#imagine how much less stressed out i would be about my goddamn fucking teeth if i could just fix them myself

[genspiel]

i fucking hate having teeth i fucking hate having teeth i fucking hate having teeth i fucking hate having teeth

[tuanhood]

the property manager

pairing: landlord’s son!mark tuan x reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff, kinda everything, strangers(?) to lovers

warnings: 18+, language, power imbalance (kinda yes?), oral sex (male receiving), face f*cking, thigh riding, dirty talk, unprotected sex.

word count: 7,400+

summary: when you get a letter from your landlord about a rent increase, you decide your only option is to try to talk to his property manager and son, Mark.

a/n: um i have nothing to say. actually yes i do. this is kinda of ALL over the place so i’m sorry about that and if it doesn’t make much seNSE but i just had a craving to wrITE THIS! leave me alone. thx bye.

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It had been a stressful day at work. You wanted nothing more than to go upstairs to your apartment and climb into bed.

You had been all over the city looking for a specific kind of cake that your boss had consumed almost a year ago and couldn’t remember where it had been. More often than not, you found yourself doing ridiculous chores as a personal assistant and after the first year you had told yourself it would get better, but it hadn’t. You thought you could prove yourself and get more recognition, possibly working your way to a bigger role at the entertainment company you worked for, but as time passed it seemed more like a dead-end. 

Which is why you were considering quitting and looking for something else. You had connections through friends and old contacts, but you weren’t sure if it was worth it to see if they would ultimately pan out or not. 

Checking your mail, you flipped through the letters finding mostly bills, until your eyes settled on a letter addressed to you from your landlord and his son, the property manager. 

NOTICE OF RENT INCREASE 

Dear Tenant, 

Due to general cost increases, we are required to increase your rent. This letter is to advise you formally that your rent is being increased to $1,250 per month as of next month. 

This increase does not affect any of our mutual obligations under your lease. For example, your rent due date will remain the first of the month or before.

Thank you for your understanding of the cost pressures on us as we do those upon yourself. We appreciate your tenancy and hope you will remain for a long time. 

Best regards, 

Raymond Tuan | Landlord 

Mark Tuan | Property Manager 

You read the letter three times. How could they increase your monthly rent by almost three hundred dollars? You had just enough each month to pay for your already overpriced apartment. But perhaps what annoyed you the most was the short notice and their attitude in the letter. They thank you for your understanding and appreciate you, and yet gave you barely any notice for a $250 increase in rent. 

It took you a moment to collect yourself, especially after such an exhausting day, but somehow you found yourself marching upstairs to the second floor and angrily knocking on the door of Mark, the landlord’s son and property manager.

There’s no response at first, and you swear you hear noises coming from the apartment, but soon all that’s heard is silence. All of a sudden you hear a “Just one sec!” being yelled through the door along with shuffling.

Before today you hadn’t really paid much attention to Mark. Being the property manager, you of course had met him when you first moved into your apartment over a year ago and often saw him in the building. You would exchange pleasantries when you passed him in the hallway or ran into him when he was getting his mail. But you had never really known much about him besides the fact that his father was the owner of the building and he was there to make sure things ran smoothly in case tenants needed anything. 

There was supposedly one interaction you had with him that you found yourself barely remembering. It had been a late night after drinking and your friends had decided to dump you in the hallway of your building, leaving you to fend for yourself and make your own way upstairs to your apartment. The memories you had were hazy, but you could picture yourself sitting on the floor inside of the building’s entry way, drunkenly sobbing about how you were never going to make it home. 

The only reason you thought you had interacted with Mark was because the next thing you knew you woke up in bed with a note resting on your bedside table. 

Y/N, 

Remember to take an ibuprofen or two when you wake up, along with A LOT – and I repeat – A LOT of water. Thanks again for the… uh compliments and I hope you feel better. 

- Mark 

That was months ago and you had no clue what “compliments” you’d said to him or he fact that Mark was even the one who helped you up to your apartment and into bed. After that you were very adamant about avoiding conversation with him. 

When the door finally swung open you were met with Mark’s sweaty face, some of his hair sticking to his forehead and his breath a little shallow. You wondered if he had been working out based on his appearance. Craning your head, you attempted to look past him into his apartment to locate any evidence that could confirm or deny this suspicion, but he followed your motions, blocking the view inside. 

“Um what’s up?” He asked. 

“It’s about this letter,” you began, but Mark soon stuck his finger out and began shaking it as if remembering something. “Apartment 8A right?” 

You nodded simply, “yeah… that’s me. Anyways-” 

“You have that cute doormat out front with the kittens on it,” he stated more as a fact rather than a question. You found yourself nodding again and his interruptions led you to believe that he may never let you speak. 

“Listen Mark… I got the letter from you and your dad-” 

“The landlord,” he corrected and you felt your teeth clench at another intrusion of your sentence. He waved his hand as if to say “go on,” which inherently caused you to crack your knuckles in frustration. 

“I got the letter from you and the landlord,” you repeated, this time correcting yourself which Mark smiled at, “and I don’t see how you can increase rent starting next month.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms, leaning against his open doorway, “what do you mean you can’t see it? We wrote it in the letter.” 

You looked at him blankly, and couldn’t understand if he was teasing you or if he was actually dumb. Judging by the way he had a slight frown on his face, head tilted to the side and lines forming between his eyebrows, you had your answer. 

“No yes, I see that. I just don’t understand how you would even decide to increase the rent $300.” 

“We didn’t. It’s only a $250 increase.” 

Only? 

That made you angry. 

“Do you understand that to some people that’s a lot of money? It’s not easy for everyone to just find an extra $250 a month. I already overpay for my shoebox; I don’t see how I’m going to be able to give you an extra $250 this month at such a short notice or really… every month for that matter.” 

Mark clicked his tongue as if thinking of some sort of solution for you until he simply shrugged, “then find a new place to live I guess?” 

The tone of his voice didn’t come off as rude or with an attitude. More or less, he said it as if he was just thinking of an “easy” solution to your problem. It almost seemed like Mark had no perception of actual issues that people are often plagued with. 

“Mark how the fuck am I supposed to find a new place to live by the end of the month?” He doesn’t flinch at your tone or language, but simply countered back, “okay then… so stay.” 

You groaned in frustration. You couldn’t imagine how the other people in your building dealt with broken appliances or faulty plumbing if this was who they had to come talk to. 

“Can’t you talk to him about it? Or at least give more of a notice?” You found yourself willing to even be okay with just an extension of the increase. Maybe you’d finally get a promotion or recognition at work, or maybe you could look into getting another job as an assistant. 

“Sorry… My hands are tied,” Mark murmured, uncrossing his folded arms as if he thought the visual of seeing his hands would make the statement more believable. 

“He’s your dad! He owns the whole goddamn building. What do you mean your hands are tied?” You jabbed. 

His face shifted, and it almost seemed like he felt sorry for you, “that stuff isn’t really up to me… It’s up to him.” 

You found yourself tapping your foot in irritation and as you found perhaps a new way to reason with him, “I mean you don’t really want to pay that much more a month, do you?” Mark just looks at you confused, once again, “I live here for free… I’m the property manager.” 

“Okay yeah or do you live here for free because he’s your dad?” 

He shook his head in protest, “No I definitely live here for free because I’m the property manager.” 

“Listen let’s just talk about this more. Can I come in? I’m sure I can convince you that it doesn’t make sense to raise the-” Just as you were about to push yourself past him, he positioned himself forward to stop you. 

“Is there some kind of problem?” You asked. 

“I- You can’t come in,” he frowned. 

“I just want to talk!” You explained, throwing your hands up in desperation. What was this guy not understanding? Wasn’t he supposed to be here to answer to the tenants needs and make sure things were running smoothly? Even if it meant you having a nice sit down in his apartment to chat about how you were going to murder him if he kept acting so clueless about the rent raise?

“We can talk out here.” 

“Well I have a lot to say.” 

“Oh, I know that,” Mark pressed, rolling his eyes a bit. He thinks back to when he found you drunk in the hallway crying. He panicked because he thought you had been hurt or something bad had happened, but you were just completely wasted. As he had hoisted you up off the ground and into his arms, carrying you – not completely willing – to your apartment, you had begun to talk his ear off. 

Most of what you had blabbed on about was how miserable you were at your job and how much you just wanted to quit, but soon as he reached the second flight of stairs, he heard you change subjects. Instead, the topic of conversation became about him and his dating life. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You had asked. Mark remained silent, using that as his answer, “because I never see you with one. Which is crazy since you have such a well-defined jawline.” 

“Um thank you?” Was the only response he had found to be acceptable. 

You continued, “If you were my boyfriend – but you’re not don’t worry – I would tell you how good your jaw was all the time. Aren’t I nice? Wouldn’t I make a nice girlfriend? I think so, but some people don’t think so…” You drifted off; the sadness evident in your voice. 

Mark had found the conversation you were having – pretty much with yourself – funny and by the time you reached the front door of your place, he realized he didn’t want it to stop. You had begun to search your bag for your keys, which you would stop doing ever so often to begin talking about something else, getting distracted and ultimately forgetting about the task at hand. 

By the time you had both made it inside, it felt like hours had passed and you wandered to the kitchen, Mark following behind closely, wanting to make sure you were okay. “Do you want something to eat? It’s around that time, huh? Like for a late-night snack?” 

He shook his head at you, “Y/N, I think you should head to bed,” Mark was concerned to say the least for your body as you had told him somewhere between the first flight of stairs and the second that you had work in the morning. You had ignored him, “what kind of animal do you think you are in a relationship? For me I think I’m… a cat. No, no actually I’m more like a kitten, because I can be playful and energetic, but I still have that “leave me alone” energy, ya know? I bet you’re something cute like a puppy or I don’t know gopher?” 

He hadn’t even argued with you about what being a gopher in a relationship meant or how it was a cute thing to be. Somehow, he had convinced you amidst your next rant that heading to bed was indeed a good idea. As soon as your body had hit the mattress, you were fast asleep and he managed to find a piece of paper to leave you a note for the next morning. 

After that, Mark thought maybe the two of you would become friends. Which looking back at, Mark suddenly thought it was a lame thing to think. He didn’t have many friends or people he truly knew in the building as most tenants just saw him as an extension of the landlord – his father – and didn’t really treat him like an individual. More like a spoiled brat. 

However, as months went by and you avoided his gaze in the hallway, he could tell that your drunk escapade had been forgotten altogether. Now looking at you frustrated, a raise in rent being the only reason for you to come and talk to him, he felt sick to his stomach, because he thought you were different somehow. 

“It’ll only take a second I swear,” you muttered, and somewhere lost in his thoughts, Mark didn’t have a moment to react at your swiftness to push pass him into his apartment. “Wait stop, don’t!” He protested, turning around quickly to see you looking around his place. 

You took it in and you were surprised. For some reason you had pictured it to be much bigger since he was the landlord’s son, but it was probably only a few square feet bigger than your own apartment. The next thing that left you bewildered was how clean and organized it was. Every apartment that you had been that belonged to a male, often looked ransacked as if a thief had been through. However, when you turned your head towards his living space, a simple couch and coffee table positioned in front of a TV, that was when you felt your eyes widen the most. 

Up on the screen of the TV was a paused video of a woman on her kneeling in front of a man, mid blowjob. Okay so he wasn’t working out when I knocked on the door, you conclude. Seeing the image on the screen and Mark’s bright red, panicked face looking for the remote on the couch, surprisingly doesn’t make you feel disgusted or awkward. It makes you feel… intrigued? 

“I- uh, fuck- I- I’m sorry. I don’t- I don’t know what to say,” Mark stuttered after he finally finds the remote and switched off the television. 

“I’m guessing that’s why you didn’t want me to come in?” 

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, clearly nervous, “yeah…” 

You suddenly felt bad for barging into Mark’s place uninvited when he had clearly been in the middle of a personal moment, so you figured it would be best to make the situation as uncomfortable as possible. You wanted to show him that you didn’t care about what he had been doing before you knocked on the door, and there was no reason to feel weird about it. It was natural after all. So somehow you found yourself flopping down on the armchair perpendicular to the couch, making yourself comfortable, attempting to “lighten the mood.”

“Sorry,” you apologized, “but don’t worry, I don’t care. What you do on your own time is your own personal business, not mine.” Mark brought one of his hands to the back of his neck and massaged it as if the new found situation causes him enormous amounts of stress. Which he certainly believed it did. 

You didn’t want to come across as rude or nosey, but for some reason that original impression of being intrigued finds its way back into your mind, “aren’t you supposed to be available 24/7? Shouldn’t you be prepared for something like this? I don’t know shouldn’t you always be expecting someone to knock on your door?” 

For the first time since entering the apartment, Mark gave you attitude, “It’s not like I’m expecting them to barge their way into my place.” 

“Still you should at least turn off your TV! Or I don’t know watch it on your laptop or phone? I honestly don’t know anyone who watches porn on their TV anymore,” your back and forth diffuses the situation somehow as Mark finally moved closer to where you’re sitting and he leaned against the side of the couch. 

“Well why else would I use the TV?” 

“I don’t know to watch literally anything else?” You yelled out to him. He moved around the couch to sit down, “that was a joke,” he explained. 

You laughed and he joins you, grateful that this isn’t as terrible as he expected it to be. It’s when the laughing finally subsides that you feel your eyes drift down to the crotch of the grey sweats he’s wearing. You know it should be the last thing you’re thinking about in this moment, but as he shifts his weight on the couch to get comfortable, you swear you can just make out the outline of his cock. It causes you to squirm in your seat and you instinctively pressed your legs together not wanting to think about it. 

After a moment, “Um… back to the rent… Like I said there’s really nothing I can do Y/N.” 

As he brings the discussion back to the original topic at hand, he runs his hands through his hair once again, and it’s then you take notice of the veins that are clearly on display on his forearm. The sight of them makes you press your legs together even more, your mind soon drifting to how breathless Mark was when he first opened the door. You wonder how close he had been before you had interrupted him, how his hair had probably stuck to his forehead and how hard his hand must have been working to pump himself at the sight of the porn actress blowing the guy she was in the scene with. 

What was Mark into? What kind of porn was it? How did the woman in the scene find herself in that position? So willing and compliant? Had she needed something from him? Like you needed something from Mark? 

You feel yourself grow wet at the thought of what situation you and Mark would be in if this was porn. He would be your only option to getting what you want and being able to stay, so you’d put him in your mouth and let him fuck your face to convince him. 

“Hello? Are you there?” Mark asked suddenly, waving his hand in front of your face from the couch. 

Getting lost in your erotic haze, you feel as though you should think twice for what you’re about to do, but you feel so turned on by the idea and sitting here knowing what Mark had been doing right before you entered couldn’t make you stop yourself. 

Mark watched you get off the chair you had been sitting on and slipping yourself in between the couch and coffee table. He looks at you with his head tilted to the sight and eyebrows furrowed, unsure of what you were doing. As you sink down to your knees in front of him, he feels his cock twitch in his sweats. He thinks he surely must be mistaken. 

“W-What are you doing?” He asked, his breath hitched. 

You looked at him innocently, placing your hands on his thighs, “what does it look like I’m doing? Let me convince you that you shouldn’t raise the rent.” 

He feels like his heart has stopped beating and that maybe this is all a dream, an erotic fantasy and his mind is just drifting off. That he’s actually still fixated in front of the video he was watching earlier with his hand rubbing up and down his length. 

Mark had to be honest with himself, he had never been a situation like this before and his mind was running a thousand miles a minute trying to figure out what the right way of going about this was. Not that there is a right way, he thought to himself. 

He knows that he shouldn’t even be in this situation and that it’s his own damn fault for somehow not stopping you from entering his apartment, but he can’t help but look at you so willing for him and wonder what if? 

Immediately he shook his head and decided to put a stop to this. He didn’t want this to take advantage of you. 

“Y/N, I-I don’t think we should do this. I don’t want you to think that I’m using you or taking advantage of you because of-” you cut him off, sharp as a knife. “If you don’t think we should do this, then why are you hard?” 

At your words, Mark finally acknowledges how hard he’s become at the sight of you being so obedient for him and he feels his cheeks grow red, “I-I-” he began to stammer, perplexed by the uncertainty he felt. 

He wanted this, oh god how he wanted this, but he didn’t want you to feel like you had to do this. 

As if you read his mind, you interrupted his daze, “Mark I’m doing this because I want this, trust me,” you found yourself rolling your eyes at him, “just let me play the role of desperate tenant who’s willing to do anything to stay, okay?” 

Mark nodded wordlessly, and realizes all he can do is take your word for what it was and trust you. Allowing himself to do so, he felt freed from his thought filled head and finally be in the moment. The moment where all you wanted was to suck him off. 

At this allowance, you drifted your hands up Mark’s thighs to the elastic waistband of his sweatpants to finally expose his hard cock. Your tongue darted out to lick your lips instinctively, feeling a pulse in your core at the sight. He positioned himself closer to the edge of the couch as you moved forward enough on your knees to breathe on the head of his cock, “fuck,” he hummed.

Licking your lips one last time, you parted them to suck lightly at the tip. Your tongue slipped out from your lips to lick around the head, moving in slow strides and glancing up to find Mark staring down at you. At his gaze, you felt yourself involuntarily whimper at how innocent he looked as if he couldn’t believe that this was happening which to a certain degree you couldn’t either.

Never had you imagined in all the times you passed by him in the building that you’d be in this position, your tongue dragging up and down his length slowly. Now, you would let him fuck your face however much and however hard he wants. 

You take more than just the head into your mouth, coating his length with saliva and letting your lips glide against the sensitive skin. “So good,” you heard Mark softly murmur and the quiet praise made you want to take even more of him into your mouth. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed to Mark at how you move a little faster or take more of his length in every time he words how good you are. He wonders what else you would want to hear. You continued your rhythm, bobbing your head up and down, forgetting about everything else. All that mattered to you was hearing Mark’s moans and his praise he hoarsely whispered. You were pulled out of your trance as Mark gripped a handful of hair to pull you off of him. You whined, but liked his sudden force. 

He chuckled and you noticed how different his eyes now looked. Before, his hesitancy to the situation shined through them, but now they were glossy and much darker. It was almost as though Mark had been replaced while you had him in your mouth. 

“Just look at you, so fucking eager. So ready to get down on your knees for me to get what you want… so greedy to have as much of me as you can. As much as it takes.” 

This new Mark was certainly doing things for you. 

“Mark fuck my face,” you practically groaned. For a moment you see a glimpse back to the Mark who had been looking down at you innocently just a little while ago, but soon you’re once again met with this new Mark who was so sure of himself and seemed like he enjoyed being in control. 

He smirked, “what did I do to deserve such a good girl?” 

Without hesitation, Mark stands up in front of you and shoves himself back into your mouth, slowly wanting you to feel him in every part of your mouth the same way you would feel him later. 

“How bad do you want to stay?” He asked, pushing himself in further until all of him was in your mouth, feeling him at the back of your throat “I know you can take it all kitten.” 

At the pet name, you moaned around him, not being able to hold it back. Your reaction caused him to begin thrusting himself into your mouth, his hand going to grasp the back of your head, setting a harsh pace and thrusting quickly, he groaned at the sound of you choking on him. As tears began to form in the corner of your eyes, Mark wondered if he should ease up and began to slow down. You noticed this and simply reached your hand up to rub his leg gently as a sign for him to continue. 

He soon returned to his original pace and kept his eyes fixated on himself going in and out of your mouth. He felt himself grow closer and closer to release, especially when he thought about how compliant you were being for him, how you had been the one to initiate this and how if your mouth felt this good, your pussy would feel even better. 

The thought brings him to cum in your mouth, and he becomes embarrassed at how sudden his climax was. Part of Mark thinks you’ll be mad, but part of him also thinks that maybe that’s what you wanted all along. 

The latter thought proved to be correct as you took all of his release in your mouth with ease and swallow, showing him your tongue as proof of a job well done. 

Mark’s heart skipped a beat. 

You smiled at the bewildered look on Mark’s face and used the back of your hand to wipe the saliva and cum that had dripped onto your chin and lips during Mark’s brutal plunge into your mouth. 

Mark felt overwhelmed with exhaustion as a result from his orgasm and collapsed onto the couch behind him, spreading his legs and shutting his eyes after pulling his sweats back on. At his actions, you stood up from your space on the floor in front of him and watched him for a moment. 

Fuck, he really is beautiful, you found yourself thinking. How peaceful and pristine he looked post-climax made you want to take care of him and just run your fingers through his hair until he was fast asleep. 

The sudden want caused you to feel like that maybe it was your cue to leave Mark’s apartment. However, just as you turned to go, you feel Mark grabbing your wrist from his spot on the couch. “Hold on just give me a minute,” he mumbled with his eyes still closed. 

You scanned your eyes back and forth around the room, and noticed the “best uncle ever!” drawing sitting against one of the bookshelves in the corner. You took this as your second sign to leave this man’s apartment. 

“Fine if you can’t wait one minute while I put myself together, just have at it I guess,” Mark stammered, gesturing to his lap as he felt your attempt to leave once again. 

His eyes are still closed, therefore you’re not sure if he’s even aware of his words and movements, “uh… what?” In that moment, Mark shot his eyes open quickly, “My thigh. Ride it,” he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Being honest with yourself, you hadn’t expected this little rendezvous or whatever it was with Mark to include more than him fucking your face. When you had seen the length and size of him through his sweatpants along with what he had been watching before you angrily knocked on his door, all you could think about was getting him in your mouth. You hadn’t considered your own needs for even a second. The sudden realization of this made you think you were going insane. 

Mark pats his lap and set you into a blur of removing your pants, hesitantly setting yourself down on his thigh. It’s almost as though he could sense your uncertainty and he positioned you down onto him, grasping your hips to move them back and forth slowly. He does this for a moment and you let out a groan at the friction you feel against your core. “Can I kiss you?” Mark asked you with his head leaning against the back of the couch, hands still grasped on your sides. 

Your practically snorted at his request, “asks the guy who’s already had me swallow his cum.” He brings his head up instantly as if shocked and ready to defend himself to you, “I’m sorry okay!? I couldn’t help myself,” he paused and quietly, “you were too good.” 

You feel yourself smile at his praise once again and you nodded your head, “of course you can kiss me Mark.” 

“Okay I just had to make sure!” 

“You know I’m not a prostitute, right?” 

“I-I know! That’s not what I meant! I meant-” You cut him off laughing, stopping your movement on him completely to collect yourself, “Mark I’m fucking with you. Don’t worry.” 

“That’s not very nice,” Mark huffed. 

You placed your hands at the back of his neck and pull him closer to you, “now kiss me you idiot.” You could have sworn you heard him mutter something like “that’s still not very nice,” but as soon as his lips reached yours for the first time of the night all other thoughts left your head. The contact was enough to leave you lightheaded, and with every lick and bite of your lips you felt yourself instinctively begin to move your hips again. 

Mark’s kisses trailed from your lips to you jaw to your neck, and his soft sucking, along with the feeling of your clit rubbing against him through your panties caused you to forcefully grip onto Mark’s broad shoulders. The feeling overcoming you from the way grinding on just Mark’s thigh felt and the way he was sucking that spot on your neck, caused you to what nothing more than to reach your high fast and hard. You wanted to completely fall apart from riding this gorgeous man’s thigh and let him know how good it felt. 

Mark unattached himself from your skin and simply laid his head and arms back down on the couch as he had done when he was exhausted. He became so transfixed in your grinding on him and all he wanted to do in the moment was enjoy the show. 

Arms still on his shoulders, “Mark,” you moaned, suddenly wishing you had even less than just your panties between and his sweats between the two of you. 

“Show me how much you want it. Show me how much you want to stay so you can ride my thigh every single day,” at his words, Mark tensed his thigh and your eyes immediately shoot open at the new feeling that overwhelms you further. Mark is already hard again at the sight of you getting yourself off by using him and he realizes that he would be okay with you using him as much as you want, whenever you want. 

Mark’s hands wander forward from the couch and begin to trail themselves up and down your body, playing with your breasts through your shirt and palming them softly. It’s when he reaches around to the back of your panties and pulls them tighter against you body that you feel the high you had been chasing begin to hit you. The material riding up, gives your clit the final bit of friction you need to send you spiraling into an orgasm. 

You let out a final “Fuck!” as exclamation as your fingernails dig into Mark’s shoulders, your head falling backwards and causing your breath to catch in your throat. Mark’s hands returned to your hips, grinding you down onto him to make you ride out the aftershocks that course through you. 

“Fuck,” you heard Mark say as you fell forward into his arms, “that was so fucking hot.” 

He rubbed your back soothingly and you smiled into his shoulder at his response to you just having an orgasm from his thigh. “Hotter than the porno you were watching?” 

He playfully hits your back, “Way hotter, trust me.” 

When you finally regain strength, you lifted yourself off of Mark’s chest and looked down to notice the dark patch on his grey sweats where you had been pressing yourself against him. You looked away from him, face growing hot from embarrassment. Mark tilted your chin towards him, “aw did my kitten leave behind a mess?” he asked you cooing in a soft voice. 

Despite reaching orgasm only moments ago, you feel the space between your legs begin to drip with arousal once again and judging on Mark’s demeanor, he can sense it. 

He pressed himself further against you until you can feel his hardness against the side of your own thigh, “does she want more?” Once again in a Mark Tuan induced trance, you nod your head mindlessly. 

In a haze of motions and movement, Mark pulled you off of his lap to remove his sweats, his cock springing free and looking painfully hard and ready to be inside of you. You lick your lips at the thought and it’s not until Mark pats his lap for you to get back on that you realize he wants you to ride him. 

Any other situation you would jump at the opportunity, loving the control, but you whined at him still feeling a bit spent from working yourself against him before, “can we do more of a ‘you put most of the work in’ kind of position?”

He puts his hands up jokingly as if surrendering, “okay, okay, okay.” 

You lay down with your back against the couch, removing your shirt and bra as Mark goes to the bathroom to retrieve a condom, but to your dismay he comes back holding an empty box, flipping it upside down to show you the issue.

“Wow are you that busy?” You asked Mark, then suddenly it occurs to you that maybe you should have asked if he as a girlfriend. Mark didn’t really seem to be the kind of guy that would do that to someone. 

He shakes his head, “no, it’s just… It’s been a long time okay? And there used to be more than half a box left, but I’m pretty sure all of my friends have secretly been taking them when they’re here, because how else could they disappear if I haven’t had sex with anyone in forever?” 

It’s clear that Mark’s worked up by the situation and isn’t sure what to do, so you try your best to calm him down, giggling at his demeanor, “Mark it’s fine. I have an IUD, don’t worry.” 

“What?” He asked. 

You rolled your eyes at him, what was up with this kid? “An IUD… an Intrauterine d-” 

“I know what an IUD is! I just meant… you still want to have sex with me even though I’m dumb and all my friends apparently take my condoms?” 

You swear your heart swells at innocent Mark appearing in front of you once again and you laugh again, “well I have to show you how much I want to stay, right?” You wiggled your hips at him from down on the couch and sighed contently, “plus I just really need you inside of me or else I feel like I’m going to explode.” 

Mark laughed at you and throws the empty condom box to the side of the couch, which he climbs back on positioning himself in between your legs, “yes ma’am.” 

He gently ran his index finger up and down, over your clothed entrance, the feeling causing you to shiver. Mark smirked at your reaction and pushes underneath your underwear until he rubs his finger directly over your slit, letting it collect your wetness. When he removes it, you whimper at the feeling and he places his digit into his mouth to taste you. 

He let out a lustful sound at your taste, “my kitten tastes just like candy. I could spend all day with my head in between your legs and I will, but I need to be inside you. Now.” At his emphasis on wanting to sink into you, Mark for some reason decided that it would make more sense to use his hands to rip apart your underwear to grant him entrance rather than simply taking them off of you. You made a mental note to give him shit for it later. $250 and new underwear? No thanks. 

Delicately, Mark lifts both of your legs up until they’re situated on each of his shoulders. You feel yourself exposed to him in a new way, his cock brushing against you slit, making you feel the need to beg for him to enter you. At his pause, you tried to slide yourself down towards him impatiently, but he holds in you in place, “I thought you were tired?” Mark smirked right before he enters you slightly. Only part of him is in, but you groaned at the stretch. 

“Fuck kitten, are you even going to be able to take me?” Mark wondered out loud. 

He continued to push into you, and your body adjusted itself to get used to the way he was stretching you and the way he was filling you so deliciously. You barely ever went without a condom despite your IUD, but with a lack of barrier separating you and Mark and the sensation it brought, you found yourself wanting him to enter you like this as many times as he wanted. 

He pushed himself forward until he bottoms out, fully inside of you and groaned. He starts off slow and you whimpered, just wanting to feel him pound into you already. You think you’re going to cry at how you can feel him practically everywhere and in every single part of your body, when he has barely even moved. Mark feels himself go dizzy at how tight you are around him. It’s bordering on painful, the squeeze of your walls around his cock, but he doesn’t really care as he listens to the sounds leaving your mouth asking him to move faster. 

Mark’s pace picked up and as he thrusts into you at a faster and faster rate, your lifted legs move with him and your knees practically begin to hit your chest every time he pulls back to delve into you again. With the angle his plummeting into you at, it’s not long before he hits your sweet spot and as you shutting your eyes tightly, unable to focus on anything except how good it feels. It’s when Mark’s hands leave your hips and wander to your breasts, cupping them, swirling your nipples in between his thumb and index finger that you feel yourself clench dangerously hard around Mark. He moaned, feeling like he could cum again at any minute, but he held himself off wanting to make sure he had taken care of you first. 

“Are you sure you don’t just want me?” Mark asked in his gruff, low voice, his probing into you giving no sign of stopping, “Are you sure you just didn’t want to feel me inside you this whole time? You don’t care about staying or going, you just wanted to feel yourself wrapped around me. Be honest.” At his words you let out more lustful sounds, unable to form any real response due to how fucked out you felt. Mark, however, wouldn’t take your silence at an answer as he thrusts in even harder, “Be. Honest.” 

It’s then when he pushes you over the edge, and you feel your second orgasm of the night course through you. “Mark… F-fuck Mark, oh god I- fuck,” you pant at the same time your walls squeezed around Mark one final time, your lower body arching off of the couch. For Mark, that’s all it takes for him to reach the peak of his own orgasm, the sight of you falling apart in front of him. You feel him release himself inside of you, feeling him make you so full with his warm cum coating your walls. 

As you caught your breath from your own climax, you watch Mark come down from his, making note of the final noise he lets out before he almost collapses himself on top of you. He pulls himself out of you and lowers your legs from his shoulder, a soreness that wasn’t present during the fucking starting to make itself known in your body. 

You feel more exhausted than you had after your first orgasm and you don’t even realize you closed your eyes until you feel Mark nudging your shoulder gently with his hand, “huh?” you mumbled, half-aware. 

“I’m going to clean you up, is that okay?” Mark asked tentatively. 

For probably the hundredth time of the night you wanted to laugh at the boy. He had already fucked you, but he still felt the need to ask if it was okay to do things like clean you up. 

Okay he was cute. 

Nodding at him, you feel Mark wiping up the mess he made inside of you that was beginning to seep out. When he’s finished, he lifts your legs and sits down on the couch beside your laying body, dropping your legs over his lap. He caresses them. 

There’s a peaceful moment between the two of you and it’s nice, it soothes you and you feel yourself drifting off once again, but Mark interrupts your fall into slumber, “you know I probably could talk to my dad about everything.” At this point you didn’t care about the money anymore, and you hoped Mark truly knew that the rent wasn’t the reason why you fucked him. 

Using your legs, you playfully kick Mark, “I really don’t care about that anymore. This was worth way more than $250.”

He chuckled, “Like how much? $500?” 

You hummed in thought, “I honestly couldn’t even put a price on it if you held a gun to my head.” 

“Dark… but I get it.” 

There’s another moment of silence and you take this as your chance to fall asleep, but suddenly you feel yourself being lifted off of the couch and into Mark’s arms, “where are you taking me?” 

“My room, so you don’t have to fall asleep on an uncomfortable and overpriced couch.” 

Your eyes shoot open, “so you think it’s overpriced too!” He shakes head at you playfully in protest and lays you down on his bed when he enters his room. You can’t help but inhale the scent around you. It smells like him. 

He sits down beside you and places a kiss on your forehead, “I’m still going to talk to my dad regardless. It’s kind of ridiculous.” A smile slowly starts to creep up on your face just as you agree with him, “Okay, okay. Fine!” 

“Now get some rest.” You felt the weight shift up on the bed, signaling Mark’s departure, but instantly with your eyes still closed, you reached out to grab his wrist, “wake me up in twenty minutes for another round, okay?” 

He clicked his tongue at you, “It’s going to cost you.” You opened your eyes and smiled up at him, thumb gently stroking his wrist. 

“I’m not worried, you’re priceless after all.”

[humanmoodring-retired]

Feline A Little Clawstrophobic ||Nicole & Nadia

TIMING: Back in April  PARTIES: @nicsalazar & @humanmoodring SUMMARY: Two cat ladies walk into an elevator CONTENT: Drug manipulation (balam ingesting catnip)

Lack of focus was always a problem for Nicole, but it was safe to say things took a turn for the worst in the past weeks. She was hardly present anymore. To the point where she jumped on her truck and drove aimlessly for hours. Like sleepwalking but conscious, she mused. It was better to drive than to walk, though. Not only because she was forced to do light activity after breaking her ribs, but it was better for her if she put her mental energy into an easy task. Walking used to be how she processed things, and she wasn’t ready for it. She couldn’t think about that night without fear constricting her throat.

Wandering around the shopping center was manageable. It would take real bad luck to break her bones again. Nicole held onto a bag items she didn’t recall buying, and tired of just circling around the same places, she headed towards the elevator. She pushed the button for the first floor, but as the doors were closing, another person entered. The eye contact was minimum before she lowered her gaze, shoulders tensing at the presence. Her lips pressed into a thin line. The woman would be able to tell it was meant to be a smile, right? It didn’t matter, in a few seconds she would never see that stranger again.  

With the weather getting less shitty, and with her body healing more and more each day, Nadia was slowly but surely getting more comfortable with going out and doing things. And, seeing as she hadn’t done shit for her own birthday but it was well over a year since she’d found and rescued her cat, Rhiannon, Nadia decided she was going to do something nice for the little fucker. She was grateful to have the cat back in her apartment, even if she woke up with a giant mound of fur crushing her. It was a good reminder that she was still alive. She’d gone to the store and bought a few cat toys with her groceries, ended up snagging a thing of catnip before she was starting to feel fatigued and decided it was time to head out.

The woman in the elevator with Nadia felt like grief and fear and something numb, familiar and numb. Even if it was probably not as overwhelming as it could be, something that she was beginning to expect from many of the residents in White Crest, it was still a lot, and she felt herself tensing up in response. Still, she managed to give the woman a tired smile of her own and a murmured “thank you” before she shifted her weight a bit and waited for the elevator to take them down. Except there was a grinding noise, a jerk as the elevator came to a violent stop. Nadia grabbed at her side instinctively, even though she wasn’t at risk of stitches popping open this late in the game. “Shit,” she hissed, looking around, trying to figure out what was going on.

Nicole lifted her head when the elevator came to an unexpected stop. For a split second she expected the doors to open for another person, but the woman’s reaction made her realize what was happening. The elevator malfunctioned. They were trapped. “Uh—” she swallowed, slowly processing the situation. The feeling of being caged wasn’t exactly one she was fond of, and she fought to keep her rising anxiety in line.  She let out a nervous breath, eyes fixing on the emergency button. “It— it should be fine” she shrugged, leaving her bag on the floor. The less effort she made carrying extra weight the less oxygen she took out of the room, right? “Un— less...unless there’s a blackout or some— some shit like that” She pulled at the extra hair tie on her wrist, absently playing with it. What could be worse than being in a confined space with a stranger? Even her nightmares were nicer than that. “But... it’ll be fine” she met the woman’s gaze through the mirror on the wall, before pushing the button a few times. When she took a deep breath in, something tickled the back of her throat. Brow furrowed, she glanced at the woman again, trying to decipher her scent. Nothing was particularly strong, yet— she licked her lips, trying to concentrate on the smell.

This was cool, this was fine, Nadia thought as she felt her own nerves mingle with the stranger’s. She wasn’t a fan of tight spaces, she was learning, the way it reminded her of being able to look out her own eyes but not move as she lacked control of her own body. She dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands, the gesture grounding. She was real. It was a shitty situation, but she was real, and she was fine. She almost wished she could walk through the fucking wall like she was still a ghost. Almost. She never wanted to be like that again. “It’s totally fine. Someone’s gonna come, and, yeah, it’ll be fine.” The other woman just really kind of radiated a sense of anxiety that Nadia couldn’t quite get over. This was great. This was why she didn’t get out much. “Just my fucking luck,” she muttered. “Go to the store and get stuck in a damn elevator.” She leaned against the wall and slumped a bit, her bags hanging by her side. When she met the stranger’s eye, she tried to give a half-hearted smile. The other woman’s emotions had changed a bit as her brow furrowed, though Nadia couldn’t quite tell what it was. “Is the, uh, the help button working, or are we in a dead zone?”

Right. It was a good thing they were both staying level headed considering the situation, Nicole thought. Everything would suck so much more if one of them started panicking and sucked all the air in the small elevator. She looked down, hiding a smile at the woman’s words. It was nice to know she wasn’t the only one annoyed by the situation. Had she been better at conversations, she would’ve enjoyed spending the time complaining about shitty luck and poorly maintained machines with her. That was a thing adult women bonded over, right? “No… don’t think it’s working” very slowly, she lowered her hand, as if she still held a glimmer of hope that something would happen. She retreated back to the opposite wall, licking her lips again. What was in the air? It was familiar, yet she couldn’t place it yet. Some sort of plant. Nicole blinked once, twice, tongue poking between her teeth. Wide brown eyes stared intensely at the other woman. Searching, assessing. And then— She took a bite of air. Oh, no. Her heartbeat raced. In the back of her mind she was aware of what was happening, but she didn’t think she’d be able to stop it. Fuck. Still conscious, she tried to pass off the odd movement as a yawn. Good, quick thinking and — Oh, it was creeping on her so, so fast. Premium shit, it had to be. She didn’t think she’d care for long.  “I’m— I’m...do you—” poor woman, Nicole smiled lazily. “Have...cat?”

“Oh, good. Hey, I was worried this would be resolved quickly, right?” Nadia sighed, running a hand through her hair and hoping she wasn’t coming off as an ass. It was just, fuck, being stuck in an elevator wasn’t exactly how she’d imagined to spend the day, and at least she wasn’t alone, but she also wasn’t alone, which meant she had to deal with herself as well as someone else. Normally, she preferred that, preferred that she could focus on someone else instead of herself for just a bit, just a fucking bit, but maybe not while both of them were stressed over being stuck in a goddamn elevator. Nadia liked being able to focus on positive emotions, or even fun emotions like anger. Not anxiety. She had enough of that on her own. There was no need for anymore, thank you. She checked her phone. Yep, yeah, that seemed about right. No fucking service. She bit at the inside of her cheek before she felt a wave of just… mellow wash over her. She looked up at the other woman, the smile on her face and the look in her eyes, and Nadia raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’ve got a cat. She’s a total asshole. I actually came to the store to get her a few things and…” she trailed off. “Do you… like cats?”

Nicole inhaled deeply, enjoying the absence of stiffness on the side of her chest. She took in as much of the scent as her lungs allowed. The cast on her wrist was forgotten. The effect was much stronger now that her brain recognized the minty fragrance. She tilted her head back against the wall, transfixed by the emergency lights. “Fuck” she let out a breathy laugh. “I’m so so—” she wanted to apologize, knowing she would embarrass herself, but the words faded from her brain. Nice. “Mmm...I’m cats” She closed her eyes, a blissful smile plastered on her face. It was hot inside the elevator, Nicole registered. But for a few seconds there was nothing to worry about. No dreamscape, no cliff, no anger getting out of control. Just the fast beat of her heart to focus on. Not quite euphoric yet. She needed—  craved more. The scent just wasn’t enough. Her mouth was watering. Pupils were blown when she opened her eyes again. She got off the wall, taking a few clumsy steps towards the human. She offered a mischievous smile, nodding at the bag. “Hey... c’mon” she pleaded softly, before getting close enough to peek inside. Her prize. It was driving her wild. She gripped the human’s wrist, forcing her to lift the bag, before rubbing her face against it. Almost. Her patience ran out quickly, the human was so slow that she smacked the bag out of her hands, content spilling on the floor. She dropped to her knees, trying to rip the catnip bags open.

“What the fuck do you mean, you’re cats?” This was a little weird, even for Nadia, but she couldn’t deny that this chick’s emotions? They felt so much better than her own. Pure fucking contentment and happiness and relaxation. It’d been awhile since she’d felt that, and, sure, maybe it wasn’t full-throttle, but, god, it felt nice. It was weird as hell though. Nadia backed a bit into the wall, pushing herself against it. The woman grabbed Nadia’s wrist, the one that had been snapped sometime during or before the exorcism, and Nadia winced. “Hey, hey, no grabbing, let’s not-- let’s not grab, okay?” Nadia… knew this feeling, sort of. She recognized it from the few college parties she’d been dragged to, the way she’d felt it coming off of people from the crowd and filling her, making her want to go back for more. “Dude, are you-- are you fucking high right now? How? We’re in the-- you just spilled my shit, holy fuck.” She watched as the bag of catnip and toys spilled out on the elevator floor and the woman went down to the ground. “I just bought that. Fuck. Wait-- you’re cats. You… you want the catnip.” Okay, cats. Cat people? Cats. This was fine. This was totally normal. “I’m stuck in an elevator with a high cat lady. I wish I was a high cat lady,” she muttered, and she slid down the wall to sit, shooting the woman a tired look. But, hey, at least she was relaxing.

Nicole heard the sounds. Words, she knew. Vaguely. Not that it was ever her strength, but she couldn’t exactly form a coherent sentence at the moment. Her head bobbed without a clear direction, attempting to nod. A cat lady. Curious eyes observed the woman for a moment, waiting for some sort of reaction, any reaction to her trying to tear the bags opens. She was rude but not that rude. It confused her, tilting her head as the woman quietly slid down the wall, but it was the permission she wanted.

She crushed the catnip between her fingertips, nostrils flaring when more scent was released. All tension left her body. Nicole was weightless. She brought the catnip to her mouth, getting a taste of it. A hoarse grunt escaped her mouth. Shit. Shit. Her body tilted forward in slow motion, until she couldn't keep her balance and face planted on the ground. She rolled on her side, letting out a strangled laugh. Something out of the corner of her eye made her jump. She was ready to pounce when she realized— Oh right, the forgotten human. She could enjoy the catnip too, otherwise why did she buy it? Nicole wasn’t selfish. She pawed the air, until she got a hold of her sleeve and pulled her down to the floor. She laughed at that, before breaking down some catnip.  “Here…” she mumbled, her clumsy hand rubbed it in the woman’s face.

There was a woman getting high off of catnip, and Nadia was stuck in an elevator with her. That was what was happening. That was her life now. At least the woman seemed to be enjoying herself. Nadia could feel the relaxation and ease that was working its way through the woman, and it was nice to hear a laugh. Nadia managed a small one herself as she watched the woman struggle with movement. It was funny. It was enjoyable. It almost made being stuck in an elevator for the near future something that was almost tolerable.

Or, at least, Nadia could have believed that it was tolerable until she was pulled over and down to the floor with a groan. “Hey, no, no-- fuck.” She was on the floor with a woman that was high on catnip, and that woman was dragging her down and rubbing catnip in Nadia’s face. Sure, it smelled alright, but it wasn’t, like, weed or shit. “That was for my cat,” Nadia said, her tone dry as she plucked a piece of the catnip out of her hair. “But, hey, glad you’re enjoying it, you know?” It was hard to stay mad with the good vibes.

Nicole gave the woman a blank stare. She wanted to understand what she was saying, she really did. The words were floating above her, but they sounded like a foreign language as they reached her ears. She hummed in response, trying to keep a serious face. Whatever she was saying sounded important. Her cat, something about her cat. Her smile kept growing however, stretching until it hurt her cheeks. She buried her face in the bag again, taking as much as she could before discarding it somewhere on the floor. She allowed herself to close her eyes for a moment, eyelids heavy as warmth swept her body. The sensation was barely familiar. But it wasn’t new, just long forgotten. Like feeling loved or cared for. Being safe on her mother’s lap. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt anything similar.  

Jealousy filled her chest. The human had to be a great cat owner. How come no one was doing that for her? She turned her head to see the woman, watched her remove the catnip from her hair and while confusing, the message was understood. “Oooh” Nicole would’ve been embarrassed by what she was doing. So embarrassed that she would’ve considered moving out of town. But when the scent of catnip was impregnated in every corner of the elevator, shame was hard to register. A clumsy hand reached out to help, patting her head with no delicacy and tousling her hair in the process. Her human brain still pushed to communicate, thank the woman for bringing such a nice gift to her. Making her feel safe. But words kept failing. Instead, she settled by her side, gently pressing her forehead against the woman’s shoulder. Her breath slowing down.

The cat lady, who was a different kind of cat lady than Nadia’s type of cat lady, was well and truly high on catnip. Of all the things that she expected to happen when she came to the store, this just wasn’t it. Maybe, like, getting attacked by one of those fucking mime creatures. She could have seen that happening. Or maybe the sky raining fish. She’d been there, done that, even if she didn’t get the t-shirt. But this was… a little weird. Not the worst thing in the world, but a little weird. It was hard to be too mad, though, when the woman was smiling and felt genuinely content. It was weird as hell, but she wasn’t, like, malevolent. Nadia had been in worse situations.

“Shit, fuck, ow, yes, thank you, thank you, that’s very nice,” Nadia said as the woman swattered at her head. It was just like dealing with Rhiannon. If Rhiannon was a grown ass woman that was swatting at Nadia’s head. Really, it was practically the same thing. She reached up to fix her hair before giving up and resigning herself to it. Then, the woman leaned against her, calm and relaxed and, yeah, okay, maybe Nadia relaxed a little bit, too. Despite being locked in a fucking elevator, this really, really wasn’t the worst. “Maybe don’t, like, fall asleep. Just in case someone comes to get us out of here, soon.” But she was also a little tired. Just a bit. Not much. But Nadia was always tired. Always. But this was kind of relaxing.

Nicole could hardly remember what her life was before she was on the elevator floor cuddling with a stranger. Nothing extraordinary, surely. But she couldn’t care less. The back of her head was tingling pleasantly and that was all that mattered. She had a moment of utter relaxation and she was going to make the best of it. The human beside her wasn’t too bad either. She made a decent cushion compared to other human cushions, and some of the catnip scent had impregnated on her clothes, making her perfectly comfortable. She barely registered what the woman said, because it was time for a nap. And what was more important than that? So she hummed, letting silence fall on them as she enjoyed the best moment in her miserable 27 years of life. Nothing was going to ruin it.

The floor underneath them shook abruptly. The metallic sounds so jarring to her sensitive ears that her body jumped, suddenly on high alert. Nicole was on her feet faster than it was humanly possible, taking her surroundings in. Her brain was foggy, and though it felt like she should’ve been worried about the source of the sound, all she felt was confused. Not yet conscious, but the sensations gradually subsiding. She narrowed her eyes, staring at the woman on the floor with a puzzled expression. “Wha—?” she let out a big laugh, trying to understand why a woman would be lying on the elevator floor in a mess of bags and herbs.

Nadia was resigned to this. This was her life. She lived in this elevator now. She’d never get home. Her only hope was that Ms. Carmody would see about Rhiannon when it appeared that Nadia wasn’t going to go home. She’d never leave this elevator, and she’d die being essentially cuddled by a stranger that was high on catnip. Her saving grace was the second-hand relaxation that poured off the woman in waves, making Nadia not totally perturbed by her situation. Really, it could be worse. There were more tragic ways to go out. More terrifying ways. More nightmare inducing, memory tugging ways that she thought about all the time. This? This was fucking peaceful. Nadia could allow this, even if she’d miss her friends, her people. She was relaxed. She was chill. She was--

She was jolted away when the elevator started moving again, as well as when the woman moved. Nadia sat up, brushing the catnip out of her hair for real this time as she looked around them. The elevator door opened up, and she stood, grabbing her things. There was a guy that opened the door.

“You ladies alright?” he asked.

“Fine, totally, appreciate it,” Nadia said. She looked at the other woman who was still dazed. “We, uh, we should get off.” Nadia couldn’t tell what happened, but she’d gone from high to coming down relatively quickly, and that seemed to have left a lot of confusion in its wake. She didn’t even mind being laughed at. “Unless you wanna stick around the elevator, that is.”

The rumbling continued, and the elevator began to descend. Nicole felt as if she was being pulled in two drastically different directions. On one side, she tried to navigate the thick fog in her brain, recall important information, like who the fuck was the woman with her and why was she suddenly fond of her. On the other, she gripped the sidebar, her stomach filling with the primal urge to hunt down whatever monster was causing those awful sounds. It didn’t make any fucking sense. She gritted her teeth, but it wasn’t enough to contain the hiss she directed at the emergency lights. Her cheeks flushed, embarrassed. Great. Her awareness grew, but somehow so did the grogginess. Part of her was falling asleep while the other was waking up. And no one seemed to agree on who was going to take control yet.

When she looked down again ,her companion was sitting, brushing off whatever it was she had on her. Cat...nip, she read on the bags. Catnip. The wheels began turning faster. She breathed out, relieved to be able to read. The scent was still floating in the elevator, but it had no effect on her anymore.

The smile still playing on Nicole’s lips faltered, and as the door opened, everything clicked. Well, fuck. The woman’s voice came, and she saw part of her confusion reflected on her face. Nothing but babbling sounds came out as she tried to speak. God dammit, what did she do? And why did she still want to laugh? She nodded curtly at the suggestion, picking up her bags and following the woman. She clenched her jaw, wondering if she could spontaneously combust due to the humiliation. The doors closed behind them and there was silence. “Yeah, uh— sorry about...” she shook her head, pointing in the direction she was about to go. Making a mental note to never leave her house again. “Know what? we...we don’t have to,” they didn’t need to talk. Ever. Why bother? “We’re just not gonna...never” she continued to nod, gripping her bag with sweaty palms. Yeah, that was perfect. She turned around, too scared to wait for the woman to add anything. Eyes fixed on the ground, she bolted towards the nearest exit.

[cozycryptidcorner]

The Mad Prince, Chapter 9

Always handle yourself with grace and poise, the matchmaker rep always told you, and you remember that exact quote as your mouth hits the floor. You are so very close to shouting ” what,” but by some deity’s grace, you manage to say it in a tone that doesn’t suggest you’re going to march back down and kill the prince with your bare hands.

“Did no one tell you?” The vice marshal clicks his tongue in such transparently false sympathy.

“Of-” you try to push down the bristles, taking in a deeper breath, “of course I’ve been told! I’m just wondering what kind of insignificant dick you’re compensating for with that piss poor attitude you’ve had since I arrived.” There it is, a few weeks’ worth of stress and anger bubbling over the surface. You knew that this would happen eventually, but you suppose you weren’t fully prepared to be tipped over the edge so goddamn early.

Judging by the vice-marshal’s expression, though, he’s clearly not used to being spoken to in that manner, because his entire face goes dark, and his hand raises ever so slightly as though preparing to strike you. “The human body is so much weaker than a drow’s, so much easier to break. What makes you think that you’ll survive one rotation?”

Your guard must have done something because you don’t think the vice-marshal would wince back at your death glare, especially since your prior reputation has been carefully scrubbed clean from the records. With a firm, calm hand, on your shoulder, Elias steers you away almost roughly, apologizing all the while for the sudden departure. You can feel through his pulse that he’s nervous. Or maybe annoyed. You don’t know enough about him to put a specific read yet. Quickly, he has you in the other lift, scanning his pass for permission to enter the servant’s quarters.

“You’re scheming.” Elias surprises you by speaking first after a few moments of stony silence.

Do you blame me? you don’t say. If only you were sure he was just making a casual remark, and not accusing you of being a potential downfall to the royal family. Maybe you shouldn’t sell yourself that high, though.

“I imagine that it must be very different than what you are used to.” Elias responds, glancing in your direction for just a brief moment.

“So very different, yeah.” Your teeth are tightly gritted together, because that’s a severe understatement.

After another moment of awkward quiet. “We both know there is going to be a confrontation,” Elias says, staring straight ahead, “but all I request is that you go easy on him. He… means well.”

“Let’s have a fun little exercise of the imagination,” you say, instead of agreeing, “and let’s say that you get matched with….” You try to get your brain to actually think of some high-level officer, “let’s also say you get matched with one of the few soldiers who are trained in specifically killing driders. We call them the suicide squads, because… um, you get the idea.”

“I don’t think-”

“Let me finish,” you almost snap. “Let’s say this one you get matched with is alright when it comes to you for the most part, but there’s this underlying threat that all of her peers are leaning over you, pressuring her to send your body back over the line in pieces. Which doesn’t even take into account how I’m sure the Royal family is eager to have you feed them information, which you might be able to ignore so long as they don’t have anything to hold over your head, like family, or friends, or-” a criminal background “like… whatever. Now on top of all that, your match’s family is really getting under your skin, as in they want you dead, so what now? You’re stranded in enemy territory, and you’re not sure if you can just say ‘I want to go home’ because something about her makes you wonder if she’s three slights away from strangling you with her bare hands.”

Elias is silent for a moment, then, “I don’t think the prince would-”

” Then you find out that she was serious with someone before who mysteriously died an unknown amount of time ago.”

“I can answer that for you,” Elias says wearily, “two years ago. Her name was Iole.”

“And how did she die?” You ask, trying to tamper down the anger. It doesn’t work, there’s a fuzzy heat fizzling in your chest, like static.

“Her heart gave out,” he says, glancing self-consciously over to the guard, who hasn’t even glanced in your direction.

“Spontaneously?” Because that’s… so suspicious.

“It’s still under official investigation, one that I am not fully privy to.” Elias lets out a muted sigh, tugging at the ends of his sleeves. “However, there are rumors.”

“How interesting,” you spit out through gritted teeth, “why wasn’t I told?”

“I don’t- that is, I didn’t realize that you were not.”

A lie. One that you can sense even through all that careful dignitary training. You let the elevator continue on for a few more tense, quiet moments before saying, “where’s the ship.”

“Where’s what ship? The official matchmaker ship you arrived on?”

“Yes, clearly,” you’re impatient and tense, there’s a weird, pinching feeling in your stomach, “is it in the original place where it was parked? Or did you move it somewhere else?”

He’s silently debating, you can tell, about the benefits versus the risks of telling you. Or even if he’d be able to get away with a lie, you can see it in his eyes. To his credit, he probably realizes that anything besides the truth will probably come to bite him later (namely you. You would bite him later if he lies), so he lets out a sigh that’s probably meant to carefully hide his frustration. “The ship you arrived in is in the same docking bay, though it has not been refueled or maintained at all.”

The doors open with a ping, and you notice a few drow servants lingering in the hallways, so you bite the question down sullenly, crossing your arms over your chest as you walk. Every step towards the prince’s wing is spent deciding how you’re going to speak to him about this. Give him the benefit of the doubt? Go in with all guns blazing? What would he even say, you wonder, once you lay the cards on the table? Would he try to be reasonable? Would he completely lose it and finally kill you? A shiver runs down your spine at the idea of him looking at you the way he stared at those servants. Cold. Bitter. Without any of the timid tenderness he’s shown.

You’re here.

“Why don’t you let me step in first, at least to prepare him for the situation?” Elias offers, looking like he is well aware of the careful calculations that must be done to walk on all those eggshells.

“Um… no, I’m good,” you say, opening the door with a bit more attitude than you meant to. You hear Elias murmur something to the guard as you enter, though only he follows. Aksanos is where you expected him to be, at his desk, working over a large datapad, of which he clears the contents of as you walk over, setting your hands flat on either side of his workspace.

“Did your doctor’s appointment go well?” He asks, his brow furrowing at your aggression.

“Oh, it went swimmingly, thanks for asking.” Your brain is racing, and you’re trying to figure out if you’d like Elias here or absent, or if it would even make any difference. “Say, babe, I think it’s about time we have us a little super serious conversation that we’ve both been putting off.”

He looks over your shoulder at Elias, who probably is emitting a less than thrilled expression at the moment. Then he glances back at you, with a face that’s difficult for you to gauge the emotions portrayed, but he nods, giving Elias a gesture of dismissal. Once the two of you are alone, the door shut and locked firmly against anyone who might interlope, he folds his hands over each other and says, “what is this about, then?”

” Well,” you say, feeling a sense of hysteria bubbling in the back of your throat, “I was being escorted back from my doctor’s appointment- she’s absolutely lovely, by the way, especially with letting me know ahead of time that your mom, who, if you remember, I have yet to meet, wants the very invasive genetic compatibility test done whether I’m willing to consent or not- when I had a little run-in with the vice-marshal.”

He looks like he’s ready to say something, so you raise your hand to let him know that he doesn’t get a turn to talk until you’ve finished your piece.

“So I had such a fun little conversation with him. Turns out, can you even believe it, that you apparently had um, a fiance before I came into the picture? And she died under mysterious circumstances?” You cross your arms tightly around your chest, though you don’t let up on the Best Customer Service Voice, because grossly pretending like everything’s okay is the only thing that’s keeping you from completely losing your shit.

Again, he opens his mouth, his eyes narrowing slightly, but you still have more on your plate to say to him.

“The vice-marshal,” he finally says, “is not one to listen to when it comes to rumors.” It takes you a hot minute to realize that he’s angry because he’s not showing the same kind of dictatorial rage that you’ve witnessed with anyone else. His voice is hard, stony, but not with the same cold detachment he uses with his servants… When he opens his mouth to speak, his fangs seem to be a tad more protruding than when he is otherwise relaxed.

You used to think that the moment he gets enraged would be the moment it’s game over for you, so even though you’re still fucking over this, you try to turn the dial a bit. “So it’s not true, then? You weren’t about to marry someone else before she was killed?”

He’s silent a moment before relenting. “No, it is true. Iole and I… it was… it was a radical union, certainly, because of her lowblood status, but…” he takes a deep breath, “yes. I was going to marry her.”

“Low-blood status,” you need him to clarify.

There is a long, drawn-out moment of hesitation, and then he says, “she was a drow.”

“And this is just information that you decided wasn’t pertinent for me to know? Do you just casually put the people you know in mortal danger?” He does, though, you’ve forgotten who you’ve been talking to. Blinded by the gentle gestures and sweet conversation, the stories of his sadistic nature slowly melted away until your guard was so low someone would have to dig to set off any warning bells. Of course, you knew you were walking into danger when you finally accepted the calling, but you didn’t realize that there’s someone out there that would go far enough to try assassination.

“I informed the Starward Matchmakers™ of the threat, and I thought they would pass it on to you,” he says, too steadily for your liking. As if that’s a valid excuse.

“That’s convenient for you.”

“I’m sorry that retelling the story of how I found the love of my life, dead, isn’t something I enjoy speaking of often.” His voice finally raises, and you feel a spike of adrenaline burst through your system.

“But you didn’t even think that this might be information that I would need to know, even after someone tried to fucking kill me?”

“I did not think it would go this far,” he snarls, “but who is to say that the assassination attempt falls under our jurisdiction? You have plenty of your own enemies, from what I understand of your own conveniently unmentioned past.”

You’re so angry you’re shaking, is he seriously going to bring up your work as a valid excuse for his shitty behavior? But still, even in your burning rage, you don’t want to give him any more than you have to. “I’ve never put anyone not willing in the direct line of fire, and that includes knowing the risks involved.”

He stands to his full height, and you find yourself taking a step back instinctually, eyes quickly roaming the immediate area for any weapons that you might be able to use against him. As soon as your eyes fall onto a pen on his desk, then back at him, his entire demeanor changes, and he settles back down, placing his head in his hands. It takes you a minute of the ensuing silence to realize that you’re still trembling, both with adrenaline and anger. But you’re also bristled, tense, fully prepared to fight for your life. You don’t move the step back closer, because something inside you says he might still try to wring your delicately human neck.

“I loved her,” he says, finally. “I really… I really, truly did. I thought that our union would work for the benefit of all castes.”

You stay decidedly silent.

“And I didn’t think it would end that way.”

You don’t want to hear this, you don’t want to see him speak so forlornly about a lover from the past, either. You don’t care, though, you don’t, and you’re very quick to squish that thought back down to a place you never intend on revisiting. There’s a soft thrumming in the back of your head again, there’s nothing more you’d like to do than to lay down.

“I told my mother I would marry again, but on my own terms.” He sets his hands back down on the desk, looking up at you with those glassy, emotionless eyes. “The best possible match, scientifically proven, the universe’s union, etcetera, you know the advertisement they put out.”

You swallow thickly.

“And the deal was that if I matched with no one, then that was it. I could do as I please, and she would leave me be. I made the deal because I was so, so certain that Iole was my soulmate. Some people don’t get matched, you know. People whose soulmates just don’t have the money to put into the program, or people whose soulmates are dead. I thought I would be the latter. I thought this would buy me more time. And it did, at first. No one in the database matched with me… until you.”

Until you drunkenly stumbled out of a bar with someone, neon lights glittering your vision, bitter, angry, sullen, and reckless. You take a deep, steadying breath, holding your hand out to stop him from saying whatever it is that he plans on saying next. “Losing someone close to you…” your chest tightens, but you continue, “it fucking sucks. I get it, I really do, but that doesn’t give you a pass from any of the consequences at hand.” So I know whether or not to cut my losses and run.

He doesn’t react negatively, only… like he’s defeated. His torso slumps forward, resting his chin on one of his hands, staring blankly at the empty screen on the desk. “And… and what of your past relationships? Do I get to learn about the romances of a rogue pilot?”

Again, there’s a spike of anger churning in your blood. “Mindless, random hookups don’t hold a goddamn candle to a person you plan on marrying and you know it.”

“Do I?” He asks, getting angry again, but doesn’t try threatening you with his size. Instead, he stays carefully still, his hands folded on the desk. “How many people have you ever slept with? Do you even know the number?”

“Does it even matter? Do my past relationships somehow make me less of a person?”

He makes a face, then, and you can see, yes, he does think that way.

You bristle immediately, arms crossing over your chest again, and you take in a deep, shaking breath. The judgment is what gets to you, just how he thinks he can categorize you in some kind of box. “I want to go home.”

Panic, at least, you think the way he tenses is because of some kind of panic. You hope it’s panic. His voice, at least, is a bit tighter and more strained than before. “That might not be the best step to take at this moment.”

“I think that it’s the best step for me to take actually, because I really don’t like it here.” And I’m not sure if I like you, either.

After a moment of staring at you, probably gauging just how serious that statement is, he rubs his jaw, looking back down to the desk. There’s a pinch of fear in your system because he could just… keep you here. You have no power, and he knows this, so in the few moments of deathly silence, you feel him thinking about it. Finally, he says, “let’s… let’s not be so hasty with such decisions.”

“Hasty? What about this is being hasty?” The muscles in your arm tighten in the expectation of a physical fight. “I’ve been here for a while, and we aren’t getting along, so maybe it’s time for us to part ways.”

“That is the exact definition of hasty, you’ve only been here for what, a few weeks? How long have you managed to hold onto a single romantic relationship for?”

You want to stomp your foot back down on the ground. “That has absolutely nothing to do with me wanting to leave.”

“I think it does.” Aksanos taps his fingers on the desk. “Have you ever been in a committed relationship?”

Thinking about your committed business relationships, you nod, angrily.

“Who?” He asks, and at your weak shrug, he lets out a sigh. Both of you are completely silent, staring at each other, daring the other to break the quiet first. Then, after a few moments, he lets out another huff of breath and leans back. “I’ll have Elias send you a full report on your android assistant directly.”

“I want to leave.”

“I know.” He finally looks you in the eye again. “May I convince you to at least wait until your assistant is back online?”

“Do I even have a choice?” You ask sullenly, a direct challenge to his final authority.

“You do,” he says, voice clearly strained.

You pause, then, almost too scared to test it out. Still, you mull the idea over, cutting your losses, making a run for it. Sure, the space marines will be undoubtedly pissed, but you’ve had to lay low before. It’s not anything new. Maybe you’d even be able to open a business in this territory, because surely no one would dare raise a finger on the keias’ soulmate, even if the two of you can’t fucking stand each other. Slowly, you uncross your arms and put them on your hips, trying to unlock your jaw from the straining grit you’ve put in for the argument.

Through your quiet contemplation, there’s a flicker of… tightness? Stress? On his face, and you think it might because he’s afraid that you’re going to fuck right off into the wild unknown and never speak to him again. You’d be lying if you said that that specific scenario didn’t appeal to you in the slightest, because it does. But there’s something else missing from that vision, you don’t know what, so you let out an angry, frustrated breath. “I’ll think it over.”

He relaxes slightly, but you aren’t going to let him think of this as a victory.

“This isn’t a yes or a no, this is an I’ll think about it.” You need a goddamn nap. “Risking my life for the mythical perfect love isn’t fucking worth it, especially if I’m not being respected.”

“Respected? How have you not been respected? You’ve been honored as one of us since you stepped foot off the ship.”

“Not being forthright about information is basically lying!” You throw your hands up in frustration. “You don’t even understand what I’m saying! You’re being so fucking dismissive, and I want to leave because I don’t feel safe, even with all the security modifications you’ve made.”

“The servants are to give you whatever-”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” You’re shaking again, sure your face is bright red in anger.

He’s quiet once more, staring blankly at the wall behind you. “Would… would you like to invite someone you trust to stay with you, in the absence of your assistant?”

Who would you even invite, really? Who do you trust enough to keep their heads low and follow your every direction with no ulterior motives? Well, besides yourself? Your ship, maybe. But definitely not anyone you know. “Have the Starward Matchmakers™ been informed of their personnel malfunction?”

“Not… specifically, no.”

You almost facepalm, but that’s fair, you guess. “It would look remarkably suspicious if I invited someone over without communicating with the main hub first?”

“Does it even matter?” He asks, almost impatiently.

He still doesn’t know. And you plan on keeping it that way. So, carefully, you think about a way you can phrase an answer without planting any suspicion. “I’m just saying, sending for someone when the android assistant is offline with no specific communications with her manufacturers is going to look extremely suspicious. I guess it won’t affect you in any way, so I guess you wouldn’t care.” It would look bad for you, though.

If he had irises t, you’re certain that the prince would be rolling them now. “Fine. I’ll have Elias get in contact with the Starward Matchmakers™ headquarters. Are you certain that there is no one you would like to fetch while they work out what happened?”

The Starward Matchmakers™ are just going to send another one of their android assistants. Do you really want a line going straight to the CEOs who have far too many stakes in this working out than otherwise? Actually, the idea is rather appealing. Maybe if you had someone from a secondary faction, someone outside of the Starward Matchmakers™, but still backed by enough authority to walk right over a faceless but powerful corporation. Best case scenario, the two will just but heads and get nothing done, which leaves you to figure out how best to proceed.

“I guess,” you say, trying to sound noncommittal, “if she wants to come, then I’d like her to be here.”

“Who?” You see he’s already prepping something on his keyboard.

“Clementine Montague.”

[jaxl-road]

The League of Extraordinary Rockstars, ch.2

Summary: LA is a hub for music and mutants, making it the perfect place for Motley Crue, Guns N’ Roses, and countless other mutant musicians to call home. But it’s not all easy, especially when it comes to finding a decent place to live. So what better solution than moving in together in the mansion of an immortal? Love, drama, and super powers. If nothing else, it’ll be interesting.

Chapter Warnings: Language, genderswap!Steven

AN: This is a collaboration between myself and @the–blackdahlia​! It combines elements from her fic “It’s So Easy (And Other Lies)” (specifically her genderswapped!Steven) and my super powered GnR series. It is completely AU and ignores timelines like Woah, but hopefully you’ll have as much fun reading it as we’re having writing it! Let us know what you think!

~~~~~

It had been a couple weeks since Duff moved in with Slash and Stevie and in that time, he had sat on Slash probably a dozen times.

Stevie had mentioned before how most of the time Slash would camouflage in his sleep, but it was still hard to get used to. He would come home after a double shift and go to collapse on the couch only to land on a very disgruntled guitar player.

“Goddammit, can’t you fucking check before throwing yourself on the couch?”

“Can’t you go to sleep in your fucking room?!” Duff snapped back.

Slash wanted to rip his hair out. He had to grind his teeth together to keep from screaming about the number of times he’s had to deal with a drunken Stevie stumbling into his room to bawl about how she had too much love and too many crushes and they didn’t like her back and she was going to die alone. And because he was a fucking good friend, he would pet her head and try to soothe her until she finally fell asleep and he was stuck with a snoring glowstick lighting up his room.

So yes, he had been sleeping on the couch. But because, and he could not stress this enough, he was a good fucking friend, he couldn’t explain to Duff exactly why.

Living together was turning out to be a hell or an adjustment for the three rockers. Duff had shaken up their routine, giving them an extra person to get drunk with, which made Stevie’s already frazzled emotions even more haywire, not to mention the household hangovers they were suffering through each morning. It was easy with Tracii. He stayed out all night and slept all day, and honestly, Slash and Stevie had kinda felt sorry for him. But Duff was something different, and after one too many mornings of being awoken by Duff and Slash arguing, Stevie exploded.

“Enough!” She yelled at them. “I am going to stay the night someplace else so I can get some fucking sleep before work!”

That was three days ago, and this was the first night Duff and Slash had seen their roommate since she stormed out. Walking into the apartment, Stevie was pleased to see that the two boys looked properly chastised. Granted, their arguing hadn’t improved much during her three day exile, but Slash and Duff figured she didn’t need to know that.

"Hi boys," she smiled. "It’s a beautiful day. Aside from the freak thunderstorm yesterday," She flopped on the couch.

"Thought you moved out," Slash grumbled.

"Nonsense. I just stayed the night at Kelly's."

“Oh thank GOD,” the guitarist practically threw himself across Stevie’s lap, “I thought you were leaving forever!”

Duff shuffled over sitting next to her and looking very much like a kicked puppy, “You were gone for so long we didn’t think you were coming back and we missed you so much-”

“Holy shit you guys,” Stevie shook her head fondly, patting Slash’s head, “I was gone for three days! I just needed a long weekend away from your bickering-”

“He started it!” Two voices snapped simultaneously.

Eyebrow twitching in thinly veiled annoyance, Stevie grit her teeth and continued, “Whatever, my point is I need your arguments to at least be rescheduled to later in the day, alright?”

There was some minor grumbling.

"If you don't, Kelly's looking for a roommate. Or a fuck buddy that gets a free room." She smirked. She knew that would get them to chill out. "Now, I'm hungry. And I'm going to see a show tonight. You guys gonna join me?"

“Of course, but I gotta go to work,” Duff told her. “I’ll see you guys this evening.” He headed to his room to pull on his uniform, something nagging him in the back of his mind. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he tried to focus on making it through another shift at a job he hated.

The three roommates went to their various shitty jobs, each feeling impatient for the day when their music would finally pay the bills and they would have to deal with huffy customers telling them to cut their hair. Needless to say, by the time they reached the Whiskey for the show they were ready to let loose and have some fun. Tonight Motley Crue had managed to snag a headlining slot, Duff, Slash, and Stevie toasting their friends’ success and lamenting their own band’s slow growth in equal measure.

“We’re gonna make it, guys!” Stevie exclaimed, people around her moving away or shielding their eyes as she glowed with enthusiasm. She waved her empty glass excitedly, slurring slightly, “I mean, I mean the crowds have been getting wild for us! And the stuff we’ve recorded is fucking badass! It’s only a matter of time before we start bringing in the big bucks!”

“God, I hope so,” Slash sighed, “this starving artist shit is getting old.”

"Guess you could catch and eat a snake," someone said. Stevie turned and smiled.

"Kelly!" She gave him a hug.

"Hey glowstick," Kelly laughed. "You look rested."

"I am. Thank you." She kissed his cheek.

Duff smiled tensely as he gave Kelly a high five, “Hey man.”

Slash rolled his eyes as Kelly shot him a knowing look, grinning, “Sup guys. Word on the street is you’re having some domestic troubles,” he elbowed Stevie playfully, “This gal was lighting up the place when she first came over.”

“Yeah,” Duff grimaced as he admitted, “It’s taking some getting used to.”

“I can imagine,” Kelly raised an eyebrow. The first night Stevie had arrived on his doorstep he’d had to wear sunglasses as she ranted and raved and lamented about the whole situation, “I mean, you’ve all got annoying ass powers-” he ignored the three offended outcries, “-and you live in a shoebox. Of course you’re stepping on each others’ toes.”

"At least we don't have axl…" slash pointed out.

"Don't have me for what?" Axl said as he approached the group, Baz's arm around his shoulder.

"In our shoebox home," Stevie told him.

“Excuse you, I am a goddamn delight and any house would be lucky to have me!” the singer huffed.

“You tell ‘em, babe,” Baz grinned.

"When you yell, you'd blow down a wall…" Slash commented.

“Fuck you, my control is impeccable!” Axl growled and Kelly raised his hands before a fight could break out.

"Let's get some drinks," he told them. "I'm buying."

"My hero," Stevie laughed. Kelly had an arm around her waist. Izzy was sitting at a booth, which Kelly spotted and brought everyone over to him.

Raising his head, Izzy nodded in greeting, “Hey guys, here to see the Crue?” he gestured at the stage where Nikki was, as usual, on fire.

Laughing, Stevie slid into the booth next to him, “Yup! What are you doing over here all by your lonesome?”

“Brooding,” Axl, Baz, and Slash all answered simultaneously.

Glaring, Izzy huffed, “I was enjoying some peace for once in my life, fuck you very much.”

"Maybe later," Stevie giggles, making Izzy's cheeks burn bright red.

"Their act is lame," Axl rolled his eyes. "Fire again? Really?"

“I mean, you gotta respect their commitment to the brand,” Slash shrugged.

The group downed their drinks, bickering and joking and occasionally remembering to cheer for the Crue. Before they knew it, the set was finishing up, Stevie shining extra bright as they applauded the band as they left the stage.

Izzy glanced between Stevie and Duff with forced nonchalance, “So, how’s the living situation going?”

Shrugging, Stevie answered, “Getting better I guess. Duff’s still not used to Slash camouflaging with the couch,” she snickered.

Duff threw his arms in the air in exasperation, “Gee, I’m sorry I’m used to living in places where you don’t have to pat down every surface in case there’s a hidden guitarist there!”

“Apology accepted,” Slash grinned, the bassist shoving him as he laughed.

“Ugh, I just can’t wait until we can have some more space,” Stevie groaned, “I love you guys, but fuck man, some elbow room would be nice.”

Izzy, Axl, and Baz, nodded their heads sympathetically, their own living situations only marginally better than the trio’s. Meanwhile, Kelly hummed in consideration.

“You could always stay at my place for awhile if you want,” he shrugged.

Stevie giggled, slapping a hand over her mouth when she saw the group squint from her light, “Kelly,” she patted his shoulder, “that’s sweet of you dude, but you live in a shitty studio apartment in the slums. Just having me over was a stretch.”

“No, no,” Kelly shook his head, “I meant my other place.”

Silence stretched as six pairs of eyes stared at Kelly in confusion.

“....What?” Slash finally broke the silence.

“You know, my other place,” Kelly said casually, “the one on Mulholland?” When the stares continued, he furrowed his brows, “Have I never mentioned it before?”

“No,” Duff answered emphatically, “No you have not. What the Fuck?”

“Huh.” It was maybe a little annoying sometimes, but it wasn’t Kelly’s fault he couldn’t remember who he’d told what to. After all, the bassist was more or less immortal, his mutant healing factor fucking with his aging until he found himself stuck as a twenty-something for God only knew how long. So if his memory was a little sketchy, well, who could blame him?

The drugs and alcohol probably didn’t help either. But that was besides the point.

“Well, yeah. I have another place. It’s a house, got like, eleven bedrooms if I’m remembering correctly? It’s also got-”

“Woah, woah, woah, dude,” Baz waved his hands, “Hold up. Did you just say eleven bedrooms?”

“Give or take,” he shrugged.

“So…. it’s a mansion,” Axl stated, voice unnervingly blank, “You have a mansion.”

“I guess, yeah…”

As Axl sucked in a long, deep breath, Kelly realized that he had made a huge mistake.

“WHAT?!” It was honestly impressive how Axl managed to shriek at ear splitting levels without any of his mutant ability coming through. Still, even his human-level screeching had the group flinching.

The singer slammed his hands on the table, glasses shaking as he glared at Kelly in shock and fury, “You’re telling me that we’ve all be living on top of each other in fucking sqalor and this whole time you’ve had a goddamn mansion?”

“Who has a mansion?”

Kelly would give anything for Sebastian’s ability to teleport right now. Because when he turned around, he found the members of Motley Crue staring at him hungrily, and he suddenly felt like he was surrounded by hyenas.

He probably should have waited until it was just him and Stevie before mentioning the house.

"Uh, hi guys," Kelly laughed. "What brings you here?"

"You have a mansion and didn't tell us?" Tommy pouted. "I thought you loved us."

"Dude the 60s fucked my brain. I can't remember shit," Kelly laughed.

"Which 60s?" Vince smirked.

"Yes." Kelly nodded, dodging the question. "So, I'm just gonna go…"

He was half standing when Duff’s unfairly long arm shot out from across the table, palm landing solidly against the back of the booth to box Kelly in.

“Oh I think the fuck not,” he stated firmly, a quick rumble of thunder sounding through the dirty window behind him. The dramatic motherfucker.

“Yeah, you’re not getting away that easily,” Tommy laughed as he and his bandmates dragged some chairs over to sit around the booth, adding another layer of defense to keep Kelly trapped, “Come on man, I wanna know more! Like, dude, if you’ve got a legit place, why aren’t you living there?”

Sighing in resignation, Kelly settled back in his seat and shrugged, “I dunno, I just like being closer to the action I guess,” he smirked, “It gets annoying having to drive twenty minutes just to get some pussy.”

“What, none of your fancy ass neighbors cut it?” Vince teased.

“I mean, there was one dude I used to hook up with, but that was in the… 30s I think? I dunno, all I know is he, like most of my neighbors, aren’t exactly at an age that can… keep up with me,” he winked mischievously as the group snickered.

Slash shook his head, “Dude, I get that, but personally I give fuck all about the age demographic, you’ve actually got a decent fucking roof, man!”

“I mean there’s the commute into the Strip, too, y’know?” Kelly argued.

“Oh no, how will I survive the commute?” Baz whined sarcastically, sticking his tongue out when Kelly flipped the teleporter off.

"It needs a lot of work," Kelly added. "Like weeds and shit and…"

"Dude, we have a gardener," Nikki motioned to Vince.

"And spiders?" Kelly pointed out.

"I'll feed them to my snake...that I most definitely do not have…" Slash's eyes darted to Stevie quickly before glancing away again.

"Can we at least see it?" Stevie asked. "You know how much I love decorating."

"Please no kiss posters in the living room," Mick groaned.

“Why do you hate art?” Stevie pouted jokingly.

Meanwhile, Kelly sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’m not getting out of this one am I?”

A chorus of “no”s answered him.

Rolling his eyes, Kelly threw his hands up in defeat, “Fine, I guess I can show you around sometime this week. What’s the worst that could happen?”

At that moment, loud, ominous cracks of thunder and lightning rattled the windows behind them. The group snapped to look at Duff in exasperation. The blonde bassist merely shrugged.

“What? Am I wrong?”

[caroline18mars]

A Man On Fire - Chapter 80

Guacamole, nacho-sss, what else? Corn..duhhh who can live without popcorn? Got everything I think, check with Harper first, where is she? Finishing up his shoppinglist on his phone he strolled up the stairs, bedroom? Nope..ahhh there she is, he walked inside the room he had set up for her as her working space. “Babe, I’m going to the shops, is there anything you need?” he typed the last item on his phone, but when there was no reply, he quickly tucked it in his pocket, she sat crosslegged on the floor, above her a whole series of blank canvases. “Earth to Harper, come in Harper” he plopped down next to her, a little startled she looked up at him, she really had been on another planet it seemed, “I think I have a problem” she looked at him and then turned her head again staring at nothing in particular. “Oh? Tell me” he watched her scrunch up her nose, “I don’t think I can do this anymore” she sighed, “do what?” he shuffled a little closer, “paint” another deep sigh followed, this one even more serious than the previous one. “Huh? What do you mean?” he frowned, he totally didn’t get it, “I’ve been sitting here for hours and I just can’t do it anymore..nothing comes, I just don’t know what to paint about anymore..see, I was right, LA numbs any creativity or inspiration” she threw her hands up in despair.  “Heyheyhey” he folded his arm around her shoulders “you’ve only been in LA for what? 48 hours? I really don’t think LA is the problem” he kissed her cheek, “I just think you need to get out of the house, wanna come grocery shopping with me? It might distract you”. Some fresh air was better than being cooped up “sure, yeah..but I think I might be in desperate need of ice cream afterwards” she shrugged and nodded, “ice cream? I can definitely do that” he kissed her again and shot up, pulling her up with him.

Harper was an added bonus to the tedious grocery shopping, every other section they walked through she would grab something he had never heard of or tried and put it in his basket, he had always wanted to learn more about real Italian food, so that was something to cross off his bucketlist now that he was in a relationship with a fiery Italian badass who clearly knew everything about Italian cuisine. And then there was the added bonus of watching her float through every aisle, it was like her feet barely touched the ground, she twirled, stood on her tippytoes, almost danced her way through, she was just the most breathtakingly beautiful creature he had ever seen, he wanted to scratch out the eyes of all the men walking by who were shamelessly checking her out, fuck off, she’s MINE, all MINE. Her mind was still racing, no matter how much she tried to distract herself with shopping, had she really hoped that this kind of stupid distraction would get her to paint again? That it would bring her inspiration? Really? You’re a goddamn loser, Coco, ok so you had one hit with that collection, but it turns out now that you’re nothing but a one-trick pony. “Babe? Do you want vanilla? Babe?” Jared waved a pint of ice cream in front of her, “huh? Vanilla? Oh Jared, I thought you had more imagination in you than just plain vanilla, Dulce de Leche on the other hand” she pushed in front of him to take her favorite flavor out of the freezer “is a whole different, more exciting ballgame” and put the carton in his basket before she floated away again. Something’s up, he could tell “wanna talk about it?” he followed her into the cleaning products aisle, “still fretting about your painting?” he stepped between her and the series of multi-purpose cleaning products, “no!..why?” she so didn’t want to talk about this, this was her problem, not anybody else’s, not even Jared’s. “Oh I don’t know, maybe the fact that you seem so absentminded..” he put his hands on her shoulders, “I’m not..I’m absolutely fine and now we’re here anyway, I think you need kitchen cleaner” she pulled out a random brand of the stuff and dumped it in his basket before she hopped off again, her way of putting down her boundaries and wanting to sort whatever was bothering her out with herself first.

”Wanna go for a coffee?” he tried piercing her bubble again as they were putting all the groceries in the back of the car, “there’s a cool place right across the road” he tried to make eyecontact with her, “sure” she shrugged. Hearts appeared in a woman’s eyes, a jaw dropped here and there and whispers started as they made their entrance, yeah I know I’ve got a gorgeous man, have a good look and don’t get too depressed when you realize he’s only got eyes for me, yay me!. An arm firmly wrapped around her waist, he almost paraded her around the coffeeshop, he’d never been so open about any of his relationships before, but so much had changed, she was the real deal, what on earth had he been thinking only focusing on models in the past, arm candy that’s all they were. Coco was beyond arm candy, plus she was so talented, plus she was highly intelligent..everything was PLUS with her, this woman..well he simply wasn’t worthy of all that beauty and soul, for the first time in his mature life, he believed in..LOVE. “Ah, I love a real gentleman” she giggled as he pulled her chair back, something he always did when they were out in public, but it was still surprising and if she was honest she adored it, it was that old fashioned bit of manners that this world craved so much. “So..?” he started as he sat down opposite of her, but immediately got interrupted by his phone bleeping incessantly, “what?” he frowned and grinned at the screen and started tapping ferociously. “Just a sec..” the tip of his tongue locked between his teeth in amusement as the wooshy ‘sent’ sound made him put down his phone and he grabbed her hand “ok..talk to me, your painting..” but then another ‘beep’, bye bye pouring your heart out, he was completely distracted. “I’m sorry..” he grabbed the phone again and started texting back but when he was still tapping 5 minutes later she got up “I’ll be waiting in the car, ok?”, stay calm Coco, it’s not that big a deal, you didn’t really want to talk about your troubles anyway. Two minutes later, he came running after her on her way to the car “Coco, honey, I’m so sorry..wanna go back and have that coffee after all? I’m all yours now I promise” he grabbed her arm, “nahh, it’s alright, don’t worry, let’s just go back home because that ice cream is probably melting as we speak and if there’s one thing I hate, it’s melted ice cream” no, it’s not ok what you did, and yes my feelings are a little bit hurt, but am I gonna let it show? Hell no! It’s not that big a deal I guess, so come on Coco, just snap out of this funk you’re in.

”I really didn’t mean to ignore you, I just got news that some of my best friends are coming over tonight, just a little get-together, they’re all dying to meet you” he put one hand on her thigh while the other steered the car through the hectic LA traffic. “Oh..ok!” uh-oh, big step this, meeting the friends, well I guess it was only a matter of time before that would be on the agenda, “you’ll love them and they’ll love you, I’m so looking forward to this”, will I? ah well, you know them better than I do. “What is it? you’re awfully quiet” he squeezed her thigh while she tried to look as happy as was physically possible, “Nah, I’m ok..it’s just that..well, you know what an awkward and anti-social animal I am around people” she looked out of the window to hide the nervous blush on her cheeks. The more I think about it, the less I want to do this, I’ll act all awkward and weird again, and these are Jay’s people he’s known for a gazillion years, bleeeghhh!.  “You’re not anti-social or awkward, babe, you’re just your beautiful reserved self, it’s a European thing that us Americans really love, so stop stressing, just go with the flow” he grinningly leaned over the midconsole to push a kiss on her shoulder. Go with the flow, go with the flow, what flow? No, stop it! don’t overanalyze, these people all love Jared and he loves them, so do your best for once to try and get to know them at least, maybe getting to know other people will work a miracle on this lack of inspiration. Jared looked at her nervously biting her lip, “so..it’s just you and me in this car now, so come on, out with it babelicious, let’s talk about what is actually bothering you”, ah he’s offering, come on just spit it out, it’ll make you feel better. His phone ringing again spoiled that party though, don’t pick up, don’t pick up, don’t..a pair of puppy eyes stared back at her while his thumb hovered over the screen, nooooo.. “hey Chloe” he connected the call while his mouth silently formed an ‘I’m sorry, I have to take this’, “hey beautiful” a female voice danced through the car.

If the phone conversation he and this Chloe had in the car was anything to go by, then tonight didn’t promise anything good, goodness could that woman waffle on about nothing at all..airhead much? Stop judging a book by its’ cover, Coco, maybe she’s not all that bad. She let herself slide out of the car “you ok?” he leaned in for a kiss as he opened the boot, “better than this poor ice cream which I’m going to save right now, if there’s anything left to save” she picked a couple of bags out of the car and started walking back to the house. Oh, she’s annoyed alright, pray that tonight will go well, he grabbed the rest of the bags and followed her up to the house, where he found her in the kitchen hugging the fridge “operation rescue ice cream finished, all we can do now is hope for the best” her words made him giggle. “I take everything I said about you not being awkward, back” he pulled her away from the fridge and folded her in his arms “god woman, have you any idea of how much I love you?” he kissed the top of her head. “And do you know you’re actually the only living and breathing person who’s actually said that to me? And have you any idea how sad that actually is?” her warm breath danced against his chest but her confession still gave him chills, it was barely fathomable that not even her parents had ever told her how precious and special and lovely she actually is. “Shhh, wanna know what sad is? Me, in my forties, confessing that I’ve said my ‘I love you’s’ in the past and this being the first relationship where I actually mean those words from the bottom of my heart” he breathed. Suddenly she started to move, swaying in his arms like she was dancing while the silence of the house surrounded them “What are you doing?” he grinned and frowned at the same time as he looked into her eyes, “I’m dancing, is that not obvious? And you’re dancing with me..I just thought that since we’re on a confessing streak here, I might as well confess that I love spontaneous dancing in any part of any house with my boyfriend, I’m a real livingroom or kitchen dancer” she looked at him like it was the most normal thing in the world, oh the mischievous tomboy part of her personality he loved so much, was back, yay!. “But there’s no music..” he giggled, taking the lead in the dance, “oy Leto, aren’t you supposed to be the rockstar here? Because if you are you should always have a tune or two twirling around that pretty head of yours..so why don’t you take the lead here?” she let herself twirl on his hand. “Ok smartass..let’s see what I’ve got..” he pretended to think as he pulled her back against his chest while they kept swaying in a slow dance and then he started a soft, murmured Frank Sinatra version of his own song “Rescue me from the demons in my mind, rescue me from the lovers in my life, rescue me rescue me, whatever you do, don’t ever lose your faith…”. Her head rested against his chest and listening to the sound of his voice and his breaths reverberating in there was simply intoxicating, you’re forgiven for being a bit of a douche today, floppy hair, you’re so forgiven, I love you so much.

[milesheizclub]

Ramshackle Head - Chapter One

Before The Mystery Enda

Summary: On a person's 18th birthday, their soulmark changes to the color of what kind of life their soul mate will bring them. What do you do when all you prepare for turns out to be everything you didn't expect?

- or -

Alex is resigned to a life of being mateless, and things have to change.

Un-beta'd, as usual. Oh, and I take requests now!

Word count: 2271

Read on AO3

Another wind-knocking blow to the gut – another sign that maybe it should’ve ended for him last year, and that he shouldn’t have even been around anymore. There was nothing to look forward to, nothing waiting for him. At least that’s what the events of the early morning seemed to mean for him.

Alex walked into school by second period that day, a little more distraught by the earlier discovery than he thought he’d be. He took his usual seat beside Zach’s chair with a tired huff as he plopped down after a half-hearted scolding directed at him once he entered the room and a mumbled apology.

Zach’s obnoxious grin came into his line of vision after a couple of minutes, the boy expecting Alex to humor him and spill. “Happy birthday,” he whispered through his teeth, doing that annoying Z-Man elbow nudge with only the teasing, slinky lilt of his voice. Alex raised his eyebrows in thanks, the straight line of his mouth still firmly intact, and Zach scrunched his face, accepting the challenge.

He dragged his chair right up next to Alex, the feet screeching loudly across the classroom floor, earning more disapproval from Mr. Orman, and Zach explained it off as ‘needing to help Alex.’

“Happy eighteenth birthday…” Zach said, letting the silence do the nudging for him. Alex rolled his eyes in return, less in annoyance than in frustration and absolute hurt. He looked over at Zach’s smiling, expectant face, and he brought his hand to his right jacket sleeve, lifting it up to reveal the very-much-skin-toned design on his wrist. Zach’s eyes grew as he stared at it, and Alex quickly shoved his sleeve back down.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Alex said, heat climbing up his neck to his cheeks, and he started fiddling the edge of his table. The shame had almost consumed him right at that moment, but he’d only let it show through the flush that spread across the skin on his face and the betrayal in his eyes. Zach didn’t dare move or talk, staying only to monitor. It was only when Mr. Orman gave another pointed clearing of his throat that Zach conceded and scooted his chair back to its regular place, but never once breaking from observing his best friend.

Alex didn’t quite understand. He’d heard that it might happen, but everyone had always said that it was so rare – practically unheard of - that he’d never had any reason to second-guess it. The only question anyone ever considered was what color their marks would be once they turned eighteen.

Through the first half of the period, all Alex could do was to ruefully stare at his mark, lightly tracing his finger over the raised skin again and again. If he squinted, he could see the embossed skin twirling around his wrist and creeping up the back of his hand and up his palm like a glove of vines and small, lush leaves. Over the years, he’d imagined it in all different colors, and the kind of lives they would bring with them – the dark purple of wealth and nobility, or the blood red of fire, passion, courage, or the balance and, finally, peace of a hue of green or blue that could finally ease the constant anxiety that had found a home in Alex’ chest. He couldn’t help it.

It was actually never something that he looked forward to until recently. It had never been something he even particularly wanted. He almost loathed it – the idea of being predestined, of belonging to someone or someone belonging to him, no choice, rhyme, or reason. But after everything that happened within the past couple of years, after almost not being here for this day, it’d been something to hold on to, maybe even look forward to.

Alas, no dice.

Alex hadn’t noticed at first when his hands started to tense, but his fingernails began to dig harder into his mark, and he’d shaken himself out of his trance long enough to stop before breaking skin. He stared at the portions of his wrist where flat met raised and the dashes of dipped skin that were made from his insistent nails which caused violent itches and made Alex want to reach and scratch. The tenseness transferred to tight, tight grips on the sides of his table, knuckles turning a dangerous pale, beads of steaming sweat trekking from his scalp down to his temples, red hot cheeks, grinding gritted teeth, blown out beady pupils and eyes getting drier by the second but he couldn’t seem to blink them shut. He whipped his head with raised eyebrows to Zach, whose attention was caught immediately by the sudden movement, and Zach, momentarily paralyzed by the look of complete terror on his friend’s face, shot his hand straight into the air and shouted at their teacher.

“Mr. Orman,” he rushed, “Alex is a fucking tomato, and I’m taking him to the nurse’s office.” Tears begun to spring in Alex’ eyes as Zach moved swiftly, commoting and practically knocking his chair over getting both his and Alex’ bags and dragging his friend off of his chair. “Alex you need to come with me, okay?” he said, and Alex could only nod in return, his jaw wired tight, and they made their way through the worried faces of their classmates and out of the room.

-

The two, of course, did not go to the nurse’s office and instead ran to Zach’s car, They both understood by now that whenever Alex got worked up just like this, he needed someone to be right there for him, but at the same time he needed to be left alone. It hadn’t happened in a while, but their procedure was complete muscle memory at that point – Alex in the passenger’s seat and the speakers playing Alex’ current flavor of the month, Zach simply keeping his cool in the driver’s seat while waiting for the attack to subside and for Alex to calm down.

Alex reached to turn the music off a few minutes later, feeling too low and proceeding to recline his seat, his head suddenly feather light and his body fighting the urge to take a quick nap.

“To be honest,” Zach said, reclining his chair along with him, “I didn’t think you’d be so affected by something like this.”

“I didn’t think I would be either,” Alex replied. He sighed and gave the car door beside him a weak punch and started thumping out a soft rhythm against the leather padding.

“But I guess I’m more shocked that this even happened,” Zack continued, “like… what the fuck is that about? Like what does it even mean?”

“It means they’re probably dead already. Or they aren’t even born yet. But most likely dead.” Alex flashed back to earlier that day, to his parents with him at the dining table in the dark of the morning, readied with an ice pack and a stress ball, the excitement and anticipation in their faces slowly turning to confusion and disbelief when the burning sensation his mom always warned him about never came and the wait for his mark to reveal its color turned fruitless. They’d been optimistic – convincing themselves that the time on Alex’ birth certificate had been off, and that maybe they were off for as much as half an hour.

No one knew quite what to do other than wait, and Alex finally decided to call it a night and left for bed with a broken voice, the most dejected his parents had seen him in almost two years. And as much as he tried, Alex had not gone to sleep, the dark feeling in the pit of his chest pushing him down a Reddit thread spiral of memoirs, personal accounts, and support groups by people whose marks had never turned and whose soul mates they’d never met. The more he scrolled through the stories, the sweatier his fingertips while swiping at his phone screen which grew increasingly hot with relentless use, the colder his blood turned.

“Fuck, I have no idea what to say,” Zach said with a sigh and a slide of his fingers through his hair. “It can’t be some kind of fluke, right? Like maybe all this time we got your birthday wrong and it’s actually next year? Or maybe this really is the color of your mark! Has it ever just been bone white before? I mean it could happen, right? Or what if it’s some kind of weird Mayan thing like how they got 2012 wrong or whatev-“

“Stop, please,” Alex said, defeated. Zach huffed and brought his seat back up, wanting to say more, but ultimately giving Alex his time. “You know those points in your life when you tell yourself, ‘well this might as well happen?’” His lips curled up with a menace. It was an expression Zach had been all too familiar with, and it never failed to scare him, knowing what Alex was capable of doing, to others, sure, but mostly to himself. “I’m just trying to keep myself the fuck together and make my peace with this.”

Zach looked on at him in pity, Alex’ eyes still fixated on the black leather lining of the car’s ceiling, so pristine he could almost make out his reflection on it – that of sad, tired eyes and resignation. But he decided it was better that he couldn’t, tired of looking at himself and determining what else could be different, what about himself should and shouldn’t change.

Alex felt his eyes start to drift closed but he was jolted awake by the sound of a starting car and the gravity beneath him suddenly shifting. He pulled the lever from off to the side and his seat immediately shot up to the sight of Zach driving out of the Liberty High parking lot, and quickly gaining speed.

“Um, what the hell are you doing?” Alex asked, pulling his seatbelt across himself.

“Well, it’s still your eighteenth birthday, Standall, and I sure as hell am not gonna let you drown in all this bullshit that’s happening to you because you’re better than some fucking mark on your wrist and some piece of shit dead person who’s missing out on a great guy. So I’m treating you to the best goddamn burger you’ve ever had in your fucking life, and we’re gonna make today a fucking fantastic day for you, okay?” By the way he impassioned his speech with the steely focus in his eyes, Alex would have thought he was driving 80 miles per hour. But it brought a smile to his face, however small it may have been. “Text Tyler and Charlie, too, tell them to meet us.”

“We can’t just skip class, Zach,” Alex said, grabbing his phone anyway and quickly texting the two.

“We’ll be back by the time lunch ends, I’m not dumb.”

“You’re kind of dumb, let’s be real,” Alex said, chuckling. Zach seemed pleased with this development and eased his pressure on the gas pedal.

He got a reply from Charlie almost instantly with a series of emojis that vaguely resembled affirmation and what Alex presumed to be a joke about Tyler being dragged along on a leash. It sent calm so quickly through Alex’ chest that he could feel his eyelids swiftly start to betray him. Looking forward to it, he finally settled on replying, his lazy fingers having to retype more than once.

“I think soul mates are overrated anyway,” Zach said. “They could’ve just been a waste of time for you, don’t worry Lex.”

I didn’t deserve one anyway, Alex thought. He looked over to where Zach’s hands gripped on the steering wheel and admired the design on Zach’s right wrist, a simple red bracelet of thick, dashed lines. He thought about the amazing person who’d eventually get to share his soul and who that might be. He recalled the one point in his life when he could’ve sworn he knew exactly who it was, and decided he was much too tired at that moment to fight the urge to just admit that –

“You know, for a second there I thought it might be you.”

Zach didn’t respond at first, and Alex leaned back, lowering his backrest once again.

He kept his eyes closed, feeling the slight nausea coming back, not used to being in this position with the motion of the car and the lack of music. He kept his silence again, taking the opportunity to berate himself, not for confessing, but for burdening Zach with the responsibility of having to tread lightly and say the right thing in fear of anything happening. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything,” Alex said. “Please don’t think about it anymore. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Zach said without missing a beat.

If Alex had been honest with himself, he’d known all along that it could’ve never been Zach who was meant for him. Zach was much too loyal of a friend, and Alex had only been too lonely. Again, he repeated to himself, he was a burden, a responsibility. And Alex’ truth was that Zach was much too full of life for the decaying shell that Alex had become.

What kind of soul mate was Alex expecting then? Was it someone who would bring him back up from six feet under, someone he’d never accept, for their sake? Or was it someone who was as much of a disaster as him, someone to share the casket? Maybe that’s what the world thought he deserved in this life.

[quietlysatan]

An Invincible Summer - ShanaStoryteller, AO3

Link: Here!!

Rating: T for read the warnings, but don’t worry too much because of them

Favorite Quote(s): I legit wanna tattoo this next quote on me somewhere

"Oh, the things that can be accomplished through ignorance of their impossibility," 

And this Straight Up Fact

“There’s no such thing as cheating as long as you win,” Natsu says, and the brat’s not wrong.

This one’s just funny

“Chouza,” Inoichi forces himself to say evenly, “Your teachings produced Ebisu and goddamned Gai.”

“Genma’s pretty normal though,” Chouza sighs, “I never could get through to that boy.”

Gently Gai casually caring about Kakashi’s well-being is my entire reason for living, speaking of which if someone wants to come be my Gai that’d be really fucking nice because us Kakashi’s don’t do too well on our own

He hesitates, but says, "Not that I do not find your newfound mentorship to be a most youthful endeavor, but -"

"I don't know," Kakashi interrupts his friend, "I met her while she was taking her genin exam and she, I don't know, adopted me or something. She just keeps showing up."

Gai nods thoughtfully, "Stubbornness is a useful skill to have when trying to cultivate a friendship with you." Kakashi elbows the other man, but doesn't protest besides that. "She's a good cook."

And this one because I love it when people Get It, ya’know?

That's really why he won't say anything, why he won't reveal that the Kyuubi's container and the fourth Hokage's child is still alive: they already killed him once. Naruto and Shikamaru are the same age, they would have been in the same class, and the idea that anyone could want to harm his innocent, precious son makes his blood boil 

And this one, for accuracy

"This sounds like a most youthful endeavor. I will bring Anko! She will fan the flames of youth in our young Konoha blossom!"

Both Itachi and Kakashi look at Gai, horrified. "Please don't," Itachi says weakly, like he knows it'll fall on deaf ears but he has to try anyway.

"Don't worry," Gai attempts to assure them, going into his Good Guy pose, "They will produce youthful flames of feminine excellence!"

"They're going to burn down Konoha," Kakashi says flatly.

Gai's hair and teeth sparkle in the sunlight, and he doesn't attempt to deny it.

Another important one

"The world is a terrible place," she says, and she has to swallow before she speaks again, "and it's full of terrible people. But I don't have to be one of them." 

I love that Natsu-chan has great balance, this is my number one favorite character trope, and I wish more people would write it

She bends down to look at him upside down, and Itachi can feel that she's not using chakra to stick onto him, and sometimes her balance just isn't logical. 

I just love the idea of tiny genius Naruto, and I love that Natsu-chan is a seal master at like, fucking seven and a half lol

Itachi knows it's actually far more complicated than that, but just as he does not tell her minutia of the past shinobi wars in their history lessons, she does not overcomplicate her explanations of sealing. Usually he's grateful for that, but when she appears to break every known law to sealing and chakra, he's not.

"That's," he blinks and he's not going to tell her it's impossible because it clearly isn't, "new," he settles on.

A mood honestly

Inoichi now feels the urge to bang his head against the table top, because 'a huge pain' to Natsu is 'literally impossible' to everyone else.

Another mood honestly

Inoichi watches his former genin dig in with resignation. “When are you guys going to start picking up the tab? Feeding you all isn’t cheap you know.”

Hana swallows her mouthful, “Sensei, I am but a lone healer’s apprentice –“

“I have been a chunin less than a month,” Kabuto pouts, wounded, “and already you seek to profit-“

“Do you have any idea how much sealing paper and ink costs?” Natsu demands.

“Okay, okay,” Inoichi grumbles, but it’s not very effective considering he’s smiling, “I take it back, jeez.”

Okay so, since this is a 100k+ word fic, I’ve been doing this thing lately literally just now on this fic review where I only feature quotes from the first chapter (Depending on length.) but, I’m making an exception because I’ve never seen these three characters and my thoughts on them summed up so well by someone I don’t know which is to say anyone, no one I know cares about my interests really lol

"Maybe a little," he admits grudgingly, "Sakura's really smart, but she acts dumb for some reason. And her endurance is really bad. She probably would have been failed on that alone if she didn't have such good aim with shuriken. And Sasuke's good at like, everything, I still don't get why he didn't graduate earlier. He's just so-" Kiba rubs his hand over his face.

"So what?" Hana prompts, even though she's heard this particular complaint before.

"Sad," the genin sighs, "He's miserable all the time, and he works hard and if you yell at him for long enough he'll work with you, but - crap, I don't know. He's got this really great poker face so you think he's just a big jerk, but I can smell his emotions, the big idiot, and he's just this sad lonely kid who won't listen to anyone."

Hana hums, because if she opens her mouth she'll probably start cursing the Hokage and his dumb rules and his dumb ideas, and that is not the type of thing that leads to a long life.

Just one last quote because dudes, guys, pals, friends of mine it’s important and you should all stop and read it.

 “Thanks for being cool with – everything. I’m really happy you’re not mad at me for not being honest with you.”

“You are my friend,” Gaara says warmly, “and you have always been honest about that.”

Words & Chapter(s): 136,306 words of greatness, and 6 full chapters of nicely done completion

Summary: When Naruto is five, he's gutted by a drunken civilian and presumed dead.

Six months later a girl with ash pale hair and dark blue eyes enters the Academy. 

(Guys I swear on my cool as fuck username, and all around internet personality as practically satan and probably Lucifer and whatnot that nobody we like stays dead or severely injured)

Score: 13, this is one of my favorites for a reason, this is actually my second technically third time rereading this in as many weeks

Pairing(s): Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka, background Haku/Zabuza, but don’t worry anything you’re thinking of is addressed quite nicely in the fic ultra background but still there’s a lot of relationships and I’m not going to tag them all

Warning(s): Naruto technically dies more than once because this is Naruto we’re talking about but they also technically don’t??? You gotta read it, but basically temporary character death, only the bad guys stay dead in this one.

Nobody knows that Naru-chan lived so there’s that angst for you, however, to be fair it’s not like this whole story is just characters mourning and crying and whatnot, at this point it’s mostly just passing thoughts and memories which, again, to be fair, does almost feel worse at times... Huh, regardless it’s not overly angsty

Kakashi is adopted whether he likes it or not by Natsu-chan, we love both of our emotionally fucked over fair-haired ninja in this house so you won’t have to worry about that sorta fic coming outta nowhere from me BTW... but anyways, Kakashi freaks out a bit, much like the abused dog he always reminds me of, but Natsu is the sweetest and most gentle, yet forceful person he could’ve possibly caught the attention of. (This is canon)

The Akatsuki are still bad, BUT ITACHI ISN’T technically SO WHO FUCKING CARES!!!! (The Massacre still happens tho...)

Mentions of The Flower District and what that implies, and also things a Kunoichi might definitely do

Oh my fucking god the Hyuga... Who would willingly do something so horrible as that? Of all the things... Warning for... The Hyuga branch family situation, it’s dealt with nearly as soon as we are informed but, gods, my blood ran cold, and my face whited out, my sister thought someone had died when she saw my face haha,,, who the fuck does this? And do they die? In canon I mean? I think I only watched up to the chunin exams or Pein’s attack, I can’t remember which tho...

Natsu cries because people are nice to her sometimes. And honestly that’s fair, I burst into to tears once because I imagined someone kissing my forehead softly so, Natsu is completely valid... Sidenote, I’m touch-starved and have no cure for this beyond younger siblings and my cat because I don’t have the ability to ask my mom for a hug without literally gross sobbing and I have A Thing about embarrassment sooooo... yeah if anyone has some therapy justu for me that’d be nice

Mentions of Gross Men that apparently want to have Natsu’s increasingly growing collection of the absolute most dangerous people she can befriend pay them a visit. And by that, I mean an old fuckwit has the gall to leer at a TEN-YEAR-OLD and a FUCKING THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD!!!!!! Ugh, I hate those kinds of pathetic worms.

On that note, there is technically underaged things going on, but they are also Ninja soooo???? They’ve killed people and are technically in their version of an army, and by the laws of their lands they’re all adults, actually I’m pretty sure by shinobi life expectancy Kakashi is middle-aged, Inoichi is a senior citizen, and Hiruzen is a walking corpse tbh

Alcoholism??? I don’t really think it is but I’m not sure, but some characters do drink often, and usually when stressed courtesy of Natsu and co. but still... I don’t actually know if it is because it doesn’t actually happen much, more like every few weeks/months

Mentions of past sexual assault, and attempted past sexual assault, neither happen in fic or to any of our main characters, the experiences are not graphic though they do talk about it in chapter five, it’s not to graphically described.

Also, a bunch of off-screen lemon

A Thing (That I copy-pasted from the author so that all of you will see it and not say a single word against it.): If you thought Natsu was too mature for her age - she has seen and been through some really horrible shit. But also: my cousin has, since he was like 4, hung out with kids that were about 4 years older than him because those were the kids that were in his neighborhood or whatever. Point being, even after he started school, his main group of friends was consistently older than him. He very quickly adapted to that, and to this day (he's 12) hangs out with that same group, and considers children his own age 'kids' because he adapted to the behavior of the group he was surrounded with. I hardly believe Natsu would be any different.

And also

4. Quick little note because some people mentioned liking my portrayal of the Sandaime. I base his decisions/motivations (and Itachi and Danzo's to a certain extent) around this quote by Clementine von Radics: "It is so hard to live half monster, to hurt everything you love by trying to protect it wrong."

Pros: Watching Natsu just casually disregard the idea of gender with little to no thought is the greatest thing anyone will ever experience beyond, I dunno, the party we’re all gonna collectively throw when soggy Cheeto dies (I still haven’t decided which song we should make chart number one when that happens)

Given that I’ve technically read this three times you should already know the writing is fucking amazing, like, whoa, mind blown type of amazing, like, wow, so good, I usually hate rereading something I’ve read before, and especially so soon after the fact but geez Louis is this fic amazing

Natsu is just as easy to fall in love with as Naruto, and they are still the same people with slightly different personalities as is to be realistically expected with a situation like Naru’s was.

Also, GENDERFLUID REPRESENTATION DONE FUCKING AMAZINGLY IS ALWAYS A PLUS!!!!!!! 

The author manages to convey a very realistic genderfluid character in an incredibly believable manner, while also still keeping Natsu/Naruto themself. They’re still the Naruto that we knew and loved, but they’re different too, as is to be expected. when Natsu is a girl no-one stumbles, she is a girl without a doubt, even the author doesn’t trip up on societal expectations, and when Naruto is a boy there is next to immediate acceptance of this fact with absolutely zero (0) Zero bullshit from transphobes, which, as a genderfluid person myself, is always fucking nice to see. You’ll have to read it to know more though.

Natsu running around creating seals is honestly the greatest thing ever, and the end scene with the village made me cry a lil bit, and dammit this fic is so fucking good!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, there’s a scene, where Natsu heals Kakashi, and the way the author handled explaining the intimate not sexual relationship between two of my favorite characters ever is just, so subtly beautiful, the sibling-bond these two have is beautiful, and a part of me wants to cry sometimes when I read it, and usually do cry a little when I get to this scene, and only partially because of what happened directly before it.

I love the way everybody just gets up and moves past their trauma and just decides to politely ignore it, oh they still have it, they still deal with it, but they care, and they are careful about it, and even though it hurts them like a knife-wound to the kidney in slow-motion they still get back up and keep fucking going. That’s hella admirable and I can respect that, I can respect even more that they slowly but surely let themselves heal as time moves on. This fic is beautiful on so many different levels but it is this one perhaps, that is the most magnificent. Perhaps.

Sasuke is adorable and depressing and adorable and I love it. And Ino is still a bad bitch but she’s a kid so we only see it like a handful of times in the first two chapters. The Akimichi/Yamanaka/Nara are all great, and I occasionally pity Inionchicause like, he’s putting up with a well-informed seal genius that’s still hyper, a slightly frightening medic-kunoichi with giant dogs, another slightly more frightening medic-nin who isn’t the greatest fighter but damn can he be intimidating and also really good at pointing out “Certain Things” while judging you about them which, honestly, is my greatest pastime. Itachi is so sweet and then so tragic oh my gods, and Natsu never even considers giving up on him. Kakashi is so sweet, and he slowly becomes less of a beaten dog as time goes on and I just love all of these characters.

Except for Hiruzen. Well, no, I still love this particular incarnation of Hiruzen, for all that he’s got one hell of a pathetically small backbone, I get why he does shit. But that doesn’t make me happy. Still, he’s better than dumbledouchebag. Granted that’s not difficult, and you might have to actively put an effort in to be as bad as that guy, but still. Plus, his hearts in the right place, and he’s less about the greater good then... certain disgraces to teaching and being in charge of a large group of people... Hiruzen is actually kinda sweet and admits he has issues and actually has an excuse that’s understandable for the shit that he pulls which is great, if sadly uncommon.

Anyways, Sakura is terrifying, and I remembered why I had a crush on her. She’s so badass, also, she ends up Princess Mononoke basically which, honestly, is fucking great, and the best thing we could’ve asked for, I love all of these characters so much!!!

Aesthetic: It reminds me off beefy stew (We don’t eat beef, so we used vegan soy beef stuff instead, and it was just as good.) it reminds me of the warmth, and friendship, and home that I felt after my mom and I make dinner together with nothing but a little music on and jokes passing back and forth between us. It reminds me of scraping my knee and having my friends help me to their mom, it reminds me of loyalty and compassion. It reminds me of dancing outside at night, alone in the forest with nothing but the moon for company and wind for music. It reminds me of the first time I realized that I could love someone despite their gender and that I should despite mine. It reminds me of finely spun handmade lace, and all it’s delicate while also reminding me of the sturdiest of steels, it reminds me of so much. It reminds me of acceptance, and understanding, and so much more. If I were to say what food and drink it reminds me of, I’d say chicken noodle soup, and sweet lavender-lemon tea.

Music Aesthetic: So, I made a playlist while I was reading this the first time around, and instead of a gif or twenty like I would usually prefer to do I’m going to add that playlist. https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLbhXmTSBbAyjk0m1b4BZUp3t0RHL83LDK

But if I were to add a gif or two it’d be these

Because something about this fic reminds me of rainy days with tea and baggy clothes.

Every time Natsu/Naruto decided to fight ever, to be honest.

[ladyboltontoyou]

Arthur Morgan x Reader: Farmer’s Daughter. 4

Ask: hello! since you never got that one shower request i thought i could send it again. so i love how in your “farmer’s daughter” story arthur is acting like a dumb teenager in love and i was wondering if you could write something where he seeks into the readers room when she’s about to shower or something and you know he just gets really excited and stuff happens and aaah i know it’s kinda dumb because i don’t think they had showers back then right? but i mean we all need some wet morgan action

Warning: Cursing, smut.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

A/N: Wow I missed this mini-series. And I don’t think they had showers back then but I do know they had baths. Hope you and everyone else enjoys!

You sighed as you sunk into the hot water, feeling all of the stress from the day ease out of your muscles. It was a cool summer night and your windows and balcony doors were open, letting a slight breeze into your room and bathroom, which was connected to your bedroom.

After you washed yourself clean you allowed yourself time to relax. Your body was engulfed in the hot water, leaving you with a sense of being completely clean. Outside you could hear frogs and crickets singing along with a whip-poor-will.

Everything was fine until you heard something else out there. You sat up slightly and looked out the bathroom door, you had a view of your bedroom and some of your windows. Another creak sounded and you slowly lowered your head so you were almost hidden by the bathtub.

You were about to call out for your parents but you heard the familiar sound of Arthur’s boots against your floor.

“Arthur, you scared the daylights out of me!” You sighed and sunk back into your bath as he walked into your room.

“Where are you?” He asked as he looked around. When he saw you were in the bath he almost tripped in an effort to get into the same room as you. His modesty had been out the window ever since he fingered you at family dinner.

“Miss me?” You smiled sweetly and crossed your legs at the ankles, propping them up on the other side of the bathtub.

Arthur sat on the edge and ran his hand down your soapy leg, shaking his head. “Have I missed you?” He repeated your question and looked at you with a grin. “Have I missed you?”

You giggled and found that you had wiggled your toes out of excitement without noticing. “Well, have you?”

“Darlin’, you’ve got no idea.” He sighed and looked down at the soapy water, cursing the bubbles from blocking his view.

“How you been the past couple of days?” You asked as he continued rubbing your legs.

He shrugged as he took off his jacket. “You know how it is.” He still hadn’t told you what he really did for a living. “Work. Lots of work.” That was true, at least. “I would have come sooner, but you know Dutch.”

Actually, you didn’t know Dutch. He had spoken of the man a few times but you never felt like asking about him. It was most likely his boss or something of the sort. “I’m sorry to hear that.” You said and he waved you off.

“It’s nothing I ain’t used to. And what about you? How’ve you been? Don’t spare me any details you might think are boring.” He said and you laughed at that.

“Oh, you know. Did a little reading, finished a book. Finished a few drawings, but only one of them is for you, so don’t get excited.” You said and he made it clear that any art from you was priceless, no matter how much. “You’re too sweet. Hmm… what else have I been up to…” You hummed and tapped on your chin, pretending you were thinking hard. “Right, I’ve been up almost every night these past few days.”

Arthur furrowed his brows and actually looked concerned for you. The expression he had on his face almost made you squeak. it was sort of like seeing a baby animal do something cute. “Why’s that? You sick?”

“No, I’ve just been missing you. Ever since you started pleasing me I find it hard to do so to myself.” You admitted boldly with a sly smirk, rubbing water up to your shoulders. The way you moved your arms caused some of the bubbles to clear out from your chest, giving him a good view of your nipples. They were darkened by the heat of the water, giving them a deeper color as well as the skin around them. It made his mouth water.

“No matter how deep my fingers go,” You said as you moved your right hand down your chest and under the bubbles. “No matter how I move them…”

He watched as well as he could while you started rubbing your clit. Some of the bubbles had moved away from the movement you were making but there was still another layer of smaller bubbles leaving a lot to the imagination.

You gave a tired sigh and pulled your hand back up. “They just don’t feel as good as yours.”

Arthur took the hint and rolled his sleeves up, looking surprisingly casual while he did so. “I’m sorry to hear that, darlin’.” He said and rubbed his hand over your legs again, this time going above your knees. His fingers barely grazed across your thighs before dipping into the water. “Well, goddamn, this water is hot.”

You laughed at that and uncrossed your legs to give him better access. “Too bad it’s not big enough for the both of us.” The thought made you shiver. “We’d have to use my parent’s bathtub for that.”

Arthur looked up at you but you quickly shot him down. “No way. Their bathroom is connected to their room, just like mine. But maybe one day when they’re away.”

“There’s always the lakes.” He offered and chuckled when he saw the look of disgust on your face. “Who am I kidding? I should know by now my princess wouldn’t dream of that.” When he called you his princess your heart soared and you smiled without meaning to. It felt so sweet to have him call you that.

Instead of replying you just spread your legs so your ankles were propped up on either side of the bathtub rim.

“Someone’s in a hurry.” He chuckled and let his hand travel deeper underwater until he found his target. When he rubbed your clit you bit your lip to hold back a moan. “Yeah, I can feel how much you’ve missed me.” His voice changed. He had a few different tones he’d use, there was the normal one, the one where he was amused and his accent would be more prominent, and a few others. But the ones you liked the most were when he was pissed off and when he was horny. They sort of sound the same, his voice would get deep and he’d talk real slow.

“Keep talking to me.” You said as you got comfortable, resting your head back on the head-rest part of the bathtub. Being born into a wealthy family had a lot of perks. Bathtub head-rests were one of them. Sure, anyone can put a pillow on the edge of their tub. But not everyone had a special spot built into it.

Anyways, Arthur had switched from rubbing your clit to pushing his middle finger inside of you. When he felt how tight you were around him he made a whistling sound and shook his head. “You want me to talk to you, girl? Alright. I’ll talk to you. Been too long, hasn’t it?”

You nodded and lifted your legs higher in an effort to get his finger in you deeper.

“Yeah, it sure has, I can feel how much you’ve missed me.” He muttered and pushed in knuckle-deep before curling his finger. You had to grab onto the sides of the tubs to keep from thrashing about too much. He curled his finger a second time and you let out an audible moan.

He looked at your face and grinned. You were biting your lower lip so hard he thought you might bust your teeth right through it. “Ease up now, girl.” He said in that slow, deep voice. “Just relax. I’m gonna give you what you want.”

Arthur moved so he had a better angle and pushed a second finger inside you. He curled both of them and you swore you might die from pleasure.

In the midst of your lust filled state you suddenly remembered the other week when he had almost ruined your life at dinner. You opened your eyes and smiled as a wicked plan formed in your head. “Arthur, stop.”

In less than a second, he pulled his arm out of the water and watched as you sat up. The soap ran down your body and you were finally exposed to him, although he was a bit concerned that he might have upset you. “Somethin’ wrong?”

You sat on the other edge of the tub so you still faced him and your legs were still in the water. “You bet there is. Remember dinner?”

At first, he didn’t know what you meant, but when it hit him he grinned. “Sure do, I remember that well.” And far too fondly, it seemed.

It was hard not to feel ecstatic when you knew you were about to wipe that grin off his face. “Well, that wasn’t very kind of you. So I think I know how to get even.”

Arthur watched as you spread your legs wide open, giving him the perfect view of your pussy. He looked back up to your face and felt his heart lurch when he saw the wicked smile you had, he knew then he was in for one hell of a night.

“You get to watch me.” You said and resumed what he had stopped doing. Two fingers went inside of you while another from your other hand rubbed quick circles on your clit. “Oh, wow.” You breathed and made a show of rocking your body against your hands, even tilting your head back. “Oh, fuck. Arthur, oh, Arthur.” The way you sounded was so foreign to your ears, it was hard to believe that was actually you. 

“Jesus.” He whispered and adjusted the bulge in his jeans. After watching you for what seemed like hours he moved his hand to unbuckle his belt but you stopped him by putting your dripping wet foot against his crotch.

“No, you don’t get to do that yet.” You were close to orgasming, although to be fair you were kind of forcing it to happen quicker than it naturally would have. As much as you wanted to torture Arthur you wanted to end this so you could fuck him into oblivion.

He pulled his hand back and you did the same with your foot, letting it sink back into the hot water. Arthur Morgan was probably one of the only people who could watch you willingly and not call themselves a masochist.

His cock was throbbing. It fucking ached. He tried shifting his position but that only made it worse, providing no friction whatsoever. “Please, (Y/N).”

You looked at him and smiled through your moans and heavy breathing. “No can do, not until I cum.” And with that, you quickened your pace for his and your own mercy. Sure it felt good watching him squirm, knowing he was going through a situation similar to what he put you through, but you still wanted him inside you. There was no going back until you came, though, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of chickening out.

When your orgasm finally approached you made a scene of acting as lewd as possible. You tossed your head back and moaned as loud as you could without anyone else hearing. Your chest rose and fell with your quick short breaths and your hips rolled against your hands. “Arthur, god, yes!”

Arthur twitched all over, his arms even jerking from the force of his self-control. He wanted to touch himself so bad but he held back until you were done.

“That was so good.” You panted and pulled your feet out of the bathtub, grabbing a towel to dry yourself off. “See, by you just being here makes it better.”

He nodded and swallowed hard. “Can I touch you now?”

It was hard not to smile, from both pity and guilt. “Alright, go close my windows and doors.”

He did both of those things so quick you barely had time to blink. But once he was back in the room he had his mouth on yours, you didn’t even notice he had managed to lead you into your bedroom.

“So we’re even now, are we?” He asked after you parted from the breath-stealing kiss. He had you facing the bed and he stood behind you, leaving soft kisses and bites on your neck and shoulders.

“Yes.” You went to climb onto the bed but he held you firmly in place.

“No, sugar, I want you like this.” He put his hand on the small of your back and bent you over the bed. Adrenaline rushed through you, you felt so exposed to him in that position. He slid one of your smaller pillows under your waist so your ass perked up even more. He made that same whistling noise as he ran his palms over your ass, only stopping to undress in what had to be a world record amount of time for undressing.

In the position you were in you could see nothing but what was in front of you. And that excited you. Not knowing exactly what he was about to do sent goosebumps all over your body.

“Look at you. Hope you know I’m not gonna last long.” He said and stroked his cock a few times before rubbing the tip against you. “Not the first time, at least.”

You were about to make a playful remark but then he slid his cock inside of you. Your eyes rolled back into your head and you swear your heart completely stopped. You came again from just the first stroke, no, it wasn’t even a complete stroke yet. He had only just reached balls-deep.

“Jesus, girl.” His breathing was labored already. “If only you knew how good you feel right now.”

“I can imagine.” Your voice broke from the amount of energy that had just been drained from you. If he felt this good and you had already came twice you could only imagine how good you felt to him since he had barely gotten to touch himself.

He slowly pulled halfway out and then slowly pushed back in, the both of you savoring the sweet feeling of him being so deeply inside of you. The new angle was amazing, you’d never had sex that way. It also seemed as if the pillow under your waist aided in the pleasure, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot every time he moved.

“(Y/N).” It was all he could say as he started fucking you, and even that one word took too much thinking. Cursing was much easier. “Goddamn.”

You pulled another pillow up to your face to muffle your moans. Every time you had sex it felt like the first time over again. It could never get old, no matter what he did or what position you were in. Hell, you could probably have just enough fun military style.

“Harder.” You whined and arched your back so you met his thrusts. “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum. Oh, fuck.”

Arthur happily obliged and fucked you harder, still going at a slow pace but with each thrust he slammed his hips into your ass. The power in his thrusts alone made you orgasm, but the friction of him grinding against your clit also helped.

And when you came, Arthur came. It was only because when you came your walls hugged him with so much force he wouldn’t be able to hold off an orgasm, even if he tried. He cursed as he came, squeezing your ass in both hands. Sex had never been this good to him before. Never. And he had a couple things to thank for that. One, you were young and sure had the body for it. You were still so pure and tight all over. Second, he was completely and hopelessly in love with you.

When he finished he pulled back and laid down on the bed next to you to catch his breath. “Darlin’, i sure have I missed you.”

You propped your chin up on your hand and looked at him with a satisfied and lazy smile. He looked like such a mess, covered in sweat with his skin all red. His cock was still hard as well. “Stay like that, I wanna draw you.”

Arthur had no problem laying down for a little while longer. He needed to rest anyways. “Alright, as long as when you’re done we can go for another round.”

You laughed as you went to get your sketchbook. “Sure, if I can wait that long!”

[shortqueershakespeare]

Gonna take a page out of the other anon's book and ask you to do all the harry potter questions...

so this took forever, but i’ve finally finished them all (and of course pasting them fucked up the formatting fml) Amortentia: Talk about 3 things you love. 

- I love languages, I love being able to see into someone’s soul by talking the language of their heart. I love the different sides of my identity that emerge with different languages, how you can only see fragments of my whole soul without comprehension of each language that forms a part of my heart.

- I love the LGBT community, love feeling free and whole and myself. I love seeing people realise who they are and seeing unabashed, queer love in the face of a world that does not want us. I love seeing that we are stronger together and that no one can take our identities away, no matter how much they try. I love seeing boys fall in love with boys and girls fall for girls for the first time. 

- I love the pure, unadulterated joy of learning, of education and finding out something new. The feeling of discovery and the sensation of having accomplished something when you understand a new concept is incomparable.

Ageing Potion: imagine yourself 50-60 years from now. how would you like a typical day to go? where do you see yourself? 

In fifty years, my body would be my own, covered in marks from misadventure and splashes of colourful memories. At 61, my kids would be grown up and moved out, my house would be filled with a different kind of sound, with puppies and bunnies and any other pets that fit. I hope I’d have a man to share this life with, we spend our weekends baking and devising obstacle courses for the pets to fall over, getting calls from our kids on how to be an adult (as if we’ve figured that out, even at our age). My sisters still haven’t let go of the habit of calling me a kid, and I try to see them when I can. The seasons change, the leaves fall, and I spend them all, content.

Alihotsy Draught: name and write about a few topics you’re really passionate about. 

Oh god we already did things I love though

Lets go specific instead and say fictional characters/ships

Drarry - The lion and the snake clash together, fire and ice raging a passionate war against each other, until they manage to blend their voices into one harmony. 

Wolfstar - the dog and the wolf, the moon and the star. Something poetic about their love. Sure, they’ve pushed against it, shouted angry words and slammed doors, but through it all, they gravitate back to each other. 

Ballum - by all accounts they shouldn’t work. A criminal and an aspiring cop, they’re a recipe for disaster, doomed to fail. But no-one, not even them, thought that they would become their own priority, above parental expectations, above the world they grew up in. they hold on tight, breathe each other in, relish in their found family. 

Antidote to Veritaserum: what is the biggest/most memorable lie you’ve told? 

I genuinely can’t think of one at all?? Oh lol not a lie but lie by omission i guess?? The fact that my gran still thinks i’m cishet lolll

Babbling Beverage: what kind of person are you when you’re drunk/hyped up on caffeine? 

I’m so fucking affectionate and talkative, i wanna cuddle everyone and I will absolutely tell you my opinions on/feelings about people. I’m a drunk disaster, but a fun drunk disaster. I also find a lot of things funny when drunk, and buy lots of presents for people.

Barufflo’s Brain Elixir: if you could master one skill instantly, what would it be? 

Right now the goddamn Russian language so my degree would be easier lol. I’d love to be able to whistle actually, or draw. 

Bloodroot Potion: describe a time you felt heartbroken. 

Well we’re gonna stick with creative writing so: I had a dream about us, both in matching suits. We were dancing at sunset, holding each other close as the songs played on. I woke up happy and content, and then I remembered that you weren’t mine anymore. You’re dancing with someone else while I sit, sobbing in my bed, longing for what should have been our future. I went through my room, finding every little thing that belonged to you, and put them to one side, in case you ever wanted them back. Holding on to the hope of one last conversation I guess. I miss you, and I hate you. And I love you. It hurts so much, like my heart stayed with you and I won’t last long without it.

Bruise removal paste: after you were heartbroken, what healed you?

The first time, it was love from family and friends and eventually falling in love again. And time. Now, i don’t know what’s gonna finish healing me, but love from other people and the promise that I’m worth more has done a lot to get me there.

Burn healing paste: are you cautious or are you impulsive? 

Both I think? I think I could do with being a lil more spontaneous though.

Calming Draught: what do you do on a rainy day?

I like to sit with a cup of tea or coffee, legs under a blanket, watching TV or writing or reading.

Caxambu: Style

I don’t think I have a recognisable style that can be described as anything other than gay. 

Borborygmus Potion: what’s your favorite food?

Right now I could really go for roast dinner tbh.  Confusing Concoction: What do you struggle most with? 

Prioritising myself and believing in my own worth. Cough Potion: What do you do to get better when you’re sick? 

I sleep a lot, and I like to eat chicken soup and have lots of warm drinks. Cure for Boils: Write about three pet peeves. 

People NOT WEARING HEADPHONES Hypocrisy Not respecting personal space Death potion: If you were told you were going to die in 24 hours, what would you do? 

Depends if I knew the cause of death/if i was infectious or not. If I wasn’t infectious I’d visit as many friends and family as possible, and probably get drunk. Deflating draught: Would you call yourself arrogant/modest? 

I like to think I’m modest but then again I don’t think that’s a super modest thought. Developing Solution: What’s the best photo you’ve taken? Which one’s your favorite? 

I took a nice one of my uni room, and some good ones at pride. Dogbreath Potion: What superpower would you have and why? 

Shapeshifting because my god would that make being trans more bearable. Doxycide: are you more clean or messy? 

Messy, but I do like to clean sometimes. Dr. Ubbly’s Oblivious Unction: are you critical of yourself? if you are, how do you want to work on it? 

Yes I am, and I try to work on it by talking to myself as I would to a friend or my puppy. Draught of Living Death: How would you like your funeral to go?

I’d like it to be a reflection of me, but equally I’d want it to be good for the people I’m leaving behind - I’d like Bye Bye Darling to be one of the songs though. Draught of Peace: What relaxes you? 

Watching familiar TV, listening to dodie, Maisie Peters, Orla Gartland, the puppy sleeping on me, hugs from friends. Drink of Despair: What’s your biggest regret? 

Not breaking up with my exes sooner, it would’ve been so much less painful and better all round. Drowsiness Draught: What’s your bedtime routine? 

So after my sister and dad go to bed, I stay down with the pup, take her out to the loo, and then sit on the sofa with her sleeping for a bit. Then I put her to bed and tidy a bit, I go up to my room and get into pjs, brush my teeth and wash my face, I put on my dim fairy lights and put on a chill playlist, then sleep.  Elixir of life: Would you rather live five ok/mediocre years or one incredible year? 

I think it kinda depends, like it its five mediocre years where each day is mediocre, then definitely one incredible year. Elixir to Induce Euphoria: What makes you feel alive? 

Dancing, love, running with the pup. Essence of Dittany: what’s the worst scar you currently have?

I scar quite easily, but they also fade quite well - at the moment I have one on my elbow from catching it on chicken wire. Exploding Potion: Do you like fireworks?

Yeah! They’re super pretty - I prefer the ones without a bang though. Fatiguing Infusion: Describe a recent/memorable dream.  

I had a dream about being physically back at uni, it wasn’t super eventful but it was really calming and nostalgic. Felix Felicis: Do you believe in luck?

I guess?? Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent: How do you keep bad thoughts away? 

Antidepressants lol. No but if I’m anxious I’ll write out everything I’m stressed about to get it out of my head. If I’m depressed I try to distract myself. Forgetfulness Potion: What is your favorite memory?

Maybe my first time getting drunk, it was the cast afterparty for my favourite show and it was so fun being able to chill with all my friends and being treated like an adult. (Plus it was fucking hilarious watching everyone come to the set strike the next day where most people were hungover as all hell)

My first gay night out was also pretty memorable, if only for the amount I drank lol. Fungiface Potion: What’s the greatest prank you’ve pulled? 

Legitimately don’t know if I ever have pulled one? At school we once turned our whole classroom backwards, and at uni my friends and I spent about two years putting any spam mail we got into our friends pigeonhole after he proudly told us how empty he always kept it. That was fun. Gregory’s Unctuous Unction: Describe your best friend(s).

Okay we’re gonna go for 3 people (all of whom have featured in poems of mine) - I started off writing about 5 and then got bored (and also vaguely embarrassed about calling people best friends) so we’re going down to three I’m also gonna make it vague ish So the first is a friend I’ve known for ten years and we’ve been equal parts immature and grown up throughout those ten years - last time I saw her we went to a inflatable park and then to spoons. She’s funny and sweet and chaotic and a lot shorter than I think (she used to be a head taller than me but hasn’t grown since we met, so even though we’re the same height neither of us quite believes it). She’s talented and reliable and So very committed to being a good friend (she drove to pick my ex and I up from a festival so she could meet him and took a 3-4 hour train to come celebrate my 21st). The second is possibly the first friend I made at uni because we bonded over being terrified of going to Russia and now we communicate almost solely through animal crossing. I love her, she’s hilarious, about as much of a mess as I am and an incredibly sweet person. She’s the first person I text in a crisis because she knows the exact right balance of taking the piss and actually helping and is always available to talk in foreign when I need to forget about the people I’m with or avoid an ex lol. The third is one of my favourite people at uni, he’s super supportive and understanding but also the best fucking person for a night out or a laugh. I used to think he was intimidating but honestly he’s just so sweet and has always made me feel welcome in my new year groups and always makes sure I have someone to pre with. Hair-Raising Potion: What scares you?

Fucking clowns man. Also not living life to the fullest, I’m really trying to put myself first nowadays and make sure I’m not staying in bad situations out of anxiety. It’s definitely helped me feel better about myself and have more energy to think about other people as well. Hate potion: If you had to name your worst trait, what would it be? 

Either stubbornness or being too self-sacrificing. It’s not a good combo tbh. Herbicide Potion: do you have a green thumb? 

I have owned (1) plant and I think I killed it so no. I am absolutely terrified every time my dad asks me to water the garden because I feel like I can only over or under water. Hiccoughing Solution: what’s the funniest thing that’s happened to you? 

Funny situations involving me tend to end in injury, maybe when I fell over the tennis net that didn’t even come up to my knees and got stuck in it?  Or when I fell over skiing and couldn’t get up because I’d done a roly poly which ended up with my skis trapped under my back.  Invigoration Draught: how do you wake up in the mornings? 

Lately my sister brings the puppy up to wake me up which is nice. Invisibility Potion: What would you do if you were invisible for a day? 

Ooh that’s a good question, I think I’d probably take a bunch of photos of me holding stuff and probably scare the shit out of my family. Jawbind Potion: Are you talkative? What do you like to talk about? 

Yes, very. I like talking about anything and everything, I love finding stuff out about people, which is part of the reason I do so many of these things. Laugh-Inducing Potion: Tell a funny story.

I am not a very funny person. I don’t have many funny stories!! When I was younger and my mum would get milkshakes and stuff, we were only allowed a glass each (I have 3 siblings) so that we each got the same amount and my sister was being sneaky, tried to drink from the carton to cheat the rule, ended up drinking mouldy milk. Karma. Mandrake Restorative Draught: How long can you stand still? 

Probably quite a while, I’ve never thought about it to be honest. Manegro Potion: How do you like to cut your hair? I cut mine myself, I usually leave the top a few inches long, and the back and sides are usually tapered from a 3 to a 1. Mopsus Potion: What do you want to be doing 5 years from now? 

Hopefully be working in translation or LGBT activism, living with a flatmate or partner. I’d like to have had top surgery and be acting or stage managing again and playing tennis and maybe football again. Muffling Draught: Favorite genre of music? 

Idk, indie pop maybe? Or alternative? Oculus Potion: would you rather see the distant past or the distant future?

Distant future. Pepperup Potion: what makes you feel alive?

Sport, playing with the puppy, talking to friends. Polyjuice Potion: If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

I would remove my chest lol.  Quodpot Solution: What’s your opinion on sports (are you a fan of any specific teams/sport)?

Tennis is my favourite sport, I also like football, judo, rounders, swimming, sailing and skiing. Rat Tonic: Do you have any pets? 

Yes! I have a tiny bunny called Teddy, two chickens called Miss Sussex and Babs and a boxer puppy called Pickle. Shrinking Solution: How tall are you? Do you like your height (why/why not)?  

I honestly don’t know, I think I’m 5’ 3” ish?? After 5’ I just kinda stopped paying attention. I’d like to be taller because it would help me pass better, but I also kind of like my limbs the way they are?? Like additional muscle from T is already making tennis weird to adjust to so I don’t wanna make that worse tbh. Skele-Gro: What helps you feel better? 

Hugs, alcohol, chocolate, familiar TV, reading my favourite books. Sleakeazy’s Hair Potion: Describe yourself in 6 words or less.

Queer, loud, chatty, empathetic, caring, stubborn. Veritaserum: What is one truth you’ve wanted to get off your chest? 

I wish I had broken up with my exes sooner/not got together with the last one at all. We weren’t a good fit and I like to think we’d still be friends otherwise. Volubilis Potion: Can you/do you like to sing? 

I love to sing, I’m decent but struggling to adjust to my voice drop tbh. Wide eye Potion: What time do you usually go to bed? 

12/1am, depends on when I take the dog out. Wolfsbane: What’s the biggest change you’ve experienced in the past year? Going on testosterone!

[krumbine]

A Sinful Pivot

Coffee. Pandemics. Unemployment.

###

An unusual silence blanketed the City of Saint Charles.

It was almost ten o’clock on a weekday morning. Under different circumstances, the city would have been a scene of bustling metropolitan prosperity. Streets full of traffic. People working. Money transacting.

Coffee—that gloriously capitalistic, black liquid gold––fueling everything.

Under different circumstances.

The heels of expensive Italian shoes clicked against pavement and echoed through the concrete canyon of the city’s downtown district. A gust of wind picked up a scrap of newspaper and tossed it through an intersection.

A deer trotted out from around a building and found a patch of grass to inspect. Sunlight cut through the skyline and illuminated the deer until it was practically glowing.

It was a goddamned picture-perfect moment.

The owner of the Italian shoes grimaced.

This was all wrong. ​The city had ground to a halt. And while the smog and pollution had lifted––nature creeped its way back into the concrete jungle––the people of the City of Saint Charles were as miserable and hopeless as ever. They were locked away, isolated from their fellow humans in a desperate attempt to slow a viral pandemic that was steadily rewriting the future of mankind.

Greg couldn’t help but sneer in disgust as he walked down the middle of the empty downtown street.

He was frustrated. Angry. But mostly, Greg was disappointed.

The world had taken a shit so big, it was suffocating all life on the planet. This wasn’t just one for the history books––this was going to be carved in the Stones of Time.

And Greg wasn’t responsible for any of it.

For the love of fuck.

From the pocket of tailored pants, Greg fished a key out to unlock the main entrance to his coffee shop. It was the flagship store of a successful franchise that peppered the Eastern Seaboard.

Religiously Roasted Every Goddamn Day. Coffee So Devilishly Good, It’s Practically a Sin.

Greg stepped into his black-and-red themed coffee shop and locked the door behind him. He wasn’t going to have any customers, the city’s lockdown orders had made sure of that.

Pocketing the key, Greg looked around the empty shop. He had built the company from nothing––the perfect execution of needlessly expensive coffee that quickly became a compulsive necessity in the daily routines of thousands. Greg made no bones about it––he had shamelessly ripped off those guys in Seattle, put a little Satanic spin on it, and started racking up exponential soul points as soon as the franchisees started signing on.

Sure, the shop was called ‘Religiously Roasted Every Goddamn Day’ but there was nothing special about the coffee beans. There was nothing special about the brew. Greg just marked up the price––six dollars for a cup of otherwise cheap black coffee––slapped together some fancy marketing spin and then sat back to let the coffee do its thing.

It was a motherfucking perfect time to be a demon in America.

***

Above the coffee shop were the corporate offices of Religiously Roasted. Greg sat in his executive conference room––a blacked-out affair with crimson foot lights spilling an ominous glow across the walls.

An ostentatious 100-inch television was mounted to the wall and after logging into the video conferencing network, familiar faces started appearing in a grid on the screen.

“––doesn’t matter what they do! This thing is relentless,” Mr. Paz bloviated. “And the States? With how much those mouth-breathers have been downplaying it, this thing will last for years! Undoubtedly some of my finest work in centuries.”

Mr. Paz realized Greg had joined the call.

“Mr. Mammon!” Paz said with a grin that was unnaturally wide and unnecessarily toothy. “How’s business?”

Mr. Paz put an extra bit of bite on ‘business’.

Greg didn’t like Paz, but then no one did. Mr. Paz was an arrogant, condescending bag of hot air who naturally assumed that all other demonic work was somehow less than the unholy work of disease, pestilence, and death. The problem with that assumption was that in the past decade of Greg’s mini coffee empire, he collected more soul points than Paz’s outbreaks of influenza, measles, and HIV. Combined.

This new virus was like Mr. Paz had scooped up the game board and proclaimed no one else could play any more.

“Simply put, not good,” Ms. Astarr jumped in. She handled the accounting for most demonic enterprises. Her speciality was finding all the loopholes and shortcuts to take advantage of local economies. “In fact, Mr. Paz, your ‘magnum opus’ has greatly handicapped all of our work. If something doesn’t change soon in the States, Mr. Mammon’s business will be insolvent by the end of the month.”

Mr. Paz did a terrible job of containing his glee over his colleagues’ misfortune.

Mr. Abad was red in his round, puffy face. He was also based in the States, although he had a much more mobile operation than Greg. “You cocksucking sonofabitch,” Abad practically spat into his webcam. “You know what doesn’t happen now that everyone is in isolation?!”

“Mass shootin––”

“Mass shootings!” Abad screamed, a vein throbbing in his forehead.

Greg sighed and rubbed his eyes as the demons yelled at each other. This was why he liked coffee. It was a far less messy way to earn those soul points. He picked up the tall glass of pineapple juice that sat on a black coaster upon the black conference table and took a long sip.

Mr. Paz, Ms. Astarr, and Mr. Abad had similar glasses of pineapple juice and had been drinking throughout the call. Demons couldn’t get drunk on alcohol, but there was something about the acidity in pineapples that could get them just this side of buzzed.

Before he realized it, Greg’s tall glass of pineapple juice was empty.

Well, if ever there was a time.

“Excuse me,” Greg said with a wave of his hand, pulling the attention of the bickering demons. “I think we can all agree that Mr. Paz is a cunt––”

Mr. Paz attempted to respond but Greg cut him off as he grabbed a pitcher of iced pineapple juice and refilled his glass.

“––which I obviously mean in the most complimentary of ways. To be the architect of such a devastating virus …” Greg paused and shook his head thoughtfully.

After a moment to collect his thoughts, Greg said: “Mr. Paz, our collective anger is surpassed only by our collective jealously.” He raised a fresh glass of pineapple juice to the screen. “Cheers to your accomplishment.”

The change of tone made Mr. Paz uncomfortable and as the other demons sipped, begrudging Paz his success, Greg paced his conference room.

“I think we can all agree that this is truly unprecedented. Our work––even for you, Mr. Paz––is evaporating.”

“I’ve looked at it in every possible way,” Ms. Astarr stated, “and I just don’t see how a demon is supposed to effectively torture humans under these conditions.”

“Exactly,” Greg agreed. “Mr. Paz, your accomplishments aside, it is humans like that insufferable president that have been screwing things up for us for years.”

“They’re torturing themselves with that one,” Astarr said.

“We can argue amongst ourselves all we want, but it is the humans who have taken our jobs and put us out of work,” Greg said.

Paz shrugged. “I’m still working.”

“But for how long?!” Greg shot back. “These people have traded their sense of survival––their human spirit––for rank stupidity and reality television antics from their Cheeto in Chief!”

A quiet fell over the video conference. Greg finished his glass of pineapple juice and sat down again, defeated and dejected.

“So … what are we supposed to do?” Mr. Abad asked.

Greg shook his head. “I don’t know. Obviously we need to pivot.”

“Pivot?” Ms. Astarr repeated incredulously.

Greg nodded. “Indeed. Pivot.”

Anger was bubbling back up in Mr. Abad’s screen. “No. No-no-no-no. I’ve been doing mass shootings for decades. This is what I do. I can’t just pivot.”

“None of us had backup plans, Mr. Abad,” Greg stressed, growing tired of Abad’s staunch inflexibility. “But this is the reality we’re in. Soul points have plummeted and may even disappear completely. Our very survival on this plane of existence means using a little bit of imagination and fucking pivoting.”

“Gentlemen?” Ms. Astarr had raised a thoughtful finger. “Perhaps we can agree that the fundamental premise of our work here on earth is to torture the humans.”

“Of course.”

“Indeed.”

“Then perhaps it also stands to reason,” Ms. Astarr continued, “that if the humans keep turning to leadership that effectively does our job for us––and bear with me on this––maybe our pivot should be, instead of torturing the humans, we should help them.”

Mr. Abad blinked.

Mr. Paz looked sick.

Greg clicked his teeth pensively. “… help the humans?”

Ms. Astarr shrugged. “It may be the only way for us to survive.”

“To help the humans survive.”

Greg poured another glass of pineapple juice. He drained it in one long sip.

He sighed. “… we could always pivot back to the torture. You know, later.”

“Of course.”

“Indeed.”

Mr. Paz threw up a little.

​###

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jordan Krumbine is a professional video editor, digital artist, and creative wizard currently quarantined in Kissimmee, Florida. When not producing content for the likes of Visit Orlando, Orlando Sentinel, or AAA National, Jordan is probably yelling at a stubbornly defective Macbook keyboard, tracking creative projects in Trello, and animating quirky videos with LEGO and other various toys.

Leave a dollar in the Tip Jar: https://ko-fi.com/krumbine

Short stories: https://bit.ly/2XY5D7I Books on Amazon Kindle: https://amzn.to/3bsqK5Y YouTube: https://bit.ly/2W41nSG Twitter: https://bit.ly/2VH0Vbu Facebook: https://bit.ly/2VpnylZ LinkedIn: https://bit.ly/2xnmk1e

http://www.krumbco.com

[if-there-was-any-more-left-of-me]

I need to get this all down.

I shake all day long. My hands mostly, but my whole body too.

I'm always either starving or nauseous and wanna throw up. Nothing I eat makes it better. I crave garbage food and shovel down sugary snacks as fast as I can.

I'm always bloated, painfully so, and gassy. My stomach is swollen and hard, and it hurts to sit, stand, or lay down. I'm constipated most of the week, then visited with violent, painful, explosive diarrhea.

I'm thirsty and I drink and drink and drink but I never feel better.

I can't go to sleep til 5 or 6 am. I wake up at 7 or 8,go back to sleep, wake up at 11 or so and eat breakfast then go back to sleep til 2 or 3 or 4 or 5 pm. When I wake up, I am always The Most Tired I have ever been. I never wake up feeling happy or rested or content. I often have these really intense dreams that are more exhausting than being awake and I wake up panting, shaking, hot and sweaty (even with AC, a fan, and just a sheet), and feeling as though I had been clenching my whole body tight for hours.

Every sound is the most annoying sound ever. The radio, people talking, electronics, pet lickiing foot, water filter. My ears feel big and hollow and resonate these sounds like a big empty tin barn. Some sounds feel more like a thin, long drill bit being driven deep down in my ear.

I can't smile or laugh. I can't lift my head up.

I am so depressed and so angry. I hate the government, I hate the public for letting it all happen, I hate my mother for squandering our money and getting my health insurance canceled and for acting like she's not responsible for me being so sick.

I hate being trapped in this house where I can't even flush the toilet. I hate that my only outing is driving to go feed all the cats.

I hate that I can't use my phone consistently to escape because of the shitty service. I hate that my friends have all forsaken me and don't even wonder about me let alone want to see me.

My memory is gone. I can't remember anything, what time it is, what day it is, who I was just talking to, what I ate for breakfast. I don't know anything. My brain doesn't work. I used to be funny and clever and genuinely smart. But right now I can't figure out how to turn the shower on. People ask me questions and I can't answer. I can't listen to conversation because I dissociate so hard.

My head hurts all the time. Much worse having to drive facing the sunset. I can't see from it. Just painful white glare.

My diabetic neuropathy is getting much worse than the Gabapentin can handle. My feet are numb and everything I touch hurts my hands. Having to do things with my fingers is excruciating.

My back hurts all the time, whether I am trying to work or not. In addition to my lower back injury, it now hurts up high. Any way I move my neck or arms hurts.

I am dizzy all the time. Standing up feels woozy and thick. My knees, ankles, hips buckle when I walk. Obviously, walking hurts my numb feet. I have no sense of balance anymore. I used to be strong and steady.

Without my insurance, I can't follow through with the important testing my GI doctor was doing, which was originally to find out what was causing all my digestive problems, but then also included making sure something she found wasn't cancerous. But that's not important.

I can't afford my allergy pills, which are not important.

I can't see my podiatrist to fix my horribly painful ingrown toenails. Not important.

Can't see the pain management doctor who prescribes my pain medication and does minor pain alleviating procedures. Not important.

Can't see my psychiatrist who was in the process of trying out new depression medication and getting me to a level of functioning. I'm stuck in limbo with a medication that doesn't work for me.

Definitely can't see a therapist cuz even if I could afford it, I would be told every day what a waste it is and that I should manage my problems like SHE does, by yelling at my family and belittling my elderly husband (no that was a actual conversation we had)

Can't afford to get my regular blood work done by my regular doctor that she always insists we do monthly because we're very sick, unmanaged diabetics. I'm not even getting to take the diabetes medication I'm supposed to I'm just taking whatever free samples she has in office

God I miss going to the doctor. But that's not important. You know what's important? A 2005 red ford mustang pony edition that's held under titlemax. I have been told many times that that car will not be relenquished no matter what else has to go. I think that includes m8. Because I am very sick but I keep being told that I am imagining that I can't go to the doctor. I'm imagining that I can't afford my prescription.

Am I imagining the sick cat with a massive infection that's eaten a 2" by 4" patch of skin off his back that he licks raw every day? Am I imagining not being able to afford to take him to the vet? Am I imagining the massive tumors on HER dog? The dozens of them? I guess it's fine that she dies as long as we get to keep the mustang.

I am definitely imagining that the house is infested with millions of fleas and we can't afford the good medication (ie the $15/animal stuff that actually kills fleas) for 3 dogs and 16 cats.

Definitely imagining not being able to get get 14 wild kittens spayed and homed.

But I know I am not imagining the dozens of stray cats we spend more money on every day that we feed. Those are real.

More real I guess than my sister's need for therapy or my dad's need for dental surgery after all of his teeth have rotted out and the infection is getting ready to spread.

But that's not important. My teeth aren't important and it is definitely my fault for not going to the dentist that I have holes and cavities and pain and shit and definitely not because SHE complained constantly about me wasting money by going to the dentist every year (back when we had money) and then obviously not going anymore once the money dried up.

I remember her screaming at me in 2017,threatening to tell the doctors and police that I refused to take my medicine so they'd lock me up because she didn't like how I responded to some of the dozen different meds I tried that year. I remember because now she has convinced herself that I never take my medicine and that all my problems would go away if I would just take my medicine.

I'm so sick. I'm so scared. I'm so angry. I don't know what to do. I just want to scream and tear myself open.

It's getting worse. And every time I say that I'm upset about concentration camps or not being able to get the medicine I need, I get told to take more medicine. I can't take this level of invalidation. The gaslighting. I do not know what is real anymore.

This seems like an afterthought but I also can't buy any healthy snacks to maybe cut back on the horrifying amount of sugar I consume every day because all the food money goes to pet food and sugary treats. And I get yelled at for asking for less sugar in the house. Told to just eat something else but there is nothing else. I don't know what to do. Lacy makes these watery soups out of whatevers in the fridge to feed us. But I want real food.

I can't stop shaking. I know why I am so goddamn sick. Because I am malnourished, angry, frightened, stressed out to the maximum, and have no recourse. Every complaint is met with gaslighting or being told to take more antidepressants, as though they're some kind of magic happy pills.

I want to check myself into the hospital but I can't afford it. I would have already killed myself but I am not villainous enough to abandon my 85 yr old deaf dad whose had 4 strokes and does all the outside work and whom mom screams and ridicules mercilessly. And my sister who's anxiety is on a hair trigger and whom mom loves to trigger and laugh at her panic.

I need a miracle. I need help. I need someone to fucking shoot me in the face. God kill me please I can't take this anymore please

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Caramel Skin Under A Red and Green Cloud prt 12 full

Keith was not a natural-born surfer. It blew Lance's mind that his husband could be such a goofy-footed idiot, especially with all of his training. Acxa wasn't that great, better than Keith, yet wiped out before he did much to Marco's happiness. The pain in Lance's soul nearly had him running down the beach to teach Keith what he was doing wrong. Keith couldn't quite seem to get the popup just right. At first, he was jumping up too early, then too late. His form when standing was... shaky at best. Trying not to cause Keith more stress, and trying not to bring on a seizure, Lance was having a hard time wrangling in his conflicting emotions. He wanted Keith to enjoy himself. Yet, at this rate, he knew his husband was more likely to lose his temper due to frustration and give up completely instead of discovering how fun surfing could be. His indecisions had him nearly in tears. There was a time he would have welcomed the soothing expanse of blue before him. He would have run into the water like he didn't have a care in the world... but that had been taken away from him... He'd started to take back things for himself, but when you have your head held down into sink full of water until you passed out, or have water poured down your throat mercilessly, it dampens the appeal of surrounding yourself in it. Showers were fine because the water disappeared down the drain. Baths he could do with Keith, because he could trust Keith not to let him drown... but taking that first step into an endless bottomless blue... goosebumps erupted across his skin at the mere thought. Watching Keith wipe out again, Lance didn't realise anything was wrong for the first tick... or the second... his old board washed up on the beach on the third tick, then on the fourth he realised Keith hadn't come up. Marco was talking with Veronica and Acxa, the group laughing as Lance jumped to his feet. The fifth and sixth tick passed with no sign of Keith. Lance's heart was racing a million miles an hour as he bolted towards the water. Keith could swim. Keith could swim... there was no way... but what if his husband had hit debris on the bottom of the ocean floor, or what if he'd been barrelled? Racing past the group, he threw himself into the water, almost oblivious to the feel as he dived forward once deep enough. Swimming out to where Keith had been, Lance couldn't see him. Trying to dive under the wave breaking in front of him, he was swept into the turbulent current below, the salt and sand stinging at his eyes as his breath was forced from his body. Forced back, he was at the mercy of the wave, coming up nearly a full half-minute later though it felt as if he'd been trapped for so much longer. Diving down again, he desperately swam as he searched for Keith, nearly yelling his husband's name underwater as his movements became less coordinated, and he was swept up into a second undercurrent. It was perfect surfing weather for someone experienced, who could hold their breath and remain calmer than the average novice... Watching from the beach, no one would think of the undercurrents. Panicking as he was barrelled hard enough to find the one rock in the whole area with his head, he came up in the swash, finding Keith lying face down a few metres further down from him. "Keith!" Pushing his hair back as he ran to his husband, Lance screamed his name as he finally reached Keith's side. Shaking his shoulder, his husband gave a weak cough, sandy water forced up into his mouth through his parted lips. Wrapping an arm around his husband, his scream had attracted Marco who rushed to take Keith's other side, helping to lift Keith up onto his feet where he gave a weak grown. Looking over Keith's hung head, Marco's expression was one of confusion and fear "What happened!?" "Fucking leash snapped and he got barrelled. Saw the board wash up" "Fuck..." "He's breathing. Probably swallowed half the fucking ocean, or at least feels that way. Help me get him up to our towels. I need to examine him" "'m fine... what happened?" Keith's words weren't slurred, but that meant nothing when Lance was already close to tears "You got barrelled, babe. You're probably feeling a bit disorientated" "Sand in my mouth..." "That happens. I'll help you get cleaned up when we get back to the towels... I'm so sorry..." Keith didn't reply to his apology. Reaching their towels, Marco helped sit Keith down while Lance went into fuss mode. His first action was dumping the contents of one of the water bottles all over Keith's sandy face, Keith growling his dislike "I know. I'm a horrible husband. I need to check your face and hair. Put your head down for me" Feeling Keith's hair and scalp for wounds, he came up empty. Tilting his head back to check his face, he breathed a sigh of relief "He hasn't hit his head on anything buried out there" "I could have told you that..." Dragging his teeth over his tongue, Keith tried to spit out the sand in his mouth. Holding his hand out, another bottle of water appeared from nowhere. Bringing it to Keith's lips, his husband blinked at him "Take a big mouthful, then rinse and spit. I've been barrelled before, you probably feel like you swallowed half the water and sand out there" Nodding, Keith did as he was told, rinsing and spitting twice before wiping at his leaking nose. If there was one thing salt water was good for, it was clearing sinuses "Babe. I know it sounds stupid, but can you tell me who you are?" "Keith" "Good. And who am I?" "Lance" "And where are we?" "Varadero beach" "Awesome. I don't think you hit your head, but just to be sure, we're going to chill here for a bit. Marco, don't let Acxa back out. The undercurrents too much" "Are you sure?" Keith had very nearly died. He wanted to hit his brother for doubting his judgment, but at the same time, Marco hadn't been barrelled yet, so had no clue "Yeah. Remember that time I split my leg open on that rock, and papi had to save me? Then you were all telling me I nearly drowned? So you went out and got barrelled just as bad... it's about that bad" "Ahhh. Not beginner level. Alright. You heard the man, ladies. Paddling staying close to the shore is fine, no surfing. This is a private show, time to start moving on" Herding away the small crowd that seen what happened, Lucteal and Tobias stayed behind. Crouching down on Keith's other side, Lucteal's lips did a funny twitch like he wanted to say something but didn't know how to. Knowing him, Lucteal probably wanted to help but didn't want to cross Keith "Lucteal, can you grab the blanket out the basket? Tobias, can you grab the board from the edge of the water. I'll have to buy a new lead for her" "I didn't mean to break your board" Keith sounded like a small child as Lance moved to pull the velcro of the strap undone. It'd dug in a little, but the skin seemed fine "You didn't break my board" "The leash..." With how unhappy Keith scent was turning, Lance felt like a horrible husband for sending Keith out without checking the leash. He'd assumed Marco had when he'd waxed the boards "Surfers literally break leads all the time. She's an old board too, but she's in one piece" "I'll replace it" "Babe, it's fine. Here, use some of the water to wash your eyes out" His own eyes didn't feel great. The adrenaline of what happened was wearing away now that he had Keith safely on land. Wrapping the blanket around Keith's shoulders, his husband shivered visibly "Thanks, Lucteal... He should be ok now. I'll monitor him for the next varga. If the girls can't surf, they might want to play a game of volleyball... or get something to eat..." Lucteal went with him on his hinting "I think I shall try walking in your water" "It's nice. Cooler than I thought it'd be. I have no idea what Rachel and the others could be up. They should have been back by now. Oh... you can take Kosmo with you, here's a ball you throw for him. Just throw it out into the water and he'll bring it back" "You human enjoy throwing balls for no reason?" "It's not for no reason, plus, it makes Kosmo happy because he gets head pats when he brings the ball back" "Then I think I'll try. He was chasing your birds along the beach" "They're called gulls, or seagulls. They give as good as they get" "Very well. Keep an eye on him... he may be an eyesore, but he does have some redeeming qualities" Keeping quiet until Lucteal left with Kosmo's ball, Keith snorted and wipes the snot on his towel "I must look awful if Lucteal was worried" That was the final straw. Throwing his arms around Keith, Keith seemed stunned for a moment before returning the embrace "I'm sorry..." "You scared the quiznak out of me. When you didn't come up again... I thought you were dead" Nuzzling into Keith's neck, Lance didn't care if he was getting snot and tears on Keith's shoulder "I didn't expect to be barrelled" "No one expects to be barrelled! You're a goddamn warrior... you're supposed to be able to swim!" "I don't think those two are mutually exclusive. I don't even remember coming off the board again" "Idiot... stupid idiot... are you really alright? Did you hurt yourself?" "The only thing wounded is my pride" "That's alright then... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I forced you to go with Marco..." "Babe" "I should have stepped in sooner..." "Babe..." "I saw you weren't quite getting it but I was so scared of the water... you could have..." "Lance, babe. Hey. I'm ok. Other than the sand" "I used to love surfing... I wanted you to love it too..." He was behaving pathetically. Crying against Keith when it'd been Keith who nearly drowned "Shhh... shh... I'm ok. You came running in to rescue me" "I got fucking barrelled twice... some rescue party I am" "Babe, you do realise you went running right into that water the moment you thought I was in danger..." Oh... that's right... he had "I was terrified... it's not even a big barrel but even the most experienced swimmers can get taken by them..." "That's not a big barrel? I felt like what I always imagined being in a washing machine would be like" Hiccuping out a snort, Lance hugged Keith tighter "You're an idiot... promise me you're not hiding anything. You didn't hit your head on that rock or anything?" "There was a rock? All I got was water and sand" Pulling back just enough, Lance pushed his lips to his husband's. Keith was alright. He was safe. He was safe and shaking, but he was in one piece. Indulging the kiss, the both grimaced at the sand in their saliva, Lance breaking the kiss to wipe at his lips "Thanks. You know how to make a man feel special" Keith was wiping his own lips as he spoke, smiling like he hadn't taken years off Lance's life "It's not my fault. Didn't anyone ever tell you not to eat sand?" "Nope" "They should have. I need to know if you start feeling sick. You probably swallowed a lot of water, which would have found its way into your lungs..." "Babe, I promise I feel ok" "Keith, this is serious. Please... please just give me this?" Staring at him with startling sincerity, Keith nodded "Alright... hey, you're bleeding" Wincing as his husband's hand came up to the small scratch on the side of his forehead, Lance swatted Keith's hand away "It's a scratch. With the water and the fact that head wounds always bleed too much, it probably looks worse than it is" "What kind of an idiot hits his head while trying to save someone?" "This kind of an idiot, who had to save his goofy-footed husband" "What do you mean I was goofy-footed? I was doing what Marco said" "Marco was wrong... I never should have trusted him to teach you" "You think you can do a better job?" Getting off his knees, Lance shifted to sit beside Keith, wrapping his arm around his waist to hold him possessively close as they both stared out at the swell "I think I could. I could probably ride the whole way in... it's pretty low-level stuff" Nudging at him, Keith feigned offence "Ouch, babe. Thanks for that" "It's like two steps above beginner and one below intermediate" "Where do you sit?" "A couple of steps below pro. You're lucky there's no really big breaks today. I wouldn't have let you out at all if there was" Watching the next wave crash, the build of the one behind it would have been a pretty decent wave to catch "Will you show me? How it's done?" "After you got barrelled? I think I'm going to stay right here and keep an eye on you" Taking his left hand, Keith interlaced their fingers "I want to see it. What kind of an expression you make. I don't have any memories of you surfing..." "That's because I was so full of... everything I shouldn't have been when Allura died and Red left. I was only coping because of Red. And the beach was kind of closed..." "Babe..." They both knew he hadn't surfed since before they'd been blasted into space in Blue "I don't know if I can" "You've faced so many fears... and you've smashed down all the obstacles in your way" Lance hung his head, shame filling his tone "What if I have another seizure? It scares the quiznak out of me worrying about one hitting..." "If you have a seizure or come off, I'm going to come running in like you did for me. It'd take everyone on the beach to hold me back. I think... I think this is something you should do for you. You always loved the water" "I did... until they..." Lance shuddered at the memory "They're dead. The dead can't come back. But you're still alive and have plenty of living to do" "When did you become so wise?" "Maybe being barrelled knocked some of those brain cells free?" Lance shot Keith a glare, who'd snorted over his own joke "It's too soon to joke, babe" Nodding, Keith leaned into him "Alright... think about it. I still want to see you show me how it's done" When Keith didn't get worse over the next hour, Lance finally let himself lower his guard. The second half of the hour had been Keith complaining he was fine, insisting they could join the others. Now that Luis and Lisa had arrived with the kids, Nadia and Sylvio were insisting they were too old to build sandcastles, but when Rachel finally arrived with the others, it'd devolved into a competition over who could build the biggest and best.  Having built theirs wrong, Zethrid and Ezor were being lectured by Nadia on the finer points of sandcastle construction. Marco had given up his own pathetic construction effort in favour of teaming up Daehra. Not bothering to participate, Acxa and Veronica had abandoned their group to go swimming... though it was more like making out rather than swimming. The two of them giggling and laughing between kisses. Lance found it equal parts creepy, because V was such a hard arse when on duty, and cute because she and Acxa were very clearly over the moon with each other. He was happy for both of them. Maybe if they got married, Acxa could stand as joint commander on the Atlas. They'd be a force to be reckoned with, yet it'd be cute to see them wearing matching outfits. Deciding he was calling his sister "cute" far too much, he kissed Keith's shoulder "Do you really want to see me surf?" Keith took a long tick to reply, his husband kissing his hair "Only if you don't mind?" "I'll need to use Marco's board... I don't really want everyone making a fuss" "I promise to stab anyone who makes a fuss..." "Babe, you can't make promises like that... I know how seriously you take promises" "Fine... at least let me bash them around a little with my blade?" "I don't think you're supposed to bash your family up" "You're my family... I want to... you know... look after you" Tilting his head up, Keith's lips found his. The kiss soft and full of love "You do. You do so much... You're the love of my life, babe. And tomorrow is the start of our first year as a married couple... and then next year, we'll come back and do this all over again... and again... until we're all old and wrinkly" Keith nodded, kissing him slightly deeper until lingering sand ruined the moment as it fell into Lance's eyes. Wiping at his eyes, he cursed himself for misplacing his sunglasses in his rush to rescue Keith "I'd like that... this, you, us, all our friends and family. I'd like that... maybe Shiro and Curtis can stay next year?" "Hell yeah. Usually, we spend more time in the marquee than we did this year. But next year won't be so bad because they all met you this year... and you'll be able to meet everyone properly... and I won't... my head won't be so messed up, right?" "You're not messed up. You're strong and you're a survivor... I might need some of your courage if we're meeting even more members of your family" Forcing himself to sit up, Lance was only making his eyes hurt more in the pursuit for sand "You've been in the same marquee as them. Next year we can do all the really fun stuff, like the cooking" Tugging his hands away from his eyes, Keith wiped at the corners of his watering eyes "Full confession. I can't cook that well" "That's why you have me to teach you. I mean, I'm no Hunk and honestly cooking and feeding myself haven't been my number one priority because it feels like too much work, but I can boil water without burning it" "Nooo way. How many more of these secret talents do you have?" "I'm flexible... and I can shoot stuff" "I think I've snagged the perfect man" "I'm the lucky one... right, I'm going to do this..." "I know you are, babe. Once you make your mind up, you're an unstoppable stubborn idiot" Laughing at Keith's soft words, he kissed his husband again. It was all because of Keith that he felt "unstoppable"... and maybe a bit like an idiot... but that was completely Keith's fault, not his in the slightest. After all, Keith surrounded him in so much love that more than a few brain cells had died in the shock of it all. * Parties were not Keith's idea of a good time. Not that he'd been much better on the at the beach. He felt somewhat foolish for having been left so disoriented from simply being barrelled. He'd been a quiznakking Paladin. He led his own Blade team... Yet he'd been defeated by waves at the damn beach. Worse of all was how upset Lance had been. He loathed making Lance cry. He loathed causing him pain... but he'd nearly got himself drowned trying to surf... and found he didn't enjoy surfing at all. He enjoyed watching Lance surfing. His husband had been a little shaky at first, simply sitting on the board and letting the waves pass. Keith had thought he was going to have to swim out and tow him back in... Then something changed in Lance. He swung up to lay atop the board, checking over his shoulder. Keith didn't need to see his face to know Lance had become super focused. In a manner of moments, Keith was whooping like an idiot as his husband caught his first wave of the day... he may have also gone running into the waves to meet Lance once he finally fell off the board in the shallows... Lance coming up like a drowned rat with a dorky smile on his face. It was nothing at all like the serious surf pose he'd been pulling. Keith wasn't sure he'd learned anything about surfing from Marco when he realised he didn't know how to compliment or how to tell Lance how hot he'd looked out there. Instead, he accepted a tackling hug from his husband, both of them very nearly taken out by the surfboard in Lance's enthusiasm. After surfing came lunch, Miriam had completely over catered, everyone eating far too much, the settling down to spend the next hour or so sleeping it off. The afternoon was spent losing horrifically at volleyball with Lance the only one of their team who knew what was going on. Plus, Veronica's team had cheated. With Ezor on Zethrid's shoulders, it became impossible to get the ball over the net, no matter how many tricky saves they managed to play. All too soon Shiro was landing his pod on the beach, and Keith forced to say his goodbyes. He loved his brother, but leaving for a party where Lance wasn't involved wasn't the same. Plus, he felt on the outside of Curtis's family. He'd met them all when Shiro had been engaged to Adam, but they'd never gone out of their way to make him feel like he belonged there. Most probably because he didn't. He was simply there because Shiro had taken him in. Nonetheless, he tried his hardest. He liked to think he channelled Lance as he politely asked them how they were and how their Christmas celebrations had gone, without honestly caring about the answer. All he could think was that he'd left his husband behind. He should have been back in Cuba, where more than two people appreciated his existence, not stuck smiling so fakely that his face hurt. By the time 8 pm rolled around, Keith had eyed off the variety of pods and hoverbikes outside Curtis's sprawling family home. The half-Galra had forgotten that Adam had come from money, which meant that as his younger brother Curtis also came from money. Their house was like something out of a magazine, not filled with love and warmth like Lance's. Lance... his precious husband who he should be with instead of standing all alone on the second-floor balcony overlooking the grounds and gardens. He could fly everything in the parking lot, but he'd be spotted the moment he tried to leave. The suit Shiro had forced him in to was only growing more uncomfortable by the minute. He'd showered on the flight over, yet beads of sweat were now rolling down the middle of his back from the humidity of the night "Keith. It's time to leave" Having lost track of Shiro, Keith nearly dropped his empty champagne glass at the sound of his brother's voice. Part of him was tempted to see who it'd land on if he did. Leaving the empty glass balanced on the white railing, he shoved his hands in his pockets as he turned to face Shiro. The smile he expected to see on Shiro's face wasn't there, instead, his brother looked concerned "You don't look too happy. Thinking about Lance?" Nodding, the itch to steal a pod was only growing. He didn't belong here. Not in a place where he felt like something scraped off the bottom of someone's shoes "I feel like this was all a bad idea... I don't even have my comms on me. What if something's happened? Cuba's in a different time zone, isn't it? Is it already New Years there?" "They're three hours ahead... we've been here for the last 5 hours" 5 hours... no wonder he felt so incredibly exhausted. It was if each and every moment of it had dragged on for a decade. He had enough of a time handling 24 hours in a day, let alone 27. So if it was 8 now, that only left an hour until the clock ticked over to New Years in Cuba... "You're not coming to the Garrison, are you?" Keith shook his head "I... I can't Shiro. He's my husband. I don't want to welcome in the New Year without him. I don't care that he said it was alright... I want to be back on the beach in Cuba... Counting down with Mami and Jorge... and our teams... I want to go back to my family..." Holding his arms out, Keith rushed to hug Shiro. His older brother kissing his forehead "I'm so proud of you, kiddo. Let's get you back to Lance" "You're not mad?" "No. I had no idea today's party would be so formal. Curtis said it'd be more of a low key get together. I've spent the last half hour looking for you to ask if you wanted to head to the Garrison early" Keith sighed softly "It doesn't feel right without him... I feel like I've abandoned him after he made so much progress today. I got barrelled trying to surf, and he went right in to find me. Then he went surfing..." Above him, Shiro sounded confused "Lance has always loved water" "They... when he was tortured, they repeatedly tried to drown him... On the Atlas was the first time in over half a deca-phoeb Lance had been in a body of water bigger than a bathtub... but today... you should have seen him. He was so proud of himself. I know if you ask him he says the abuse carried on for only three movements... but I keep thinking about the space dilation out there... I keep thinking they had him for so much longer... he's come so far" "You both have. I'm so very proud of both of you. Let's get you home to your husband" A happy shiver ran up Keith's spine at Shiro openly calling Lance his husband. He was coming home... back to Lance. Where he should have been all along "What about the Garrison?" "I can be an hour or two late... I'm sure the others can handle it" "I meant... about my absence" "Let's face facts, without Lance there you'd most probably find the best corner to hide in and drink the night away, maybe talking to Pidge and Hunk, but most likely brooding over missing Lance" "He was the Red Paladin. No one there gives him the respect he deserves" "I heard he basically told the Garrison to go jump then cut contact..." Pushing off Shiro, Keith could imagine it. Lance flipping the double bird as he flew away. He hoped at the time his husband had looked smug as fuck when he'd done it. He didn't need the Garrison, the Garrison needed them. It didn't matter that Pidge, Hunk and Shiro were the only ones on their payroll. If ties with the Paladins were fractured, the Garrison's popularity would slump. They'd lose trust all over the place, and be alone before they knew it "That's my man..." Shiro crossed his arms, shooting him a very "dad" look "You're not supposed to be encouraging such behaviour. I was told he'd been spending too much time with you by Iverson" "You half-blind one guy by accident and they never let you forget it. From what Lance has told me over how Iverson treated him, he's lucky that things are in the past. Did you know he spent all his training being constantly told he was second best and was only there because I dropped out? That's why Lance never felt worthy of being a Paladin... I get you need to be tough with new recruits... but I can't say that Iverson didn't deserve whatever Lance said, and more" Moving to raise his hands in surrender, Shiro nodded "You don't need to tell me, I understand. Now, am I going to have to throw you over my shoulder so we make it out the building, or are we going to continue plotting against the Garrison?" Keith was one hundred per cent sure that Shiro shouldn't be agreeing so fast, even as a joke. He sincerely regretted what he'd done to Iverson as he looked back at the event now, but Shiro was giving him a joking out and he was taking it "Can we plot while we fly?" "Of course we can" "Then let's get out of here" * Like cockroaches, tourists had flooded onto Varadero beach now the sun was done. Loud music was pumping from a makeshift stage set up, where some kind of party was happening. Unable to drop him directly on the beach, Shiro had dropped him in the parking lot at the back of Ernesto's, Keith had twenty minutes to find his husband, according to the onboard clock in Shiro's pod... which was coincidentally named Shiro... His older brother not helping the situation by counting down every damn minute during the flight. Running down the beach, Lance's family weren't where he'd left them. He found Rachel and Veronica doing shots, with Acxa, Zethrid and Ezor... but they weren't who he was looking for. Checking near the bonfire, he found the rest of Lance's family... without Lance or his team... or Kosmo. He might have slightly looked insane as he ran back across the beach, still wearing dress shoes and his suit. No one else was wearing suits... most people seemed to be in barely anything... including more than one person who was literally naked and being escorted off the beach by the police. With all the people on the beach, they could literally be anywhere. Lance could have gone home for all he knew... No. The truck was in the parking lot still... he had to be here somewhere... If he wasn't with his family... then... Ernesto's? Would he know? Would he tell him, if he did? Racing back up to Ernesto's, Keith kicked sand all the front steps, half toeing and half kicking his stupid dress shoes off. All they'd done was fill with sand, and made his socks feel disgusting. Running into the bar, Keith came to a hard stop at the counter, scaring the closest customer in the process, half arsing an apology, he didn't have time for people who didn't matter "Ernesto, have you seen Lance?!" Raising an eyebrow at Keith's half yelled question, the man wandered down from the other end of the bar "What's it to you? Didn't you have some fancy party to be at?" Keith shook his head quickly "None of that matters. I never should have listened to him and gone in the first place. Do you know where he is?" Reminding himself he couldn't simply shake the answer out the man, he gripped the counter to counteract the urge "He took little Juana home so Luis and Lisa could enjoy the night" The farm... he'd never make it to the farm in time... Wait. Home for Juana wasn't the farm "Home? Or their home? The townhouse?" "The townhouse..." "How do I get there from here?" "You're..." "Ernesto, how do I get to the townhouse? I'm not leaving my husband to start the new year without me" Pulling a napkin out, and taking the pen from his pocket, Ernesto sketched out a map "Go left when you get out the car park, follow the map" Snatching the napkin from the bar top, he could have kissed the man "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Ernesto let out a laugh as Keith ran back towards the doors he'd come through. He wasn't sure how long he had left, only that he was going to do everything he could to make it in time. Following the map, Keith realised too late that he hadn't asked Ernesto just how many blocks he was supposed to go before turning. It was almost laughable how easy it was to get lost in the maze of narrow walkways and streets, everyone he ran into was in too higher spirits to help. Growing more and more frustrated, he didn't know what to do. Surely new year was about to hit. With no other choice, and too determined to give up, he pushed on, yelling Lance's name as he ran, and cursing whoever built the city without thinking of those who lacked a keen sense of direction. Running up the closest set of steps, he tripped spectacularly, losing his precious map and skinning the heels of his palms as he did. Unwanted tears began to well in his eyes. He never should have left Lance. Pushing himself up, he realised he'd also skinned his left knee, hobble limping as he looked around. He didn't recognise the houses... He didn't know where he was... it seemed like a back alley. Warm lights and laughter drifting from the windows above him, as if to mock his failed attempts to find his husband "Lance!? Lance, can you hear me?!" Shivering as the wind seemed to slap him right in the face, he hobbled on towards where the line of houses broke. The walkway so thin that his shoulders brushed against both sides as he started to sniffle. He was a damn soldier... something small like being lost shouldn't have him this upset. Then again, he knew he was lying to himself. He was miserable. Cold. Lost. Hurt. Alone... All he wanted was Lance. Sliding past an overflowing rubbish bin, the street he emerged into looked vaguely familiar. But then again, they all kind of looked the same after a while "Lance!" In the distance, someone yelled at him to "fuck off". Something he'd happily do once he found his husband "Lance! Kosmo!" Limping harder, he wiped at his teary face with his aching hands. He should have left his damn gloves on "Lance?! Babe, where are you!?" He was so lost... "Lance!?" "Keith?!" Three doors down from the house he'd half hobbled past, the open front door spilled light out, casting Lance as a black shadow in the already dark night. Somewhere people started counting down, Keith picking up his pace to a limping run, desperate to make it to his husband in time "Lance!" Jogging to meet him, Lance threw his arms around him as their lips clashed. The kiss painfully toothy, as the night sky erupted into colour. The first firework of new year bathing the world green and gold. Deepening the kiss into something more pleasurable, he found he wasn't the only with wet cheeks as he moved his hands up to cup his husband's face. As the kiss slowly turned to another, he melted against his husband, letting Lance take most of his weight. He didn't want to wish in the new year with everyone else. He didn't want to spend it at some rich persons party when he looked like a trained ape. He wanted to spend it, and every single other New Year's Day with the man he loved. Breaking the kiss, they both sniffled. Lance first to speak "I thought you were at the Garrison" "I was supposed to be... but I've been miserable since I left. It didn't feel right not being with you. Not welcoming the new year in together... not celebrating without my husband" Resting his forehead against Keith's, Keith might have had the few inches in Lance which he knew drove his husband crazy, but with all his weight and his knee throbbing like crazy, he was happy to let Lance have the advantage "I missed you... I told myself not to message anyone. I told myself that I was ok with being alone... I'm so fucking happy you came" "Me too, babe. I love you" "I love you too... I love you, Keith. I don't know what this year is going to be like, but I'm going to keep working on getting better... I'm going to keep working on it. And I'll stop taking the really really dangerous missions... so that... so that this time next year... things would have settled down..." "And I'll be working on phasing out of the more difficult missions. I don't know how great I'll be... but I hate it when you cry. I hate it when I make you cry... I can't promise I'll always be the best husband you could ask for, but I promise as long as we're both alive, you're my number one priority" "You're mine too... I love you so quiznakking much..." "I love you too, baby" Nuzzling into his face, Lance pulled back as he sniffled particularly hard "Keith, why do I smell blood? What happened?" Looking him up and down, Keith was now grateful it was dark and his husband couldn't see what he'd done to himself "I tripped..." Before Keith knew what had happened, Lance had literally swept him up off his feet and was walking back towards the open door he'd appeared from. Unlike him, Lance didn't have the Galra strength boost, but didn't actually seem to need it "I can walk, you know" "Nope" "Babe, it's a graze" "Don't "babe" me, why didn't you tell me sooner?" "Because this was the first chance I got?" "You should have told me when I threw myself at you" "I was too busy kissing the man I love" Carried into the living room, Lance sat him down on the coffee table. Daehra and Lucteal were both asleep on the sofa. Lance had covered the pair with a blanket, the siblings looking kind of cute as Lucteal was curled into Daehra's side "Yeah. They tried to make it. Lucteal barely held on five minutes after Daehra fell asleep. Let me get the door then I'll grab the first aid kit. Where have you hurt yourself?" Keith bit his lip, feeling slightly foolish "Hands and my knee" Raising an eyebrow at him, the Cuban had no shame "You mean I could have had you out of those pants even sooner? Damn" Groaning and blushing lightly, Keith covered his face "If it's your knee, it's probably better I clean you up in the bathroom. Can you make it upstairs?" "It's just a graze" "Don't get your Galra panties in a knot. I'm your husband. I'm allowed to be worried and occasionally overreact. Plus, it'd be a crime against humanity to let those legs of yours be hurt" "For someone who was crying, you certainly seem in a good mood now" Walking over to wait at the foot of the stairs, Lance smiled softly in his direction, extending his hand towards him as he did "I prayed to God that the man of my dreams would magically show up, and you did" What the quiznak was he supposed to say to that? Blushing harder, Keith climbed up off the coffee table to limp over to Lance. Taking his hand, his husband kissed the back of it. Keith's heart couldn't take it. It hadn't even been a year for them. Not with the time dilation fields. The whole Lance doing a runner thing. The stays in the pods... yet when Lance held his hand, he couldn't remember how it felt not to have his husband's love and support. Moving his hand down, Lance wrapped his arm around his waist, then trapped Keith's hand against his stomach lightly with his own "You'd be lost without me, wouldn't you?" Nodding, Keith thought for a moment of making a joke, but the moment wasn't right. He was too emotionally raw from being lost and cold "I would be. You have no idea" "Then it's a good thing I don't plan on going anywhere you can't follow" "I'll always follow you. Until the very end" Using the advantage of stepping up a step before him, Lance kissed him on the top of the head as he turned to look back at him "Good. Because no matter where I go, I always want to end up by your side, Samurai. You and me, neck and neck forever" "Yeah, babe. Not even Zarkon coming back from his grave could stop me from being with you" Nodding with a smile so warm that Lance literally could have done absolutely anything and Keith would have accepted it in that moment, his husband tugged him upwards. Being who they were, they couldn't simply do things the normal way around... Lance still had so far to go, but for Keith, he'd never stop falling harder in love with the most amazing man in the whole universe. He'd do absolutely everything he could to protect Lance. To protect his husband. His home. And his family... which, who knows, might one day consist of more than him and Lance... The future held all sorts of unknown things that both excited him and scared him... but with Lance by his side, he knew that no matter what happened, he'd never be left to walk alone again.

[amethystunarmed]

Who Could Blame Him?

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, implied Todoroki Shouto/Midoryia Izuku

Word Count: 1649

AO3 Link

Todoroki and Kirishima have an important talk about what happened.

Set after the summer camp attack. 

Part 1 Part 2 (You’re here) Part 3 

Kirishima was pretty sure the villain attack on their summer training camp was the worst night of his life. It felt unfair to say. Jirou and Hagakure were still unconscious in the emergency room. Tetsutetsu had been shot. Tokoyami had been taken over by his literal inner demon. Shoji had his goddamn arm ripped off. And Bakugou was…

Well.

All in all, Kirishima had it easy. He’d started the night with Aizawa and Kan. He’d nearly been blown up, sure, but he’d always been with others, always been protected. He’d been absolutely fine. But still, there’d been a moment.

The other students who’d been in the thick of fight returned and Kirishima had spotted Midoriya and Todoroki. They standing so closed their hands were nearly intertwined, Todoroki staring at Midoriya liked he’d pass out any minute. Midoriya had looked like he’d gone through a garbage disposal but Kirishima only saw the tear tracks down his cheeks. Todoroki was battered black and blue, residual ice still crusted in his hair, but Kirishima only saw the dead expression, the  wide, haunted eyes. And he remembered what that villain had said to Kan.

You’re so weak, you couldn’t even stop a criminal organization from abducting your students.

He’d run forward, despite Kaminari and Aizawa, in remarkably different tones, telling him to stay back. He’d run forward, deliriously tired from his god awful classes, pumped up to his eyeballs with adrenaline. He’d run forward, and he’d asked, whispered, shouted, he wasn’t sure, where’s Bakugou? And Midoriya’s face flooded with tears and Todoroki diligently studied the dirt and Kirishima had known. He’d known and his legs gave out and maybe he screamed, and that was it.

That was the moment he was sure he was dying.

And then Sero and Kaminari ran over and Sero hugged him until he stopped shaking and Kaminari counted breaths for him, until he couldn’t remember that only hours before he had still been a little mad at them, until the paramedics ran over and wrapped a blanket, until his body was no longer certain he was about to drop dead.

No, he wasn’t dying.

But Bakugou could be.

And so now, he was lying awake in his bed that was too big and too cold, with only that thought in his head.

It’s three am. His eyes hurt and he is starting to see colorful patterns float by when he stared at the ceiling too long. But when he closes his eyes, he sees Midoriya sobbing, smells the faint smoke and whiffs of sickly sweet gas. It’s unbearable. Kirishima is contemplating ripping his pillow apart with his bare hands, just for something to do, when his phone buzzes. What the fuck? Kirishima thinks with a frown. Who is texting me at three in the morning? He goes to pick it up, and pauses. Possibilities flood his head. Did they find Bakugou? Did he get free? Was his body dumped in an alley? Is it Bakugou himself, replying to the legion of unanswered texts he’d sent every time he felt like he was going to implode? Is he shouting at him, asking how dare he worry? Is he... grateful? Kirishima shakes his head. No, probably not that one. He grits his teeth. The pressure, the possibility of what could be on his phone was so monumental, Kirishima honestly considers just rolling over and pretending it didn’t happen.

Then it buzzes again.

“Fuck it,” he mutters, and grabs it. When he turns it over and reads who the messages were from, he nearly drops it in shock. 2 messages from Todoroki Shouto.

I hope you’re doing well after the attack. I’m sorry for what occurred.

Well, that’s vague. He texts like a goddamn dictionary, Kirishima thinks. He isn’t sure why he expected anything less. The next text had come in a minute later.

I just now realized the late hour. My apologies if I disturbed you.

Kirishima unlocks his phone. The second one is easy enough to reply to.

no worries i was already up

Sent.

and wtf you sorry for?

Todoroki responds immediately.

I was unable to protect Bakugou. I’m sorry.

Kirishima isn’t entirely sure what the fuck he was thinking, his hands reacted without his consent. He clicks through to Todoroki’s contact information, hits the call button, and the phone is at his ear. It rings four times before Todoroki answers. The connection clicks and before Todoroki could even say anything, Kirishima speaks.

“Dude, none of that shit was your fault, don’t even think about going down that path, okay?” There was silence on the other line.

“You called?” He sounds so surprised. Kirishima really hadn’t expect that to be his reaction.

“Uh, yeah?” He replies, for lack of a better thought.

“I… I haven’t…” Kirishima remembers the icy boy from the first few weeks of classes, before the sports festival. The decree that he wasn’t here to make friends. Kirishima had honest to God thought his personality was affected by his quirk, and he was just gonna be an ice cold bastard as a result. Then the festival happened. Yes, the Todoroki they knew now had thawed, but only after Midoriya’s strange and desperate pleas during their match. Even now, he remained on the fringes, and Kirishima had thought that had been by choice but now...

Has Todoroki ever had a friend call him?

Oh, we’re gonna be such good friends after this, Kirishima decides.

“No pressure,” he assures him, “If it stresses you out we can go back to texting.”

“No, this is… fine.” Well, at least Kirishima hadn’t scared him off.

“Okay, cool. But I still mean what I said. What happened to Bakugou isn’t your fault.”

“If I had convinced him to leave–”

Kirishima snorts. “Like anyone can make Bakugou do anything he doesn’t want to.” There’s silence again, but it’s different this time. Kirishima could nearly feel the words clink together as Todoroki strung them along like necklace beads.

“I should have grabbed him. I was a centimeter away. I’m the reason he’s not here.” He says it like an admission, a confession of his guilt. There’s jostling, like his hands are shaking. Though his voice was steady, he’s waiting to be yelled at, Kirishima is certain of it.

“I’m sorry,” Kirishima answers softly, “That really sucks.” Todoroki takes a shocked breath, but Kirishima keeps going. He ‘s firmer now. This feels important in a way he doesn’t quite understand, but nevertheless respects. “It’s fucking awful, everything that happened to you guys. It sucks that you had to watch him get taken. But it wasn’t. Your. Fault.” Kirishima stops and takes a shaky breath. Thank god Todoroki can’t see his face. “It feels like it though, huh. Which is probably why you’re still awake, yeah?”

“Part of it. I… I still see it, sometimes. I had a ni–” He cuts himself off. “Dream. And now…”

“I get it.” He would have to fall asleep for nightmares, but the point is similar enough. Kirishima figures it wouldn’t be good to mention that Todoroki’s stricken face is one of the things that haunts him. Then again, Kirishima did have a full blown meltdown at his feet so they were probably even.

“It must not be easy for you either,” Todoroki says in a tone neither self-deprecating nor pitying, and Kirishima appreciates it. His parents have been driving him crazy, looking at him with mournful eyes, like they expect him to crumble to pieces. Todoroki, on the other hand, just says it as an acknowledgment, which Kirishima had apparently greatly needed. “It was hard enough remembering how Midoriya looked when he met up with us, and I know where he is. I can’t imagine…” It’s a damn shame they’re having a serious conversation, because Kirishima absolutely would tease him about that little admission in another context. Instead, he is just reminded of the empty space in his bed.

“Yeah,” Kirishima says, and if his voice cracks, Todoroki doesn’t say anything about it. “Yeah.”

“Is that why you’re having trouble sleeping? Bakugou's absence?” It's a plain ask, without implications. Harmless, and Kirishima chuckles at it. It’s a wet sound, strangled. His throat tightens.

“You know about that?”

“The pictures are in the class groupchat.” Kirishima is well aware. He saved a copy to his phone.

“Yeah, obviously, but…” Kirishima trails off, because he honestly didn’t know what to call it. “The other part, I mean.” Todoroki thinks for a moment.

“It was obvious it was something the two of you did often,” he muses, “And Bakugou wouldn’t do something like that publicly unless he felt he had reason to, so, I figured…”

“You got it,” Kirishima sniffles. He furiously rubs his face on his sleeve, even though no one is here to see his tears. “Fuck.” The word has too much emotion in it, but still not enough. He feel like he’s drowning.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

Kirishima did get to laugh at that. He can’t believe he ever thought Todoroki was mean. It feels impossible. “Stop apologizing, man,” he chuckled, even as more tears fell. “I probably needed to get this out anyways. I just– Fuck, it’s so stupid, but I miss him. Like, it’s been two days, but I’m so used to him being here and I don’t know if I’m ever gonna get to stop missing him? If that makes any sense? Fuck…” He runs a hand through his hair. “Like I said, it’s stupid.”

“I think,” Todoroki says, with the care of studying a snowflake fractal, “that doesn’t sound stupid at all.”

And if Kirishima breaks down at that, can anyone really blame him?

Eventually he stops crying, and he and Todoroki share good nights. And though he acts it, he isn’t surprised to see him at the hospital the next day.

He’s even less surprised when they leave with a plan.

[ravennest1342-blog]

BTS Bunny Breath — Chapter 5 (woah)

(I updated so fast for this one I stared at my phone for like ten minutes like wait? Did? I? Already? Finish? Chapter? 5? *gasp*

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taehyung liked to think he was a good dog hybrid. The perfect dog hybrid. Or at least he tried to be. Dog hybrids were supposed to be kind, playful and sweet. They were supposed to be helpful. But as he sat in the bunny hybrids bed, after the bunny had run out of the room looking close to hyperventilating, the scent of confusion and fear clouding around him, Taehyung didn’t feel very helpful. He felt horrible, bad, like he deserved to be popped or yelled at. Even though he knew no one in this house would never pop him or yell at him. Well, Jimin would. If Taehyung asked. He sniffled rubbing at his eyes, his ears flat in shame from frightening his new house mate. He had just been trying to help.

Miserably he clambered out of the soft bunny bed (it was almost the same as his own dog bed in his and Jimin’s room, large and round with squishy blankets pillows and bedding. Jimin’s bed was much the same except it was smaller and wouldn’t fit Hobi in it, so they always slept in Taehyung’s bed. He hesitated in the hallway, instinct told him to chase the bunny and apologize. Maybe even beg for forgiveness. But common sense told him to give the bunny his space. Let him calm down and apologize from a safe distance latter. He felt so stupid. There was a time when so much as being looked at wrong would have sent Taehyung into a panic attack, made him shrivel up and cry.

The dog hybrid frowned sadly at the ground. He had terrified Jimin too. The cat hybrid had been unsure about staying and gone out at night, Taehyung being worried as he knew dogs liked to target cats on the streets would follow him. And evidently he scared Jimin. Taehyung huffed a bit, taking in deep shuddering breaths and bouncing on his heals to try and keep from crying. Yoongi could somehow always sense when he was crying and the dog hybrid was still too ashamed of his actions to face the mink hybrid. The older having given him very clear instructions not to scare the bunny. He grabbed at his tail angrily, squeezing the silky fur too tightly and whining softly at the deep sche that spread through it as his nails dig in.

“Stop that.” The command was soft, Namjoon’s hands gently prying Taehyung’s fingers away from his tail. “It’s ok Taetae. You were just trying to help.” Taehyung slumped back against Namjoon at the soothing words, turning to curl into his chest. Namjoon gently ran a hand through his hair.

“I always mess everything up.” Taehyung whined softly. Namjoon laughed.

“No you don’t pretty baby. You make everyone so happy in this house, you’re a ball of sunshine. Go ask Yoongi, he probably attack you for being so hard on yourself.” Taehyung blinked up at Namjoon. The oldest amused expression vaguely soothing to the hybrid.

“I’m not in the mood to be attacked though.” He pouted, flattening his fluffy golden ears back. “I just spent Yoongi’s heat with him last month.” He whined petulantly. Namjoon’s frame shook as he struggled not to laugh again.

“No Tae, this wouldn’t be . . . that kind of attacking. Yoongi has different settings you know. He’d most likely just have you snuggle with him all day.” He snickered. Taehyung wrinkled his nose.

“Noooo.” He whined. “He’ll be angry at me! He told me not to frighten the bunny.” He mumbled. Namjoon just grinned even wider, hearing the gentle swish of Taehyung’s tail as it began to wag. Signifying that the dog hybrid was trying to not be excited at the prospect of cuddles from Yoongi.

“Actually I won’t. Now, why the fuck am I hearing a racket at goddamn six in the morning? What’s happening?” The gruff voice caused bothe Taehyung and Namjoon to jump in shock, clutching onto eachother as they turned to pear at a very grumpy Min Yoongi. His dark brown hair ruffled from sleep and his right ear twitching irritably.

“I frightened the bunny.” Taehyung blurted out. At the same time that Namjoon said. “Taehyung was putting himself down again.” Yoongi squinted his tail lashing behind him before his gaze focused on Taehyung who seemed to be trying to do anything but look at Yoongi. There was a low noise bubbling in the back of Yoongi’s throat that sounded like a mixture of a growl and a hiss and Taehyung seemed to shrink in on himself at it.

Yoongi, was not a morning person. He was even less of a morning person when he found out that one of his beautiful amazing boyfriend was degrading themselves again. There was few things Yoongi couldn’t stand in life and one of his amazing wonderus soulmates calling themselves worthless, or anything bad was one of them. His entire perspective would narrow down onto that. Yoongi was an extremely affectionate person and he figured he might as well use it to cheer up his mates. Without another word he grabbed Taehyung by the wrist and dragged the dog hybrid into his and Namjoon’s bedroom. Taehyung going along without any restraint. Namjoon watched in amusement as Yoongi slammed the door behind them.

Jin poked his head out of his room down the hall beside Jungkook’s room at the noise, a befuddled expression on the ermine hybrids face. “What’s happening?” He demanded. Sliding out with a wide yawn, and revealing his pretty pearly white, and needle sharp teeth.

“Taehyung was beating himself up for scaring Jungkook and Yoongi wasn’t having that.” Namjoon explained. Jin’s ear flicked.

“Jungkook? Did he leave his room?” He peered in then blinked in confusion. “Where’d he go? If he was scared he could have hurt himself.” But at that exact moment Jimin game scrambling up the stairs.

Namjoon was shocked to see that the cat hybrids face was red and his eyes shining with unshed tears as he launched himself into his, Hobi’s and Taehyung’s room with a tiny sob. Jin and Namjoon blinked at eachother with wide eyes.

“I guess I should?” Jin gestured after Jimin and Namjoon shook his head.

“I’ll go, you find Jungkook. He seemed to like you.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Hoseok was admittedly a bit in shock. He slept outside whenever inside was feeling too restrictive, reminded him too much of his old home and passing in a single ice cold room with a too small bed. The deer hybrid came out here to sleep in his hammock for some fresh air and relief. He also didn’t like to wake up Jimin and Taehyung with his thrashing from bad dreams. So imagine his surprise wen he saw a crying bunny hybrid.

This must be the rescue Namjoon was talking about. He mused, so being the good hybrid he was, Hoseok had gone over to comfort the poor boy (he had practically been vibrating from the force of his sobs, the scent of his fear drenching everything around him.)

And now. Well. Now Hoseok was back in his hammock, a puzzled expression on his face and a crying bunny curled up on his chest, little sniffles escaping his mouth along with hiccups. He didn’t quite know what to do. The hybrid had gasped something about how Hoseok smelled familiar. Which wasn’t that surprising. Hoseok was sure he would recognize any hybrid that had been handled by a collector no matter what as well, seeing as he had been at one point.

The deer hybrid blinked as the tiny whimpers began to ease, soft deep breaths billowing over his arm where the bunny’s head rested. He looked down, curious if he had fallen asleep, and instead saw a hazy expression on the bunny’s face, his eyes were slit, occasionally blinking slowly and his cheeks were a pretty shade of pink. But what really caught Hoseok’s attention was the fact that the bunny was sucking and nibbling on his ear. He frowned, examine the bunny curiously, carefully Hoseok shuffled a bit to see the hybrids other ear. His frown only deepening when he noticed the end of the other ear was covered in little bites and sores, one even bad enough to need two stitches.

Instantly he understood. Most hybrids that had been put under extreme stress had a tick. A comforting habit they developed to soothe themselves during times of distress. Every hybrid in this house had one. Jimin liked to rub his head against soft things and his boyfriends. Jin’s hands often picked at little things self-consciously; reorganizing and rearranging. Tae chewed on things, Hoseok liked running his fingers through things (grass, hair, blankets,) and Yoongi liked scratching things.

It seemed this hybrids tic was a little more self destructive. Suckling on his ears. Very carefully, Hoseok gently pried the ear out of the bunny’s mouth he whined quietly, nuzzling into Hoseok’s chest with tiny sniffled of distress and Hoseok stretched to grab something (anything) that the bunny could suck on instead of his ear. He settled on a wash cloth. Dipping it quickly in his cup of water before gently pushing it against the hybrids lips. He took it easily, looking (for all the world) like a little baby. Hoseok resisted the urge to giggle or coo. Seriously the bunny was as cute as Jimin and Taehyung combined. But he knew if he broke through whatever mind set the bunny was in he would probably register that he was cuddling with a strange hybrid (although Hoseok was pretty sure the reason the bunny was so unbothered was because thy were both submissive prey based hybrids) and flee right back to his room. For now, he was content to lay here under the bunny, and rock him gently to sleep.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jungkook was very happy. He wasn’t sure why but he was. A steady purr was rumbling from his throat. He could smell nature; flowers and grass and trees. And there was a tsteady thumping noise right under where his ear had been stretched up exposing the inside of it to the surface of whatever he was laying on. His mind felt pleasantly blank and empty almost. Little more than trickles of warmth and happiness bursting through him.

He didn’t think he’d ever gone this far into this mindset. He could hear whispering around him. A soft raspy voice murmuring

“I think he likes me because we’re both submissive prey hybrids? We need to tell Namjoon to get the bunny something to suck on from the store. He has a suckling tick, that’s why his ears are like this.” The surface Jungkookwas lying on vibrated softly with the words; magnified through whatever he was laying on.

“Oh, thank god. Namjoon was scared they were allowing other hybrids to chew on him.” That vvoice was slightly recognizable. An image of a pretty white tail fluttered in Jungkook’s mind. “Also, be prepared for him to be upset or frightened when he snaps out of his subspace. Taehyung was like that when he first came too remember?”

“Yeah. I remember.”

“Good, I’ll start breakfast and yes, I’ll make you and the bunny strawberry pancakes.”

Jungkook sniffled at the thought of strawberries. The image of the tart red fruit flickering through his mind as he recalled eating a few from the yummy fruit bowl the night before.

Jungkook liked strawberries. He chewed thoughtfully awareness slowly trickling back as he drifted ftom the hazy cloud he’d been floating on. His bunny purr still going strong. Jungkook was sure the last time he’d purred had been when his mother was gently kissing his cheeks and singing a little lullaby to him. He frowned. What was he chewing on? It felt sponge like. He blinked his eyes open slowly, blinking at the soft sunlight. He sniffed the heady scent of cinnamon and pumpkin spice surrounding him and practically sticking to him.

Had he let someone scent him?! Jungkook blinked quickly shaking his head a bit. And that was when it registered. He was lying on top of another hybrid, nestled between their legs with his head and upper body resting on their chest and gently swaying from side to side. His purr vhoked off quickly as he sat up in alarm, almost falling out of the hammock as he blinked drizzly down at the hybrid. The hybrid smiled a wide heart shaped smile, deer ears standing alert on his head.

“You good bun?” He smiled. Jungkook flushed, scrambling quickly out of the bed and back until his back was pressed flat against the wall of the house. The hybrid sat up with a yawn, sliding out of the hammock and stretching, his deer tail quivering from it. He smiled gently at Jungkook.

“In my defense. I tried to leave but you cried and clung to me like you thought you were gonna die so I had to keep you. I’m not a monster! I would never abandon a cute lil’ bun bun. Now come on! Jin’s making us both his pancakes!” And with a carefree sort of giggle and a light bounce, the deer hybrid skipped inside, leaving Jungkook staring after him with a burning face and confusion mixed with trepidation in his gut.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

So what did you think? I almost got writers block on this! I got another story idea and was like Imma write that! But then I was like wait! What if I tried switching from POV to POV this chapter?

Tell me your thoughts please! I LOVE feedback.

Also, I thought it would be fun to make Hoseok’s interactions with Jungkook a little more loose and flirty, he knows Jungkook isn’t scared of him because they both are submissive prey based hybrids and so he feels like he doesn’t have to walk on eggshells around Kookie. Tell me your thoughts on that?

Chapter 6 is HERE

The Masterlist this AU is on is HERE

My other Masterlist containing my other AU’s is HERE

[murphystartedthefire]

Memori Appreciation Week, Day 3 (late) - Alternate Universe

Um… I didn’t think I liked AUs.

Anyway here is 4,000 words of Rubicon WIth Vampires.

They took a container of animal blood with them and he already knows it won’t be enough. The drive is long. It’s all desert from here to Jalisco, and they need to make it to a hotel by dawn, curtains closed and Murphy curled under the bed. (It’s buried enough. It’ll do.) He’s been testing the limits of things, how much he can stand in the sun before his throat closes up, or how long he can go without drinking – he probably won’t die but it fucks with his impulse control and makes him more likely to bite somebody.

And he hates Jaha, but Jaha’s the only person who knows about his… affliction and doesn’t want to murder him. Just wanted to ask him a bunch of questions. He hates Jaha but he’s the one who told him it wasn’t his fault, which – he knew, but it was nice to hear.

They said Jaha met one out in Arizona and came back Different but not bitten. He’d have to get rid of the cross if he was. (How much can he stay in this car, looking at the cross, without his eyes bleeding? It’s been two hours. He’s doing good.) “Why didn’t you stay with them?” is what he’s asking Murphy this time.

“I didn’t want to,” he says, because why would he? They drained him and tortured him and only turned him so he’d be some kind of leverage, a weapon. Why the hell would he go back? (But he did, he doesn’t tell Jaha that. He did once, and they wanted him even less than when he was alive.)

“You could’ve found others.” Jaha is watching the road, it’s black all around. “Different from the ones who… made you. I don’t believe they’re all the same, John.”

“Nah,” he shrugs. “We are.”

“We’ll see,” he says in his smug, knowing priest-voice, with his priest-smile, and Murphy swigs from his cup of animal blood because he would really like to not bite him in the next five hours.

(Jaha wants him to bite him, probably, but he hasn’t asked that yet. Murphy shivers at the idea of blood-drinking Jaha. He’s not gonna be the one to unleash that on the world.)

“How about some music?” he asks.

“Let me pick it,” says Murphy, so it’s not garbage, and Jaha lets him. He puts something loud and Satanic-sounding on, something he doesn’t even like, and Jaha stops smiling but doesn’t take the offer back. Murphy shuts it off after a while.

————

Emori kneels by the gas station pay phone – this place is so nowhere there are goddamn pay phones – and conjures up ways to make herself cry. Dead kittens. Dead birds. Dead Otan. Fire at her feet.  She’s got a good, soft stream of tears going on by the time a car arrives. She times herself to stand when the driver gets out, wipe the tracks from her eyes as if she didn’t want to be seen.

“Miss,” the driver says, his partner still stepping out of the car. Dark, tired, graying beard. Something off in his eyes but he seems harmless, mostly. A savior, not a wolf. She prefers dealing with those, even if the end is harder. “Do you need help?” he asks.

“No,” she sniffles. Don’t rush it all at once. “No, please- I’m fine. Thank you.” Spins quickly in the other direction so they can see her jacket’s torn and one of her heels is gone.

The other passenger approaches her then, younger and pale and handsome in a way and – crap. He’s like her, she knows it immediately, even from the other end of the station. Doesn’t smell blood on him, except in his cup.

The savior doesn’t know, she thinks. This one picked him up somewhere and beat me to it.

“We don’t mean any harm,” the older man is saying. “I’m a man of God.” And the other one, the one like her, legit rolls his eyes and she doesn’t try to contain a smirk through her tears. He catches her glance and instantly looks to the ground. Not like he’s blowing his cover, more like an embarrassed puppy.

“We- we don’t, though.” He raises his eyes to her again, something open and sincere there that he doesn’t seem to be faking. “You okay?”

“My brother is dead,” she says, remembering her lines. “They killed him. This group of- I don’t know what they were. They attacked us. I saw their faces…”

The man of God is sold, and if she didn’t know better she’d think the puppy was too. “Let us take you somewhere. Do you have family?”

“I can’t go home. He was my family.” Her voice wavers with emotion again. O is fine, but it’s easier when it feels real. “We were going to cross into Mexico. There’s a town there, a holy place.” She’s improvising, the cross is nagging her. She hopes he doesn’t have follow-up questions.

“This is fate,” the man says, breaking into a too-wide smile. “This is a sign. John-”

“Yeah, I hear you,” the boy says under his breath. “Somebody died. Tone it down.”

She likes them. She takes a step toward the car, and the preacher’s smile drops suddenly.

“Wait,” he says seriously, a hand on her shoulder – she halts herself from grabbing his throat. “You should know. My son, John…” He gestures at definitely-not-his-son, who grimaces at being called that and stares at his own feet again. “He’s afflicted. It’s why we travel at night. Please don’t be afraid.”

Not-his-son John is looking her over, something soft and curious in his eyes. She can’t tell if he’s sensing her. She can’t tell what kind of shit is going on between them.

So she doesn’t know what makes her say it, but she improvises again, covers her bases. “It was two days ago, when they killed my brother,” she says in a shaky voice. “I think someone… hurt me. I woke up here. I feel strange.”

Something sparks in both their eyes, different ways. Man of God actually looks excited. John looks… curious, still. Kind.

————

Murphy sits backwards in the front, legs draped the wrong way over the seat, doesn’t bother strapping himself in. He guesses he doesn’t need to. He wants to look at her and talk to her, this crazy swimming mess of she’s pretty and she’s one of their kind in his head. One of his kind.

And everything she’s been through, sad as she looks, she doesn’t tell him to fuck off and leave her alone. (He would.) He stops feeling like she’s gonna laugh at him if he holds her gaze more than a second. When Jaha starts spouting Bible verses, talking about how there’s acceptance and cures for all evils, he sends her an enough message with his eyes and she stares back, suppressing a very real smile. Let him.

She offers information a little at a time. Her name is Emori. She was from California, way back – this is fate to Jaha too, that they would meet from opposite sides of the country, finally heading south. “Like you and your son,” she offers.

“I’m not his son,” Murphy says instantly, and she smiles at him, like obviously. But Otan wasn’t her brother either, they just came from the same place. “Garbage people,” is all she says about that. So it was just them, and a cat for a while.

He doesn’t ask much about the attack. He knows what it’s like. It sounds like it was fast for her, at least. (The ones who had him weren’t even hungry, they tied him down for fun, drank a little at a time, and every time he thought he was going to die but it took five whole nights for him to die. He died of dehydration.)

“Don’t, uh,” he stammers. Pull it together. “Don’t be freaked out by this, but you might want to drink it.” He gestures to the cup in his hands. She seems fine right now but he doesn’t want to risk her getting shaky. He can go without for a little while.

She crinkles her nose at the cup. “What is this?”

He inhales sharply. “Blood.”

“What kind of blood?” she asks, still skeptical, even as the smell brings her fangs out.

“From a deer,” he says. She returns the cup without drinking any. Her teeth are still showing. He gets it. It’s weird the first time.

He realizes his teeth are out too, reflexively. He doesn’t know how they look. He’s always assumed bad, assumed like a demon, because that’s how he remembers it looked on other people. But hers are… kind of cute. He’s never known they could look cute. Maybe it’s her size, or that she didn’t want the deer blood, but he can’t imagine cruelty on her.

When Jaha pulls over at a rest stop, Murphy gets in the backseat with her. “Is this okay?” he asks before he gets too comfortable, and she grins. He wishes her fangs were still out. It would look adorable.

“You know, Jaha,” he tells her. “He’s not a bad guy. He just gets weird about the God thing. And I cannot stress enough, I’m not his son. But otherwise-”

“Are you gonna eat him?” she asks suddenly, bluntly. Which - yikes.

“No,” he says quickly. “Jesus.” (He wants me to. He’d let me if I had to.)

She’s studying him. “You have done that, right? Bitten people, not just deer?”

He regrets joining her back here. (No he doesn’t.) Her eyes are piercing into him, all new and innocent at this and he can’t lie to her. Rip the bandaid off, like Jaha calling him afflicted like he wasn’t standing there. “Yeah,” he tells her flatly. “A couple of people. A few.”

“Strangers? Or did you know them?”

“I knew them enough.”

“And did they die?”

They deserved it. Most of them did. It’s the closest I felt alive since… He clenches his jaw. “Yeah.” He expects horror, instead she just nods. Almost relieved, piecing something together.

An eternity passes, neon gas-station colors flashing into the car, on and off and on. “I haven’t been like this for two days,” she confesses. “I’ve been like this as long as I can remember.” He doesn’t ask why she lied. He still can’t imagine cruelty on her. Just survival.

“How long ago was that?”

“There was a California,” she says carefully. “It wasn’t a state yet. Mexico was bigger.”

She watches his face for something. He’s not scared, he doesn’t get scared anymore, but it’s a lot to take in. “Here I thought I was showing you stuff,” he says with a shy smile.

A flash of playfulness in her eyes. “You are.”

He feels like Jaha, immediately having fifty questions. Some of the same ones. “Why are you alone? Don’t they like… stay together, usually?”

“They,” she repeats, amused at something.

“Us.”

“It was only Otan. The rest were…” Bad people. Garbage. That doesn’t seem to change, alive or dead.

Murphy glances inside the store. Jaha’s out of the bathroom and paying for some chips and M&Ms they can humor him by sharing. Emori covers her face for a second, and when she moves out of the shadow, it’s different. A deep, rippling scar down the side, from below her eye to neck. So that’s a thing they can do, maybe only after a hundred years or however long since California was a state.

She takes her other hand out of her sleeve, and it’s thick and claw-shaped. Another illusion, but only because he’s the least perceptive person in the country and thought maybe she was hiding a knife this whole time. He wouldn’t have blamed her for that.

“Neat,” he says. He doesn’t know why she’s showing him this, but it seems like a good sign she doesn’t hate him.

She laughs, more surprised than bitter, then shakes it off. “The hand is how I got the face. It didn’t help, when they were trying to find us. Get rid of us.”

He raises his neck, not sure if the scar is even still there. Faint, if it is. Not as cool. “They hung me from a bridge,” he says. “It took a while to get down.”

She scoffs, not without sympathy. “Idiots. Most of them at least try stakes.”

“Does that not… work?” It’s something he doesn’t want to test. The bridge is how he found out about the sun, that it fucking hurts but doesn’t kill, at least not right away.

The front door swings open, and Murphy hates that it makes him jump in front of her. His teeth come out, just for a second. He doesn’t get scared anymore.

“You’re getting along,” Jaha says pointlessly. “I brought snacks. And this – for your cup.” He’s got a haphazard, leaking plastic bag, guts and fur dripping out of it. It was a rat, probably. Emori makes a face.

Murphy relaxes. He doesn’t want it mixing with the deer, but likes knowing there’s more. “Hey, Jaha…” Check out Emori’s face. Did you know stakes don’t work? He sees Emori slink back into a shadow and bury her hand back in her sleeve, and he doesn’t say anything stupid. Instead he just goes, “Thanks. I could’ve done that.”

—–

Emori counts the interstate markers. The dashboard says 4:40 AM and she hopes Otan’s watch is working. Her leg is resting against John’s in the backseat.

Not drinking this late makes her cranky, usually, but every time she sees John looking at her she feels… something else. She wants to kiss him. She remembers he ate a rat and half a bag of M&Ms and wishes she wanted to kiss him less. She wants his fingers to trace down the scar on her face without recoiling.

He’s lost, she thinks. And he’s suffered. He hates people but he’s kindness-starved. She didn’t know what that looked like in other people.

An insane thought keeps crossing her mind, that she could just keep driving with them. They could look for this bullshit holy place, just for John to keep his leg next to hers. But then she thinks of Otan never knowing where she went. She told him I’ll be careful and I can take care of myself and it actually pisses her off to let him think she got killed out here. That her sob story attracted one too many wolves instead of saviors. Or maybe she was dumb enough to get in a car with a literal priest and when he found out what she was, how long she’d been past saving, he set her on fire.

It pisses her off and scares her and she doesn’t want him wondering about it for a hundred years. So instead she closes her eyes and says, “Is there another rest stop coming up? I need to move. Can we stop, please?”

“Yeah,” says John, hesitantly touching her back. “Yeah, of course.” You okay?  "Hey, Jaha, pull over.“

“We need to keep going if we want to get you both inside,” he says. But then: “A quarter mile. We’ll stop for five minutes.”

“That’s fine,” says Emori. “That’ll be fine.”

————

Emori gets out of the car and takes deep breaths, in and out, leaning over on her knees. Murphy follows right behind her. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. Her skin looks paler in the moonlight, colder than it’s even supposed to be. He shouldn’t be scared. He’s a little scared.

“Everything all right?” Jaha calls from further back. It’s smart to stay back there. There’s one other truck around and nobody out this late, and Murphy’s not really watching his surroundings, because Emori is cold.

“We’ll get you something,” Murphy tells her quietly. “It’s okay. Stay here.” Not a person. Maybe a person. Not a cat, she likes to pet those. He’s looking for something he can use to kill when there’s a noise like a shotgun. Somebody drops down from somewhere – the truck, the roof of the truck – and has Jaha on the ground.

“No-!” Murphy says, and instinctively grabs for Emori’s hand, and he hears his wrist snap a second before the pain hits him and he’s on the pavement.

No, no, no. A man’s voice says, “Don’t fight, preacher,” and there’s something mocking and vicious in it. And then only a little less vicious he says, “Did you hurt my sister?”

Emori’s voice says, “He didn’t touch me. Make it quick.” She doesn’t say don’t fight to Murphy but he feels it, it feels like she’s pushing her whole body into his back and everything is heavy above him.

He fights anyway. He drags himself enough away from her that the brother’s the one who has to hold him down, and Emori’s eyes light up with fear for a split-second, but she moves to where Jaha is staggering up and puts her hand to his throat.

“John,” she says, a trembling violence in her. “Enough.”

“You don’t have to do this,” he’s saying, angry at his desperation. He’s thinking about Jaha dead, or turned, and that’s even worse. “Trust me, you don’t want to.”

“Make it quick,” the brother, not-her-brother echoes. “Or slow, if this one keeps moving.” Murphy stills, doesn’t fully go limp but stops kicking since it’s not helping much.

Emori pauses for an eternity. She says, “Give me the car.”

“No,” Jaha says evenly.

“Fucking seriously?!” Murphy yelps. “Give it to her.”

“He’s right, you don’t want this. Come with us. If I’m wrong, you can kill me here.”

“We’ll kill John,” she says then. And right on cue not-her-brother lifts Murphy off the ground by his hair, and he’s strong. The last time he remembers someone being stronger than him is– not something he wants to think about. “We’ll cut his head off,” Emori is saying. Murphy swallows. That’s what works if the sun and stakes don’t, apparently. “I’m counting to three.”

Jaha tosses the keys to the ground on two.

————

The priest doesn’t have anything else to say to them. Looks ashamed, a little bit, and Emori’s not sure if it’s because he hesitated or because he gave in at all.

Otan gives her a look through his charred skin but doesn’t argue with her. He watches her run her hand along the top of the car, like it means something to her, and she can’t explain why but she got the right deal here. She wonders if he’ll mind if she lies in the back sometimes.

Before they leave she takes John’s wrist in her hand, gently, and moves it back into place as easily as she can. He tenses and stifles a moan, won’t give her the satisfaction of anything else.

“It’ll heal once you sleep,” she promises. She forms the words easily, knows she’ll regret not saying it… “Sun’s up in thirty minutes. You want to come with us?”

He glares at her, hard as he can manage, which still kind of looks like a puppy. “You literally just said you’d cut my head off, so no, I’m good.”

It hurts. She doesn’t want it to hurt. It’s just a car. She makes her face a stone. “We could’ve done worse and you know it.”

Otan calls her name, impatient, tense. He worries about her. He won’t take his eyes off John until she comes.

John’s sitting on the ground, holding his wrist straight. She glances at the man of God, raises her voice to him. “I hope you and your son-” she starts to say.

John says, “I killed his son.” The man of God doesn’t flinch.

She has nothing to improvise for that. She touches her hand to his face, the clawed one. Kneels down to his level, and Otan is watching and he worries but she’s fine.

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” she says softly, truthfully. Not just her part, all of it. The darkness goes out of his face and he looks at her like he’s searching for something, and she can’t imagine what. A soul maybe. He doesn’t know better. “There’s a motel two miles east, and there’s a cemetery. You can walk there before dawn.”

She kisses his cheek and she’s gone.

——–

“What did she say to you?” Jaha says.

“East,” he answers. “Don’t follow me.”

He does anyway – pauses, considers it for a second, but follows him. “You saved my life, John,” he says, in an I’m proud of you and you owe me voice all at once, somehow. “And I saved yours.”

He feels hollow. He doesn’t have a life. His cheek is tingling where she kissed him, like it’s the only thing – not warm, exactly, but living.

“Why didn’t you go with them?”

I don’t know. I should’ve. “I told you,” he says. “They weren’t any different.”

They don’t talk the rest of the way.

——–

Emori is starving and it’s her own fault for not killing the preacher. Even Otan is mad at her and he had the trucker, but he knows she’s being punished enough for it. They need to find someone, anyone, before the sun comes up. They have a car at least.

“Are you ready?” he says when they see headlights. She nods. “Are you sure?” She rolls her eyes.

He tosses her from the moving car and keeps driving. She lands on the gravel, rolls, bangs her elbows and knees and hears her arm crack at the bone. It’s not hard to make herself cry. Another car skids to a stop in front of her, and a woman gets out, eyes wide and hand over her mouth.

Dead kittens. Dead Otan. Her leg against John’s in the backseat. “Help me,” she sobs, so hard she can barely talk, so hard she can’t quite make herself stop. “My brother is dead. I can’t go home.”