the interior—and you won’t be able to get the sand out of the matted carpets for weeks. It’s a nuisance, to be sure, but you have to admit that you’re sort of fond of it; little memories, vestiges in the grains, lingering long after the season ends.

Hello, remember me? each granule chirped, remember when we laughed giddy for hours, maddened by the grace of the sun? Remember when we burned red that time we forgot sunscreen? Remember when we bought soft serve from the surf shack and it globbed sticky down our wrists? Remember when we when we when when when…

Frankie, ever practical, hates it. It’s a pain in the ass, he’s told you, regaling you with the woes only a mechanic would care to know. It ruins the upholstery.

You’ve had your exchanges about the topic—your faux-squabbled back and forths—and yet despite himself, he can’t help but like that you like it. Conceptually, he gets it—it annoys him to kingdom fucking come and he’ll almost certainly take the vacuum to the mats first thing tomorrow, but he understands. He understands it.

He understands you.

You’re like that, you and him. You’re different. You are made of different things, a compository of fractures and fragments. Mosaic tiles. You don’t quite fit—not all of you—but you never force the pieces into any sort of place. You admire each other’s mismatched bits, those sweetly quilted jigsaws, and you hold each one up to the light and point at the unique curves, the notches and swoops there, and say I love you, I love this, I love this too.

When Frankie keys up the ignition and puts the car in drive, he keeps his hand on your lap. Arm resting over the median dividing you, calloused palm sealing over your quad, his fingertips knead a pulse into the meat of your leg with each bump in the poorly paved road— a reminder. A vow. Almost home.

You think he does it just to torture you.

It fucking works.

/

The sound of laughter parts the front door as you enter— Frankie had made some colorful comment about your absolute favorite neighbors, the ones who always leave their damn garbage bins in front of your driveway— and your key ring clatters as it hits the bowl on the side table.

You discard the bags, plopping the sandy things down in the entryway, and kick off your sandals— bare soles padding along lacquered wood paneling as you head to the kitchen for some much needed water.

The sound of the tap running camouflages Frankie’s movement, you don’t hear him behind you. He’s got stealth in him, harbored there from before. He’s light on his feet when he chooses to be—nimble-like, bordering on feline—and you startle with a bubbly chuckle when you spin around to discover him far closer than you anticipated.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping us hydrated,” you grin, as if it were obvious. You’re welcome.

He hums, the note rumbling against the cage of his ribs, and lessens the distance between you with a single stride. “That can wait.”

He rids you of the glasses, hurriedly placing them on the counter, and meets you in a kiss—and fuck can that man kiss. Frankie, like with all things, is responsive—attentive. His lips are fever-laced and wanton, and he roves against yours like they’re designed to— fated for no one else’s but your own— nipping and tonguing at your honeyed whines, orphaned there in the well of your mouth.

His hands vine up your body, so deprived of the luxury of your form - of touch - and he grabs at anything he can— your hips, your waist, your breasts through the cotton of your shirt— their half moon curves sitting ripe in his palms.

After ushering you up to the countertop, he strips you of your jean shorts, your bikini bottom sloughing down your calves along with them, and hoists your feet onto the fake granite, prying your legs wide for him.

When he gets an eyeful of your gleaming pussy, pearled with arousal, the wind gets punched straight out of him.

“Jesus honey,” he groans, “you been like this the whole ride home?”

Your brain is numb, lagging with lust. You don’t trust your voice to speak—all you can do is nod.

“Poor thing,” he simpers. “Poor pretty thing, all wound up for me—all wet.”

You whimper at his tone—graveled, just shy of condescending—and your knees weaken shut before he snatches them apart.

“Sit still.”

It’s a command, there’s no room for disobedience; he orders it with a soldier's voice—that dead thing he wears like dog tags around his neck. Vice grip widening your legs, Frankie sinks down onto his shins, head leveled with your core, engrossed with the sight of your damp sex quivering.

Blotchy warmth creeps up your neck, like ivy crawling over brick.

He’s staring at you— hungry and possessed and simply staring at your open cunt and you begin to fidget once more—riling under his umbered appraisal.

“Sit still baby girl,” he murmurs, softer now and desperate too—intoxicated with the heady perfume of your heat. “Lemme just— fuck, I gotta taste you…”

When he swipes the deft muscle of his tongue through your slit, your head careens back onto the cabinets, plates and bowls rattling behind the wood.

Oh god, Frankie.

He’s got a talent for this— an excruciating, body wracking talent. He thirsts for you something dangerous, something unquenchable; he tugs at your labia, forming his lips around your clit, lapping at your essence— the ocean musk, that sea foam wet.

You fumble through his hair, mussing the saline woven strands with urgent fingers as you grind grind grind, rolling your hips to meet him in a covetous show of want and he purrs into your pussy as you fuck his face, the scratch of his stubble chafing at your legs.

It doesn’t take long, not with the fervor of how he’s claiming your cunt with his mouth. You soak Frankie’s chin— you nearly fucking drown him with it—and he’s glistening with you when he finally emerges for air, pulling you to him to slant his lips against yours, letting you savor your own taste on his hot tongue.

“Bedroom. Now,” he husks, breath hitching as his nose grazes along your ear, and with two hands under your armpits, he gathers you off the countertop. Frankie lands a swat at the plump of your backside, sending you scurrying through the living room with a shriek—completely bypassing the abandoned pile of laundry left lying on the couch.

He smirks—delirious and ramrod stiff—sauntering behind you, enamored with the pendulum sway of your hips as you lead him to the bed.

/

You’ve never been here. You’ve never gone this far. You both have tiptoed this narrow line for months; he’s fingered your ass plenty—you have even gone so far as to don a butt plug. You’ve discussed anal—toyed with the idea, flirted in circles around it like tittering birds.

But you’ve never taken Frankie’s cock. Not yet.

He’s been working you loose and limber for the better part of fifteen minutes, delving himself knuckle deep into your slicked hole until you’re sputtering for more— until you’re downright sopping and fucking shaking— and not with trepidation but with desire. Frankie’s made you gluttonous. Frankie’s made you voracious.

You’re starving for him.

“You gonna let me have this now?” He presses a digit over your ass, kissing his thumb into the knot there.

You tremble, nodding frantic.

“Think this pretty little ass can take me, baby?”

He serves you a slap, plush skin jiggling and pricking pink under his palm. You keen into him, in search of the promise he’s been baiting you with and you arch your hips, gyrating back onto fucking nothing.

“Yes. Yes���” You twist, chin corkscrewed around to see him. You want to watch. You want to watch as he disappears inside you— as you swallow him.

“A-Are you sure?” he asks, suddenly gone gentle around the lines fraying from his eyes—those wrinkles he’s hard-earned and won, like badges, like medals—from all his years spent under an unforgiving sun, all of that which he has seen and endured. Survived. Your Frankie, always thoughtful, always checking. A goddamn gentleman, even now—even as his dick brays hard and angry against the soft of his tawny stomach. “Because really, we don’t have to—”

You cut him off with a whimper, splaying your pelvis up to him—spreading yourself, letting him see the filth dripping from your seam, dappling your inner thighs. “Fuck me,” you whine, both holes puckering for him. “Fill me up, like you said you would— please.”

Something shifts across his features like a shadow and his expression morphs until it steels— his pupils dilating to a predatorial onyx— and he spits into his palm, coating his shaft, jerking himself with it.

He hisses as he guides himself into you, as you accommodate around him, as you envelop him entirely— inch by veritable inch. He has to station a hand to the base of your lumbar, struggling to maintain his composure—air rattling in and out his lungs as he attempts to breathe.

“Shit,” he gasps, “t-this okay?”

You fist the comforter, coiling the fabric into a ball. It’s a stretch— it’s a real goddamn stretch— and briefly you consider that he might, in fact, snap you in two...

Francisco Morales is going to split you clean in half—and God, if you don’t you love it.

“Yes - yes baby - keep going. D-Don’t stop.”

He pitches into you, setting a legato tempo— transfixed by the lurid juncture where you converge into one. “You- you’re so tight. Shit, you’re—”

He silences himself with a delicious moan, biting at his lower lip until the vessels there burst and it purples, and deals a particularly aggressive thrust— one you respond to with an ugly wail of your own, eyes somersaulting in their sockets.

You’re both impatient, verging on rabid, and it doesn’t take long for him to set a rougher pace and fuck you faster - harder - hammering into your ass until you see stars, popping and fizzing in front of your retinas, a symphony of guttural grunts and carnal praise fogging up the bedroom.

Your pussy feels so empty you could cry—weeping and gaping and fluttering for him as he takes your tight ring of muscle, fucking himself to the hilt. It’s like he’s behind your brain—like he’s carved his way up your spine and nudging at the nape of your neck with how deep he’s driving into you—restless. Ceaseless. His balls slap slap slap against your puffy cunt and you pant— girlish and buoyant with the dulled smacks to your sore clit.

“Please,” you sob, “Please, I need—”

You can barely push the words out—your mind is of no help and your tongue lolls useless, languid in your mouth. Your motor functions have all but puttered to a halt, every scrap of you fighting to stay above the sensation that’s threatening to drag you under its current. The rip tide of it all, of Frankie’s cock, coursing through your ass, tempting to hurdle you out into the dark, wet blue.

“Tell me,” Frankie rasps, scraping through his throat. “Tell me, pretty baby.”

Your response is pathetic—you can hardly dignify it as a response at all. Your temple is pressed into the mattress, hair knotted with brine and sand, and all you can do is coo.

Frankie folds over you, angling himself to graze his teeth over your shoulder—savoring the salt and sex tang bathing your skin, all those pheromones and velveteen chemicals anointing you—baptizing you anew for him. He’s gruff when he murmurs, his beard grating your freshly tanned skin.

“C’mon sweetheart - hng, fuck - what do you need?”

“My clit,” you rush out, needy. “My clit. Please, oh my god Frankie I-I need you to, I need – oh fuck—” And your pleas are mummed by a rapturous moan as he trails his hand from the hollow of your hip to the apex of your cleft and flicks.

Fuck. Fuck, oh Christ—

There’s a ringing in your ears, buzzing you deaf, making you dumb—or maybe it’s just your heart, beating loud and errant against your skull—you can’t say. You don’t feel human. Frankie’s pounding into that cinched channel and playing with your clit—swiveling eddies into your swollen nub—and you feel like an animal. You feel debased. You feel disgusting and perfect and you’re fucking drooling; cheek squished and mouth agape, saliva pools from your wagging maw, darkening the white linen you’re being driven into.

“You need me in your pussy, too?”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer him— he already knows what you need, how you need to have every part of you gorged on him— and Frankie dips his fingertips into your entrance, hooking them up and up and in, fucking in time to the cant of his hips.

He’s in you. Everywhere, everywhere—every possible neuron and synapse consumed with him.

“You need me like this—fucking you this deep? Fucking both your pretty holes?” he growls, weaving his hand lower to grab a fistful of your hair, rucking your head up. Throat stretched bare for him, your mewls muddle to cock-drunk cries as he spears you on himself again and again and again.

Yes yes yes fuck harder please please Frankie

You're pleading with him—you’ve been reduced to meager begging— and a chorus of slurs sings your release as you contract around him and cum, the cradle of your hips bucking reflexively.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he seethes, “you’re so good for me baby, Jesus fuck—”

He’s close now—his blissed finish drawing nearer and nearer with each sharp snap of his hips. Frankly, he’s shocked he’s managed to last as long as he has; it’s a small miracle he hadn’t cum the instant he slotted himself inside you with that very first stroke.

“Baby,” he warns, losing his rhythm. You saddle your spine, hollowing out the valley of your back and arch pretty and supple for him— preening under his weight. He moans at that, and through your fucked out haze you have the wherewithal to smirk at him, devious and prideful, a wild look owning your eye.

Frankie has to brace himself on your hips, untangling from your locks to bruise into the pillow of your skin— gripping on for dear fucking life as he plows you. You’re strangling him. You’re strangling the thick of his cock until he’s dizzy with it—until he’s feral and blind and he can’t hold on, can’t keep fighting this fucking monsoon that’s raging in his core.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna—fuck me, oh shit—” He shouts, spurting inside you thrust for thrust, painting your virgin walls with his seed. It’s too much— after all that, and you’re still too tight— and he’s overstimulated to the point of delirium. Frankie roots himself still, cum dribbling out your stuffed hole while he rides out the high of his orgasm—his vision, his senses, his goddamn soul, slowly oozing back into him. When he slides free from you, he does so with a pained heave, leaving you yawning with his absence.

You feel shredded. Vacant. You’ve been sent to another fucking dimension all together.

Without wasting another second, Frankie claws you up. You’re easy and malleable, bones and muscles too strung out to protest, and he whirls you around to bar you to his chest—crushing your sweaty body to his with bullet marred arms— the same arms that have taken lives, that have spared them, too. The same arms that link around you, delicate and daisy-chained, like you’re the most precious thing he has.

And you are.

You are.

Frankie kisses you breathless, drinking rich from your cup— tongue greedy and reverent as he kneels there at your altar, praying his sins into your mouth.

So gorgeous, he croons, peppering your face—your flushed cheeks, your perspired brow—with his lips as he tells you over and over and over again.

So good for me, pretty baby

Was that okay?

Fuck, you’re a dream

You’re my best girl—you’re my only girl

Was that okay?

God, you’re my whole fucking world

Was that okay? Was I okay?

Are you okay?

You swoon, helpless to the contented sigh that seeps out from you like mist. You’ve gone limp against the breadth of him. He has reduced you to rubber, left wobbling in his grasp, and you’re so damn full—your heart and your body—all of it. You feel unequivocally complete. You feel safe, you feel home.

You are home. Francisco is home.

He’s flattening out the nest of your hair, taming the damage he previously delivered to it, earning from you a sleepy grin into the muggy crook of his neck. And with the last of your waning strength you hold his pieces up to the light—the light you left on in the hall as the night grew dark around you, the one who’s yellow glow your naked bodies bask in now, and you say

I love you

I love this

I love this too

tags:

@krissology @heartsofbeskar @madhattervanessa @andiesturgss @sharkbait77 @tenderwhat @javier-pena @pedros-mustache @frannyzooey @chasingdreamer @djarinsbeskar @thosewickedlovelies @juletheghoul @not-the-droids @filthybookworm @pilothusband @letterfromvienna @keeper0fthestars @greatcircle79 @day-off-inkyoto @mermaidxatxheart @lawfulgranola @heatherbel @quica-quica-quica @stuckonthefiction @janesbrontes

[hannahshattuck]

Captain Firefighter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, slight graphic description of injury, car accident

Steve Rogers Masterlist Main Masterlist

BEEP BEEP BEEP. BEEP BEEP BEEP.

You groaned as you slapped your hand around the nightstand trying to find your phone with the alarm going off. When you finally found it, you grabbed it and opened one eye to turn it off. You checked the time and realized you should get up to make sure you weren’t late on your first day at your new job. With a groan, you slowly sat up and noticed you were naked and had a pounding headache.

“Great. Hungover on the first day.” You mumbled as you rubbed your temples.

A groan behind you caught your attention. “God. I’m not drinking ever again.” 

You looked over your shoulder and saw a blond man laying on his back rubbing his hands over his face. The blankets sat at his hips which put his built torso on display. His chest looked like a good place to rest your head and it seemed like his abs had abs. You quickly found your underwear on the floor and a navy blue tee shirt and put them on. You stood facing him and tried to smile even though it felt like a construction crew was in your skull. 

“Um, hi.” You said.

The man brought his hands from his face and laid them on his chest. “Hi.” 

The two of you awkwardly stared at each other and you hoped you were smiling more than grimacing. The man sat up, keeping the sheet covering him and stood looking for most likely his underwear. He found black boxer briefs and put them on without moving the sheet which was impressive to say the least. 

Once he got them on, he dropped the sheet on the bed and found what seemed to be his jeans. He pulled them on and looked up at you and chuckled.

“I need my shirt.” He smirked.

You looked down. “Oh..” You found one of your sweatshirts in your dresser, along with shorts, and started towards the bathroom connected to your bedroom. “I’m just gonna…” You trailed off pointing to the bathroom.

He smiled, “Alright.”

You ducked into the bathroom and quickly locked the door. “Oh god.” You whispered to yourself. You quickly changed out of his shirt and into your clothes. 

You left the bathroom and saw him sitting on the edge in your bed on his phone. You cleared your throat.

“Uh, here you go.” You held his shirt out to him. He stood up and it was then when you realized how tall he was. You were eye level with his chest and had to title your head up to look in his eyes that were a very bright blue.

He took his shirt and put it on without breaking eye contact. “Thanks.”

“Mhm.” You hummed. 

“I don’t remember a lot from last night but I do know you said you start a new job today so good luck on that and I hope you don’t feel too bad today.” He bent down and kissed your cheek. You felt your face heat up.

“I-I’ll walk you out.” You walked out your bedroom and led the way to the front door of your apartment. The living wasn’t a mess so that told you the two of you went straight to your room. You unlocked the front door and opened it to let him out. “I, uh, hope you have a good day.”

He smiled before he walked out the door, “You too.”

You closed the door and leaned your forehead against the cool wood. “Fuck me.”

--------------------

You pulled up into an empty parking spot and grabbed your backpack with all your stuff once you parked. Looking towards the fire station, you saw both big garage doors open and saw your soon to be coworkers messing around or cleaning or working out. You swung your backpack over one shoulder and started walking toward the station. 

“Hey! It’s the newbie!” You turned your head in the direction of the voice and saw a dark skin man waving at you. “Hi! I’m Sam.” 

“Hi.” You waved back. 

“Wilson, keep mopping. It’s your fault there’s whip cream everywhere.” A red head woman said as she walked over to you. “Hi, I’m Natasha.” She held out her hand.

“Y/N.” You said, shaking her hand. “Do I want to know why he’s mopping up whip cream?” You chuckled. 

Natasha playful rolled her eyes, “In between last night calls the boys were pulling pranks.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Ah. That makes sense.”

“Yeah,” Natasha laughed. “They’re lucky it was our captain’s day off last night. Otherwise he would have laid into them and made them clean every nook and cranny of this place.”

“Is your captain here?” You fiddled with the strap of your backpack.

Natasha shook her head. “Not yet. He texted me earlier saying he was gonna be running late. Apparently had a good night if you know what I mean.” She wiggled her eyebrows playfully which caused you to chuckle. “Let’s get you settled before he arrives.”

She led you to the lockers, where you filled yours, and gave a quick run down of where everything is before leading you to the ambulance. You found out that Natasha is one of the paramedics they have and you two would be partners. 

“Okay, so here’s how everything is organized. We do share the ambulance with other shifts but we all got together and figured out where to put everything. If you figure out that a certain supply would be easier to grab in a different spot just send a quick text in the group chat we have for all the paramedics and EMTs. Oh! Speaking of which, let me get your number so I can add you.” Natasha pulled out her phone from her pocket and you gave her your number. “Most of the time we’re like a high school chat with the amount of memes we send.” 

You chuckled knowing exactly what she meant. She continued to show you around the ambulance and then started to introduce you to the other firefighters. You already met Sam when you walked in and he seemed to be done with mopping the whipped cream. Then met James Barnes; who goes by Bucky because there’s two named James but it’s also a childhood nicknamed that stayed, Clint Barton; whose Golden Retriever named Lucky is the station dog and loves pizza apparently, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff; who are twins and moved to the States when they were kids, James Rhodes; who goes by Rhodey and is the other James, and then was told that Carol Danvers, Maria Hill, Peter Parker, Scott Lang and Hope Van Dyne you would meet another time due to them being off.

“Sorry I’m late!” A voice boomed throughout the station. You turned in the direction of said voice and your breath got caught in your throat.

“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath.

“I know right.” Natasha smirked. “I’m kidding. One thing you’ll quickly see is how we all tease each other.”

You awkwardly chuckled, “Oh okay.” 

He noticed you standing with Natasha and you saw his face pale before he schooled his features and walked over to you. He was now wearing the same uniform everyone else was and it was fitting him perfectly just like the jeans and tee he put on this morning when he left your apartment.

“Hi there. You must be the new EMT we were sent.” He placed his hands in the pockets of his pants and stood there exuding authority. 

“Uh, yeah.” You tried to smile hoping it was an actual smile. 

“Steve. Or Captain Rogers. Or Rogers. Or Cap like everyone else seems to call me.” He chuckled as he held his hand out for you to shake.

“Y/N.” You said as you shook his hand while your brain so helpfully supplied an image of those hands around your waist.

“Let’s head to my office before we get a call. There’s some housekeeping things I want you to know.” 

You hummed an acknowledgement and followed him to his office trying to keep your gaze in the middle of his back or the floor so as to not focus on his behind that was contained by the uniform pants. Steve opened the door and motioned for you to walk through the doorway.

“You can have a seat in one of those chairs if you’d like.”

You quickly walked over to the chairs in front of his desk and sat down. He sat in the rolling chair on the other side and leaned back in the chair studying you. Instead of meeting his gaze, you looked down at your pants picking off pieces of invisible lint.

“Well,” Steve cleared his throat and leaned forward to place his forearms on his desk with his fingers interlocked with each other. “I will say that this is not how I expected this shift to go.”

You chuckled, still staring at your pants. “You and me both.”

“I don’t want to make this uncomfortable for you and I can work it out to where we won’t be on the same shift. But, I do want you to be here because I’ve seen your scores for all the tests and they’re phenomenal.” Steve said. 

“Thanks,” You mumbled with a slight heat in your cheeks. “And you don’t have to change anything. I’ll admit it might be weird the first couple days but I’ll be fine.” You gain the courage to look at him and saw his ocean blue eyes watching you. 

“Not to make this any more awkward than it kinda is but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I left your place.” Now it was Steve’s turn to blush. “I promise I’m not trying to come onto you but, uh, I just needed to say that.” He looked down at his desk and fiddled with his thumbs.”

“Well if it’s any consolation I haven't stopped thinking about you either.” You smiled. 

Steve opened his mouth to say something but then the bell rang signaling that there was a call. “Well, let’s start your first shift.” 

You two stood up from your seats and Steve opened the door for you to go first. You gave him a smile as you thanked him. 

“Let’s do that.” You chuckled and took off towards the ambulance with Natasha. 

--------------------

It’s been a few months since your first day and the team has felt more like a family every day. Natasha has felt like a sister to you, Sam has gotten a run for his money when you’ve played pranks and your relationship with Steve has gotten…...closer. You ended up telling Natasha that you slept with him and she couldn’t help but laugh. When you asked why she was laughing she said, “Well, I don’t blame you. He is a nice snack.” You couldn’t disagree with her on that. Steve and you talked about how you two wouldn’t let that night affect you two working together but neither of you could ignore that there were feelings for the other. 

“Hey Y/N!! Can you call Lucky over? He keeps trying to drink the soapy water!” Clint yells across the firehouse where he, Bucky, Sam, and Rhodey were trying to was one of the trucks.

“Yeah. No problem. Lucky! C’mere!” You whistled. The Golden Retriever came bounding over to you and jumped into your arms licking you all over your face. You giggled as you gently pushed him away to go over to his toys and grabbed a tug rope. 

As you were playing with Lucky and wearing him out, the alarm that signaled a call sounded. Dispatch said an ambulance was needed for a car accident. It was always difficult to tell how bad car accidents are until you get there. You and Wanda, who you found out was another EMT, were on shift and ran to the ambulance to head to where the accident was. The accident was at an intersection that always had a lot of accidents whether it be minor or major. 

When you and Wanda arrived, there were already two ambulances there which told the two of you how bad it was. There were at least six cars involved. One was wrapped around a tree, two looked like they collided head on, and the three rear ended each other. There looked to be people out of some cars but your biggest worry was the one wrapped around the tree. You asked one of the other EMTs if any of them checked on the patient of the car around the tree and they said they got there a few seconds before you and Wanda. 

You yelled for Wanda to grab the bags while you ran over to check on whoever it was in the car. Your breath got caught in your throat as you saw it was Steve in the driver’s seat. He was unconscious, slumped over the steering wheel. You gently leaned him back so you could check his front for injuries. Steve had a cut above his eyebrow causing blood to trickle down his face, his left arm was broken which also had the bone poking through the skin, the steering wheel dashboard trapped his legs which caused you to not assess the injuries there. 

“Oh my god.” Wanda gasped when she saw who it was. 

“Wanda,” You turned to look at her. “I know it’s Steve but we treat him like every other person we’ve treated before. Okay?”

She swallowed and nodded her head. Wanda pulled out a cervical collar and handed it to you so you can place it around Steve’s neck to prevent any hidden injuries from getting worse. You called over your shoulder to have Wanda get the spine board. She nodded and ran to the ambulance. A groan pulled your attention back to the man in the banged up vehicle. 

“Steve? Hey big guy. Can you open your eyes for me?” You gently coaxed.

“Wha-? Y/N? What are you doin here?” His speech was slurred but you couldn’t tell if it was because he was regaining consciousness or if the cut on his head was more than just a cut.

“You got in a car accident. Do you know what happened?” You asked as you placed the collar around his neck.

Steve scrunched his face trying to think. “I-I can’t remember.” He started to panic. “Why can’t I remember?”

“Steve, you need to calm down.” You grabbed his wrists so he wouldn’t hurt himself. “Right now I need to check over your injuries.” You heard footsteps behind you and saw the spine board placed next to you. Wanda started getting stuff out of the bag to bandage the cut on Steve’s head. 

The two of you started to assess what you could see but you knew the steering wheel dashboard needed to get moved. You stood up and turned to see if there were any firefighters who could help and saw Sam, Bucky, Clint, and Rhodey all running over to you. They looked over your shoulder and saw it was Steve. 

“What do you need?” Sam asked. 

“His legs are trapped so we need to get those out.”

“Alright. Guys, let’s get the equipment to help.” The men took off back to the fire engine and you turned your attention back to Steve. 

“Hey. I’m going to ask you some questions, okay?” You asked Steve. He mumbled a ‘yes’ and you started asking questions which would assess his mental status. You heard many pairs of footsteps running back over to you and saw Sam out the corner of your eye. You, Sam, and the rest of your team who were there, worked together to get Steve out from being trapped in the car. Once his legs were free, you all placed him on the spine board while Clint and Wanda went to get the gurney. 

“Everything hurts.” Steve groaned in pain. 

“I know, honey.” Unintentionally letting the pet name slip out. “I’m gonna get you some meds for that.” You got everything to get an IV in his arm to distribute pain meds. Wanda and Clint came back with the gurney and everyone loaded him up on the gurney, then into the ambulance, and Wanda jumped in the driver seat and started heading to the hospital. 

“Y/N.” Steve whispered. “I’m glad that you were there.”

You smiled and grabbed his hand. “Well I’m glad that you’re alright for the most part.”

“You called me ‘honey’.”

“Eh. Pet names like that slip from me at times. Sorry if it was unprofessional.”

He gently shook his head as best he could with the collar on. “No, I actually liked it.” 

You could see a sense of determination in his eyes. “How ‘bout we focus on you getting better before we talk about possibly dating and what that means for our jobs.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “How’d you know?”

“Steve. Honey.” You winked at him. “It’s my job to check for even the smallest facial expressions in order to see how much pain someone is in.”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

You shook your head chuckling, checking over his injuries you could see to make sure none have gotten worse. 

Wanda pulled into the ambulance bay of the hospital where three nurses met you and helped you roll Steve into the hospital. He went to surgery for his arm and to make sure there were know serious internal injuries. You were there by his bedside in recovery when he woke up. The two of you would figure out logistics with the budding relationship at a later date but knew you couldn’t wait too long. 

Steve mumbled as he was coming out of the anesthesia. He opened his eyes a bit and saw you sitting there. “Hi.” He closed his eyes with a smile on his face. 

You smiled. “Hi. How you feeling?”

Steve mumbled incoherently which caused you to chuckle. 

“Alright.” You grabbed his right hand, being careful of the IV line, in both of yours. “You get more rest.” Steve mumbled more as you placed a kiss on his knuckles.

Tags: @patzammit @bobbydearest @katiew1973 @rocketrhap3000 @harrysthiccthighss @justamarvelfan14​ @this-kitten-is-smitten​

[shemarmooresfedora]

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: a teeny bit of angst (resolved)

A/N: hi, loves! i will be changing updates to this to once a week because i would like to get my final other WIP out that has been sitting in my drive forever and i have graduation stuff. ALSO, i hit 400 followers!!! thank you thank you <3 here is the celebration!

Masterlist

Chapter 32

“Okay, everyone ready?” Spencer asked.

“Yep,” you smiled, grabbing Jo’s hand, “Just let me get a picture first.”

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and faced it towards Spencer, “Smile!”

Spencer turned sideways so both babies would be visible in the photo. He was wearing one of those double baby carriers so Ophelia was strapped to his back while Ollie was up front.

You all walked out of the room and down to the parking garage while passing nurses and visitors would ‘aw’ at the adorable family that had just practically doubled in size.

“Honey, can you put Jo in her booster seat in the middle first?” Spencer asked.

“Yep, up you go, Baby J,” you helped her into her new booster seat.

On both sides of Jo were now two newborn baby car seats so she could keep the twins entertained on the car ride.

You unstrapped Ophelia from off of Spencer’s back and littered her with kisses, already missing her in your arms. You buckled her in securely as Spencer did the same to Ollie on the other side.

Spencer got in the driver’s side and you got in the passenger seat. You both turned around to look at all your little kids in the back row.

Spencer turned to look at you with a huge grin, “We’re going to need a bigger car.”

“Spencer Reid, I am not driving a mini van,” you gave him a quick peck.

“Fine, I’ll just have to steal one of the FBI’s many SUVs,” he joked.

Jo switched her attention between both babies during the car ride, giving you and Spencer a play-by-play of everything they did.

“Ophelia is trying to squirm out of her blanket so I’m tucking her back in,” she stated.

“Thank you, Princess,” Spencer smiled, rubbing soft circles on your thigh as he drove.

“Ollie’s little hat is almost falling off so I am going to put it back on.”

“Thank you, baby, you are being such a good big sister,” you complimented her.

Once Spencer pulled into the driveway, Spencer grabbed Ollie and you grabbed Ophelia out of their respective seats.

“I’ll come back for the bags in the back,” Spencer said as he walked up to open the front door.

“I wanna hold her please,” Jo made grabby hands up at you with Ophelia in your arms.

“You can hold her when you are sitting, Baby J,” you assured her, patting her head.

Jo followed you up to the nursery, Spencer’s old bedroom. You had the cribs and other basics set up but you didn’t decorate because you were hoping to be moving soon. You and Spencer put an offer down on the house near JJ and Will’s and were waiting to hear back.

“The babies are going to take a nap right now and we are going to have lunch so say night night,” you lifted Jo up to give the babies a kiss before their nap.

Spencer placed Ollie in the crib with Ophelia, “I read up on co-bedding in one of the pediatric magazines at the hospital and if the twins are small enough, having them sleep together in the same crib can provide benefits including regulating body temperatures and sleep cycles, plus it soothes them.”

You and Jo gave the babies kisses and then you grabbed the baby monitor and switched it on.

“You coming, love?” you placed your hand on Spencer’s shoulder.

“One second,” he whispered, his eyes not leaving the two twins cuddled up together in one crib, “They’re just too perfect.”

-

You awoke to find Spencer in the rocking chair in your room in between the two bassinets. You had their cribs set up in the nursery for naps but they would do most of their sleeping in here with you guys until they were a few months old.

“What’s wrong? Are they hungry again?” you whispered, rubbing your eyes as you sat up.

“No, love. You can go back to bed. Ophelia was getting a little fussy which made Ollie fussy too but I think they just wanted some tummy time,” Spencer smiled softly as he had both the babies pressed to his chest.

“You are the best dad ever,” you blew him a kiss before resting your head back on the pillow.

You were lulled back to sleep by the quaint creaking of the rocking chair and Spencer’s loving whispers to the babies.

-

“Where’s Daddy?” Jo asked as you served her a bowl of oatmeal.

“He’s changing the twins. He’ll be down in a bit,” you assured her as you sat down across from her.

You watched Jo push around her oatmeal a little but not really eat any, looking up to the stairs frequently to see if her Daddy was coming down.

Spencer finally entered the kitchen with the twins, “Love, do you want to take Ollie?”

You opened your arms and accepted Ollie into your arms, “Hi, my little one!”

“Sorry it took so long. I was trying to get them properly swaddled but this princess right here was trying to escape,” Spencer grinned at the baby in front of him.

Jo pushed her still-full bowl of oatmeal towards the center of the table and scooched out of her chair, stomping slightly up the stairs.

When you heard her bedroom door close, you turned to Spencer with a disappointed look.

“Spencer, I know the twins are very exciting but you have to remember you have 3 kids, not 2. You hadn’t even said good morning to her yet.”

“I was going to!” Spencer insisted.

“And you called Ophelia ‘Princess’. That’s your nickname for Jo,” you pointed out.

Spencer sighed, he hadn’t even realized he had done that. He placed Ophelia in her bouncer seat and reheated Jo’s oatmeal. He even placed blueberries on top in the shape of a smiley face before heading upstairs.

Spencer knocked gently on the door. His guilt increased tenfold when he heard the little sniffles coming from inside.

“Jo, I know you’re mad at me and you have every right to be but may I please come in?” Spencer asked through the door.

He heard the sound of light footsteps and a teary-eyed Jo opened the door. Spencer immediately knelt to her level and set the bowl down on the floor.

“Jo, I am so sorry I made you feel forgotten because I got too wrapped in trying to take care of the twins. I promise it will never happen again. You are my only Princess, Jo. We’ll give Ophelia a different nickname.”

“I forgive you, Daddy,” Jo hugged Spencer.

“After you finish breakfast, we can do whatever you want today, Princess,” Spencer smiled.

Jo beamed as she scooped a bite of oatmeal into her mouth.

-

You knocked on Jo’s bedroom door where you heard whispers and scuffling of footsteps.

“What’s the password?” you heard Jo announce in a deep voice.

You looked down at the construction paper invitation with lots of glitter glue that was slipped under your bedroom door.

“Sunflower.”

The door opened, revealing a mini table with pillows all around it as seats. Jo’s tea set that Penelope had gotten her was beautifully arranged on the table along with little finger sandwiches and cookies.

“Oh my, how did I get so lucky to be invited to this exclusive tea party?” you smiled, “I know the invitation said ‘dress fancy’ so I hope this sundress is suitable.”

You gave Jo a little curtsy before entering. You had Ollie wrapped in a cloth baby bjorn around your front because he was taking a little nap but Ophelia was wide awake in your arms.

“You look like a Queen, Mommy!” Jo did a little twirl for you in her ruffle dress with strawberries all over it.

“So do you, my little Princess,” you smiled back.

Spencer was already seated on the floor in a full suit like he would wear to work. He shaved and slicked back his hair.

“Ah, I see the King has already arrived,” you chuckled, bending down to give him a kiss.

“Indeed, my lovely wife. I brought the bouncers up for the babies to sit in,” Spencer informed you.

You placed Ophelia in hers but kept Ollie in the bjorn because you didn’t want to disrupt his peaceful slumber.

Jo poured you all tea and Spencer added a little bit of sugar and honey to the tea cups.

“Do the babies want tea?” Jo asked, still holding her tea kettle.

“The babies can’t have tea just yet but thank you for offering,” you smiled, gently picking your cup up.

“Pinky’s up, Daddy!” Jo instructed.

It was rather comical to watch Spencer try to hold the tiny porcelain tea cup in his large hands.

“The tea is absolutely exquisite, Princess Josephine. I believe I will have one of these gourmet peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to go with it,” you smiled.

-

“I’m exhausted. Mommy needs a nap like the twins and Jo,” you chuckled as you fell back on the bed after putting the sleeping twins in their bassinets.

“Are you sure you don’t need a shower first?” Spencer questioned.

You looked at him and quirked an eyebrow.

“What? You know what your sundresses do to me,” Spencer whined.

“I guess I have a little energy left,” you grinned, grabbing his hand as you tip-toed to the bathroom to not wake the twins.

A/N: another reason i need to push the updates back is because i am going camping next week (i wish spencer could protect me from any bears)!

taglist (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @doctorreiding @reidsfish

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Would lowkey kill to see Kauri attempting to write poetry in his relationship with Jake era (omg Jake helping him/being the one to write it down) I always forget that he was a writer and loves poetry and I love him 10 times more every time I remember

CW: Some references to past trauma, forced illiteracy, some brief internalized victim-blaming/slut-shaming, Kauri’s low self-esteem

Takes place after Worth the Risk and Kauri’s first glimpse of his own past

“This is fucking stupid. I can’t fucking do this.” Kauri picks up the notebook, hard-backed blue with little golden stars twinkling on the cover, and throws it full-strength across the room until it smacks into the wall and drops to the ground, open to his own scrawling, struggling handwriting.

Chris, wrapped in a big fuzzy blue blanket and curled up in an armchair playing a game on his phone or texting Laken or maybe both, flinches and looks up. “Kauri?”

Kauri looks away from the earnest concern in those huge green eyes and kicks ineffectually at the coffee table, hissing when he doesn’t actually miss and his toes connect with the hard wooden leg. “Fuck. Fucking-... bullshit, I’m an idiot trying to do this, just-... god damn it. I should know better.”

There’s a silence, and then Chris asks, softly, “Know better than, than... than to what? What were you, um, you doing?”

Kauri’s jaw is set and for a second he considers lying. He’s a good liar, after all, and Chris is always so ready to believe him, he wouldn’t even question it. Safer to lie, hide the ideas inside his head, talk instead about something soft and surface-level. 

Safer to be stupid, always.

But he’s trying not to do that anymore.

He’s trying.

“Writing,” He says, finally. “I was... trying to-... write something.” The words are ground out of him nearly against his will. He glares at the notebook lying open on the floor, the scrawling handwriting of the fucked up slut still thinking he can be anything else. Looping and childish, too big almost to fit within the lines. 

“Oh.” Chris pauses, and then brightens, setting his phone aside and straightening up. “You, you sad you think that you used to, to, to, to write, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” Kauri’s head hurts, a sharp punishing ache. How dare he think in metaphor and simile, how dare he try to build the villanelle, how dare he remember vaguely arguing with someone in a coffeeshop over old poetic forms being superior to poems that don’t even try to fit within a rhythm, and he just-

This is so-

He’s so stupid, thinking he could just pick it up again like it hasn’t been a decade or close, like he’s still whatever stupid shit lived in his body before he-

signed up for this-

followed a fucking hot guy outside in the dark and got thrown into a van and made into Kauri. 

“Well, my... my professor for, for, for, for Playwriting says... says writing is a muscle. You, you have to exercise. And you can’t do the, um, the, the, the-the heavy weights until you start with, with small ones.”

Kauri snorts, derisive, but it’s not because Chris is wrong - of course he’s not wrong. Part of Kauri knows it, too, that he used to write all the time, around the pounding inside his skull he knows that he used to scribble lines on napkins and paper towels and the margins of his study books, bringing together the poem itself only later, usually alone or with a boyfriend on the other side of the room. He used to be able to do this.

He used to do this all the time. 

“I wish Owen had wanted someone who could write a fucking poem,” Kauri says, voice breaking on the tears that threaten. “Maybe then I’d still be able to.” He pushes himself to his feet and stomps over to scoop up the notebook almost violently. “Why are you taking Playwriting, anyway? I thought you wanted to do set design.”

“I, I do.” Chris shrugs, eyes on Kauri, watching him walk back towards the doorway that leads to a hall and then to the kitchen. “But I thought-... I, I, I figured-... maybe if I learn how to, to write a play, it would help... visualize. For, for, for set-building. You, um. You know?”

Kauri exhales, slowly, and then nods. “Yeah. I get it. That’s a good plan - I mean, not that I would know, I’m a college fucking dropout, right?” He laughs, bitterness in every word, in every sound.

“No,” Chris replies, simply. “You, you were... abducted. We were, um. We, we, we were stolen. Your words were, um, were stolen, too. That’s what Dr. Berger-”

“Fuck Dr. Berger,” Kauri snaps, and leaves the room before Chris can make any more sense and possibly break apart Kauri’s determined self-loathing while he still wants to soak in it. 

Hating himself for what he can’t do - or what he’s been told he can’t do - is so much easier than trying to do it anyway.

Everything was easier than trying to get better.

So why is he still trying?

Notebook clenched in white-knuckled hands, Kauri climbs the stairs like a man moving to the gallows, one by one, his thoughts a swirling morass of self-hatred, and then he moves into the bedroom he shares with Jake here and stares at the rumpled covers on the bed.

He sleeps here every single night, wakes up to the same face pressed red on one side from the pillow, hears the same deep voice rumbling good morning, feels the same arm slide over his waist, the same scratchy stubble rubbing his jaw when he’s kissed. 

I have generally found, in my work, the fucking therapist’s voice echoes inside him, that when you begin to do the work to rebuild, you will find yourself dedicated over time to reconstructing not just a room, Kauri, but the entire city that was once leveled. Does that make sense?

He’d told her it didn’t.

Kauri spent years dodging therapy whenever Nat didn’t talk him into it, and he hates going. He hates having to spill all the darkness inside him to someone who never stops being so goddamn calm.

But the first time she’d said, have you ever heard about the effect that solitary confinement has on the human mind? He had told her he didn’t know, but he’d started crying, too, and hadn’t been able to explain why. 

Part of you knows, Dr. Berger had said gently. Part of you always knew.

He had never really wanted to know the person who had inhabited this skin, or try to be him again. But standing here looking at the evidence of the life he is slowly building - his clothes in a crumpled heap on the floor by the bed, his toothbrush in the little cup in the bathroom, a picture of he and Jake in a frame by the bed now, the very small silver ring he wears sometimes even though they’re not and they probably won’t but it kind of feels good to wear it sometimes... 

He wonders if Liam Harker wanted a life like this one.

---

“It’s really dumb,” Kauri mutters, pulling the pillow over his face, burning red with embarrassment. “I didn’t even really mean for you to see it-”

“It’s not dumb,” Jake says, gently. Kauri feels the dip in the mattress as he sits down, feels the warmth of his hand resting on Kauri’s thigh through the blanket. “I’m sorry I read it. I didn’t know what I was looking at. If it was supposed to be a secret-”

“No. I didn’t. I forgot I left it out on the dresser. It’s not your fault. It’s so fucking stupid. I don’t know why I even-”

“Kauri.” Jake’s voice sharpens, a little. “Stop. Stop calling yourself stupid. You’re not, and you never were, and you don’t have to repeat what that asshole told you about yourself anymore, remember?”

Kauri swallows, hard, a lump in his throat he can’t quite breathe around. “When does it stop being his voice,” He asks, muffled, “and start being my own?”

“When you let it,” Jake says, rubbing his leg soothingly. “Just like my dad’s voice. You’re not stupid. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met in my life. I’m sorry I read it, but that’s because it wasn’t mine to read, not because it was dumb, or bad. It wasn’t.”

Kauri hesitates, then pulls the pillow to the side, looking at the sincere affection in Jake’s face, his slight smile. “Yeah? You’re not just-”

“Saying that? No, I’m not. I mean, I’m not, like, a poetry person-”

“It’s not even a real villanelle, anyway.”

“I have no idea what that means. I just... I thought it was pretty good, actually. When I realized-...  I put it down when I realized you were writing about-... you know. Yourself.”

“Liam,” Kauri says, hoarse, barely able to pronounce the name. “I wrote-”

“Yeah.” Jake takes his hand, pulls it to his lips, presses a kiss to Kauri’s knuckles. “I know. It’s really good, Kaur. You should keep writing. I promise I won’t look at any stray papers I find anymore, yeah?”

Kauri takes a breath. He feels almost dizzy, in a way that is both terrible and wonderful. The way you open yourself to the people you love is a horrible, amazing risk. The way you spill the darkest parts of yourself, not things you’ve done wrong but the things you are afraid of allowing back into the light, in case it washes them all away again.

But the light he lives in now isn’t cold, and it isn’t taking him away from himself. The light he lives in now is sunlight.

“What?” Jake’s eyebrows raise slightly. “What’s that face for?”

“Jake. What if-... what if I ask you to? Read them?”

Jake’s lips press together, and he nods, smiling slightly, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Kauri’s hand. He’s always warm, Jake, even on the coldest days. He’s always warm. “I’d be-... be fucking honored, or something that sounds less bullshit than that, but I mean it. I’d be... I love you, Kauri. Seeing inside your head is what I want to do for-... for forever.”

“Maybe I’ll ask then,” Kauri says, and pulls Jake’s hand and then Jake himself, the taller, larger man settling on top of him, holding himself up on his elbows, careful not to rest all his weight. “I love you, too, you know.”

“Yeah.” Jake kisses the tip of his nose. “It’s pretty fucking great.”

Kauri’s eyes glimmer, but he closes them so Jake can’t see, and kisses his forehead. “It’s nice to think that I’m lucky and mean it.”

“I think you should read your poem to Dr. Berger,” Jake says, and when Kauri groans, he pulls back. “I mean it. She should know.”

Kauri wants to argue, but he looks into Jake’s eyes, and sighs, and says he’ll think about it.

---

AN APOLOGY

I am built from the hollow air left after your heart stopped beating

Your hands still gripped tight to the life they were ending

I know you thought of home but I don’t know where your home is

The sound of my voice is a green valley that only sends back screaming

Covered in smoke and dust that I told myself smelled like cologne

Pathways that remember your laughter silent in the years that followed

Have I done enough to build a life you would have enjoyed living?

I am built from the hollow air left over when your heart stopped beating

The heat of their hands as inevitable as a river tore down every foundation

Their cruelty buried you so deeply that only I remain

I don’t deserve the love that should have been yours to receive

The sound of my voice is a valley echoing back your screaming

I owe you an apology for walking around inside you

Crumbling ruins with my touch and calling it preservation

I’m sorry for every blade of grass growing through our bones

Am I nothing but hollow air from when your heart stopped beating?

-

Wildflowers grow inside me from soil windswept over ash

Is that life worth everything not quite dead so deep below?

Is Kauri Grant good enough to make up for Liam Harker’s loss?

In the valley of my body, does anyone but me still hear you screaming?

I owe you an apology and have to hope the life I live provides it

I wish I could ask for forgiveness from the shape of you  

We’re both ghosts, in the end, mosaic pieces shattered in shadows

I’m sorry that I’m all that’s left.

I built myself from hollow air in the shape of a heart still beating

The sound of my voice will always carry the echo of yours screaming

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @orchidscript @cubeswhump , @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @moose-teeth @whumptywhumpdump @wildfaewhump

[athenasbloodyspear]

Don’t Make Me Beg Now Baby

CHAPTER ONE: EDGE OF DARKNESS

Hello fellow Greta Van Freaks. This is my very first Greta fic! I hope you enjoy.

MASTERLIST

Note: This fic contains mature themes, discussions of past non-con (no members of GVF involved) and drug use. Minors DNI. 18+ only and please take care of yourselves. (See Ao3 for full tag list)

You can also read this fic on Ao3 if you prefer!

Jake Kiszka x Original Female Character

Picture this: The boys are in Northern Michigan to write the new album and they meet a wild young woman who works at a local record store who has a rough history with rock bands.

She doesn’t want to fall into the same traps she fell into before. He doesn’t want to hurt her.

The rest of them just want them to figure their shit out.

Note: While this fic is based on the members of Greta Van Fleet, I obviously do not know them personally (lol) and nearly 99% of this is a fever dream I decided to write down. Some tid bits are based on things said in interviews/photos/songs but please do not come for my neck if you dislike my portrayals as this is a STORY that I have entirely made up.

This will be a slow burn, overly dramatic, cliché fest of me missing my Mitten State and wishing more than anything I could move back home. Their music makes me homesick and for that I’ll never forgive them. ;)

Chapter Under the Cut

CHAPTER ONE: EDGE OF DARKNESS

The tiny bell on the door to “The Edge” clanked as Jake pushed his way in, followed by Josh, Sam and Danny. The afternoon sun streamed through the slats in the windows at a harsh angle, illuminating the swirling dust. The boys all immediately took a deep breath. They all loved the smell of this place. A mix of dusty old vinyl's, incense and weed. 

The Edge was the shop owned by an old friend, Levi, who had been a longtime family friend of the Kiszka’s. The boys had made the near three hour drive to the shop whenever they had a spare weekend in their younger years. They bought Levi out of his guitar strings and drumsticks and always looked through the boxes of vinyl's hoping to find treasures. Levi sold an eclectic mix of music equipment, records, books, home goods and comically horrific coffee. 

The Edge is where they had each bought their very first instruments, had their first beers and even smoked their first joint. It was a special place for them. 

The old wood floors creaked with every step, the wood walls were covered with old articles from Rolling Stone, photos Levi had taken and autographs from the artists who had cycled through the place over the years. There were stacks upon stacks of vinyl's. Shelves of old autobiographies and music theory books. There were speakers stacked from floor to ceiling, and the whole right side of the store was jam packed with basses and guitars. The back corner had a few keyboards and a drum set, but plenty of catalogues to pick even more instruments from. There were cases of drumsticks and guitar picks and strings. The middle of the store had tables full of incense, candles and interesting home goods. There were tables where local artists sold jewelry, art pieces and furniture. It was full to the brim, most shelves rising way up to the ceiling. Most needed a ladder to reach the top. The basement had a sound studio with even more equipment set up to be used to record, or to test out. 

Levi had inherited the place from his father, who had built up quite a legendary roster of friends over his years. The shop was just off Front Street on the main drag of Traverse City. Levi’s father had made a name for himself as a great host to bands looking to escape to northern Michigan to hole up in cabins and write albums. Levi continued the tradition and took it a step further by buying the space next door and turning it into a club with live music on the weekends. 

If you were lucky, you could catch some super huge bands playing for only about 100 people in the dark side room of The Edge. 

“You bastards finally made it!” Levi called out as he came sauntering out of the back room. Levi looked the exact same as the last time the boys had seen him. Tanned skin from his days paddle boarding and hiking along the Lake Michigan shore, sandy blonde hair that was brighter in the summer, perpetual 5-o-clock shadow because he just couldn’t be bothered to shave, shell necklace around his neck, light wash jeans low on his hips with the same old cowboy boots he’d been wearing since the boys were 12. 

“Is that grey hair I see Levi?” Josh leaned forward with an exaggerated squint. Levi laughed, snagging Josh’s head to give him a noogie. 

“I may be older than you punks by a few years, but I’m not greying yet.” Levi released Josh from his headlock and gave him a shove. 

“I’d say 37 is more than a few years older than us, grandpa.” Sam snarked. 

“You’re makin me regret extending my hospitality, kid.” 

Jake felt himself relax fully for the first time in a really long time. It was just like old times. Exactly what the boys needed. 

“Welcome back dudes. I’m surprised I’m still cool enough for you Rockstar types.” Levi crossed his legs and leaned back against the front counter. 

“We’ll never be too cool for The Edge. This place will always be way cooler than we could ever be.” Danny piped up, walking forward to wrap Levi in a hug. 

“It’s been too long man.” Levi commented as he smacked Danny on the back. 

“We know.” Sam said “Way too fuckin long.” He hugged Levi next. Josh and Jake followed up with hugs next. The room was heavy with a tinge of melancholy. Old friends who had missed each other finally reunited. 

“Well, have you guys been to the house yet?” Levi stepped around the counter and started pouring four cups of the famous nasty coffee. 

“Yeah we dropped our bags off before we headed into town.” Danny spoke up. 

“Isn’t it sweet?” Levi asked enthusiastically. 

“It’s wicked man. Thanks so much for getting that set up for us.” Josh grinned as he snagged a cup off the counter. 

The house was a mid century modern cabin right on the east bay shore. It came equipped with a huge garage studio, front deck and a dock out into the bay. Levi had bought the house in foreclosure and along with help from a bunch of locals (in exchange for beer of course) they turned the house into a perfect getaway for any artists looking to come take a break up north. The place had five bedrooms and three bathrooms with a giant living room with overstuffed couches and velvet chairs. The walls were covered in art and the shelves were full to bursting with plants. It was a kaleidoscope of colors and textures,  with mix matched rugs and lamps. It was Levi’s pride and joy. 

“I’m so glad you guys like it.” Levi smiled even bigger as he passed coffees to the rest of the boys. “Once you’re a little more settled, feel free to send me a list of equipment you want me to set up downstairs and you can start coming in whenever to work. But also, I think you should probably take a week or two off first. You all look about two seconds away from collapsing.” 

“Yeah we’re pretty fuckin beat dude. But we’ll send you a list ASAP.” Jake said, taking a burning sip of the coffee. It singed his nerve endings and he couldn’t have been happier about it. 

Levi opened his mouth to speak again, when a voice filtered through the window to the loft above the store. 

“Yo Levi!” the person shouted “Can you please get off your fuckin ass and pick music to play? I know Wednesdays are your day to pick but if you take forever I’m just gonna put on whatever I want and you can suck it.”

All four boys' heads snapped up to the window to the loft, but whoever was up there couldn’t be seen. All they could see was that the loft had clearly gotten a makeover. What used to be an upper level where Levi stored surplus supplies now looked like it had a plush velvet couch, lava lamps and plants in it. 

“Alright alright! I’ll get on it.” Levi called back up, shaking his head and chuckling to himself as he walked toward the central sound system behind the counter to scroll through Spotify playlists. 

“Who the fuck is that and what have you done to the loft?” Josh asked, hopping up to sit on the counter. 

“That would be the very best thing that’s ever fallen into my lap. A.k.a my new store and venue manager Maven. She moved back to the area after living in Hollywood for a few years managing bands and she completely changed my life. We finally have consistent stock, a longstanding line up at the club and I have had the time to start photography again. Truly a godsend, if not occasionally a pain in my ass. She turned the loft into a breakroom of sorts.  There’s a couch and table up there now. She practically lives up there sometimes.” 

“Damn she must be some woman if she finally got you to get your shit together with that club.” Sammy piped up. 

“She’s hellfire, I’ll tell yah that.” Levi chuckled, finally hitting play on a playlist. The first bars of Surfin USA by the Beach Boys came on the surround system and matching groans came out of Jake downstairs and Maven upstairs. 

“Not this shit again!” Maven yells. Jake chuckled to himself. Hellfire indeed. 

“It’s my day to pick so suck it!” Levi called back before faux stage whispering to the boys “I mostly just play this to piss her off.”

Levi clapped his hands together once “Well boys, It’s close enough to five o'clock and I owe you a beer. Let’s head over to Little Fleet for some grub and beers and we can catch up.” 

Josh grimaced as he sucked down the last bit of his coffee before lobbing the empty cup into the trash at the end of the counter. “You still make shit coffee Levi.” 

“It’s the one thing I wouldn’t let Maven fix.” Levi said with a grin as all five men exited out the back door. 

                                                           ~0~

The boys took a week to relax, as per Levi’s request. They spent the days hiking the shore, kayaking and drinking beer around the fire. It had been way too long since they’d done this. The release of The Battle at Garden’s Gate had been exhilarating and the fans' response had been everything they’d hoped for. People seemed to love the album and they were all so proud. But with press interviews and touring, they hadn’t gotten more than a day or two to relax at a time. And they certainly hadn’t gotten a chance to get back to their favorite old haunts in years. 

They stopped by the store almost every morning for a cup of coffee strong enough to jumpstart their hearts. Sometimes Levi joined them on their escapades, and sometimes he stayed behind to help out at the store. The boys spent a few afternoons sifting through albums and strumming on some of Levi’s vintage guitars. 

Mostly they caught up on each other's lives. The boys recounted their more personal lives that happened outside the coverage of the album and Levi talked about the past few years of his life in Traverse City. Levi told them all about Maven and how she was practically his little sister. They laughed. They drank. They had a blast. 

The boys noticed Levi was a little on edge occasionally, typically when they heard someone shuffling upstairs or equipment moving around in the backroom of the shop. They assumed it was Maven but weren’t sure, since they had yet to see her in the flesh. A week from their arrival they were all sitting in lawn chairs in the alley behind the store, smoking cigs and drinking their coffee when Sam finally asked. 

“So, why haven’t we met your precious Maven yet? Hiding her from us or something?” 

Levi shifted a bit in his chair. “Um..” he coughed out a laugh. “I am actually. Yes. But it’s the other way around, I’m hiding you from her.” 

“Afraid she’ll fan-girl or something?” Josh commented as he ashed his cigarette.  

“In… a sense.” Levi coughed. “But in quite the opposite way you’re imagining.” 

“She’s a fan then?” Sammy piped up.

“She loves your music. A lot.” Levi sniffed and coughed again. “It’s a real safe haven for her. When she’s having a bad day I catch her upstairs laying on the floor smoking a J with sound cancelling headphones blasting your albums as loud as she can.” 

“Exactly how it’s meant to be enjoyed. With a joint in hand.” Jake chimes in.  

“Yeah..” Levi toes the asphalt a bit with his boots, but doesn’t continue.

“Soooo” Sammy drawls “Why can’t we meet her? We’re no stranger to super fans. I’m sure she’s cool.” 

“Um, well. It’s a bit complicated.” Levi heaves a sigh before flicking his cigarette butt into the coffee canister at the center of their little circle. “I suppose I can trust you guys. You’re friends. Do you remember the huge lawsuit that the band Undercover Heart went through last year? The one about the um” He coughs again, “Rape of one of their staff members by the lead singer Ryan?” 

“Yes. That shit was horrific man.” Danny spoke up. “I read all the details I could. They kept the poor girl's identity private but goddamn I felt so bad for her. She was a badass for filing that suit though.” 

“Yeah. She was.” Levi breathed. “So, this is strictly off record and if you repeat this to anyone I will skin you all alive, famous rock stars be damned.” 

“Jesus Levi.” Jake said. 

“It was her.” Levi choked out. “Maven. That’s why she ran back from Hollywood and ended up here. That dude messed her up and she just… she struggles with meeting famous bands now. You know how many people cycle through this joint writing stuff. She just… has a really fuckin hard time with it sometimes. Particularly bands she likes. I think it’s because once you meet someone, and in her case, discover how much of a monster they can be, their music isn’t… safe anymore.” 

“Fuck.” Jake said, flicking his cigarette into the canister. 

“Well I feel terrible for joking about her being a fangirl.” Josh mutters. 

“She just genuinely loves you guys a lot. I never really told her I was an old friend because I didn’t want her to be worried about y’all stopping by. I just know that if she knows you’re here she’ll take off and avoid coming by the shop as much as she can and not only do I need her here, but I think she needs the safety of the shop too. I didn’t want to wreck it.” Levi sighs again. “I know she’ll find out you’re here eventually, it’s inevitable. I just was a coward and didn’t want to break the news to her.” 

“She was a pretty well known band manager wasn’t she?” Danny asks. “She like… completely made Undercover Heart what it was. Before they hired her they were slated to be a one hit wonder but she hauled them into relevancy basically by her will alone.” 

“Yeah. She basically built that man's career for him. She gave him everything, and he took everything from her. If I ever see the man I’m liable to get my ass thrown in prison.” Levi mutters.

“I’ll help.” Danny says immediately. 

All five sit in silence for a few minutes, smoking the last of their cigarettes. When they’d all finished, they stood and stretched to head back inside the shop. 

“So yeah. Anyway, If you see her that’s fine, just… well now you have context for… her.” Levi says as he yanks open the door. 

A few steps into the back hallway, Levi suddenly halts, causing all four boys to nearly bash into each other. The front door to the shop had crashed open and there were footsteps stomping across the store toward the front desk. 

“Listen Levi,” Maven’s tense voice carried down the back hall. “I know Wednesdays are usually your day for music but I’m having an absolute shit fucking day so I’m playing Greta all day and there’s absolutely nothing you can fucking do about it, kapeesh?” 

The very opening chords of Edge of Darkness scratch through the speakers after she finishes her sentence and the boys all exchange a slightly amused look, grins spread on all of their faces. 

“Kapeesh.” Levi calls out to her. He spins and silently nods to the boys to head toward the back door. The boys attempt to be as quiet as they can as they creep toward the door. 

“Also, Levi?” Maven calls again. Everyone halts in their tracks. “You said there was a band coming in soon. Are they here yet? Do you need me to set up the backroom?” 

“Uh, yeah they’re here.” Levi squeaks. All five men share nervous looks. “They’re uh… up at the house.” He cringes at his lie. “I’m getting an equipment list from them today and then you can get started. 

“Cool cool.” Maven calls back. “Do you think I’ll like their stuff?” 

“Uh. Yeah.” Levi grins then. “I think you will.” 

“Wicked.” Maven calls back. 

All five men repress giggles as they skedaddle out the back door and into the alley. 

                                                        ~0~

The next morning the boys wake up to a group text from Levi. 

COME BY THE SHOP ASAP. COME IN BACK DOOR. HEAD DOWN THE STAIRS TO THE BOOTH. BE AS QUIET AS YOU CAN. 

A weird request, but they did as they were told. They all piled into the SUV they had rented and headed to the shop. Danny peeled open the back door as quietly as he could, and Sammy opened the door to the stairs. They tiptoed down and through the door at the end of the stairs that opened into the booth of a sound studio. Levi sat in front of all the mixing boards with a cup of coffee to his lips. He glanced over at them and softly said “coffees on the table.” 

“Why the weird text?” Jake asked. 

“Because of that.” Levi responded softly, pointing through the dark glass into the soundstage. 

The sound stage was littered with mismatched rugs, and a few milk crates that doubled as tables. There was a gorgeous seafoam green drum set toward the back wall and stands full of various guitars and basses. Along the left wall was a piano and a Mellotron set up exactly to the specifications Sam sent over. However, with all these beautiful instruments to look at that would normally catch their eye, it was the woman sitting on stool in the center, cradling a dark purple Fender guitar that made Jake stop in his tracks. 

Maven, Jake had to guess that’s who it was, was wearing checkered distressed pants, with a ripped up old band t-shirt cropped at her ribs, revealing a sliver of the rounded part of her stomach. Over top she was wearing an orange leopard print cardigan that ran down to her thighs. Around her neck was a series of long necklaces, and her wrists were adorned with interlacing leather bands. 

She was plucking out a melody with her eyes closed, rocking back and forth on the stool. Jake had seen countless numbers of people playing the guitar before. On the road, in the studio, studying old masters on YouTube. There was nothing overly special about the way she was sitting or playing, but he felt a little bit like he couldn’t breathe. 

“She never fuckin plays anymore man.” Levi whispered. “It felt like magic hearing music coming out of the basement this morning. I just felt like you should see it.” 

The melody she was playing was sad. Haunting is a better way to put it, and Jake couldn’t look away. Not even when Sammy placed a cup of burning hot coffee into his hands. She was moving her head along with her playing, the strands of her dark messy hair shaking back and forth. The group watched in silence as she played out the riff a few times, Levi cranked the volume of the mics in the space and they could hear her humming softly. 

“She has a strong presence.” Josh murmured. 

Maven suddenly stopped. Everyone froze as she heaved a sigh and stood from the stool to put the guitar back on it’s rack. 

“You in there Levi?” Maven said then. The boys still didn’t move a muscle. Jake’s head was spinning, having finally seen the face that went with the voice he’d heard in the loft for a week. She was beautiful. He couldn’t even really put his finger on why, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Even seeing her through the thick dark glass of the studio. 

Levi hit the button to the mic in the booth and responded “Yah.” He paused before adding. “Sounded good.” 

Maven snorted in a self-deprecating way and said “Thanks.” 

Levi hit the mic button again and said “You should play more.”

“Don’t push it Levi.” Maven snapped back. Levi released the button to his mic and let out a heavy sigh. “Can you check some levels on the lines for me? I think I have everything pretty good but I want to make sure before they get here today.” 

“Sure.” Levi replied. 

Maven pulled the amp cord out of the Fender she had been playing on and plugged it into another guitar, one more similar to the guitars that Jake regularly used while they wrote. 

“Are we looking for a punk or a rock-y sound?” Maven asked. 

“Um.” Levi hesitated. “Rock. Their sound is like…” He tossed a small smile over his shoulder at the boys. “Like Greta’s actually.” 

“Dope. I hope they’re not just copying the boys. They’ve got a mellotron in here and everything.” The boys smiled. She pounded out a few chords on the guitar. “Good?” 

Levi looked over at Jake for confirmation. Jake, who still had not taken his eyes off Maven, nodded. 

“Yeah, that should be good for raw sound. They can play with stuff too. They’re a pretty well educated bunch.” Levi called back.

“Thank god.” Maven snorted. “Not like that indie punk bunch you booked last month who needed me to do fucking all their sound mixing for them.” 

“Maven, I don’t think they kept asking you down here because they need help with their sound.” 

Maven just rolled her eyes at that.  

They repeated the process with each instrument, Levi silently asking for confirmation from the respective Greta member until they were sure the sound lines were all functioning properly. 

“Great work kid.” Levi called into the studio. 

“Ew don’t call me kid. I’m a 27 year old woman.” Maven called back. 

Levi chuckled. “You’re a kid to me.” 

“Whatever.” Maven muttered. “I’m gonna go take a walk along the beach. Smoke a little. Text me if they need me.” 

“Will do.” Levi called back. The boys all tensed, looking for places to hide, or to run up the stairs and back into the alley. Luckily, Maven took the back door out of the studio and up another hallway instead.

“Well boys, it’s all you.” Levi said. “Text if you need anything.” 

Sam piped up and said “Yeah actually, can you pick my brother’s jaw up off the floor?” 

“Jake see pretty lady play guitar and Jake brain break.” Josh teased. 

“You guys suck.” Jake grumbled. 

Levi cackled. “I thought you’d like her.”  

                                                        ~0~

Maven walked along the coast of the bay and absentmindedly smoked a joint. It was an overcast and drizzly day which meant there was no one around, which she preferred anyway. She was feeling on edge. The drizzle was very slowly building a small sheen of water on her arms and hair, but she didn’t mind. The cool water and gentle breeze combination was perfect. 

Maven sat her butt down in the sand and stared out at the waves. She normally wore headphones on her walks, her world was a near constant stream of music, but she had opted for silence today. 

Levi was being weird. He was edgy around her all week, sending her out every morning for tasks and disappearing without saying where he was going around 4:30 every day. She had come to the conclusion that whatever band was in town this week was a pretty big name. Or big enough that he was nervous about her being around them. She sighed. She hated when he tiptoed around her. Maven didn’t blame him. When she first started working at the shop she had had a couple pretty bad PTSD episodes that had scared the shit out of him. She owed him everything for staying with her, talking her down and making sure she was fed and had water when she got into one of her states. 

Levi was her best friend, to put it mildly. He cared for her, kept her safe and in return she busted her ass at his store making sure they had the best products, the best shows and that their artist getaway was something that people would go back and tell their friends about. She loved Levi like an older brother, and he cared for her like his little sister. She would forever be grateful to whatever power in the universe made her stumble into The Edge two years ago. 

She had been high out of her mind, as she had been most days after she came running back to Michigan with her tail between  her legs, and Levi had been struggling with an amp in the shop. She had walked in, spotted his struggle and didn’t even say a word to him, just walked over and fixed the wiring so that it was functional again. Levi had looked up from where he sat on the floor and said “You don’t happen to need a job do you?” 

The rest was essentially history. It only took two months of seeing him every single day, and him not letting her sour moods go by unnoticed, for her to spill her guts over some bourbon one night. About Ryan and Undercover Heart and how badly the whole situation fucked her up. How after she’d recorded her testimony she’d boarded the next flight to Grand Rapids and hightailed it up north. She came crash landing into Traverse City because she’d always loved it as a kid, and figured it would be a great place to start over. The small town she’d grown up in had too many people who knew her. 

He was extra careful with bands for a while. Never letting her be alone in a room with too many male band members, and carefully vetting everyone who came through. Eventually she told him off about treating her like a porcelain doll and he backed down a bit, giving her free reign over lots of the equipment set ups and giving her plenty of hours in the shop by herself. She was happy to do so, so Levi could focus on fixing up the artist house and starting his photography again. 

But he was still very gentle with her sometimes, and she’d always love him for it even when it pissed her the fuck off. 

Once she’d smoked the joint down to the roach, she tucked the end into her pocket. It was sacrilegious to litter near the lake. It was too precious to be fucked with. She meandered back toward the shop. Her plan was to grab her bag and head back to let her Pitbull, Stacy, out for a walk and pee. The girl had been cooped up all morning and Maven felt bad. 

She threw her whole body against the front door, as the latch often stuck, and the loud sound of the chimes clanged in the empty space. She rolled her eyes. Of course Levi left the shop unattended and unlocked. It was Traverse City, no one was gonna rob them, but what if someone wanted to buy something? 

She was humming softly to herself as she made her way around the edge of the counter and plopped down on the stool by the register. She whipped out her phone to ask Levi where he was. She had the message halfway typed when the door behind her, the one that led to the staff restroom, popped open. 

“You know, crime is especially low in this town but that doesn’t mean someone wouldn’t come in here and try to steal your precious coffee maker.” She tossed over her shoulder. 

“Oh.” Was all that came back. It was decidedly not Levi’s voice. Maven spun back quickly. 

“Sorry I…” But that’s as far as she got. She was suddenly face to face with Jake Kizska and all thoughts quickly left her brain. 

They both stared at each other for a long moment. Maven couldn’t quite figure out why he looked just as shocked to see her as she was to see him. He also almost looked afraid for some reason that Maven couldn’t figure out.

He was dressed in an outfit she’d seen him wear plenty of times. A black button up, half unbuttoned, loose fitting light wash jeans and a pair of well worn boots. His wrists were full of bracelets and his hair was longer than the last time she’d seen footage of their concerts, well past his collarbones at this point. 

“Hi.” Jake finally broke the silence. “I’m Jake.” He reached out his hand for a handshake. 

“I know.” Maven replied, and then coughed. Why did you say that you freak? 

Suddenly the front door bell chimed again, and Maven whipped her head to see Levi coming in the front door. She stood abruptly from her stool, skirted around Jake’s outstretched hand, and out from behind the counter. She scooped up her leather satchel on her way. 

She headed straight at Levi. He glanced over his shoulder and saw an apologetic Jake looking forlorn and lowering his hand back to his side. 

“Oh hey Maven-” 

“Hey dumbass, don’t leave the store unattended again. I’m going home to check on Stacy. Probably won’t be back for the rest of the day.” Maven spit as she stormed past him toward the front door. 

“Maven wait-” 

But she was already outside, the hinges bringing the heavy wood crashing back into the frame. The chime of the bells rang through the space. 

“Sorry.” Jake muttered. 

“Not your fault. I knew she’d find out eventually. Right now she’s probably just pissed I didn’t tell her. Which she has every right to be.” Levi sighed. 

After a few more beats of silence Jake spoke again. “Who’s Stacy?” 

Levi huffed a laugh. “That would be her Pitbull.” 

“Oh.” Jake said again. He felt crazy because his brain couldn’t come up with anything else to say. She was prettier up close. She smelled like the Lake and weed and sandalwood. He really wished she’d taken his hand. He shook his head trying to find his brain in it somewhere. 

The other three boys came clambering up the stairs and into the store. They all looked between Levi, who was still standing in the middle of the shop, and Jake behind the counter. 

“Are you two playing freeze tag or something?” Sam quipped. 

“Jake met Maven.” Levi responded. The boys' heads whipped toward Jake. 

“And… I’m guessing it… went well?” Danny questioned.

Levi finally walked back toward the counter. “She left for the day. This is on me. I should have told her y’all were here.” He snagged his keys from below the counter and walked toward the front door to lock up. “I’m closing early, boys. Let’s go get a beer.” 

“Kowabunga baby.” Josh said with a grin.  

                                                     ~0~

Maven sat curled up on her velvet couch, Stacy was her little spoon. There was incense burning, a bottle of wine open on the side table and a lit joint in the ashtray. She had changed into a giant t-shirt and boxer shorts. The soft sounds of John Denver playing off her record player. 

However, none of these things were easing her mind. 

She was pissed, mostly. At herself. At Levi. She was pissed he didn’t tell her they were coming. She was pissed that he felt he couldn’t tell her. She was pissed that she had acted like a freak in front of Jake. 

The anxiety was an endless pit in her stomach. She couldn’t go back there tomorrow. She couldn’t see any of those people. Not when she felt like this. 

She whipped out her phone and quickly shot a message to Levi, before chugging her whole glass of red wine and snagging the joint out of the ashtray. 

                                                        ~0~

Levi’s phone dinged on the table where all of the guys sat drinking beers and chatting. Levi glanced at it and quickly picked it up when he saw her name. 

“It’s Maven.” He said. 

“What did she say?” Jake asked, sitting up a bit in his chair. 

“Fuck.” Levi said, tossing his phone on the table, still unlocked. 

All four boys leaned in to read the screen. 

CASHING IN ALL MY VACATION DAYS. I’LL BE OUT FOR TWO WEEKS. 

“Fuck indeed.” Josh said, pounding back the rest of his beer.

[kireimarkeu]

My Little Pea; j.jh

+repost :))) 

just a summary of how it’s like to be dating jaehyun. i got so many inspiration from so many videos/people while making these. HAVE FUN 

4k words

+Day 1 [he asks you out] 

Jaehyun couldn't stop himself from smiling every few seconds. Every time he remembered what happened an hour ago, his face and ears would flush red and his palms would start to sweat.

Just an hour ago, Jaehyun finally asked you to be his girlfriend, after seeing each other for a few months. The feelings were mutual, and you were glad he finally asked you. 

You squeezed your boyfriend's hands, looking up at him, amused, "what are you smiling at, cutie?"

He looked down at you, biting his lips to stop himself from smiling. "Can't believe I can finally call you my girlfriend."

You couldn't help but blush at his sweet words. "I feel the same, boyfriend."

Jaehyun suddenly stopped walking and pulled his hand from yours, covering his face with both hands.

"You can't say that!"

+Day 30 [your 1st month]

"Happy one month, baby!" Jaehyun beamed, holding a vanilla cake in front of him. 

You grin happily, looking up at him. "You bought a cake for us?"

Jaehyun nodded sheepishly, "had to treat my girl after not being able to see her for so long."

You stood up and ambled up to him, "thank you for this. You're the best boyfriend ever."

You take the cake from him and placed it on the table before wrapping your arms around his neck, placing a soft kiss on his neck then another his lips.

"Thank you so much, love," you cooed, pressing your lips on his nose.

Jaehyun smiled at you, dimples obvious, "anything for my favourite girl."

 +Day 48 [his first I Love You]

"Jae, hurry up!!" you whined at your boyfriend, crossing your arms with a huff.

"I'm coming! I'm coming! Jeez, what's the rush baby?" Jaehyun yelled back, quickly putting on a clean t-shirt before leaving the changing room.

"Gosh, for a guy you take pretty fucking long in there," you raised your eyebrows, grabbing your boyfriend's duffle bag, handing it to him.

Jaehyun grabs your hands in his as the both of you starts walking, "can you tell me why you're rushing me?"

You let out a soft sigh, opening the door for the both of you, "well, it's supposed to be a surprise..."

You looked up at your boyfriend only to see him raise his eyebrows at you, "I reserved a restaurant for the both of us."

Jaehyun's ear immediately turned scarlet. He couldn't believe how cute you were being. His little baby was rushing because she planned a date for the both of you? How adorable.

"You've been super busy with practice, and I know how stressed you get, so I thought I would bring you out," you told him sincerely, squeezing his hand lightly. "Is that okay?" you asked, looking up at him with anticipation evident in your eyes.

Jaehyun burst into a huge smile, "are you kidding me, baby? I love this! Thank you so much, you're an angel!"

Jaehyun immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest as he hugged you tightly. Jaehyun was tall– extremely tall, so whenever you hug him, you always had to tiptoe to match with his height.

"I love you."

You gasped, pulling away from Jaehyun, "what?"

Your boyfriend cleared his throat, looking around shyly, "I said... I love you."

 +Day 64 [he leaves for the tour]

"Are you not asleep?" Jaehyun sighed from beside you, turning to look at you.

It was 2 in the morning, the both of you weren’t cuddling like usual, and your eyes were still wide open, staring at the ceiling with tears brimming your eyes every few minutes.

"I can't," you whispered, hands going up to wipe the stray tears away.

"Don't cry, princess," Jaehyun mumbled, stretching his arm to pull you closer to his side, hiding his face in your neck.

It broke Jaehyun's heart to see the love of his life cry because of him. If he could, he would've already called his manager to cancel the tour just for you. If only he could.

"I just..." your voice shaky, "I'll miss you. So much."

"Impossible."

You chuckle, resting your head on his. You raked your fingers through his soft hair. "Can't I send you to the airport tomorrow?"

Earlier today, you've been bugging Jaehyun to let you send him to the airport for the last time, but the whole time Jaehyun wouldn't let you.

"No can do, baby. There would be too many fans, I don't want my little pea to get hurt."

Now, that was a lie. He didn’t mind the fans, but he knew he would burst into tears if you were to follow him to the airport to send him off. And he didn’t want anyone to see him cry, he had to maintain his big boy demeanour. 

You pouted. "Well, okay, but you'll have to wake up early tomorrow so I can spend a little more time with you."

"Anything you want, angel," he told you. "But right now, you need some sleep alright?"

"Mhm, goodnight jae-bunny," you giggled at the nickname.

"Goodnight, my little pea."

 +Day 128 [you just missed him so much]

"I think I'm gonna' cry," your voice shaky as you told Jaehyun through the phone.

"Baby..." he sighed.

Tears roll down your cheeks as soon as you heard his voice through the speaker. "It's so hard, Jae..."

"I know baby, I know. We just gotta hang in there for a little while, alright?" Jaehyun's voice was so soft and comforting.

You started to sob, all you wanted was for Jaehyun to hold you in his arms, go on fun dates while wearing matching outfits, but Jaehyun had to leave Korea for 3 months without any break in between and it just broke you.

"Don't cry... you know it breaks my heart..." Jaehyun sounded like he was about to cry, from his quivering voice.

"I can't do this," you immediately told him before ending the call and tossing your phone on the bed before covering your face with your pillow while tears continue to leave your eyes.

It took you a good half an hour to let all the tears and feelings out. You grabbed your phone, turning it on only to see multiple messages from your boyfriend.

Boyfriend: baby

Boyfriend: baby? 

Boyfriend: are you okay? 

Boyfriend: what do you mean you can't do this? 

Boyfriend: don't leave me, angel

Boyfriend: I can't live without you

Boyfriend: you probably need some time y/n 

Boyfriend: please text me back, princess 

Boyfriend: I love you. so much baby. you don't even know

Your lips turned into a small smile at his texts.

You: hi

You: sorry, it was just hard to hear your voice for so long and i couldn't control my emotiona

You: emotions*

Boyfriend: we can do this baby. I know we can ❤

You: jae

Boyfriend: ?

You: you're an idiot for thinking i would ever leave you

 +Day 156 [your first I Love You] 

Your palms were sweating, your eyes were locked on the watch you were wearing.

Your boyfriend was finally coming back home today and you could never be any more nervous.

With your lips between your teeth, you tip-toed between all the tall fangirls to see if your boyfriend has arrived.

It all felt like a dream when you saw Jaehyun come out of the door. It was all slow motion, the cameras started clicking and the screams of the fangirls were so loud, you could barely hear your thoughts.

With a small smile on your lips, you walked to the van that the boys were supposed to get in. You quickly get in so the fans wouldn't get suspicious.

In about 30 minutes, the doors unlocked and soon, one by one, the boys entered the door.

You could see Haechan was ready to squeal at the sight of you sitting inside, but he gets pretty loud and he didn't want the fans to find out that there was a girl in the car.

Finally, Jaehyun entered the van. When his eyes landed on you, it immediately lit up, pushing the other boys to take a seat next to you. He quickly wrapped his arms around your waist and placed his head on your chest like a baby.

The van finally started moving and he pulled away from your chest, "I didn't know you were coming.."

Your scrunched your nose at how cute he was being, "it was a surprise."

Jaehyun grinned at your words, "I have a surprise for you too."

You looked at him with a gasp, "a surprise? what is it?"

He looked at you sneakily before telling you that he would show you the surprise when the both of you are back at the dorm.

 ***

"Gimme your bag," you told Jaehyun, reaching out to grab the bag from him.

He shook his head, making a cute sound. "No, it's okay."

"You're tired Jae, I can carry some stuff for you," you said, reaching further to grab the duffle bag from him, but only pushed his shoulder bag so you couldn’t reach for it.

"It's heavy," he protested.

"I'm a big girl," you huffed, crossing your arms.

 He let out a sigh and shrugged, "if you say so," he passed you his bag.

 You quickly grabbed it and hang it around your shoulder and– oh, it was heavy. You looked up at Jaehyun who was stifling a laugh as he stared at you. You quickly changed the position of his heavy bag and placed it around your chest– you didn't want shoulders that aren't level.

"You good there, babe?" Jaehyun asked you, laughing from next to you.

You nodded with a hum, flashing a fake smile to your boyfriend, "Perfect."

Jaehyun could only shake his head as he grabbed his luggage from the trunk.

You quickly went to Taeyong to grab the keys from him so you could unlock the door. Taeyong sent you a soft smile, mumbling a 'thank you'.

Once everyone has settled in their dorm rooms, you followed Jaehyun from behind. You were excited to know this 'surprise'. What could he have planned while he was away for 3 months?

You tugged on the sleeves of his shirt, "Jae... the surprise," you pouted.

"Ah, yes," he quickly ran to his black coloured luggage, unlocking it, he quickly skimmed through a bunch of unfolded clothes to find the thing he was searching for.

Finally, he pulled out a small teddy bear from the mess. He waddled back to you, with a smile on his face, dimples prominent.

You raised your eyebrows.

"I was in Paris, and I saw this and it looked exactly like you," he told you.

You held the small teddy bear in your hands as you scanned its face. You looked up at your boyfriend, who was staring at you with heart eyes.

"How?"

"Well, this was the only unique bear, which means, you're a gem, y/n," he explained, "also, it's so small, like a pea– like you. A-and look at its eyes! It's so shiny, exactly like yours– when you look at me," he giggled, turning the bear to show you.

Jaehyun frowned at the lack of reaction from you, "do you... like it..?"

"Are you crazy, Jae?!" you yelped– and at that moment, Jaehyun thought he had fucked up, "I love it!"

"Really?”

You nodded, "mhm, it does look like me," you laughed, looking back at the bear.

Jaehyun pressed his lips against yours softly before pulling away, resting his forehead on yours, "I'm sorry– you just looked so adorable. My little pea."

Hungry for another kiss, you pulled him down by his collar and pressed your lips against his again.

"I love you," you mumbled against his lips.

 +Day 198 [you visit him at work]

Jaehyun suddenly stood up, his arm that was around you left you, making you feel cold. 

You pouted, reaching for his hand, stopping him, "where are you going?"

Your boyfriend chuckled at your pout, "I'm just going to the toilet, baby," he squeezed your hand.

"Okay, come back fast."

He hummed, quickly pressing a kiss to your cheek before leaving you with the rest of the boys.

You pulled out your phone, trying to find something that could entertain you since the boys were busy themselves– all of them were either doing their make-up, making sure their outfits looked good or practising their vocals. 

"Hey, hey," Johnny called out, getting the attention of everyone in the room. You pulled your attention from your phone to look at Johnny. "Are you guys hungry?"

A chorus of 'yeah' and 'yes' filled the room. 

"Should we play scissors, paper, stone? Loser will buy food for everyone?" Johnny suggested, a smirk plastered on his face as he scanned the reaction of the room.

Everyone shrugged, agreeing with the idea. 

You could only chuckle at how cute the boys were. You continued to scroll through Instagram, ignoring their voices.

"Wait–"Taeyong called out, "Jaehyun isn't here, though?" 

"Hmmm... how about Y/N? We can use her to replace Jaehyun?" suggested Mark.

Your head shot up at your name, you raised your eyebrows at the boys who were staring at you. 

"Will you replace Jaehyun?"

You shrugged with a small smile, "sure."

You threw your phone on the couch and walked up to the boys who were already in a circle. 

"Scissors, paper, stone!"

The game repeated multiple times until it was left only you and Johnny. 

"Ah, this is getting competitive," you sighed, glaring up at Johnny playfully.

"You'll lose, Y/N," he joked, laughing softly.

"Scissors, paper, stone!"

You held out scissors while Johnny held out rock.

The room was filled with loud waves of laughter from the boys as some pointed at you as if to mock you. You let out a small scream, laughing with the boys.

As if it was perfectly timed, your boyfriend entered the room with a straight face. He raised his eyebrows, all confused as to why everyone was laughing loudly. 

"We have a surprise for you," Taeyong told his friend. "You didn't know what we did?"

Jaehyun shook his head, "No,"

"Ah," Taeyong pursed his lips, "Y/N will tell you," he giggled. 

Jaehyun turned to look at you with raised eyebrows.

"Your card please," you asked, reaching out both hands, trying to stifle a laugh.

He looked around, still confused until he remembered the boys saying they were really hungry and he finally figured everything out. 

He looked at you with betrayal in his eyes, then back at the boys with a fake smile, "have a good meal guys!" 

The boys roared another wave of laughter.

He let out a soft sigh, going to his bag to fish out his credit card, giving it to Johnny since he was ordering. He walked back to you and quickly pulled you in his arms. 

"I can't believe you would betray me like this," he pouted.

 +Day 209 [your first fight] 

You angrily stomped in the dorm, slamming the door in Jaehyun's face. Jaehyun then opened the door after you slammed the door loudly, glaring at you, following you to his room.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Jaehyun asks you, shutting the door, turning to look back at you.

"Nothing."

"You can't tell me it's nothing when you're acting like a fucking child, Y/N!" he raised his voice at you.

Recently, Jaehyun had started to get busy again, and apparently, today was the only day he was free after weeks of not seeing each other despite living in the same household.

Both of you had planned to go on a date, to make up for the lost time in the past weeks. It disappointed you when Jaehyun had stood you up, so you went to SM building to find him– just to see what he was up to since he had stood you up.

What shocked you was when you saw Jaehyun sitting with a girl at SMtown Cafe, talking happily and sipping iced tea.

"I don't know Jaehyun, why don't you think?" you snapped, glaring at him.

He let out an annoyed groan, pushing his hair back with his fingers– something he does when he's stressed out.

"Y/N, could you just tell me? Babe, I don't know what I did wrong!" he begged, voice filled with desperation.

"Jae," you breathed, "today was the only day you had a free day, and we both promised to finally go out."

Jaehyun finally remembered about the date that both of you planned weeks prior.

Shit.

Jaehyun closed his eyes, letting out a breath. "Baby..."

You  knew what he was going to say and you didn't want to hear it. You felt like the relationship was going south and you didn't know what to do because you don't want to leave him.

"No– Jae, I– I don't wanna hear... your apology– or an excuse, just... just leave, Jaehyun."

"Y/N, I'm sorry, my schedule was just so hectic, and–and, I just forgot about our date–" he looked up at you with pleading eyes, "please forgive me, babe, hm?"

He ambled closer to you, reaching out to hold your hand in his, but you roughly pushed his hand away.

You shook your head in annoyance, "Just leave, Jaehyun!"

Jaehyun pushed his hair back as he glared at you, "why are you being so difficult right now?” 

You gasped at his words, "I'm being difficult?"

He nodded, "Yeah, I said what I said, Y/N. You're being fucking dramatic."

"Dramatic?" you repeated. "Jae, I haven't seen you for fucking weeks! And then when I try to find you, you were with some other girl! What the fuck, Jae?"

Jaehyun rolled his eyes at your words, "right, I'm sorry for having a hectic schedule then."

You shook your head, getting tired of the argument, "I'm tired of this, Jaehyun, just leave me alone, alright?"

"Fine."

 +Day 210 [he apologizes]

남친 = boyfriend

 남친: baby

남친: i'm sorry about yesterday

남친: after leaving your place i couldn't stop thinking about it

님친: i love you 

님친: i promise i wont forget about our dates next time 

Both of you had playful fights before, but it had never gotten serious like this before. And honestly, it scared you– a lot. You didn't want to lose him, not like this.

You: i'm sorry too

You: for overreacting

It only took Jaehyun a second to reply to you.

남친: no baby, don't apologize

남친: it was my fault.

남친: i'll come over okay?

A smile spread across your lips before typing a reply to Jaehyun.

 +Day 365 [your first year together]

"I can't believe you begged your manager just to go to Hawaii," you huffed while pulling your suitcase into the pretty room.

Your eyes scanned the room– it was beautiful. It had the prettiest view of the sea, the room was huge, a bed in the middle and tv right before the bed.

"Yeah," he scoffed, "with you. You wouldn't think I wouldn't spend time with you on our anniversary right?"

You turned to glare at him, "It's sweet of you, babe. But if you keep skipping your schedules, your manager is going to hate me!" you whined, frowning at your boyfriend.

Jaehyun couldn't resist your cuteness and walked up to you, pulling you to his chest. "So? At least I get to spend time with the girl I love the most."

You pulled away from his chest and scrunched your nose at his words, "You're cheesy."

"Oh, you love it."

Well, he wasn't wrong.

You pulled away from your boyfriend and sat on the soft mattress, "well, what do you want to do first?" you asked Jaehyun, turning to look at him.

"Well, I'm pretty hungry?" he said, rubbing his stomach.

"Okay, where do you wanna eat?" You asked him, already looking through your luggage to find an outfit to wear.

"Well..." he started, you looked up at him suspiciously, "I was thinking we could just order some food?"

You let out an annoyed grunt, "but Jae, we're all the way here!"

"I know, I know! But I wanna spend some time alone with my little pea..." he said softly with a sullen look.

You stared at him with a straight face.

"Please...?"

He walked up to you, pressing his lips against yours quickly.

"My little pea? Please?"

This time he sent you puppy dog eyes and kissed your lips once more, and you had to fight back a smile.

"Baby? Come on..."

"Argh, fine!"

 +Day 371 [he sings for you]

"Can't sleep?" Jaehyun whispered from beside you.

You turned to look at him, a sad smile plastered on your face.

Turning back to stare at the wall, you opened your mouth, "nope."

"Why not?"

You took a while to reply him, "this past week... has been the most beautiful and awesome time of my life and I'll cherish this moment forever," you explained. "I just can't believe we're going back tomorrow."

A grin spread across Jaehyun's lips. He was so happy when he heard you say that. It took him months to plan this trip for both of you.

Your boyfriend reached for your hand to lace it with his, his thumb rubbing the ring on your finger.

The ring. Yesterday, he gave you a promise ring. He explained that the ring was more than just a mere promise that he would marry you one day. It was also a promise that whatever happens, he'll always be there for you. A ring that held a lot of meaning.

"Want me to sing you to bed, babe?"

"Mhm."

You move closer towards Jaehyun and laid your head on his chest as he wrapped you in his arms.

His beautiful voice started to fill the room, whispering beautifully in your ear.

"I love you, Jung Jaehyun."

"And I love you, my little pea."

 +Day 382 [abs????!!!!!] 

You couldn't believe this. You couldn't believe your eyes. 

Jung Jaehyun– your boyfriend– was too shy to show his body to you, but he could show his motherfucking abs to the camera?

"JUNG JAEHYUN!" you screamed out angrily. 

After hearing your scream, Jaehyun immediately ran to your room, only to see you seated down on your shared bed with your phone in your hands. 

"Yes, baby?" he asked, going up to you. 

You looked up at him with a scowl, "don't 'hey baby' me!"

He stared at you with puppy eyes, "what did I do?"

With a scoff, you lifted your phone to show Jaehyun a picture of him lifting his shirt and caressing his abs after. His ears turned beet red as he looked back to your dark eyes. 

You placed your phone next to you and folded your arms with a frown. "You don't even let me see your abs yet you can show your fans your body?"

Jaehyun let out a forced laughter, "do you... wanna touch it?"

A grin spread across your lips as you nodded at your boyfriend’s words. Honestly, you were just joking, you didn’t want to make your boyfriend uncomfortable with his body. 

What shocked you was when Jaehyun didn’t hesitate to lift up the t-shirt he was wearing. Your eyes were about to leave your eyes as you reached out to stop him, he looked up at you with confusion. 

“Baby, I was just joking,” you told him, “I would never make you do something you don’t feel comfortable with.”

But he shook his head, “I’m really okay with it. You’re my girlfriend.”

You squint your eyes at him, he laughed, “really.”

A smirk appeared on your face as you pulled your hands from Jaehyun. 

“Go on.”

[hugespace]

Prompt: van, thunderstorm, link is scared and rhett is there for him and gives him hugs and kisses

Thanks love 😘

There you go! 🥰 I ended up writing some high school Rhink - lots of fluff with a dash of angst. Hope you’ll enjoy it!

*** (~2k words) ***

"How the crap did you miss that, Rhett?!" Link rapidly turned his whole body in the passenger seat, making his bleached blonde locks flap around on the top of his head. "How are we even out of gas-? Didn't you just say, like yesterday, that you'd fill it up?!" he threw his hands in the air, staring with disbelief at his friend who sat quietly behind the wheel.

Rhett muttered something in response, his head downturned and eyes focused on his own lap.

"Rhett!" Link exclaimed impatiently, not having gotten a clear answer out of the other boy.

"I thought we'd make it, okay?! I was gonna buy gas with some of the money we'd get after the gig!" Rhett repeated his explanation in a raised voice this time, finally looking his friend in the eyes and shrugging in the process.

Link only returned the look with wide eyes.

"Are you serious-? You're so irresponsible!" he answered even louder after a few short seconds of processing Rhett's words. "You're telling me you wanted to buy gas with the money we won't even get now because we won't get to the damn concert- because. You didn't. Get. Gas. In the first place?!" Link continued thought clenched teeth. "What the crap, Rhett?!"

The taller boy felt his face grow warm. Sure, perhaps Link was right, it wasn't the smartest decision of his life, or even of just that day, probably – electing to risk not reaching their destination in a borrowed van full of equipment for the two of them and the other members of Wax Paper Dogz just to be able to spend the last of his cash for the week on snacks. But he certainly wasn't going to give the other boy that, or the full reason for getting them stranded in the middle of a road on the way to the farm they were supposed to play at, for that matter. Truth was, Rhett didn't do well with criticism. Not even when it was earned.

He opened his mouth and got ready to match Link's tone, when a powerful crash of thunder resounded directly above them all of a sudden, immediately preventing the shouting match that was surely about to ensue.

"What was that-?" When Link's voice reverberated to Rhett's right again, it was remarkably smaller and less filled with anger than just seconds ago.

"Shit" was the only response the older boy could muster as the sky opened up, letting thick and heavy drops of rain fall onto the world around them, drumming angrily against the van's roof.

"At least we don't gotta worry about the gig-?" Rhett tried for a reassuring smile after a few beats of silence between them ticked by, interrupted only by blaring sounds of the summer storm they’d apparently gotten caught in. "It ain't gonna happen now with that rain-" he conceded, hoping it won't anger Link any further.

The younger boy was silent, the unexpected arrival of thunder seemed to have not only taken away his temper, but his voice as well.

"Link?"

A pair of blue eyes, still wide open, met Rhett's. The fire that burned in them just moments before the first loud crash fizzled out completely, giving way to a cold shade of fear, and the face they belonged to quickly became visibly paler, taking on a greyish colour only intensified by the sudden lack of sunlight.

"I don't like this-" Link whispered, clutching the edges of his seat with such force that his knuckles soon matched the paleness of his face.

Now, Link didn't exactly suffer from a deadly fear of thunder, not to Rhett's knowledge at least, which after more than a decade of being best friends meant it could as well be equalled to a fact. On the other hand, he wasn't especially keen on those either, and the aspect of being trapped in a metal can in the middle of a country road with absolutely nowhere to go to seek refuge only added another dimension to that.

Instinctively, Rhett reached out a hand and rubbed the other boy's shoulder soothingly.

"Hey- Hey, look at me. Link-?" he leaned forward trying to catch his friend’s eyes again and grasp his attention, temporarily directed towards the sky where bright flashes of lightning cut through the dark graphite clouds one after another. "Hey"

Link finally directed his attention back to Rhett, gulping loudly, almost comically, if it weren't for the entire situation. "We're gonna be fine. The car's safe, we're better off here than anywhere outside probably, just don’t touch the doors. We'll wait till the rain passes a bit and then I'll go get us gas, okay? The station's not that far. We'll be good." Rhett added in a calm voice, still keeping his right hand on Link and gently rubbing his upper back.

"Okay" the boy replied, still in a weak voice, and drew in a deep breath, only to be startled by another instance of rumbling thunder and hastily clasp Rhett's other hand.

"Sorry..." he cleared his throat and tried to compose himself once the sound of thunderclap died down, leaving them only with the deafening banging of raindrops against the van. Link went to retract his hand but was stopped by Rhett's before the taller boy could think about it.

"Ssh, don't. S’okay, brother."

The split-second decision to comfort Link and hold him like he hasn't since they were kids came from the feeling of guilt for getting them in that situation in the first place, he told himself. And sure, he did feel responsible for making Link endure the storm in a car stuck in the middle of nowhere all because of his stupid idea. But it wasn't just guilt; the vulnerable look on his friend's pale face combined with the fear in his big glassy eyes made him look like the boy he was when they were still in grade school - small and innocent, and it tugged at Rhett's heart in a way he didn't fully comprehend, awakening an instinct to protect Link no matter what.

"Do you... Maybe we'd- Should we...?" Yes, Rhett did make a decision but was suddenly struggling to articulate it. The scared boy next to him wasn't really listening anyway, his whole attention focused on the sky again and his free hand grasping Rhett's sleeve and trembling. Rhett cleared his throat and tried again. "We should move to the back."

"Whaa...?" Link started but was cut off by his friend gently removing his fingers from the fabric of his shirt and swiftly moving to the row of seats behind them.

"C'mon. It's gonna be more comfortable. The stick's poking my leg when I lean over like that." the older boy offered from the expanse of the middle row, gesticulating to the gap between Link and the now empty driver's seat.

If Link was hesitant to join him, another growl of thunder must have been enough to persuade him because suddenly, he was clambering to join Rhett, inadvertently nudging his thighs and elbowing him in the process.

"Auch! Okay, okay- Com'ere" The older boy grabbed the other's shoulders once he was situated next to him and moved his body even closer, encircling it with his long lanky arms and squeezing hard, making Link's head fall onto his chest.

To his surprise, his best friend didn't protest, he only burrowed his face deeper in the front or Rhett's bunched up flannel and breathed in deeply, obviously trying to relax.

"Good, good" Rhett praised absent-mindedly and slowly stroked Link's smooth hair, temporarily stunned by the feeling of warmth and peace holding the other boy so close gave him. After a couple of minutes of stillness, he felt Link's arms move, too, and wriggle in between the backrest of the seat and Rhett's lower back, finally hugging him back around the waist. It made the taller boy instinctively seek even more contact, and he lowered his head, positioning his face on Link's hair and eventually, before he could rethink it, leaving a kiss on top of it

Link froze and tensed up again, though this time there was no crash of thunder or flash of lightning to blame it on.

Oh no. Rhett's action caught up to him. This was weird. He was being weird. They never kissed each other, not even like that, not even when they were kids. His heart sped up from embarrassment and he was sure his friend could feel it, with the way he was still clinging to his chest. But he wasn’t letting go- In fact, he seemed to hug Rhett even tighter now, nuzzling his face into his body, left cheek smushed against his sternum.

Shyly, Rhett risked another smooch to Link's head, this time as close to his forehead as he could reach in the position they were in.

In response, the boy let out what sounded like an appreciative hum, or maybe even a tiny whimper, and a warm breath against Rhett’s skin, making his heart pick up the pace again. Continuing the pattern of acting before we could talk himself out of it, Rhett gathered his friend and tried to pull him even closer, not even sure if it was possible at that point, and was rewarded with Link landing almost entirely in his lap.

The face of his best friend was now nearly level with his. It was blushed, he realised, the earlier sickly tone of his complexion gone almost completely. His hair, equally blonde as Rhett's though significantly longer, was dishevelled. The sight was endearing, there was no other word to describe it, and the look in Link's eyes, blue as ever and soft now – not as filled with fear anymore, only made the effect it had on Rhett more intense.

Blinded by the affection that flooded him all of a sudden, he leaned in again, now able to kiss Link's forehead, and left another peck there, keeping his lips pressed to it for a bit longer. Before Rhett could really get used to the new sensation, Link straightened his back, making himself taller in Rhett's lap and as a result, bringing his own lips to the same hight his friend mouth was at.

The taller boy flinched slightly and almost recoiled on instinct, seeing how there were no more than two inches of tense air filled with petrichor separating their faces, and nothing else.

Almost.

Instead, he gathered all of his courage and closed that gap, planting his lips square on Link's.

They were incredibly soft, almost cushiony, and oh so warm. And they were moving against his! He realised, stunned, as the other boy's hand reached up to his face and gently cupped his jaw.

Rett felt his own lips form an involuntary smile, soon matched by the lips he was kissing. As they started to separate, both beaming and searching each other’s faces with sparkly eyes, he took in the near silence that surrounded them.

The rain stopped, there was no banging on the roof of their van and no rumbling of thunder above. It was like the clouds dissipated the moment they kissed, giving way to sun again, Rhett thought not caring about how silly and romantic at the same time that idea was.

Divine intervention or a simple coincidence, he didn't care. The sky was clear now and so was the fact that he just shared a kiss with the person he loved most in the entire world. How he hadn't realised that earlier was unimportant. It might have taken being stranded in the middle of a road, surrounded by nothing but trees and crops and a thunderstorm worse than any other time that summer to get there, but they did, in the end - that was all that mattered.

And with that thought, Rhett embraced Link trying to put all of his love into it, and went to kiss him again.

[terrortalesv]

uncle skips time :-)

Benson has Skips watch Stella when something unforeseen arises.

Trade with @tr85n

Skips leans against his van and sips at a cup of coffee that is slowly but surely going cold. He looks up to see his boss approaching him hurriedly, holding his daughter’s hand. The yeti raises his index and middle fingers in greeting and places the empty cup on a nearby workbench.

“Skips,” Benson addresses him, sounding slightly out of breath, “can you do me a favour and watch Stella today? I know it’s short notice, but something’s come up and Mordecai and Rigby both have plans and–”

“Yes.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll look after her, just go do your thing, Benson,” Skips puts a large hand on his boss’s shoulder and offers a small smile.

“You sure? You’re not too busy?”

“Yeah, I’ve got nothin’ goin’ on.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks, Skips.”

With that, Benson crouches down to give Stella a kiss on the cheek, then leaves, offering a “bye, Pumpkin!” as he goes.

—

“So, what’d you wanna do, Sweet Pea? D’you need to eat or has Dad taken care of that already?” Skips gets down on one knee to be slightly closer to her eye level.

“Yeah, I just had breakfast,” Stella bounces on the balls of her feet as she speaks, tone of voice much more cheery than that of most people he talks to at work. He can’t help but smile at that.

“And what’s the plan for today?”

The little girl looks at the ground for a moment, appearing deep in though, before the answer flies out of her.

“Blanket fort!” she shrieks, throwing her arms up into the air.

“Blanket fort?” Skips can recall Mordecai and Rigby mentioning one of those before, can form a vague image in his head of what it might look like, but is otherwise lost, “care to explain?”

“It’s a fort made of blankets and pillows and stuff! And you sit in it and it’s fun!”

He supposes that makes sense.

“So, all we need’s a few blankets and pillows?”

“Oh, and a couch,” Stella draws a rectangle in front of her with her index fingers to illustrate this.

“Oh.” Skips blinks. He doesn’t have one of those.

She seems to notice, because she becomes silent and thinks again for a second.

“Follow me! I know the perfect place!” the little girl grabs his finger and starts walking, to which the yeti responds by skipping slowly behind her.

—

Soon, they are standing in the living room of the house in the middle of the park, surrounded by a large pile of seemingly every pillow, blanket, throw rug and stuffed animal in the vicinity.

Stella stands back as Skips moves the coffee table out of the way and pushes the armchair up against the couch. When he is done, she starts laying pillows down on the floor, taking care to layer several on top of each other for maximum comfort. The yeti tosses the blankets over the couch, leaving a large gap between the ones at the front to serve as a doorway.

Stella finishes the project by placing two plushies in front of the fort, “so they can be the greeters,” she explains.

—

“Gah!” Stella cries, “Unc-ie Skips — I mean, princess! Help, the tiger is attacking me!” She rolls around on her back, holding a plush cat to her face, simulating an attack.

“Don’t worry, princess, I’ll save you!” Skips simply grabs the toy with one hand and puts it in a corner, then places a cushion in front of it to prevent any possibility of escape.

Stella sits back up, breathing heavily, “thanks. You’re… really strong.”

They both burst out giggling.

—

“Have you been in love before?” The question comes out of nowhere and catches the yeti off guard.

He is silent for a second, but decides to answer truthfully, “yeah.”

Stella stares up at him and settles into her spot on the floor, quietly prompting him to elaborate further. Skips sighs. As painful as it is to think about, maybe sharing the story with her would help some.

“Her name was Mona. We met at school. And, yeah. I loved her a lot.” He gently pulls a gold chain with a locket out of his back pocket.

“What’s that?”

The yeti carefully opens the locket to reveal an old picture of himself, whom Stella recognises, and a woman, whom she doesn’t.

“Is that her? She’s really pretty.”

Skips nods sadly.

She stares at the pictures, “can you tell me the whole story?”

And so he does. He tells her the same story he told Mordecai and Rigby all those years ago. He talks about how he’d been expelled from every school he’d attended up to that point, about meeting his immortal friends and the first run-ins with Klorgbane. He talks about meeting Mona, their connection, the skipping and planning of the prom. The Fists of Justice. How pretty Mona looked in her prom dress. How much fun they had that night, the way they danced.

As he’s recounting every little detail, Stella listening intently through it all, he feels tears brimming at his eyes, but refuses to let them spill out.

He takes a short break to breathe before talking about the fight. The next part he doesn’t mention in detail. He simply says, “and now she’s… gone.”

By this point, the little girl is looking up at him in awe, holding one of the plushies to her chest.

“Wow.”

—

Skips eats a pudding cup and makes a big show of listening as Stella rambles about whatever comes to her mind. He nods, shakes his head, mumbles in agreement, exaggerates his facial expressions and occasionally replies to her. He isn’t even sure if she’s actually talking to him, but he does it anyway. It’s the polite thing to do, he thinks. From what he can see, from where he is sitting, she’s having fun. And he has to admit to himself that he is too.

“Anyway, there was a shark in the lake but that’s okay because Applesauce got into a fight with him and saved us!” She waves her arms around excitedly as she tells this totally true story that definitely happened.

“No way!” the yeti places his hands on his cheeks and widens his eyes.

“Uh-huh! And there was a rainbow and it was really, really pretty and then we all walked off into the sunset. But Daddy said it was too early for a sunset and we turned around and it was actually a explosion!”

“What?!” Skips gasps, “you must surely have the most exciting life of all, Sweet Pea.”

“Yeah!” Stella bounces up and down on her knees, “but you have stories too. I bet you’ve got like a gazillion of ‘em!”

“Oh, no, none as exciting as yours.” He chuckles.

—

After his long day away, Benson approaches the house. He stops when he hears the sounds of giggling and chatting coming from inside. One of the voices is obviously his daughter, the other much more gruff.

He sneaks into the living room and stands there for a few seconds before taking a peek into the fort. It surprises him to see his employee sitting next to his daughter, Skips’ head partially obscured by a blanket, both of them wearing princess dresses and pretending to sip from tiny teacups. A few stuffed animals have food stains around their mouths.

“Oh, Mrs. Bear, you are so right, this has been fun!” the yeti says to one of the plushies, poorly faking a British accent.

Benson snorts. Neither of them seem to notice him, they’re clearly too busy.

“Hey, you guys!”

His boss’s voice prompts Skips to jump and drop his teacup.

“Daddy!” Stella cries, at the same time Skips yells “Benson!”

“You’re back,” it’s just the yeti’s voice this time. He clears his throat.

“Yeah, I’m back,” Benson chuckles, “can I come in?”

Only if no one ever finds out about this, Skips thinks, but his mouth simply says “yes.”

[choiwrites]

kth | the day after valentine’s (m.)

Words: 4.5k Synopsis: Taehyung, your best friend, had asked you to come over to help him arrange his furniture after moving for the hundredth time. It’s the day after Valentine’s and all the getting laid stuff is over, right? Not for Taehyung. Also, who the hell buys condoms after Valentine’s day? Rating: 18+ Author’s Note: This is a messy drabble that I have no intention cleaning or editing. I wrote this at liek 2am so a lot of typo’s ahead y’all.

When you agreed to come over Taehyung's apartment, you thought he needed help with arranging the stuff that came from his moving van today. But no, your best friend's not the most truthful person you know.

He spreads across his dirty old couch, one he'd kept from his college dorm, wearing nothing but his basketball shorts that holds tight against his waist. Seven years since meeting him, he's done nothing to change his lifestyle. Every month, it's the same old scenario of him moving to another place after getting evicted for God knows how many times, and you watching him play a mobile game while you beg him to please start unpacking before a landlord sends him on his ass again.

"Let me finish this level, I'm so close." He looks for a second to study your reaction, annoyance painted clearly on your face.

You shrug, and your eyes dart over the cigarette pack that almost hides in one of his Goodwill boxes.

"I though you quit?"

Confused, Taehyung follows your eyes and he regrets in an instant bringing you here.

"I haven't had one in two months. I'm stressed lately."

Sighing, you try to understand. Taehyung's been on and off with cigars, he'd buy one in secret but sooner or later, you'd always find a lighter in his laundry when coming over. You advice him to keep his hand busy, and you'd even given him a bracelet that chimes. He removed it three months later and you never asked where he threw it away.

"Fuck," his finger swipes his screen as if he wanted to break it, "I almost got it!" he yelled.

He switches off his phone, now staring back at you. Your eyes fall, he's always intimidating. You couldn't blame him, you were always intimidated.

"What?" you croaked.

"What do you mean what? What's your plan?"

"My plan? Why do I have to make the plans?" Your fingers find the hem of your thin baby blue shirt.

"Because you're the smarter one. How do I arrange all my shit? You got any idea?"

"Taehyung, we've been doing this for ages. How come you still depend on me? There will come a day that I won't be here anymore and the only person you could depend on is yourself." Was it seeing the cigarettes that raised your voice, or remembering that he threw your handmade bracelet? You couldn't care less.

He was quiet. Then he opens his mouth, and he's quiet again.

"You sound like my mom," he says, meaning to tease you as if he hadn't used that for the hundredth time. "Was your date last night that bad? I told you you should come with Hoseok and I on Valentine's, we had an amazing night at Jungkook's crib."

There he goes again, ignorant of your troubles. Classic selfish Tae, the exact same one who stood you up on homecoming because he spent it having sex with Tilly Janes in his car. You're still upset about it, he didn't even think of going inside to give you at least a minute to dance with somebody on the dance floor.

"Mind telling me what happened? Did you get laid?"

"Do you ever think of maybe you shouldn't ask such inappropriate questions to someone?"

"Fine," almost tired in his tone.

And you spend a few more minutes in silence, guessing each other's thoughts with the way both your gaze lands on the floor. He clears his throat and forgets what he's about to say. You wish you didn't cancel your nail appointment today just to be with your best friend who still, in no surprise, doesn't have a single plan in his life.

Taehyung suggests he buys a stock from the grocery first, and when he says stock he means an awful lot of Oreo cookies and Lays. You agreed with him and he gets dressed, though the soles of your feet still hurt from walking in heels for three hours straight last night. If only you knew that Hyungwon would be bringing you to a walking spree, you wouldn't have worn a formal attire.

Taehyung spends his time choosing between peanut butter and double stuff. You tell him to pick the peanut butter one because you've never seen him finish the double stuff, he always throws the leftovers saying it was too sweet. He ignores your opinion and chooses the double stuff over the peanut butter.

He asks you again whether he should buy milk or pineapple juice instead, and you tell him to pick milk because whoever drinks pineapple is a monster. He nods in affirmation, commenting about how pineapple has a really weird aftertaste. And he brings the milk back to the shelf, putting the pineapple juice in the cart.

"You should dress like that." He points at a mannequin dressed in sportswear.

"You don't tell me what to wear, young man. I don't even jog."

"I'm just saying you'd look hotter." He scans you head to toe and your knees weaken a little.

He takes a route to the meat section, you already know why. He just wants to brag about being a vegan. Jungkook had convinced him last month to finally turn vegan, and he's been talking about it non-stop.

"I can't stand the smell of meat anymore, it's disgusting." He pinches his nose, wrinkles forming on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Vegan. We get it." You rolled your eyes.

"No, really. It's making me vomit," he says, nasally.

"Just make sure that once I cook chicken alfredo, your mouth wouldn't water."

Upon reaching the counter, Taehyung approaches the magazines and candy bars, leaving you in line.

What does he need this time?

And when you're up next in line, he comes back with a tight fist, hiding an item as he crosses his arms.

He thought he was sleek, but when he throws the condoms next to the Oreos, you couldn't help but laugh.

"You're buying condoms after Valentine's Day?" You throw your hand to your mouth, suppressing an uncontrollable laughter. "Did you run out last night or you're only getting laid today?" you added.

"Do you ever think of maybe you shouldn't ask such inappropriate questions to someone?"

You sighed. "But seriously, I know you wanna answer that question."

In the mood, you poke at his waist and he flinches like a worm. Taehyung was cocky, but he can be cute sometimes in ways he doesn't intend to.

"I ran out last night. Lucky you who don't need to buy another one since none of your dates ever pass your standards."

You couldn't point it out in what he said that made your heart throb, it felt a little offensive. Taehyung knows so much about you, it can get scary when he opens his mouth. What's he thinking right now? Cute little y/n, no one's ever good enough for her fragile heart. Cute little y/n, always finds a mistake in every part.

"That's not true, you know? I just don't settle that easily."

The corners of his lips lift, eyes rolling in disbelief. He was skinning you alive with that gaze, annoyed. He has a sarcastic smile sprawled all over his face, you just wanna punch it away.

On the way home, you thought about what he said for a second... For a while. You thought about it for a while. Was Taehyung right? Was his perception of you correct? Whatever it was, it did hurt. All you ever did for Taehyung was to be a good friend, and he gave nothing in return. You weren't expecting anything, but deep inside you knew Taehyung loves you just as much as you love him. But like every other person, insecurity gets in the way in relationships.

Maybe Taehyung doesn't even treat you as a friend.

No, you argued inside your head.

Sure, you've seen him in his most vulnerable moments. You've seen him break and you've seen him fall, you've seen him lose the inner parts of his soul. You've seen Taehyung happy, and you will always remember that specific laugh he lets out whenever he pretends something is funny. You know that he blinks when he curses because his body rejects it. He told you about his broken dream of becoming an astrologist, and you daydreamed together about the stars and the way they collide like magical dusts.

Maybe Taehyung doesn't know you like you know him.

Before the thought gets answered, Taehyung was already groaning as he puts the bags down to his counter. You had forgotten you arrived.

"We should start with your room. I'll place your clothes in your closet and you go arrange your miscellaneous."

He doesn't nod. Why won't he nod?  God, please, Taehyung, just agree with me once.

He remains standing with both his hands on either sides of his waist and he does nothing else. Still standing feet away from you, just knitted brows and a stern expression that you couldn't read. What is it this time?

"How was it?" His arms cross on the buff his chest, waiting for a response as he tries to read your reaction the same way you're reading where he's coming from.

"How was what?"

"The sex, y/n. Was it so bad you're in a bad mood today?" A laugh pauses in his throat, replaced by a rise of the corner of his lips.

It was a tug, or maybe a push, in your stomach that made your minds do wonders of spins. Such an unpredictable person Taehyung is.

There was nothing to deliberate inside your mind, nothing happened last night. Hyungwon went home without a kiss on his lips, and you're limbs gave out due to the amount of walking.

"There's no sex. We didn't have sex."

"Let me guess, he insulted your outfit? If not, he probably split the check." His index finger extends, eyes wrinkling to get out any more ideas from his dirty little head.

"Can you just- Ugh! What's with you and your insults?"

"How was that an insult? I was guessing which of what he did didn't pass your golden standard."

"If I had a better standard, maybe you wouldn't be my friend." Ouch. It wasn't directed to you but sometimes you just want to dissolve after saying something.

"I'm your friend because you have a high standard." He wasn't offended, not a single bit from what you have said. Was Taehyung that oblivious of how miserable he is? "If we weren't friends, I'm pretty sure I could get inside your pants."

You hoped he regret what he said, just as much as you wanted to dissipate earlier.

"I'm sorry, Taehyung. But my 'golden standard' would never, and I can't stress this enough, let you get in my pants, in an alternate universe where we aren't friends."

"Lies. Lies. Lies. I could easily get you swooning for me in just a matter of seconds, y/n. Stop, and I can't stress this enough, lying."

"Sure, Taehyung. Whatever you want me to fucking say." You turned your back on him to get a grip of yourself. You grunt, you shudder, and you sighed.

Cocky. Bastard. You could join those words together and it would still perfectly describe Taehyung. Perhaps you have a list of two words that could go either independently or together they'd still describe Taehyung well.

Arrogant. Pervert. Overconfident. Asshole. Striking. Idiot. Son. Of. A. Bitch. I. Just. Want. To. Punch. Him.

He places a grip on your arm to spin you to him. "I want you to say it," with a guttural voice coming from the pits of somewhere within his diaphragm, it's crazy how smooth it escaped from his lips.

"Saywhat?" as opposed to yours that escaped with so much tremble and crisp, thinner than air.

"Consent," he began. "I'm pretty sure I can reach your standard."

It was probably a bad idea. And a bad idea is followed by a spontaneous drive to try it, that's how it's done in movies. You'd probably regret it, right? But you'd regret it more if you don't get a chance to prove Taehyung wrong.

Fine. He needs a wake up call. He needs to wake up from that delusion he'd built inside his towering cocky arrogant head, no pun intended, that he's not every girl's cup of tea.

"You know what? Sure. What do you want me to do? Ride you? Then give you a blowjob after not finding the clit-"

He pulls you, hand reaching your lower back to push his groin toward your front. You were far behind than he was, Taehyung was already hard and eager. His lips were hot, warm around the tip of your tongue that vividly tastes the mint and smoke he had had earlier this morning. It was evident in the sloppiness of his kiss, swiftness of his wandering hands, and blazing fire underneath the lust of his eyes, Taehyung isn't exactly as what you have thought him to be.

The men you've slept with before, they were a floating fish in the sea. But Taehyung brings you sea deep into the weakness of your knees, the floor may have shaken 'cause you find yourself falling on his body and he catches you just perfectly, bodies molding with each other on the floor. Taehyung grips your thigh, to the north his hand traveled, his thumb harshly caressing your slit.

The position made it hard for him to move, he was struggling to reach every part of your body as he would have wanted so he pushed your body, and you look him in the eyes with question, both hands resting on his chest as he continues to play with your clit. He earns a sly grunt from you and he'd do anything to hear it again.

Then he was standing, carrying your body to the nearest stool he could find, desperate and quick. With one sharp thrust to lock you in position, he inhales the moan that went from your lips to his throat. Then he stops. He stopped.

"Moaning already, are we?" He lifts his brow, a crease forming on his forehead.

"Can you just get to it?"

He laughs. "That's not exactly how I always do it. I like to take my time."

You punch his shoulder, a questioning look taking over his features. Embarrassment flows through you. "This was a mistake."

He kisses you again, eating whatever insult was about to come out of your mouth. He wants to whisper it, that thing he have always wanted to tell you, in between kisses. Because now that he's got you under his touch, his tongue is burning just to say it. To distract himself, he digs into your waist deeper, sinking those three little words under your skin hoping you'd realize it.

You pull away, pushing him away from you. "Something wrong?" His nails have left their mark before you could figure out.

"No, no. Nothing's wrong."

There is though. You're not a stranger to not know the look on Taehyung's face. You recognize this one, it happened before. The trembling lips and crimson cheeks. They bring you back the day after prom, the day after Tilly Janes took his innocence.

"What happened last night?" you asked him, arms crossed against your chest.

"I'm so sorry I didn't come-"

"You came Tae. You came hard, didn't you? I can't believe you convinced me to go to prom just so you can leave me in there alone."

"I didn't want to. Listen, okay, I realized something last night."

"I don't need your apology, Taehyung. I don't need it. Jimin took me home last night."

"What? Why?"

"Why? Because some asshole left me without a ride. That's why!"

"I was looking for you last-"

"Shut it. He asked me on a date. So thank God, I'm at least in a good mood today to not flame on you."

"He asked you on a date? Are you going?"

Trembling lips and crimson cheeks. He gulped so hard you heard it.

"I am. Hey, are you okay?"

"I just can't believe someone would even ask you out. I'll be going, forget I came."

It's the same face, the same gulp. You put your hand on his cheek, like what a mom would do to an injured child, and he holds it so you won't ever let go of his face.

"We can stop. I know. This was a bad idea. We shouldn't have done it."

He shakes his head, his other hand creeping behind you. He latches his lips onto yours again, pulling your shirt up to reveal your stomach. The kiss was different, a touch of hunger for affection. A slow open one, mostly the breaths clashing in a soft whisper.

"I want you, y/n. I want you," he whispered to your mouth. You push him to the couch, straddling him and he groans in satisfaction. He pulls you closer, enough for his chin to land on your chest and he looks up in pure admiration of you.

There was more behind the words he said, but with the heat pooling in between your thighs, you couldn't care less as of now. It's something you'll resolve after. He tucks a strand of your hair as he makes thrusts underneath you, the thick cotton of his sweats didn't do anything to conceal his cock aching for you.

You remove his shirt, not being able to take your eyes away from his body. Sweet and honey under your gaze, he tenses them and you couldn't help but laugh at this. Kissing every inch of his exposed skin, you kneel as your knees approach the floor, not breaking eye contact with Taehyung while untying his sweats. His hand fails to fall steady on your arm and his Adam's apple bob in anticipation.

There's warmth that spreads across your stomach, different from the one in between you thighs. It's like electricity that continuously ignites a fire inside you when you notice his excitement, eager to have your mouth around him. A sign of reciprocation that he wants this just as much as you do no matter how hard you try to deny it, a catching fire of the thought that maybe he looks at you the way you look at him throughout all these years. Even now that you're not looking in his eyes, the continuous ignition of sparks inside you still teases.

You reach for his length, softly wrapping it in your hand and his breath quickens along with your heartbeat. Studying every detail, even the cold tones of the veins that spreads like tree roots. In usual occasions, giving head never takes your time. You suck it and finish it, no more and no less, nothing special really. But it's Taehyung, and his difference from others makes you uncomfortable in a way it shouldn't be possible. Trying to forget these unnecessary emotions, your thumb circles the head of his cock and he couldn't help but make his lip bleed, the agony of it keeping him awake to not fall into your dreamy touch.

His shorts reaches the floor and you made it quick to to kiss the base of his glistening length. Your index finger making lines on his thigh while the other keeps his cock steady as your lips move upward. You've never imagined how he would taste, but you were always sure he tastes exactly like he tastes now. Bittersweet. He throbs at the heat of your breath, thighs almost jumping when your fingers find his balls. He emits a groan that strengthens the force you're putting in your thighs to keep your core intact.

Down you go, the head of his cock deepening in your throat just like his grunts, getting lower and lower until he thrusts upwards making you gag and he releases a high-pitched whimper of your name. Tears blur your vision and a moan sends minimal vibration to his cock.

"I don't think... y/n, fuck, I'm not gonna last long," he confessed, and you finally look up to see him without removing him from your mouth.

You tongue swirling still and he has gone rabid trying to control himself, clenching your hair as he lets himself go maniac against your throat. He stares at you with mad eyes, his mouth failing in keeping him quiet. Only his groans, his throat-fucking, and your whimpers that you can no longer suppress. You're a little scared maybe he'll get too confident and tease you on your gagging, calling himself so big he made you cry.

He pulls your hair and he tries to get a hold of himself, catching his breath to gain stability. Before you can wipe the corners of your lips, he was standing up and taking your shirt off. He frames his chin with his index finger and his thumb, making you grow conscious of your own body. He had no reason to be looking so long, he'd seen you in a two piece more than one occasion. And he's going behind you, putting a finger at the waist of your shorts, bringing it down slowly until it lands by itself. He wraps your hair in a pony as the other grips your ass, a throaty growl escaping from his body.

He rotates you to the other side, an empty blank wall where you can see the fool you made of yourself. The argument ends here. The argument has ended since he had kissed you like no one had kissed you. You shouldn't have underestimated Taehyung, because he's now biting your shoulder as he slowly descends you to the wall. He hums, this close he can hear the tiny whimpers you try to keep to yourself, your fragile voice that can break once you open your mouth to say something. He can hear them all and he's aware of the power he has over you.

A hand holds both of yours behind your back, and once he has successfully taken your white underwear off, he's positioning the fat head of his cock right in your entrance.

"Make it easier for the both of us and just say it, y/n," he commands, his breath echoing in your ear sending voltage in your spine. He bites your ear and he whispers again, "Baby, please."

"What?"

Taehyung laughs at your adorable cluelessness. He doesn't answer. The next thing you hear was the expansion of his breaths, getting heavier and heavier it's almost a hum as he slides himself inside you.

"Taehyung," you say in a falsetto, "god, Tae, fuck!"

"Hmm, fucking tight. You're so fucking tight, y/n. Your pussy's taking my cock so fucking well," his knees bend to enter you deeply, this sharp thrust hitting a spot in you you never knew you'd feel, "maybe now you'd let me fuck you often, huh? You're gonna take my cock anytime you want, I'll fuck your brains out, ruin you and your cunt."

You respond with a soft murmur of you're not entirely sure what, because Taehyung was already fucking your brains out and you had no other thoughts but the feeling of his cock that slips in out of you so easily. He'd hit that one spot and you're going to release yet another cry and he'd enjoy every note of it. You're a mess with strands of your hair sticking to your face as the sweat trickle down your temples.

"Tell me what you want, y/n. Want it fast, baby?" He speeds up his thrusts, your ah's getting louder as he almost sends you to your high. "Or you want to cherish every inch of my cock?" He slows down which brings you wailing, whimpering his name over and over until you're no longer sure if it's even coming out right. His free hand lands on your ass and you gasp as if inhaling after suffocation. "Answer me," he speeds up his pace again, "answer me, y/n."

But you couldn't, there's nothing in your body that you trust right now especially your voice. He growls, unsatisfied with your silence which leads him to pulling your hair and pushing your back to the wall. You're almost embarrassed to see his eyes once more in the state you're in, overpowered by the despair of wanting nothing but to have Taehyung take you to your climax. Your eyes are begging for him, hell there were tears coming from them as he enters you again.

He cries out, "I want to fuck you all day long, would you let me do that?" He continues to carry you upward the wall and your weight would go down whenever he pulls himself from you. You nod and as he sees this, his head moves back to watch your body crumble before him, giving him no more than satisfaction. "Look at you desperate for my cock, such a fucking whore for me, aren't ya?"

In every "hm" he makes, he enters you harder and rougher, makes you want to stay silent. You bite your lip, feeling yourself come to a close. Your thighs pulling together like magnets, wrapping his waist while it shakes and he doesn't take one second to land your body on the couch, watching your orgasm hit you with spasms traveling your whole body. Taehyung wraps his cock in his hand, moving toward your mouth as he jerks himself off to his own orgasm. You take the spurts of his fluid landing on your tongue, his waist twitching while he groans for each drop of cum.

He sighs, falling onto the couch where your legs are still apart. He smiles at your nakedness, not giving a second thought as his middle finger enters you once more. Your body  sits straight, only to land on the sofa's arm. "You're so fucking pretty," he commented, his body hovering over yours again. He kisses you.

"I can't handle," you say before Taehyung cuts you off with another kiss, and another, and another, his finger in and out of you which as the minute grows only turns from pain into pleasure again.

"You're going to," he whispers and he kisses you again, until you're crying his name and he just studies the way you react to his slender finger. "So pretty, so, so," he curves his finger resulting to your second orgasm, "pretty." He makes sure you see his savoring your juices in his mouth, and once he was done lapping up his finger he puts them inside your lips, tasting nothing but his saliva.

"Do you get it now, y/n?" He unclasps your bra, and from then on he ignores your eyes. "This is why I run out of condoms."

[morganaspendragonss]

white noise, what an awful sound

“Their unit is not on the grid. It’s like they have disappeared.”

If Grace says anything else after that, Carlos doesn’t catch it. A ringing erupts in his ears and he staggers, all the breath sucked out of him. TK’s missing. Not running late, not on his way; missing.

ao3 | 3.3k | 2.08 speculation

It’s more than an hour after TK’s shift was supposed to be up, and he still hasn’t come home.

Carlos doesn’t want to worry; Owen told him that medical caught a call right at the end of shift, so he knows that TK will be pulling overtime. It’s actually worked in their favour a little, because they’ve been able to set everything up for TK’s party in the time they’ve been waiting. But, from what Owen said, it was only supposed to be a simple call, and whilst Carlos knows as well as anyone that the simplest calls can often turn out to be the most complicated, they really should have been done by now.

He sends off a couple of texts, telling himself that TK is just busy and will reply when he can, even though his instincts are screaming at him that something is wrong. By the time they hit the two hour mark, everyone seems to be getting concerned - which, in a house full of first responders, is not something to be taken lightly.

Carlos crosses over to Owen. “Have you heard from TK?” he asks, trying desperately to keep his voice as low and steady as possible.

Owen shakes his head, flashing Carlos a smile which doesn’t reach his eyes. “They’re just running a little over,” he says, and Carlos isn’t sure who he’s trying to convince. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

“But what if it’s not?”

“We can’t think like that, Carlos,” Owen says, not unkindly. “He’s probably just in the shower.”

“He would have texted,” Carlos persists. “You know he would have, Owen. Something’s wrong.”

Owen grimaces, glancing around the room of people, who have started to take notice of their conversation. He sighs. “Try calling him,” he tells Carlos. Then, turning to the room, “Can anyone try and get a hold of Nancy or Tommy?”

“Already did, Cap,” Marjan says. “Nancy’s not picking up.”

“Tommy neither,” Judd adds, and Carlos’s heart plummets as the sound of TK’s voicemail confirms that he, too, is still unaccounted for.

“This isn’t right,” he says, allowing a little desperation to bleed into his tone. He can feel it in his bones; TK wouldn’t leave them hanging like this, especially not on a day like today. Carlos has no idea what could have happened to make all three paramedics drop off the grid, but he knows it’s not just lack of cell service or traffic.

Owen closes his eyes and hangs his head, apparently coming to the same conclusions. “Alright then.” He pulls out his phone, and Carlos frowns.

“Who are you calling?”

Owen sends him a wry look, showing him the three oh-so-familiar numbers he’s dialled. “Desperate times, right?”

Carlos manages a nod, but there’s a lump in his throat at the thought of these being such desperate times that they need 9-1-1. Logically, he knows it’s the right step, but he guesses he still has that little flame of hope left in him - hope he doesn’t want crushed by the confirmation they’re about to receive. Owen places the phone on speaker, and Carlos watches it nervously, waiting for a dispatcher to pick up.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” It’s Grace, and Carlos could cry with relief. If anyone can help them find TK, it’s Grace Ryder.

“Grace,” Owen starts, “it’s Owen.”

“Captain Strand? Is everything alright?”

“We were hoping you could tell us that.” Owen takes a steadying breath, looking once more around their friends, before continuing. “EMS 126 were sent out on a call at the end of our shift, two hours ago. There’s been no word from them since, and we’re worried something’s happened to them. Could you tell us anything about where they were sent and why?”

There’s a brief pause on the other end before Grace speaks again, hesitant and slow. “Captain Strand, that’s not information I’m sure I should be giving out to civilians.”

“I’m not a civilian,” Owen argues. “I may not be on shift, but I’m always Captain of that firehouse. Please, Grace. They’re our family.”

Grace sucks in a sharp breath, then the sound of typing comes through the speaker. Carlos allows himself a single moment of relief before the anxiety takes over again as Grace speaks.

“EMS 126 were dispatched to a pregnant woman in distress,” she reports. “They… Oh.”

Carlos exchanges an alarmed look with Owen, his panic spiking at Grace’s words. 

“Oh?” Owen asks, not even trying to hide the worry in his voice anymore.

“Captain Strand, their unit is not on the grid. It’s like they have disappeared.”

If Grace says anything else after that, Carlos doesn’t catch it. A ringing erupts in his ears and he staggers, all the breath sucked out of him. TK’s missing. Not running late, not on his way; missing. Something happened to him and his team between leaving the firehouse and now, and they’ve all just been sitting here, doing nothing, for two hours. He should have spoken up earlier, when he first got his bad feeling - maybe that wouldn’t have prevented this, but they could be on their way to finding him right now.

And Carlos knows better than anyone here how crucial every second is in a missing persons case.

When he comes back to himself, a hand - Paul’s - is resting on his shoulder, and Owen and Gwyn are locked in an argument, the call with Grace clearly over.

“What’s going on?” he asks, turning to Paul.

Paul shoots him a sympathetic grimace, squeezing his shoulder. “Cap got the address of their last call,” he answers. “He’s insisting on going, but he won’t let anyone else go with him. Gwyn disagrees.”

Carlos stares at Owen, finding himself firmly in agreement with Gwyn, though likely for different reasons. In his mind, it’s a non-issue; he’s going to search for TK, and there’s no-one who can stop him - certainly not Owen Strand.

He strides over to them, not caring about interrupting their quarrel. TK’s life is on the line, after all. “I’m going with you,” he says firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“Son -”

“You can’t stop me, Owen.” He levels him with a hard stare. “Besides, I’m a cop, and you need back up. I’m going.”

Owen watches him for a long moment, then sighs, nodding reluctantly. “Alright,” he says, clapping Carlos once on the shoulder. “Let’s go find them.”

*

Carlos jumps out of Owen’s truck before it’s even stopped moving, flicking on his flashlight as he strides through the garage, praying that he’ll round the corner and find them all in one piece. Behind him, Owen is yelling out for them, the only reply he gets the sound of his own voice echoed back. It sends Carlos’s heart plummeting into his shoes, even as it only confirms what he’s known for a while - they’re not finding TK here.

All they do find is a brown van, all its doors open, and a pile of bloodied rags lying next to it. Carlos refuses to think about whose blood it could be; if he does, he thinks he’ll lose it, and that’s the last thing anyone needs right now, himself included.

“Where would they go?” he asks, turning to Owen. They hadn’t seen the ambulance on the way in, so they must have left in it at some point - or someone had.

Owen shakes his head, a trembling hand running through his hair. “I don’t - I don’t know,” he says, sounding more lost than Carlos has ever heard him. It’s a jarring sight; Owen is usually so put together, so unruffled in the face of emergency, and his appearance now cuts a striking contrast. Carlos understands - much as TK has complained about his parents in the past months, it’s clear they love him, even if they might not be the best at showing it. 

Carlos is sure he looks similarly distressed; his curls are beginning to escape from his fingers running through them, and his heart is pounding a mile a minute, but he tries to school his expression into something stronger, as much for his own sake as for Owen’s.

“I don’t know what to do, Carlos,” Owen admits, body sagging in defeat. 

Carlos hesitates, then pulls out his phone, tapping through to his contacts. “I might,” he says, and Owen looks up at him in surprise. “My dad is a Texas Ranger. He’ll be able to help, I’m sure of it.”

Owen immediately nods, seeming to steel himself up a little. “Do it,” he says. “I’ll call and update the others; I’m sure they’ll want to know.”

He walks away, giving both of them some semblance of privacy to make their respective calls. Carlos pauses for a brief second, glancing down once more at the pile of bloody rags, his mind flashing back to four years ago, the last time someone he loved went missing. He knows - he knows the situations are nothing alike, that Iris’s and TK’s disappearances are worlds apart. But the grief crawling up his throat and clutching at his heart can’t help but make comparisons, warning him that he’s going to lose someone else.

Carlos swallows roughly and shakes his head, dialling his dad’s number before he can start spiralling. Now is not the time to fall apart; he has to be strong.

His dad picks up on the second ring. “Carlos? ¿Qué pasa?”

“Dad,” Carlos answers, surprising himself with how steady his voice is. “I need your help.”

*

They’re on their third dead end of the day, and Carlos can feel his grip on control slipping. 

His dad had tried to get him to leave when he’d arrived at the garage. “You’re off duty; you shouldn’t be here, mijo,” he’d said, attempting to steer Carlos towards Owen’s truck. “Let us handle this now.”

“No,” Carlos had insisted, shaking his dad’s hands off him. “I have to be here. One of the missing paramedics - it’s TK, Dad.”

It had taken a few moments for the penny to drop, his father’s frown growing once it did. “Your friend from the market? I thought he was a firefighter.”

“He switched fields.” Carlos had drawn himself up, staring his dad down. “I’m not going anywhere until I find him.”

Something had flickered across his dad’s face then, something Carlos hadn’t understood. Whatever it was, his expression had quickly cleared, and he’d lain a comforting hand on Carlos’s shoulder.

“Alright, mijo,” he’d said. “You can stay.”

Now, Carlos can feel his dad’s eyes on him as he stares blankly at the building they’d been so sure they’d find TK, Nancy, and Tommy in. It had been empty, because of course it had, and Carlos is starting to wonder if they’re ever going to find them.

They’re supposed to be celebrating right now. TK hadn’t wanted anything special, but Carlos knows he’d secretly been looking forward to tonight, his one year anniversary of sobriety a source of pride for them both. They should be celebrating it; instead, TK could be injured or worse, and Carlos feels like he’s going out of his mind.

(They’d found the ambulance an hour ago, abandoned on the side of the road. There had been blood staining the inside of that, too, and Carlos had had to swallow back bile at the sight.)

His dad comes to stand at his elbow, a hand on Carlos’s back. “So,” he starts, gently, “this TK boy?”

Carlos closes his eyes, desperately wishing for his dad to drop it. He knows what’s coming next, and he knows there’s no avoiding it this time. He doesn’t have the strength to lie.

“Dad -”

“Who is he, Carlos?” His dad’s voice is careful and measured, lacking any hint of judgement, but Carlos still tenses, not fully prepared for the fallout of this conversation.

He avoids his dad’s eyes as he answers, keeping his gaze fixed on the space in front of him. “He’s my boyfriend,” he says. “We’ve been dating for just over six months, and I - I really love him, Dad.”

The last admission is said quietly, but Carlos feels like he’s shouted it, such is the silence that follows his words. His hands start to shake at his sides and a sick feeling begins churning in his gut, but, still, he doesn’t look over.

“Six months…” his dad eventually says, voice strained. “Which means you were together when we met you at the market. Why did you lie?”

A flash of white-hot anger surges through him, tears burning the back of his eyes as he rounds on his dad. “I could hardly tell you the truth!” he cries. “You’ve made it clear you’d rather not hear about my sexuality. I was trying to protect us!”

A sob crawls up his throat, but Carlos pushes it back, determined not to break down in front of his dad’s entire team. His dad’s face is stricken, a surprising emotion glinting in his eyes.

“Oh, Carlos -” he starts, but he’s cut off by one of the Rangers shouting for them. He throws Carlos a look that lets him know they’re not done with this conversation yet, before they both run over to the Ranger, Carlos arriving slightly ahead of his dad.

“We’ve found them,” the Ranger says without preamble.

Carlos stares, the words sending a spark of hope through his chest, but he refuses to give in to it just yet. “How sure are you?” he demands. He knows it’s not his place to ask these questions - he’s barely allowed here as it is - but he doesn’t think he could take one more false lead, one more dead end. The Ranger, to his credit, only momentarily shows his surprise, quickly schooling his expression back into one of firm neutrality. He nods, once.

“Positive.”

And, for the first time since they’d heard the news, Carlos dares to hope.

*

He’ll never get used to this. 

The heart monitor beeping by his side, the smell of bleach, the hardness of the chairs. It’s not something he should really have to get used to, but, with a family full of first responders, hospitals are a fact of Carlos’s life. Especially with a boyfriend like TK, who seems to insist on gravitating towards danger even when it’s no longer his job.

“How do we keep ending up like this, huh?” he whispers, gently running a hand through TK’s hair. 

TK’s asleep, having first woken up around an hour ago. Hopefully, he’ll be discharged later, if all his tests come back okay - which, thankfully they should. 

Carlos’s eyes drift to the bandage around TK’s head, the wrappings around his ribs, the scratchy sheets which Carlos knows covers extensive bruising. They’ve been lucky, he knows this, but he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to forget the sight that greeted him when they burst into that restaurant. Tommy and Nancy were standing by the table, next to an unmoving body, both shaken but unhurt. TK had clearly borne the brunt of the attack, and Carlos hadn’t needed to stop to wonder why; his boyfriend’s too much of a damn hero for his own good sometimes.

Apparently, TK had tried to pull the fire alarm, but had been caught before he could, receiving a blow to the head for his efforts. They’d also broken his nose and several ribs, and his body is littered in marks from the kidnapper’s boots. Carlos’s heart had nearly stopped when he’d first seen TK, cable-tied to a pole and barely conscious, but now he can only thank god that it isn’t worse. 

“Carlos.”

Carlos stiffens as he hears his dad’s voice behind him, dreading the conversation they’re about to have. He tightens his grip on TK’s hand, not yet brave enough to look away from him.

“Hi, Dad,” he says, voice hollow. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”

“Yo también, hijo.” His dad heaves a sigh, footsteps coming closer until he’s at Carlos’s side, easing himself into a second chair. “You know we love you, don’t you?”

Carlos winces. “I know. I’m sorry I yelled at you like that earlier, I was just -”

“No, mijo,” his dad interrupts. Carlos looks up at him sharply, confused by the weariness in his dad’s tone, and he’s taken aback by the sorrow in his eyes. He’s not sure he’s ever seen him cry before, and Carlos doesn’t know what to make of it. “It is me who should be apologising.”

“Dad -”

His dad holds a hand up, cutting Carlos off. “Your mother and I… We have only ever wanted what was best for you,” he says. “When you came out to us - Carlos, I was so proud. I was shocked, yes, but I could see how hard that must have been for you, and I thought you were so brave. We thought that if we carried on as normal, then you wouldn’t feel like anything had changed. Because, to us, it hadn’t. You were still the beautiful son we had always known and loved, and being gay wasn’t going to change that.

“We thought that you would be more comfortable with it like this, but I see now that we made a mistake. I’m so sorry that we made you feel like you couldn’t talk to us about these things. I’d like to change that, if you’re willing.”

Carlos blinks, tears spilling down his cheeks. “You’re really okay with it?” he croaks. “You and mami?”

“Of course we are.” His dad chuckles, rubbing Carlos’s shoulder. “You know what your mother’s like; she’ll be fawning over him as soon as she finds out.”

Carlos manages a laugh, though there’s still a little lingering dread in his stomach at the thought of having to tell his mom. He’ll have to do it, and soon, but he can’t get rid of a decade of uncertainty and fear so easily. At least, this time, he’ll have his dad and his boyfriend by his side.

A groan from the bed pulls his attention, and he looks over to see TK’s eyes blinking open. They immediately seek out Carlos, a frown creasing his brows.

“You’ve been crying,” TK murmurs, reaching a hand up to Carlos’s face, only to freeze before it gets there. TK’s eyes widen, frantically darting between Carlos and his dad. “Uh, Mr Reyes, sir. Carlos said that you helped to find us; thank you.”

“Hey.” Carlos catches TK’s hand, still hovering in mid-air, and smiles at him. “It’s okay, Ty. He knows.”

TK’s lips part in shock. “You told him?” he whispers.

“Kind of had to,” Carlos replies, laughing a little. “I could hardly say I was having a meltdown over a friend, now, could I?”

TK’s face clouds with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Carlos,” he says. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“Did you ask to get kidnapped?” Carlos asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No, but -”

“Then you have nothing to apologise for.” He presses a gentle kiss to the inside of TK’s wrist, never breaking their gaze. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

TK smiles, visibly relaxing. He squeezes Carlos’s hand, then brings their joined hands to his lips, lingering for a long moment. Carlos loses himself in it, his heart aching at the thought that he could have lost all of this today. But TK is here, and he’s going to be okay, and that’s all that matters right now.

A throat clears behind them, and Carlos jumps, turning to look guiltily at his dad.

“I see I’m no longer wanted here,” he comments wryly. Carlos flushes, but his dad just laughs and pats his shoulder as he stands. “I’ll see you soon, Carlos.”

“Thank you again, Mr Reyes,” TK calls. 

Carlos’s dad grins at him. “You take care of my boy, TK.”

TK’s gaze flicks over to Carlos, his eyes full of so much love that it shocks him. “With my life, sir.”

It’s a promise that goes both ways and, as he leans over to kiss his boyfriend, Carlos knows that he’d do anything to keep it.

[dreamylyfe-x]

I’m kind of curious, what do you think of Ian and Trevor’s relationship? And that leading to him blowing up a van

Ahhh. Trevor. Yeah. I don’t think that was so great. 

First of all, it’s like two different relationships, really. You have season 7 when they’re meeting, getting together and falling apart... and then you have season 8 where they are... I don’t even know what. 

Season 7, I mostly think the show really didn’t have the time and space to tell the story of Ian getting involved with Trevor, but they decided to proceed anyway. Which, if they had wanted it to be an eight episode arc, would have been ok. But Trevor is around for 18 episodes. 

I mean, let’s lay this out. Trevor arrives in 7x04. 7x06 ends with Ian deciding he does in fact want to date him. 7x09 ends with Ian finding out Mickey’s back. Trevor and Ian are together for a hot second. And during that time, we don’t get to find out that much about him. Like we know he’s generous in a lot of ways, but also quick to anger. Kinda condescending. Kinda sweet. Mostly he’s all over the place. A lot of the time I struggle to find Trevor organic. When he gets mad, I’m always like “how did you get there, my dude?” and when he’s all moony I feel the same way. There are multiple scenes of Trevor and Ian laughing over something that go TOO LONG and feel a bit like old episodes of Murder, She Wrote, where they always had to have the show about violent death end on Jessica smiling. Then there’s stuff like Trevor telling off Frank. Trevor telling Fiona she’s a badass. It has a real Poochie vibe to me. But.... Trevor is not a Poochie. Trevor is a character who, if he had any chance of working, is about to get cut off at the knees. 

The show cannot be confused about what is going to happen in 7x10 when Mickey comes back. Not just to Ian, but to the audience. Storywise, we are going to be shown positive proof that Ian is still in love with Mickey. Not just a little bit, not lingering feelings, but try to leave your family and job and give all your money away in love with his ex. And even outside of what’s on the page, they’re like “Here. This is what is looks like when Cam has chemistry with someone. This is what the performances look like when there’s some complexity and history and subtext. Here’s a character with a strong voice and a well-established personality.” 

And now... Here’s Trevor. 

I’m sure Trevor had his fans. Like, I get it. I particularly get it if people just really like Elliot Fletcher. But the people behind this show aren’t idiots and they know how to craft a story. You can see it with Mickeys’ two-episode arc. They have to know you can’t have that story and have a viable Ian/Trevor romance in the same season. You gotta pick one. And they picked Mickey. 

AS THEY SHOULD. 

*ahem*

That brings us to season 8, which is even weirder on the Trevor tip than season 7. 

For most people, if you’ve been dating some guy and the second the ex showed up your boyfriend not only instantly falls back into bed with him, but then runs away with him for a few days and only comes back because of a bunch of considerations that have nothing to do with whether or not he’s in love with the guy...  that’s gonna be it. EVEN if his mother dies. The normal thing to do would be, in the words of Lip Gallagher, to fuck someone else. Like ANYONE else. He cheated weeks in. It’s done. 

So why the heck are they still hanging out together in season 8? Like from a story POV. What is the reason? 

My theory on the Ian front is detailed in my story Unsent and it’s basically this: Ian was desperate for comfort and Trevor must have been a person he thought he could get that from. He had gotten it from him (imperfectly, maybe) in the past. I DO NOT KNOW what Trevor wanted. I really don’t. I never got to know Trevor well enough. 

I’ll tell you want he didn’t want: What was best for Ian. 

And honestly, why should he? Ian is his ex. For good reason. Trevor does not need to be nice to him. Trevor doesn’t even really have to tell Ian to go away, though he almost certainly should have. It probably would have been kinder. But honestly, so much of what comes next only makes sense if you decide Trevor is low-key evil. He lets Ian pine (pretty normal level of ex-punishment), tells him he loves him (NOT POSSIBLE. I love Ian Gallagher too, sir, but that is NOT POSSIBLE. You were together for a minute and you are not that ridiculous) and then does this gross, dehumanizing weird thing involving men with bigger bodies. Lets/encourages Ian to prostitute himself to get money for the shelter. Yells at Ian over Geneva when a conversation might have been more appropriate/made more sense. And then, right as Ian starts to tip into really concerning behaviour, kiiiiiinda get back with him, sort of? And then vanish when it becomes extremely clear that he’s sick. 

But I don’t think the show intends for him to be evil. I’m not sure what the show intends him to be, but I suspect we’re supposed to think he’s a good guy. He almost functions like Harry in Dexter. Just the guy standing at Ian’s elbow and making comments on the action. He isn’t really being written like he’s separate from Ian. He’s there to provide some sort of stimulus to direct the action. But it’s hard to view Trevor as a character. 

I actually think Shameless has incredible skill to bring in characters for ten minutes and make them seem like rounded characters. I don’t think they get there with Trevor because I don’t think they ever really decided what they were doing with him. They didn’t entirely have room for the character on the canvas in season 7 and then they kind shoehorn him in to what comes next. I also think the issues with Trevor extend to Caleb, actually. They’re both strangely changeable. Sometimes encouraging and affectionate and sometimes cold, manipulative or bullying. I personally think that Caleb is the worse of the two, but neither of them are easy to root for. 

I’m not 100% I’m sure I am interpreting what you’re asking about the van correction. I certainly don’t attribute that to Trevor and I have much less frustration with him than I do with Ian’s family for not recognizing how many bright red flags there were. Certainly Trevor’s hesitancy seems to come a little late. But Trevor isn’t Ian’s boyfriend and he might consider himself Ian’s friend, but he’s also clearly got some serious feelings of wrongdoing where Ian is concerned. 

In Trevor’s defence, with the whole series finished, I think season 8 is certainly one of, if not THE weakest season. Trevor isn’t the only problem. But I don’t think he’s a very successful character for them. 

[neo-culture-mafia]

x메신저를 쏘지 마십시오x

previous chapter

Sungchan

Jeno broke roughly in the middle of the barren road. "What?" His eyes were squinted in anger, yet, still focused on the paved road in front of him. A thud was heard as Jisung's body fell to the floor of the van. "What the hell was that fo-" I had no time to think as Jeno's fist was looped around my collar, pulling me closer to his face.

"Look me in the eyes," he demanded, "and say that shit one more time." his lips were curled into a sinister look as the whole car took on a new atmosphere.

"Yuta. He gave Taeyong the idea to sell Neo Culture." I said in a pseudo-confident persona. A new face was added to the huddle as Jisung now stared me down like I was the enemy.

Jeno's hands reached for my stomach, the handcuffs I was provided now laying around the headrest and my wrist in a matter of seconds.

"Wai-" I tried to fight it, "Ji-" "Already on it." Jisung's hand cocked a gun and now aimed it right in-between my eyes. The cool metal sent a shiver down my spine as I was saying my final blessings.

"Start. Talking." New confidence found Jisung as he had lost all time and patience for anyone's bullshit.

"Yuta. He had met with Taeyong when Seven Stars had first started getting stronger. 2 years ago." I answered and I could tell Jeno was taking mental notes. "Yuta had given the idea that in order to avoid conflict-- maybe we should sell ourselves to them." I took a deep breath, "if you can't beat them-- join them, am I right?" I laughed but their stone-cold demeanor left them unfazed. "Tough crowd, okay, uh-" "no time for jokes, Sungchan." Jeno reminded and I shook my head trying to let any happiness shake away from my body, "you're right. Sorry." I nodded.

"Well, once we would've been apart of Seven Stars we would've taken them down from the inside. Ultimately 'en-slaving' them-" "Don't use that word." Jisung shook his head sadly, "we're not that type of people." Jisung released the round into his hand and putting the gun by his leg, hand running through his messy hair.  

I looked to Jeno and he only had hurt in his eyes-- no more anger. "But, we just sat back and let it happen to us." Jeno sighed, pulling the car to the side of the road so we were out of the middle of it. He had removed the keys and set them in the cup-holder.

"Well. Supposedly, Taeyong had thought it was a great idea. Yuta was the one that pulled out of it first." I explained, remembering the things I had witnessed first-hand. "Yuta thought of the outlier outcomes: What if it doesn't go as planned and we get hurt, en-slaved-" Jisung's head snapped up to me and gave me a look that wasn't short of 'killer', "sorry. Or getting split up." I motioned my head around to draw attention to our current situation.

"Then?" Jeno asked lowly, staring at the steering wheel lost in thought. "Then Taeyong couldn't be talked down. It was all supposed to happen the night that you all were captured in the warehouse." That had caught Jeno's attention. "The one where-" "where Taeyong missed the biggest outlier of them all." I nodded my head. "Mark."

It was if Jeno was frozen in time. "That's why Taeyong was so pissed. Mark had forfeited the peaceful surrender of the family." I pieced it together for Jisung who sat behind us in a state of disbelief. "That's the reason they both told the rest of the family to not come and save them no matter what happened." I continued, "He knew that you all were too strong-headed to listen to order at least 48 hours after they hadn't come home. Essentially-" "letting us walk into a trap once we did show up." Jeno got excited as he was finally piecing everything together.

"Seven Stars didn't expect you all to come there guns blazing. You had set up a rescue mission that translated into a death sentence for your leader." I stated the obvious at this point.

"What else do you know?" Jeno's head lolled to the side, his eyes staring up at me through his eyelashes. "...everything..." I smiled and he grabbed the seat rest and pulled it up, essentially releasing me from the close-proximity holder.

“You let me tell you the whole story of the mission-gone-wrong when you actually knew the whole time?” Jeno asked me with a disgusted look where I could only shrug, “it was nice seeing your point of view.” I smiled as he scoffed and looked out of the window, his gaze falling to his steering wheel.

I just there silently, waiting for anything to happen really: Questions, anger, tears, a gun being put to my head...anything.

I looked to Jeno was still lost in thought as he was staring at the steering wheel. I looked back to Jisung who just sat in defeat...no life in his face. "What's wrong, Jisung?" I asked quietly, "I'm..." he was trying to form a sentence that got the attention of Jeno in the front seat, who ultimately turned around to look at his younger friend, "I'm angry." Jisung nodded...very nonchalantly. "You have every right to be-" "That asshole took everything from us." His hands were balled in fists by his lap, "He took my family from me." Jisung seethed in a fit of quiet anger.

"My best friends flung themselves from a building because of that-" he shook his head, breaths getting faster, "that," he continued, "Jisung it's okay to be angry." Jeno reinstated, "That selfish fucking prick." Jisung said calmly, tears pricking the sides of his eyes.

"Jwi, we talked about this. If you keep substituting anger with sadness then you won't be able to control yourself when you finally let the anger go." Jeno sighed as only a few tears fell from Jisung's onyx-like eyes.

Jisung didn't say anything as he only crawled back to the blanket that abstractly laid on the floor near the back doors. "Can we just go?" Jisung mumbled, wrapping himself in the blanket and leaned against the back door so he could look back on what he was leaving behind, "I want Mark and y/n, now."

"Of course." Jeno started the vehicle once more and pulled back onto the barren roads. I looked back to see Jisung silently struggling to keep his cries quiet.

We drove for what felt like ever through farmland. "I need to get gas," Jeno instructed and pulled over to the nearest gas station. He got out after checking on Jisung through the rearview mirror-- hasn't changed positions from against the back door.

I made the older-brother decision to maneuver myself to the back of the van, sitting across from Jisung who had a dead-set gaze out of the window.

"Are you okay, Jisung-ah?" I asked calmly and I could see his eyes roll. "I'm so tired of people asking me that." He confessed and repositioned himself so he was farther away from me. "It's because we care-" "Don't you dare tell me you care," Jisung sat up quickly, our eyes being on the same level, "you were one of the main people who put me through pain in that damn base," Jisung pointed his finger in my face. "You were the one who walked me to the b-" I watched in pain as Jisung's lip started to quiver, his eyes holding hatred.

"-to the buyers." he choked out, tears shooting out of both eyes. Guilt settled in my chest as I couldn't look him in his eyes, "You did bad and good to us all. Now-now that you reveal yourself, we're supp-supposed to fall to your-your feet like you're a fucking god?" Jisung was letting his anger seep out in the cold hard truth, "I love you because you're family." He continued, wrapping himself into his blanket, setting himself into the corner, "but that doesn't mean I have to like you." he deadpanned and I had to accept this as the truth...because it was.

I looked over to my bag that sat behind my seat. I grabbed it and pulled it into my lap. "I--" I blinked, the wetness of my own eyes taking me off-guard. "I brought some snacks and some drinks." I pulled some out and set it next to his crumpled up frame, "I also have your glasses and anxiety medication." I held it out as he forcefully snatched it from my hands, "probably put rat pellets in it." I heard him mutter to himself, yet, I let it slide-- he was hurting and just had a bombshell of information dumped on him moments before. He was drowning in his own thoughts.

"I also heard you like rock music. So I've been downloading music for the past couple of months to show you- I also have earbuds if you wanted to listen privately. If not, I can play it on an auxiliary cord-" "Jeno hates rock music." Jisung cut me off, but looked at me for a moment. Well...looking at the phone. I knew he wanted it but didn't want to eat from the hand of the newly-ruled out "enemy".

"I'll just leave it here if you want it. The phone is yours, actually. The passcode is 2002."

I set it next to the juice I had gotten for him, "and the earbuds are right next to it." I quickly placed them and left back to my seat just in time for Jeno to come back in and take his own place behind the wheel.

"Next stop-- Mark's and y/n's." Jeno was smiling again. Even if he just found out that his power-hungry leader was going to sell him, he's still excited to see his best friend, his brother.

I looked back to see Jisung scrolling through the phone with the earbuds shoved in his ears. Rhythmic foot taps had Jeno curious as he was trying to see what his younger friend was doing. He had caught a glimpse of the phone and looked to me, "It's his. I had gotten him some rock music to listen to." I said and Jeno apprehensively nodded as he shifted the car into drive, "thanks, Sungchan." He looked back to see Jisung smiling in what felt like forever. He was going to let Jisung have his music...it's the least he could have.

~~~ It was way past 12 am when we rolled up to the farmhouse where Mark and y/n had been staying...even Donghyuck was in there...but I wasn't going to tell them I knew that. They would've kicked me out of the car miles ago. They would have to find out for themselves.

"Here, you stay in here and we'll go in and..." Jeno was so smiley to realize he looked like a mess. Tousled blonde hair and a blood-splattered face from hours before. I didn't want to be the one to kill his vibe though.

"Go get 'em." I smiled and they both hopped out of the van and met in front where they talked for a moment before pulling out their guns and running in different directions towards the house.

I watched with a smile as I pulled out my own phone, pulling up the familiar contact and pressing 'call'. The ringing in my ear calmed my nerves as the receiver was picked up. "Hello."

"Commence phase 3 of the plan. Tell Yuta that they were delivered safely and to get the rest of the neo-cultures to the head base." I smiled as I could hear Shotaro's excitement over the phone.

"Will do. Talk to you soon."

And with that, I was alone.