#its a college area so there are so fucking many new drivers and then also people coming in who dont know the area on game days

[chartreusebird]

My hobby is exaggerated pointing at the yield to pedestrians signs as cars blow past

[bitchkay]

Can you do more modern Court Of Darkness headcannons?

Of course I love making modern AUs♡

Fenns nudes leaked but no one's surprised💀💀

His fans 100% have them screenshoted.

they're so pretty

Modern AU court of darkness princes are just rich lil pretty boys

This post explains my thought process... uhh ignore the last line😳😳

Rich boy Roy and his 18 foreign cars, his favorites the yellow Lamborghini Sherry's favorite's the blue Tesla, second's the hot pink BMW

Both Invidia siblings are models but Sherry's Instagram famous

No one believed Sherry was 5'1 and until she and Roy shared a magazine cover and she had to stand next to him💀

Rio drives a truck or like a van

Rio also knows how to fix cars but not a car guy by any means

Toa reads fanfiction.

Dia once wore the same hoodie for 4 days straight but no one noticed cus he always smells like weed

Rio is in college for culinary

Rio likes the atmosphere of fast food restaurants then fancy restaurants cus its alot more relaxed, theres so many varieties of people there, from children to adults, old people, school kids stopping by for lunch, young kids getting a treat from their parents, old couples sharing an ice cream cone, young couples sharing their fries, middle schoolers making tiktok by the window, more chaotic yes, but also more comfortable, especially those places with a play area for kids, Rio loves children so hearing kids laugh and play is always a good thing

Fenn can twerk in a way that would make Megan thee Stallion proud

Fenn is thin asf, how tf his ass move like that--

Aquia works part time in a flower shop

If Rio came to pick me up for a date in a range rover I'd fuck him in the backseat ON THE SPOT‼

Lance dosen't often get into bar fights but when he does he always wins unscathed

Rio would love Flintstones gummy vitamins

Knight is a gamer. He just is. Kenma tease-

Thoma works at a bakery☺️💞

Lynt smells like new born babies.

Toa got his highschool volunteer hours at a long term care home I did that--

The boys took Guy to the strip club for his birthday and he simply dosen't throw bills.

Gets one drink and pouts the whole night.

Says he had a great time.

Roy wears women's jeans cus he says they give him shape (roy doesn't have an ass yall😔👊🏽💔)

Knight sleeps with a stuffed panda at night, if anyone comes over Pandi gets stuffed into the closet

Yes the bears name is Pandi.

He has a little hat with a blue feather.

Knight goes to the gym with Rio♡

I love that mental image☺️

Rio goes so much attention from women but yk its Rio so he's like 'omg new friends☺️'

You'd think he was a player the amount of numbers he's got in his phone💀

Knight and Thoma frequently play video games together

Graysons everyones designated driver

Literally everyone has him on speed dial when they go out drinking

Fenn would usually have a big party for his birthday but instead he wasn't feeling it so him and Violet got a cosco cake and some nachos and to this day that was his favorite and best birthday ever

Grayson works as a hostess at a fancy restaurant, specifically a hostess

Every now and then he has women throwing themselves at him(cus he's hot🤨) and he simply freezes, stiffens up dosen't know what to do, 'please stop flirting with me so I can show you to your table😰😰'

Sherry has a YouTube channel and she has a segment called 'cooking for my brother' where she cooks various things for Roy to try

You'd think she'd learn after Roy gets the stomach flu.

Sometimes you gotta wonder if she knows she can't cook and wants to poison him💀💀

Her viewers love when Roy's on her channel cus they all have a crush on him, they all beg him to make his own channel

Fenn and Guy hooked up one time when wine drunk (specifically wine drunk) and they don't act like it didn't happen but they don't explicitly talk about it, but every now and then Fenn's like 'OMG remember when we had sex🤣🤣' and everytime Guy like fucking chokes him but quickly remembers Fenn's into that

Fenn in a strip club but he's the one stripping.

He doesn't work there btw

All the princey rich boys having modeled at one point each some how end up on the cover of a monthly issued magazine 7 months in a row

Example, say Roy got March's issue, Fenn's on April's issue, Lance May, Rio June, so on and so forth

They don't find out until they each get a copy of the magazine

They'd be really hot on a magazine🔥

This has been in my drafts for 5 days???????

[psychicdreamfriendoperator]

Going off from the free dating headcanon… how about some for Miguel and Agata? >.<

I’m so happy to see another blog writing for the shishigumi, they’re finally getting the character development they deserved

I'm happy to write for the lovable bastards, though it does seem like there's only 1 or 2 other blogs that write for all of the Shishigumi.

Speaking of blogs, @couldyouspeakmyname is a very nice one ü, please check them out if you haven't already!

I had to keep the word limit in mind (especially since there's 2 characters involved here), so, if this ask wasn't what you wanted, feel free to let me know and I can try again!

— Psychic

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General Dating Headcanons

Agata

Agata has had his fair share of partners. Society makes lions out to be good leaders, and so, many animals begin relationships with them. Agata's a darker-coloured lion, so this effect was multipled for him.

While he did have a “bad boy” phase, Agata is truly a nice person at heart.

That would have been more than enough for others to stay in a relationship with him, had he been born almost any other animal.

He was cheated on a lot by love interests who wanted to make a lion jealous, and by those who expected something . . . more passionate from a relationship with a lion.

As a result, Agata's very clingy, and mayhaps a bit bitter.

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Miguel

Miguel's relationships tend to last 6 months to 1 year, but never much longer than that. He doesn't have much of an interest in relationships, but he's open to love if it finds him first.

Previous lovers had a tendency to sexualise him— this is something that makes Miguel very uncomfortable.

He doesn't mind dirty jokes, etc, but more intimate actions have been partially ruined for him.

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Meeting Them

Agata

It's quite possible that you ran into him at a local community college.

I can imagine Agata taking a course there— perhaps it's related to technology?

It's also quite possible that the both of you shared the same, mandatory class.

.

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“oh shit oh shit oh shit . . .”

A noise that was more whisper than spoken word. You don't see it, but you can almost taste the anxiety that flows over from your colleague.

Your eyes moved involuntarily over to your left, where a dark-maned lion crawled on his hands and knees, as if searching for something.

You rest your head on your hand. “Looking for something?”

A muffled, “Dropped my pen . . .”

You fished about in your pencil case, pulling out one of your spares. It wasn't nearly as favoured as your gel pens, and, it also wasn't one you would miss if someone were to steal it.

“You can borrow this one . . . just give it back.”

You had never seen someone look so grateful; the expression was genuine, which filled your body with a cosy warmth.

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Miguel

Perhaps you met him at the gym.

Although Miguel had more than enough exercise equipment at the Mansion, he preferred to workout away from the Black Market.

It gave him the chance to organise his thoughts.

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.

“STAY FIT”— a simple, two word long mantra and a reminder of the New Year’s resolution you wanted to keep.

In order to achieve that goal, you signed yourself up for a gym— it was only a few blocks away on foot. Since it was so close, you were always the first one there . . .

Or rather, you were always the first one there, until recently.

“You must really love working out,” You struck up pleasant conversation whenever the both of you took your breaks. There wasn't anything else to do, really.

The feline, whose mane was tied up neatly behind him, took a swig of his bottled water. “I suppose you could say that.”

It was a curt response, yes, but it was also the start of a wonderful acquaintanceship.

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Growing Closer

Agata

over the course of several weeks, Agata racked up a fine collection of pens— all of them yours, of course.

Somehow, you didn't believe that you would get them back.

It didn't matter much though— you had more than enough to spare.

The pair of you studied together often; either on-campus or back at your place.

His notes were very neat, you noticed.

He divided his pages into three sections; one for definitions, one for summarisations of the text and one for miscellaneous notes.

When you expressed your interest, Agata is more than happy to explain the Cornell Method to you.

You were just pleased that all the pens you lent him hadn't gone to waste.

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Miguel

you actually had to put some effort in before Miguel felt comfortable enough instigating a conversation with you.

In the beginning, you talked to yourself, more or less.

Miguel gave short, curt answers in reply.

You both took note of what subjects the other person was interested in, and then went from there.

Polite conversation made to pass the time became deep and insightful discussions.

Miguel kept a neutral expression when speaking to you, but after a while, his lips curved into a pleasant smile more and more often.

You liked his smile.

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Going Steady

Agata

You didn't notice the way Agata’s hands shook until much later, when you were both reminiscing on how he had asked you out the first time.

You did notice that the lion had a few bags’ worth of stationery with him, though.

“Finally decided to return those pens you borrowed?” You were teasing of course — your friendship with him was such that you didn't care about those trivial things anymore.

.

.

“Let’s go see a movie tonight!”

You blinked once. Twice.

.

Then, you cleared your throat. “Ah . . . sure—” You turned around, intending to fetch a jacket. “I’ll just get a coat and—”

“Y-you can borrow mine!”

Thought it was several sizes too large, Agata's jacket was indeed very comfortable.

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Miguel

It just sort of happened.

One thing led to another, really, and soon, the both of you were bouncing ideas back and forth.

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“You're weird,” You snorted, playful as always. With the gentle push of a button, the treadmill belt beneath you began to move.

You thought you saw Miguel smile. He slung his towel over one of the machine's handle bars. “Maybe so, but, aren't you going to answer? It's not hard, right?”

“Well . . .” You clicked your tongue, actually thinking. “I've always wanted to go cycling at the park with someone else.”

“Are you free Thursday?”

You eyed the lion suspiciously, but nodded, “Mhm . . .”

But then, it clicked, “Oh . . .”

It really clicked, and you broke out into a wide grin, nodding up and down quickly.

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Dating

Agata

he was very nervous at first, and very, very clingy.

He felt as if he had to keep impressing you, and giving you gifts just to keep you around.

You didn't think much of it at first, but you drew a line when he arranged for a limosuine to drop you off at your agreed rendezvous point.

Where did he even get the money for a limo, anyways?

You called the date off, in favour of talking it out with him.

Though a part of you wanted to let Agata have it, the more sensible part just wanted to know why.

As the both of you stood in the parking lot of the movie theater, you noticed that several pairs of eyes were on you.

You grabbed him by the hand and, after a short walk, came to a more secluded area.

You sighed, and told Agata exactly how you felt.

In turn, he explained his side of the issue.

It wasn't planned for, but you both enjoyed the impromptu heart-to-heart under the stars nonetheless.

It was enjoyed so much so, that neither of you saw the black car which drove away, its scar-faced driver satisfied that Agata could handle things from there.

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Miguel

dating Miguel feels as if you're hanging out with a dear friend — which you were, in a way.

Your dates are spent cycling around the district, dominating patronising the local basketball court and just enjoying the other’s company.

And then, you slept together.

It had been late, so, you told him that he could crash at your place until daylight.

Despite your insistence that he take the bed while you slept on the sofa, Miguel was adamant that it be the other way around.

You had shrugged your shoulders, and decided not to fight him on it further.

Come morning, you had successfully moved him into your bed— he looked mad uncomfortable on the couch, anyways.

To your surprise, Miguel awoke with a start, a hand over his chest and eyes wide.

He demanded to know whether or not the both of you had done anything the previous night.

You didn't know about his . . . fear at the time, but you knew that you had royally fucked up.

You promised not to do that sort of thing again, and the rest of the morning is spent in the other's arms.

[harryimaginedstories]

on your side

genre: au (while I don’t like the term ‘au-fic’ at all imagine the two characters are in college together and in their early twenties.) angst and some fluff as well.

about 5k words

it’s entirely different than anything I have ever published and I really love it. please let me know what you think and stay safe during these wild and often scary times. 

read more here: my stories

photo: taken from instagram, previously taken by somebody from the movie AWC, which also inspired me (kinda) to even write this.

They started arguing pretty much the second the car door fell shut behind them and even ten traffic lights, countless of turns and getting honked at twice, didn’t stop their heated exchange of words. Harry’s hands held on to the seat tightly, an attempt not to touch her thigh like he normally would, while hers curled around the steering wheel until the white of her knuckles showed. It wasn’t uncommon for them to fight. They had never been one of those couples who didn’t call each other out on their bullshit or who tried hide anger when there was reason to feel it. However, this was the first time that they weren’t on their way home, where their argument could be settled in private. Instead, Harry and Y/N, both infuriated with each other, were on their way to a party. With one generous rotation of the wheel, Y/N parked Harry’s black car in the last free niche on the street of the frat house. The vehicle gave an unpleasant sound and Harry closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring. Before he got the chance to complain, Y/N swung open the door, stepped out and threw it shut hard enough to know it would set him off. 

“Jesus fuck!” Harry shouted, opening the passenger door and stepping out, too. 

She waited long enough to press ‘lock’ on the keys once he was out, then she walked away. With quick strides he caught up with her, and had he not been as angry as could be he would have probably felt hurt at her for not waiting up like she would have any other day.  Walking next to her he turned to look at her profile, trying to catch her eyes, but she refused. 

“Would you mind not taking your crazy out on my fucking car?”

“Oh, so you do care about that then. Good to know,” she snapped back. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Y/N halted and so did he. They were standing on the pavement, one house away from where there could already be heard the dull sound of music blaring and a good meter of distance between them.  Any other night they would be standing there, too. Only not to deliver a few more blows before pretending to be alright while their friends were around. On any other night, Harry would have taken advantage of the warm weather, by letting his hands roam across Y/N’s bare arms. She would have given him a kiss or two and made him a laugh at least as much. He would have reminded her for the fifth time (at least) that she looked beautiful. There wouldn’t be any distance between them, let alone one entire meter.

“There is one thing I’ve been hearing clearly through all of the bullshit you’ve said today,” Y/N hissed, her lips barely moving and her hands curling into tight fists by her side, “which is that you don’t give a fuck about me.”

“Oh my god.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, his head falling back before snapping forward quickly, “You’re being such a lunatic!”

Wind picked up some of her hair and pushed the loose strands into her eyes, breaking the angry stare she’d held with him and for a moment, Harry could have sworn she appeared to be younger. Then she brushed the hair off with shaky hands and back she was, angry and exhausted. 

“You’re a dick!” Y/N squealed, 

“Well, clearly we could go on,” he snapped and rolled his eyes, “but our fucking friends are waiting for us so do you think you can manage to avoid me for the next few hours so we can at least settle this at home?” 

Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her cleavage which he had tried not to stare ever since she’d put on the blue dress. That damn dress. Focusing on it now it only irked him further. She knew how much he loved it when she wore this particular piece of clothing. It had spent the night on the floor of his bedroom or over the back of a chair often enough. He was certain she’d put it on specifically to spite him. 

“Fine, let’s go. But since you’re unhappy with my parking,” Y/N stepped forward and reached up, pressing the hard metal of Harry’s car keys into his chest, “you get to be the designated driver tonight.” 

Her fist lingered on the fabric of his black T-shirt. Feeling her touch him momentarily paused his thoughts. All anger was forgotten, as if the wind had picked it up, too, and carried it far away. Harry whimpered and her lips parted, their eyes connecting without any trace of hurt in them. Then his hand found hers and she dropped the set of keys into his palm, snapping them both out of their brief moment of peace. 

“I don’t want to see you right now,” Y/N stuttered, blinking rapidly until her eyes turned darker again.

“Don’t come look for me later when you’re drunk and feeling sorry,” Harry replied, before he stepped around her and walked towards the frat building.

Y/N lost sight of him the second he stepped inside. Despite still feeling angry with him, she couldn’t stop herself from briefly wishing he wouldn’t have left her alone. She didn’t like being left alone at a party. Neither did he, for the matter, but she refused to feel guilty for sending him away. Y/N drew a shaky breath and stepped inside, instantly greeted by the smell of alcohol, smoke and pot. A big banner had been hung from one side of the hall to the other, wishing everybody a cheerful start to the new semester. Underneath mingled numerous students, all of which held drinks in their hands. Already Y/N recognized a few of them from some of her classes, she didn’t feel like talking to them however. To her luck she spotted a few friends of her in the first room she entered and was quickly greeted with hugs and kisses to her cheek. 

Dena, a girl Y/N had grown close with through sharing an equal distain for their econ teacher, pressed a drink into her hand and smiled. “You look like you need at least two of these.”

Y/N smiled sadly. “That obvious, huh?”

“Well, you didn’t cheer in delight upon seeing us like you should have so,” said Clara, another friend Y/N had made whilst talking badly about her teacher.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry.” 

Dena nudged her. “Also, your boyfriend stormed past us earlier so we expected something was up.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Clara asked.

Y/N shook her head and took a long sip from her drink. It tasted of a mixture of beer and vodka, which on any other day she would have refused to drink. “I really don’t.”

“Great. Then let’s just cheer to us.”

The two girls raised their own cups and waited expectantly for Y/N to do the same. Dena grinned at her and cleared her throat. 

“To us, the coming semester, which we will fucking ace. And-” she paused, looking at Y/N, “to knowing when to kick your boyfriend’s ass. Cheers!”

“Cheers.”

Harry stood by the unlit fire pit in the lounge area, where the chairs had been pushed aside to create a dance floor. A scowl was deeply etched onto his face and he had yet to smile genuinely. He blamed the alcohol he wasn’t allowed to consume for how poorly he was feeling, but he knew even if he had drowned his veins in liquor, it wouldn’t be until he’d feel her touch him that he would be in a better mood. He stood back watching with a few of his mates, who were all except one, very drunk, as some freshmen clumsily turned the dinner table into a bear pong station. Matt, the only sober one left, had tried to get him to talk about why his mood was so sour three times already, receiving no answer each time. Harry rolled his eyes upon feeling him nudge his shoulder again.

“Where’s your girl?”

Harry shrugged. “Don’t know.”

He’d been cursing her short height since turning around and looking for her in the crowded hallway thirty minutes ago. She’d slipped past him without him noticing, and while he was too proud to go look for her properly, it annoyed him that he wasn’t able to casually spot her whenever he scanned one of the many rooms that had been turned into a club. He especially didn’t like it since he knew that she was drinking. Blindly he felt for his phone in his pocket, ensuring for the tenth time that its volume was turned up. Should she call him, he wanted to be sure that he wouldn’t miss it.

“Didn’t she come with you?” Matt pressed on, either oblivious to Harry’s annoyance or simply indifferent to it.

“Doesn’t mean she can’t wander off on her own, does it?” Harry replied, his voice rough. 

He’d never really liked Matt. Actually, he’d liked him a lot once. They’d even considered becoming roommates in their second year. He’d liked him, up until he’d gotten together with Y/N and noticed the gleam in Matt’s eyes the first time he’d introduced her to him. Their friendship dissolved fast after.

“I’m sure she can. She’s always been good at enjoying parties, hasn’t she?”

Harry didn’t reply. Once more his eyes scanned the room frantically, detecting every single face in hopes of recognizing the eyes to the one he loved.

“Dude!” Eric, a tall and broad looking bloke who’d just become team captain to the football team, stumbled into Harry’s side, knocking him back. 

“Sorry! Shit,” Eric laughed, doubling over, revealing that he was clearly drunker than he should have been, “I’m sorry, mate. Wow, I need to lay off a little.”

“No kidding,” Harry replied, but smiled when Eric slung a heavy arm around his shoulders. The unmistakable smell of alcohol fanned over his face as Eric talked, and his nose scrunched up. 

“You’ve been wearing a look as depressing as Matt’s sex life-”

“Hey, fuck you, Eric!” Matt snapped, unamused.

“-and I intend to fix that. C’mon.”

Harry didn’t fight it as the taller guy dragged him away, out of the lounge and into another room further down the hall. He certainly didn’t mind getting away form Matt. Regardless of them having been friends once, Matt was the last person he wanted to be around when he was having a rough time with Y/N. The smoke was thicker in this room and the music a little quieter. There were less people dancing and more sitting around on the couches and chairs. A few stood by the wall in small groups and some, the ones Eric was walking towards, were standing opposite a dart board. They cheered upon seeing the two guys approach, making more noise than anybody else in the room.

“You’re on my team and you’re gonna help me win, yeah? M’taking advantage of you being sober as a stone. Your aim is probably better than any of theirs.”

Harry laughed and nodded, accepting to be involved. “I’ll try my best.”

The first dart arrow was thrust into his hand by a guy named Kyle who appeared to be on the same team. Half an hour later and Eric was grinning from ear to ear, writing their leading score numbers onto a makeshift writing board that was really just the coffee table. Something the guys living in this house would be happy to find in the morning.  Y/N watched him. Despite being intoxicated, or perhaps because of how intoxicated she was, she noticed every muscle of his back move each time he raised his arm. Her heart fluttered whenever he laughed and she felt a heat grow at the pit of her stomach whenever he leaned his head to the side, revealing the back of his neck to her. And above his neck was his ear, which hid a spot right under his hairline where he liked to be kissed. Y/N’s lips parted at the thought and her toes curled.  He hadn’t noticed her when entering the room. She didn’t blame him though, since she’d successfully hid herself behind Dena and Eric’s big body also worked wonderfully as a shield. Despite anything she’d said before the party, she was immensely relieved to see him. The vodka-beer mixture which she’d learned had been invented by Clara, was disgusting but also got her drunk faster than she had expected. Or intended. Another round of cheers erupted as Harry scored another point for his team. 

“Not fair. You won’t give them as much as a chance to win.” 

A chill rushed down Harry’s back at the sound of the honey sweet female voice behind him, and Y/N, too, froze in place. Slender fingers touched Harry’s arm, caressing the skin despite being less than welcome to. Upon turning around he was met with Silja, who’s face wore a smile equally sweet as her sly voice. Though standing by the opposite wall, Y/N swore she could hear Silja as if she were standing next to her. She would always be able to detect her voice, especially if the words she spoke were directed to Harry. 

Dena followed her friend’s gaze and raised her brows. “Haven’t seen her in a while. I thought she dropped out.”

“Would have been too nice,” Y/N growled. 

She’d never actually talked to Silja herself and she surely didn’t intend to. Before getting together with him, Y/N had been mostly oblivious to who was genuinely interested in him and who she imagining to be. Only with Silja there had never been any doubt. Even before Harry had become hers, she’d felt a bitter taste collect in the middle of her tongue whenever the pretty brunette girl tried to talk to him. Once her claim on him had become justified, she disliked Silja and her upfront behaviour all the more.

“Hey, you know you don’t have to worry about her, right?” Dena said quietly, reading Y/N’s expression, “Harry has rejected her what, three times already? Even before he was with you. He’s not interested in her.”

“I know. I’m not worried about that,” Y/N said quickly, stepping around Dena to get a better look at her boyfriend and the girl that had yet to remove her hand from his arm, “I trust him.”

“Doesn’t make her less of a bitch,” Clara grumbled, also staring at them intently. 

The three girls watched Harry turn to look at Silja. He gave her a tight lip smile before he stepped away to make room for the next player, conveniently shrugging off her hand in process. To their dismay, Silja followed him.

“I haven’t seen you this summer,” she complained in an uncomfortably high voice, that was laced with feigned displeasure, “Where were you hiding?” 

Harry sighed, wishing Y/N would find him already, and rested his back against the wall. The last thing he needed for this party to become worse were the advances of the woman standing before him. “I wasn’t.”

Their summer had been great. They spent it looking for a flat to move into together. One weekend they’d taken the train out to the ocean and spent two days in a pretty bed and breakfast, where nothing distracted them from each other and everything, even their sheets, held the faint smell of sea salt. He wasn’t about to tell any of that to Silja though. 

The girl pouted, smudging her lilac lipstick at the corners. “Didn’t you miss me at all? Not even a little bit?” 

“No.”

She smiled. Her neck moved to the side as her eyes mustering him. “You and your attitude. I really missed that.”

Harry let his head fall back and for a moment Y/N forgot to eye the girl hitting on her boyfriend and instead stared at his throat. She longed to kiss him there, too. The darkened expression taking over his relaxed face quickly brought her attention back. Thinking about kissing him had made her miss the words Silja had said to upset him. 

“You’re wasting your time missing me.”

At last, Silja’s smile dropped. “You’re still with her, then?”

“Yep,” he replied shortly. 

 “Fine,” Silja pushed the long brown locks off her shoulder and crossed her arms, “maybe if she fucked you right you wouldn’t be such an asshole all the time.” 

“Fuck off, Silja,” Harry snapped, pushing himself off the wall to instantly tower over her.

“Harry! Your turn again, mate.”

Without giving her as much as a second look, Harry turned away and followed Eric’s call. Dena’s hand rested on Y/N’s shoulder, squeezing her gently whilst smiling at her. Y/N exhaled loudly and relaxed. She didn’t doubt Harry’s capability of getting rid of Silja. She’d also truly meant it when she’d said that she trusted him. But after their argument she wasn’t so sure that he didn’t want to receive some affection tonight, be it from anybody. While she would have hated it, simply entertaining Silja’s flirting wouldn’t have been cheating. A warm feeling overtook any worry left in her body upon watching him turn Silja away. He didn’t bother look at her again but walked back to his friends to resume the game, treating her like she wasn’t even there. He didn’t even give Silja the satisfaction of remaining angered by her words. Giving up her attempts, Silja walked away and left the room quickly, her cheeks slightly rosy in embarrassment. 

“Remind me to kiss him later for that,” Y/N said, her voice holding more love for him than she would usually let on whilst angry. 

Clara laughed. “So you’re not mad at him anymore.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me that I was or I might still be.”

“What were you two fighting about anyway?” Dena asked. 

Y/N took another long sip from her drink, before remembering that she’d wanted to not drink any more for the night. Oh well. 

“He didn’t come home last night. Without notifying me. He fell asleep at stupid Rick’s place and neither of them bothered shooting me a text or ringing me about it. I spent all night worried sick.”

Y/N’s expression hardened at the thought of waiting up for him. She’d paced around the living room of their new flat before settling on the couch, vowing to stay awake until he returned. She’d had half a mind not to call his mother or sister, not quite worried enough to ask them. 

“I didn’t see him until an hour before coming here ‘cause I had to work today. So we didn’t have time to properly fight about it.”

“Didn’t he say he was sorry?”

“Sure he did, as well as stating that I was overreacting and not his mother.”

“Ugh, men,” Dena grumbled, then she changed the subject, “Let’s get refills in the kitchen!”

Harry got bored of the game after the fifth round, but stayed to play until the team he’d joined won by a margin. Then he politely excused himself from playing another round. Though she’d told him she didn’t want to see him, Harry really wanted to see Y/N and he figured over an hour of distance sufficed for her to calm down. Maybe she would even allow herself to be happy about him finding her. He strolled around the room, then went looking in the hall and finally searched the lounge. If only she were a little taller, he thought once more. All of sudden he heard a loud shout. It wasn’t one of the usual party hollers, it was one that held no joy at all. With swift strides Harry crossed the room, turned left in the hallway and entered the kitchen. This time he didn’t have to search to see her. Y/N was sitting on the counter, her legs dangling down and her hands curling around the stone surface. Across from her was the kitchen table on which all of the different liquor bottles had been placed. It was also where the single shout turned into several. A guy Harry hadn’t ever seen around campus before stood next to a broken bottle of vodka. His hand curled into a fist and his face was red. Opposite him stood Dena, a girl Harry barely knew beyond her being a friend of Y/N. Next to Dena was a guy named Dylan, his face painted with guilt and worry. 

“You fucking broke my shit!” the stranger shouted. 

Y/N flinched. It wasn’t Dena who’d pissed off the wrong guy, but Dylan who had tried to make a drink for them. She didn’t feel any less involved if the guy were to be shouting at her. The second the bottle had broken and the tall stranger exclaimed that it’d been his, Y/N had felt fear curse through her. She hated it. She hated how a man shouting was so scary that she froze in place.  Just like she always did when afraid, her eyes began to search for Harry. Heavy like a wave and equally overwhelming was the relief when she saw him lingering in the doorway.  Their eyes met. Y/N visibly relaxed. She could read the question in the look he was giving her and she eagerly nodded. There were so few people scattered around the small place, Harry had no trouble reaching the counter.  Once in arms reach she held out her right hand, whimpering when his fingers slotted through hers and holding on tight. Any anger towards each other was forgotten the moment their skin touched. Y/N gave a determined pull until he stood next to where she was sitting, her legs touching his waist. Harry didn’t say anything, but he allowed her to let go of his hand to instead hold on to his shoulder. His own settled heavily on her thigh, relishing the feeling of her bare skin. He didn’t complain when her fingers curled tightly around the fabric of his shirt, nor did she mind how intimate it felt to have his hand on her naked thigh. His eyes quickly scanned her face, waiting for her nod, confirming that she was alright. Y/N smiled gently, relief mirroring in her eyes. Harry returned her smile. His heart clenching when he noticed the faint veil of alcohol before her eyes. Ever so slightly, their heads leaned towards each other, then his nose softly touched her forehead.

“He didn’t do it on purpose,” Dena said defensively, “and these bottles are for everybody to use.”

Harry shifted closer to Y/N but removed his nose form her hairline. Unwillingly he turned his attention back to where the argument grew. The stranger’s head, figuratively doubling in size by the minute, was red and looming over Dena like a balloon hovering in the sky. He had to admit it was impressive that Dena, equally short as Y/N, refused to back off.

“I wasn’t asking you! You and your friend better figure out how to replace my drink and you better do it fast!”

“Mate, lay off a bit, will ya? They didn’t do anything on purpose,” Harry interrupted, his voice calm and steady, “Why don’t you just grab one of the ten other bottles and leave ‘em alone?” 

The stranger, slightly shorter than Harry, turned to look at them. Y/N tightened her hold on his shoulder. She was mentally preparing herself to jump off the counter and at the stranger’s throat instead, should he as much as try to pick a fight with Harry. Noticing her shift beside him, Harry’s hold on her intensified.

“Leave them alone?” the tall guy snapped, “that was twenty fucking quid he broke!” 

“Bit embarrassing that you’re whining about twenty quid,” Harry said, wearing a smug grin, “and picking a fight like some kind of neanderthals who found out somebody’s pissed into his cave.” 

Dena giggled and so did Y/N, along with some bystanders who’d gathered to watch. The bloke narrowed his eyes, first at Harry, then at the girl sitting beside him. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but Y/N interrupted him. “Quit looking at me and spare me any sexist bullshit you’re about to say.” 

The guy rolled his eyes, then smiled. “You’re pretty for a bitch.”

Y/N’s hand yanked Harry back by his shoulder equally fast as he’d pushed off the counter to lunge forward and at the guy. The movement caused him to knock against the counter uncomfortably. She didn’t let go and didn’t move, despite Harry’s enraged breathing getting louder.  

“Fuck you!” Harry shouted, eyes wide. 

Anger oozed out of his pores and heat settled in the small kitchen. Calm and collected only a moment ago, he was all the more scarier now that he was enraged. Scary enough to make the stranger take back a step. Y/N loosened her hold on Harry’s shoulder, sliding her hand down to press against his back instead. She rubbed his spine gently, hoping to ease him by letting him know she was okay. 

"You need to leave,” Y/N stated, her voice calm.

“Definitely,” Dena agreed, her eyes trained on her friend before finding Harry.

He didn’t return her gaze, his eyes remained on the tall blonde. They stayed put until the guy lowered his empty cup to the table, the movement slow and deliberate. He clearly didn’t want it to look like he was leaving because he was told to, so he took his time. But finally he turned away, before at last leaving the kitchen and hopefully the party all together. 

Harry shuddered upon feeling Y/N’s nose against the shell of his ear. “I’m fine, Harry.”

“What a wanker.”

“A fucking wanker,” Y/N replied, her smile practically audible in her voice. 

Harry turned around to face her, all of his attention returning to where it belonged: her. His eyes looked into hers intently, reading every answer to all of his unspoken questions.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. Are you?”

He nodded. “Did he try anything before I came?”

“I noticed him about zero-point-five seconds before you arrived, Harry. I’m fine, I promise.”

Her hands gently took hold of his face. The fingers of her left hand traced along his jawline as tenderly as one would the rim of a glass in hopes of eliciting a sound. That’s how Harry sometimes felt when she touched him. Like she was being as tender as she could possibly fathom to be. 

“Does that mean you’re gonna go back to being mad at me?” As he spoke, Harry moved closer. His hands rested on each side of her hips, allowing his body to get closer to hers as he leaned forward.

Y/N laughed and shook her head, their faces so close they almost touched. She enjoyed the warmth of his breath fanning against her throat. 

“Are you? You were at least as pissed off as I was.”

He shrugged, then playfully nudged her nose with his. “No.”

“Then I think I’ll let it go, too,” she answered, faking to be coy, “For now, you still owe me an apology later.”

Harry laughed. “That’s fair. Promise to mean it this time, too.” 

Her eyes narrowed. She took hold of his chin, holding him still so she could kiss him without giving him the chance to deepen it. The feeling of his mouth slotting with hers, be it as briefly as it was, ignited her like nothing else could. Any remaining worry was pulled from the corners in her body where it had hidden, and was thrown out not to return. Harry took over. All of the space inside her that could belong to an emotion, now belonged to him.

“I knew you didn’t mean it earlier,” she breathed accusingly against his lips. 

“I meant it a little,” he said, curling his hand around her wrist to pull away the hold she’d taken and he kissed her a second time before she could complain. 

Despite their desperation their teeth didn’t clash together, nor did their noses unintentionally bump. They’d kissed too many times not to blindly meet each other without missing. His tongue glided along her bottom lip, hers pushed his aside so it could trespass into his mouth. Frantic hands held on to her hips and her thigh, eager fingers remembered to be gentle as they settled on the back of his neck. Harry moaned and Y/N pulled away.

“Thank you,” she whispered, just enough space between them so she could speak. 

Harry’s kisses trailed down from the corner of her mouth to her cheek and her jaw, his lips warm, wet and determined. He allowed one kiss to last a little longer, followed by a small lick to her earlobe.

As satisfied as could be as long as they weren’t alone, he raised his head to look at her again. “What for?”

“Being on my side even when we’re fighting.” 

The smile gracing her features was so genuine he could have melted, just like her words were spoken with more love behind them than he could detect. He smiled and willingly moved his head to the side, so she could kiss below his ear. The heat in his belly grew and he let her know by squeezing her hips.

“Ditto.”

[wingsofanillyrian]

Lights Over Monaco: Chapter 1

ITS HERE! I plan on updating this weekly/biweekly, based on how busy I am. Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list! 

Special thank you to my new F1 friend for inspiring this fic as well as being my beta reader, @acourtofcouture​ ! F1 fans out there, her fics are AMAZING

Chapter Masterlist

F1 Glossary

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

Nesta Archeron discovered Formula 1 when she was 9 years old. She woke before the sun one Sunday morning, quietly excited to have the television all to herself and watch whatever cartoons she wanted. But she couldn’t remember what channel they were on, instead flipping through the programs. She had almost given up when she stumbled across a race.

The moment she had seen the brightly colored open-wheeled cars flash across the screen, she paused. For whatever reason, the high pitched wasp-like scream of the twelve cylinder engines and the astonishing speed that the drivers were travelling enthralled young Nesta. She didn’t look away once for the rest of the race, or even for the post-race interviews and wrap up that most adults skipped. Something about it had her adrenaline pumping.

Nesta traded her dolls for matchbox cars, and when she grew older, picked up racing magazines instead of teen ones. Ever since that day, Formula 1 consumed her. No matter how the other kids or her two younger sisters teased her for it, her love for the sport never tarnished. 

She spent years getting up at 2 am to watch live races that were being held halfway around the world. Instead of going to her senior prom, Nesta stayed home and layed out her predictions for the season’s drivers and constructors championships. She didn’t know how to do anything half-ass. She poured her whole heart into the sport and devoted her life to it.

**********

Nesta spent her 24th birthday working. It wasn’t like she could request the day off, not that it mattered. The racetrack at Monaco was exactly where she would have been anyway, working or not.

A press pass got her through the first security checkpoint. The team tents loomed ahead as she waited for personnel to cross the unstriped asphalt, inching her car carefully through the throngs of people. She rolled her window down, soaking in the sound of air tools and snippets of conversations. 

Street tracks like Monaco were her favorite. They required drivers to push themselves with plenty of technical corners and dramatic incidents. There was less room for error, as the tracks themselves were not as wide. Drivers had to know their limits and follow the racing line closely.

Race tracks were Nesta’s comfort zone. She knew each track on the calendar like the back of her hand. Every turn was permanently etched in her mind like words on a tombstone. Race weekends followed a set schedule, something that she could appreciate. Friday: practice laps. Saturday: more practice, followed by qualifying, where each driver got the chance to set the fastest lap and secure a spot in the starting line up for the main event on Sunday.

Before she had graduated college, Nesta had managed to fully entrench herself in the world of Formula 1. Securing an internship at ESPN her sophomore year, she had made herself indispensable to the crusty old man that had been the senior track side reporter for decades. She studied everything he did and the questions he asked each driver, noting what changes she would have made. Somehow, he came to admire her spirit and taught her the tricks of the trade.

When he retired the year after Nesta graduated, he went to the board of directors and personally recommended her to fill his spot. She waited two agonizing days for their decision. 

Using whatever means necessary, Nesta had clawed her way to the top and cemented her reputation as the most cutthroat reporter in the industry. Her goal had been for everyone in motorsport to know her name, and in only two years, she had done so. Better yet, she had caught the eye of one of the fastest drivers on the grid.

Her phone rang just as she pulled into the press parking area. She answered, not bothering to check the caller ID. “Hello?”

Tomas’ velvety voice thundered through the speakers of her Civic. “Hey baby. You here yet?”

“Just pulled in,” She replied, touching up her makeup in the rearview. 

“Right on time for a quickie. Meet me at my trailer in five.”

Tomas had already hung up before she had the chance to protest. Both their reputations hinged on their relationship staying secret. If the press caught wind that she was fucking a driver, her credibility would go out the window, and Tomas would be the laughing stock of the grid. So sneaking into his trailer wasn’t exactly the type of discreet she was aiming for.

Tomas Mandray had been racing for Red Bull for two years when she had scored her first exclusive interview with him. He had just been awarded pole position at the Spanish Grand Prix in Barcelona, and Nesta had sweet talked her way into the paddock. It had taken minutes for his charming blue eyes to enchant her. He had won that race, and taken her to bed straight after. 

The sex was great, but that’s all it ever was. Their relationship was purely based on the physical; nothing emotional on either end. They had agreed on that from the start. Just sex.

Unfortunately for Nesta, somewhere along the way it had become something more.

Sighing, she put on her oversized sunglasses and hid her tawny hair under a gauzy scarf. The fashion wouldn’t stand out at all amongst the celebrities that frequented the Monaco Grand Prix. Going over the top here was expected; Monaco was known for its money. Due to the lack of income tax, Monaco was a haven for white collar delinquents and royalty alike. Lamborghini’s and Ferrari’s were commonplace, and women wore rings that could set a jewel thief up for life. 

No one bothered her as she strode towards the pit checkpoint, flashing her press badge to get by. She fell into her usual cadence, exuding an air of importance and invincibility. Seemingly without realizing, people moved out of her way when they saw her coming. The navy, red, and yellow of the Redbull tent came into view, and Nesta inserted herself into the crowd of mechanics and VIPs to get past security. Press wasn’t allowed in the area until after the race.

Nesta broke away once inside, heading down a back corridor. She knew the layout by heart, having walked the path many times. The door at the end of the hall led outside to Tomas’ private trailer. She didn’t bother to knock before entering. Tomas would already be waiting for her.

He set down his phone as she entered. “Finally,” He said with a savage grin. “We only have a few minutes.”

****************

Tomas left as soon as he finished, donning his jumpsuit without so much as a kiss goodbye. Utterly used to the behavior, Nesta straightened her clothes and again touched up her makeup before heading back out.

She was scheduled to conduct a pre-race interview with Cassian Valle in the Mercedes tent in twenty minutes. Redbull and Mercedes were at opposite ends of the pit, giving her plenty of time to think.

Truthfully, Nesta was dreading the interaction. Cassian was an arrogant ass. She couldn’t stand interviewing him; all he did was skirt around questions and try to flirt, which made it incredibly difficult to get any headline-worthy tidbits from him.

Azriel Sainz, Cassian’s teammate at Mercedes, was much more amiable. He was mostly forgettable and quiet, but always gave her something to work with and was sometimes downright pleasant to talk to. She could understand why the public loved him, but not why they were so enamored with Cassian. Sure, he was a three time world champion, and that earned him plenty of fans, but he was just so… dreadful.

She made it to the Mercedes pit just minutes before the scheduled time, immediately spotting her tense cameraman, Jacob. Slim built, he was average looking, nothing special. He was sweet though, if not a bit of a pushover.

“Where the hell have you been?” He hissed, chocolate brown eyes wide. “Valle is waiting.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, handing Jacob her sunglasses and the scarf. “I’m here now, aren’t I? Not my fault if he was early.” Nesta accepted her microphone and rolled her shoulders. “Let’s get this over with then.”

“Happy birthday by the way,” Jacob added. Yes, there was the pushover side shining through. 

Nesta threw a grin at him over her shoulder. “Thanks.”

Cassian’s back was to her as she approached, his white Mercedes jumpsuit half on, the arms of it cinched around his waist. The crisp gray shirt he wore left little to the imagination, hugging his sculpted form. Good; at least that would capture the attention of any women that might be watching. As would the deep brown curl that fell in his face when he turned to her.

“If it isn’t my very favorite reporter,” He crooned, a grin plastered on his face. “Took you long enough to get here. I also hear it’s your birthday.” Nesta glared at Jacob. He shrank under her steely look, an apology stumbling from his lips.

“I would give you a birthday kiss, but I think you’d knock me out if I offered.”

Nesta pointedly ignored him, “Let’s just get on with it,” She said, motioning to Jacob to start recording. Once he signaled he was ready, Nesta breathed deep, the sweet scent of high octane fuel assaulting her senses. It steadied her, and she slipped into her professional mask before turning to the camera.

“As we all know, the Monaco Grand Prix offers drivers a unique set of challenges. The two-mile street course has 19 technical corners with little room for error. It is in Monaco that we get to see who has what it takes to be a Formula 1 champion.” She turned to Cassian, gave him a professional smile and continued.

“Last year, you had a puncture at turn seven when you ran over some debris. Coupled with the fumble the pit crew had with not having your tires ready when you came into the pit, you finished a disappointing 12th place, winning you no points in the driver’s championship. Do you expect that this year will be better, or will you stick to your usual aggressive driving style?”

Cassian laughed, running a hand through his unbound curls. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be changing anything. You can expect to see me on the podium, sweetheart. Most likely in first.”

Nesta grit her teeth. She couldn’t air that, and he knew it. “How about you answer the question without trying to piss me off?”

“It’s too easy,” Cassian said, that devilish grin returning. Nesta cut him a glare that simmered with violence. “Alright fine,” He relented, putting his hands up. “Go again.”

She repeated her question, and this time he answered, “I don’t really see any need to change my driving style, what happened last year was a fluke. I went wide on the turn and didn’t notice Vanserra's front wing until the last second and wasn’t able to change course.” Nesta nodded, encouraging him to go on. “I don't see myself making any mistakes like that this year. You can expect to see me on the podium, most likely in first.”

“Thank you for that Cassian. Good luck on the track today.”

“Thank you,” He said, waving at the camera. He paused before adding, “Though I won’t need luck.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and signaled for Jacob to cut the recording. At least that last bit could be edited out. “You are absolutely insufferable, you know that?”

Cassian shrugged, undoing the arms of his fire suit and slipping into them. “I do my best.” He winked at her before zipping up his suit, opening his mouth to say something else when the Mercedes team principal, Rhysand, barked at him to get his ass in gear. He gave Nesta a wordless salute before jogging off.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Jacob said, packing up his camera. “That guy has balls.”

“He’s a Formula 1 driver,” Nesta said simply, putting her sunglasses back on. “Of course he does.”

**********

Nesta watched the 78 lap race from the press box, silently cheering Tomas on. Each time the pack of cars passed, the windows rattled, doing little to muffle the engine noise. She chatted with the others as necessary, keeping one eye on the tarmac below. Tomas had started from pole position, and held onto first place until the final 10 laps. He had attempted to lap an AlphaTauri driver when the driver had failed to yield, violating FIA regulations. The two had bumped tires in what was ruled a racing incident, but Nesta knew better. Tomas had lost his cool and nudged the other driver on purpose, nearly sending him into the wall. 

It was a bad call on Tomas’ part, as the comfortable four second lead he had held over second place shattered. Nesta swore under her breath as Cassian overtook Tomas, her heart dropping when the other Mercedes driver, Azriel, did the same. Tomas would not be happy about that. 

When the checkered flag waved, Cassian was first, Azriel second, and Tomas third.  The winners parked before the podium, anger radiating from Tomas as he tore his helmet off. Tamlin, the Redbull team principal, said something to Tomas that had his cheeks burning red. 

Nesta grabbed Jacob and headed for the press room. They had a half hour tops before the post-race interviews started, and Nesta had to make sure she was front row. Though it didn’t matter where she sat; she always made sure her questions were answered.

It was more so for Tomas. She wanted him to see her, to see the understanding on her face and know she supported him even when he didn't win.

They were first to the press room, and Nesta had ample time to prepare questions. She couldn’t question Tomas, or she risked uncapping his rage. Instead, she jotted down a question she knew would shift the focus from Tomas to the Mercedes drivers.

Reporters began filing in, vying for the perfect spot and debating the race results with one another. Nesta remained in her seat, determined to maintain her composure as her stomach churned. Tomas finally entered, jaw set as he took his place on the stage. Nesta tried to subtly catch his eye, but he pointedly avoided looking at her. 

Cassian and Azriel entered, laughing and congratulating each other. Nesta noted the slight change in Tomas’ posture, the only hint of the blood boiling beneath his skin. Cameras flashed, reporters shouted, but still Nesta remained seated. Cassian, at least, sought her out in the crowd, and flashed her an ‘I-told-you-so’ grin when he found her. Once the clamor had died down, Nesta stood. The room quieted further, the others having learned not to talk over her if they valued their jobs. Nesta had a knack for digging up dirt on anyone she pleased.

Her eyes were still locked on Cassian as the moderator indicated she could ask her question. 

“Azriel,” She started, turning to the dark haired man, “You were lucky you were able to take second in this race, after the incident in turn twelve on lap 27 when you sustained heavy damage to your front wing, thanks to the actions of your teammate. Does it ever get under your skin that Valle’s overly-aggressive driving threatens your own position in the championship?”

The room was silent. Tomas hid his grin behind a well-manicured hand. Cassian’s eyes narrowed, a muscle in his jaw fluttering. Good; she had hit a nerve. Azriel shrugged, crossing his arms. 

“It was a racing incident. Could have happened to anyone. I don’t think the blame lays entirely with Cassian; I could have given him more room on the corner.”

And that was that. Nesta didn’t ask any more questions, but she could feel Cassian glaring at her throughout. At the end of the interview, all three drivers thanked everyone before leaving.

As Nesta made her way back to her car, she texted Tomas.

You okay?

Her heart pounded as she waited for the reply. Her phone buzzed minutes later.

I’ll be home late. Party at the Redbull house.

Oh. Okay. See you later then.

“Happy birthday to me,” She muttered, stuffing the phone in her pocket.

Nesta wasn’t sure why his reply stung, but it cut deep. She had hoped that he would want to see her instead of going to another party and spend time with her on her birthday. Instead, he would probably stick his tongue down another woman’s throat like usual. She couldn’t really blame him. Their relationship had to remain secret and to do so, Tomas had to maintain his playboy aura. It wasn’t really cheating if she had agreed to it.

But if that were true, why did it hurt so fucking bad when he did?

Some of her tension eased when she finally spied her car in the lot. The Blue Bullet, she had nicknamed it, due to the strikingly bright paint. It was the first purchase she had made upon being promoted, and it had since become her pride and joy. She had chosen it because it set lap records left and right when it had hit the market a few years back, and she had craved speed her whole life. On city streets, this car was the closest she could get to experiencing Formula 1 without completely breaking the bank.

“How about you don’t ask stupid fucking questions next time your prettyboy loses?”

Nesta’s breath hitched. Your prettyboy. The accusation was clear. Her hand slipped from the door handle, turning towards the voice. If he knew… If he knew about her and Tomas, they were done for. She willed her voice into solid steel.

“Cassian. I would advise you to choose your next words wisely.”

He placed a hand on her Civic, getting in her face. “Racing means you have racing incidents. I don’t expect you to understand, seeing as you’ve never been behind the wheel of a real race car.” He sneered at her car, the insult striking home.

Fear faded, replaced by a rising wave of scarlett rage. Nesta’s gaze stuck to where his hand lay on the bright blue paint, utterly vexed by the infringement. She bared her teeth at him, rising to the challenge in Cassian’s flaming hazel eyes. 

“Get. Off.”

Cassian started at the command in her tone and obeyed. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “Understanding the nuances of Formula 1 is my job description. I asked about that incident because I knew it would piss you off. Looks like I was right huh?” Her temper was getting the better of her. “And by the way, would it kill you to give me a decent quote once in a while, instead of always trying to get in my pants?”

“I do not-”

“Oh go fuck yourself,” Nesta scoffed, yanking the door open. 

The corners of his mouth twitched upward as she slammed the car door. “I was already planning on it.”

Those parting words haunted her drive home, even as she took the long way in hopes of blowing off steam. She shifted through the gears, throwing the Civic around corners much faster than was probably safe. Nesta didn’t care; her head was a mess. At least he hadn’t mentioned anything more about Tomas. Maybe Cassian had just thought she had a crush, based on the way she had been looking at him during the conference. Gods, she couldn’t get Cassian out of her head. 

His grin followed her up the stairs to her apartment, where she snapped the curtains shut. She couldn’t bear to look out over the track any longer today. 

Those words echoed in her head as she brushed her teeth and crawled into bed alone. Swam through her thoughts of Tomas, as she struggled to keep her eyes open when the clock showed 1 am. As she finally gave in, they were her last thought. 

I was already planning on it. 

@aphoeni @planet-faerie  @nina-zcnik @linsimin @that-little-red-head @teagoddess99 @enpointe10 @electronicstrawberrystrawberry @awesomelena555 @iptneus @weesablackbeak @wonderland--memories @nessian-trash-heap @magicalwaterfall @perfectlyimpxrfect @cassians-wings @valkyrie-archeron @acourtofcouture @nesemryn @chloepereyra @illyrianshadowhunter​ 

[katrinawritesthings]

Jonghyun / Taemin; bridging parallels ; nc17

jonghyun and taemin live in the apartments across from each other and jonghyun has been watching taemin climb out of his window and sneak out of the house several times a week for years ever since they were both in high school

for summer of shinee 2021 : )

Him and Taemin text still. Not often, and when they do, it's never really a full conversation. Mostly just memes shared at 2 in the morning, small talk, happy birthdays. Look at that dog texted fervently at 7 p.m. On a Thursday dragging one of them at light speed to their window to obey. Taemin makes his way into one of Jonghyun's articles again, this time a little spotlight of his work as a choreographer for an entire show.

Jonghyun has known Taemin since they were kids. Apartment neighbors, kind of. Jonghyun is 408, Taemin is 718. The way the apartments are set up, Jonghyun can sit at his bedroom window, look outside, and see Taemin's bedroom window across the way and one floor down. They go to elementary school together, then middle school, and then high school. They have one or two classes together over the years. None of that really matters because they never really talk.

What was the homework texted here, our mutual friend both invited us to the same party there, look at that dog shouted into the space between their windows at 7 p.m. On a Thursday one time in 8th grade. Whatever.

Even when Taemin starts sneaking out at night, the summer after sophomore year, 15 years old, it doesn't magically make them have a speaking relationship. All it does is distract Jonghyun as he's sitting at his window sill, scented candle lit, summer reading program report under his hands. Distracts him and makes him drop his pencil four floors into the bushes that line the building.

He doesn't watch it long enough to see it hit the ground. He's far too interested in watching whatever the fuck Taemin thinks he's doing. He's clambering out of his window, his third-story window, nothing but a concrete drop below him, and then he's actually climbing up, up the wall, up the building, up three floors until he's hauling himself up onto the roof.

When Taemin makes it up there, he rolls out of view over the ledge, but then his head pops back over. He looks all the way down, and even from far away, Jonghyun can see the huge smile spread over his face. His hands slap excitedly on the ledge before he stands up, turns, and disappears again as he jogs away, the high kick of his ankle behind him as he stumbles a step the last thing that Jonghyun sees of him.

Until he sees him sneaking out again the next night.

It doesn't become a nightly thing, but it is still regular enough that, every night when he's at his window sill with a candle and some writing, he’ll glance up at any movement he sees across the way just in case. It doesn't stop when school starts back up again, either. Sometimes Jonghyun will watch Taemin clamber out of his window, up the building, and disappear on the roof one night and then watch him sleeping on the bus the next morning, wondering how many hours he actually got. Sometimes he'll be up late enough to watch Taemin sneak back in, a descent three floors down from the roof that stops Jonghyun's heart every time.

School goes on. Jonghyun takes storytelling electives; music, ceramics, creative writing, art. He reads comic books, watches anime, looks up walkthroughs of video games that he can't play himself. He gets detention one time for being late and a kid sitting next to him offers him some weed, which he tries but doesn't really like, but that kid helps him through some spontaneous crying a few weeks later so they become pretty close and he winds up being the designated driver to a bunch of stoners. His dad moves out, his sister moves out, his sister moves back in. He picks up a part-time job at a music store during his senior year to help with the bills.

He sees Taemin around every now and again. They have ceramics together, for one. Taemin sits at another table with his own group of friends, but he smiles and says hey to Jonghyun when they wind up in the glazing room together. He comes into Jonghyun's job sometimes, looking over new album releases and buying everything a particular band puts out.

Jonghyun sees Taemin dancing during school pep rallies, assemblies, during rehearsals and the big night for a talent show they're both in where Jonghyun almost cries on stage because he's so nervous to be playing one of his own self written songs in front of people. He cries backstage instead and they still don't talk, but Taemin offers him a quick hug as they pass, hand rubbing over his back, and then he's gone before Jonghyun even really realized he was there in the first place. Later that night, Taemin sneaks out and then back in again within an hour.

And that night is also the first night that Taemin notices Jonghyun watching him. It’s just as he’s putting his hands on his windowsill to hoist himself up that he hesitates and, for a reason that Jonghyun can't come up with, looks directly across the way at Jonghyun.

He jumps when he sees Jonghyun, like he's startled; Jonghyun waves, a little confused, a little amused. Taemin looks down, covering what has to be an embarrassed smile with his hand.then Taemin looks up, waves back, and clambers out of his window and up the wall like usual. After he reaches the top, he peeks his head over the edge for the first time since that first night. Jonghyun leans just a little bit out of his window to smile and wave again. Even with all of the distance between them, Jonghyun can see the flash of his smile as Taemin taps two fingers to his temple and flicks them off in a salute.

From that night on, everytime that Taemin sneaks out, they wave at each other.

They graduate; Jonghyun with okay grades and Taemin with probably the same. Jonghyun doesn't go to college or anything. He upgrades his job at the music store to full time and does some freelance work online writing articles about art events and festivals in the area while he tries to work on his own stories in his free time. Taemin doesn't leave town either, because he still climbs out of his window and disappears over the roof on a regular basis. It's not until Taemin comes into the music store one time to buy a new CD and Jonghyun recognizes the logo on his hoodie as belonging to the local dance theater that he figures out what Taemin has been up to lately.

And it's not until they happen to both wind up in the little corner store down the street from their apartment complex at the same time that they have their first real conversation.

Jonghyun is there because he wanted snacks and his sister wanted snacks and he lost the rock paper scissors to decide who would go out and get some. Taemin is apparently there to buy some booze because he's standing in front of all of the refrigerators and contemplating the selection when Jonghyun opens one next to him to grab a couple bottles of soda.

"Oh, sorry," Taemin says, glancing at him and stepping a little bit away, and then, brighter, "oh, hey Jonghyun."

"Hey," Jonghyun says back, pleasantly surprised to recognize him. "Party?" he asks, nodding at all of the liquor. Taemin shakes his head, tells Jonghyun that he's just looking for something fun and fruity to enjoy by himself in his room sometimes. For self-care, he says. Jonghyun tells him he gets that and taps the glass in front of one of his favorite fruity boozy drinks in recommendation. Taemin shrugs and takes his word, opening the refrigerator and pulling out the bottle without even really looking at the label or anything on it. Then, after a moment's hesitation, asks, "how old are you again?"

"20," Jonghyun tells him, smiling a little sheepishly. "Maybe I ask my sister to buy me alcohol. Don't tell anyone."

And Taemin's response to that is a snort, a broad grin, and a hand slipping into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. "As long as you don't tell anyone about this," he says as he pulls out his ID card from its clear plastic flap, slots it in with all his other cards, pulls out a different ID card, and puts that in the flap.

The blunt casualness of that whole exchange surprises a laugh out of Jonghyun, one that sounds loud in the quiet little store. He doesn't try to stifle it; has never really tried to stifle his laughter. Still chuckling, he offers up his pinky to Taemin to promise. Taemin looks at him, looks at his pinky, covers his mouth and nose with the back of his hand for a moment, then links their pinkies together.

Taemin buys his alcohol and leaves the store before Jonghyun finishes picking up all of his snacks, but he sees Taemin ahead on the sidewalk on the way back and jogs to catch up with him.

"Don't go climbing out of your window after you drink any of that," he says, worried halfway through the sentence that maybe he's overstepping but finishing anyway. Taemin does that thing again, where he looks down and rubs his nose, and is the first one to offer up his pinky this time.

Taemin picks up a fashion for denim-on-denim, leather, spikes. Dark clothes, baggy hoodies, lots of rings. Beanies, worn-out shoes. Jonghyun attaches himself to big comfy sweaters, turtlenecks, bracelets cinching over the sleeves. Ripped jeans, snapbacks, boots. Taemin lets his hair grow out until it fans out around his face, soft and wavy, then cuts it short into a choppy bowl cut and a crisp undercut. Jonghyun tries out an undercut too, finds he likes it, experiments with dying his hair every couple of months. Taemin has some new piercings–shark bites, cheek studs, spikes through his ears. Jonghyun has some new tattoos–words on his arms, permanent bracelets around his wrists, planets on his side, a starscape on his back.

Jonghyun starts teaching guitar lessons at the music store to kids on the weekends. His mom gets promoted at her job. They stop struggling as much, settle into something almost resembling financial security. He keeps freelancing and in one of his articles he writes about a culture show the dance theater is putting on. In the picture that runs with the article, Taemin is standing on the end, smiling with his arm around a fellow dancer, doing a victory sign for the camera.

There's a queer club down the street from the music store that Jonghyun goes to sometimes. He makes new friends, has a couple of casual hookups, has a cute girlfriend for a while but things don't really work out. It's fine between them after. Taemin almost has a cute date friend one time, but that doesn't work out either. Jonghyun knows this because he watches the whole thing happen from his window sill.

He's there, writing notebook under his hands, scented candle next to his elbow, just like every night, and Taemin is suddenly there on the roof. Except, for once, he's not alone. Someone else is with him. A little taller, thick dark hair spilling out of a pulled up hoodie, and that's about all Jonghyun can see of them. The pair of them sit down on the ledge, feet dangling over nothing, close enough that their shoulders almost brush every so often.

Jonghyun doesn't mean to snoop, or eavesdrop, or anything. Taemin's love life is his own business. It's interesting, yeah, to watch them stargazing and talking together, but Jonghyun really is only glancing up at them every couple of minutes to distract his brain a little bit so he can focus on his writing without getting distracted a lot by something else. And it just so happens, that during one of those glances, Taemin tries to make his move.

It's not much of a move; a purposeful bump of their shoulders, a rub of his nose with the back of his hand, something said to make them look at him directly. More quiet words, a leaning in–not all the way, but enough to be clear–a tilt of his head like he's asking a question, and then.

And then. The other person leaning back, shaking their head, covering their mouth with both hands. Quickly they reach for Taemin's hand, holding it tight as they speak earnestly, as Taemin nods up and down and tugs his hair at the back of his head where they can't see.

They sit together for a little while longer after that, but a barely perceptible distance apart now, enough space that they don't accidentally bump shoulders anymore. Then the other person stands up, starts to walk away. Taemin turns and takes their hand, carefully, asks them something that they nod in agreement to. Taemin drops their hand, flops his own hands into his lap. The other person walks away, and then a minute later, Taemin falls back, sprawls himself out over the roof until all Jonghyun can see are his legs still dangling. They kick in the air for a few seconds before flopping limply back down in defeat.

Jonghyun looks back to his writing with a shake of his head. Poor baby.

He doesn't see Taemin sneak out for a couple of weeks after that. Then, another night, another candle, another page of writing, he glances up and finds Taemin sitting at his window, arms crossed on the windowsill, face nestled in his elbow, cheek smushed up as he pouts out at nothing. Jonghyun can't help it; he smiles at the image.

"Hey sorry about your heartbreak dude" is what he texts to Taemin once he finds his number buried in all of his contacts, an entry probably put in during high school for some project that neither of them remember. And then he just watches, waits, until Taemin leans away from his window. A moment later, Taemin returns, and this time he's holding his phone and looking up at Jonghyun. Jonghyun waves with an apologetic little shrug.

"Damn you saw that??? " Taemin texts back. Jonghyun replies that he did indeed see it and offers more condolences. Taemin's sigh is audible to Jonghyun even from so far away, but he replies anyway. They talk about nothing, really; Taemin asks what Jonghyun is always writing about and Jonghyun tells him. His book that he's been working on for a while. The one where he wanted to write a love story but wound up accidentally writing a breakup scene in the first chapter and then just went with it. Taemin seems to take some comfort in hearing about a failed romance.

The night after that, Taemin climbs out of his window again.

Him and Taemin text still. Not often, and when they do, it's never really a full conversation. Mostly just memes shared at 2 in the morning, small talk, happy birthdays. Look at that dog texted fervently at 7 p.m. On a Thursday dragging one of them at light speed to their window to obey. Taemin makes his way into one of Jonghyun's articles again, this time a little spotlight of his work as a choreographer for an entire show.

Jonghyun's manager gets fired for tax evasion or some bullshit and suddenly he finds himself as the manager instead. Not because he's super qualified for the job, but because he's worked there for the longest, almost 11 years, and the rest of the employees are mostly part-time high school kids. All of a sudden he has all of these duties and responsibilities that he doesn't know what to do with, on top of dealing with the mess that his old boss left him with. The first thing he does is give himself and all of the employees a raise, which at first gets him a serious reprimand from upper management of the store chain, but he doesn't give a shit and the next month he gets praised for reducing customer service complaints and boosting product sales.

One night Taemin comes into the music store to buy a new album from his favorite band a couple weeks later than Jonghyun was expecting him to. Usually he shows up on day one; when Jonghyun mentions that to him, he rubs his nose with the back of his hand and shrugs, mumbling something about a giveaway online and shipping problems. Jonghyun chuckles at that, mentions that the cardboard stand that they have in the store to promote the album is free for him to take, if he wants it. He's the manager. He can do that now.

Taemin's eyes widen behind his bangs, his teeth flash in a huge smile. He thanks Jonghyun emphatically, grabs the stand, and walks out with it, holding it in front of him as he goes and biting his lip.

Jonghyun finds himself thinking about that later in bed. Taemin’s teeth biting into his bottom lip. Digging into soft, plush pink. He looked different today. Something about his face, his nose. A nose job, Jonghyun guesses, something to change the tip of his nose from a cute soft hook to a cute round end. He dropped his shark bite piercings at some point and replaced them with studs. two silver squares on each side of his bottom lip, matching the ones that dimple his cheeks, the sets that outline the tips of his eyebrows. Matching the ones lined up below his collar bones. Jonghyun could see those in the dip of his v-neck.

The piercings won't leave his mind as he tries to fall asleep. Heavy silver, bold, striking, a statement of toughness outlining his delicate features. Jonghyun wonders how they feel, if he ran his fingers over them would they be cold or would they have absorbed Taemin’s body heat. He makes the mistake of wondering if Taemin has matching studs on his hips and realizes with a start that he's running his fingers over his own lips, imagining how it would feel if he were to drag his mouth over them.

Face hot, lips tingling, Jonghyun rolls over in bed and tries to think of anything else.

It works. For a little bit. Until the next day when he waves at Taemin as he heads out for the night. Then he's thinking about them again. Then he's thinking about what kind of noises Taemin would make if Jonghyun kissed his piercings. About how much deeper, huskier Taemin's voice sounded in the store. It had to have been that deep the last time they talked, the last time Taemin came in to buy an album, but–if it was, Jonghyun doesn't remember noticing or caring as much as he does now.

This new realization has him trying with all his heart to think about himself, what it means that he's gone his whole life without knowing that he had a thing for piercings, what it means if it's not the piercings and it's just Taemin, what it means if he suddenly starts lusting over the boy next door.

This lasts for about two more days until he gets tired of it and decides to just do something about it.

So the next time he catches Taemin about to climb out of his window a little bit after midnight, he waves frantically to get his attention. Taemin stops, looks at him, smiles, waves back. Jonghyun beckons towards him, trying to communicate that he wants him to come over without shouting. Taemin points at himself then over up at Jonghyun, tilting his head; Jonghyun nods eagerly, beckoning again. Without a moment of hesitation this time, Taemin nods and holds up one finger.

He climbs up his building, and then instead of disappearing away from Jonghyun, he walks along the edge. Jonghyun leans a little bit out of his window to watch him all the way down to where the parallel lines of their apartment buildings turn into a U for him to cross, until he gets too close to Jonghyun's side to see anymore. Then, a minute later, there's a crunch of shoe against brick outside his window. He moves his tealight candle out of the way and Taemin slips into his room feet first.

"Hey," he says. "What's up? Can I smell?"

A finger with chipped black nail polish touches next to Jonghyun's tiny candle. He has studs on the backs of his wrists too. Jonghyun lets him smell with a warning to be careful not to spill it, and then tries to figure out a way to say what he wants to say tactfully. He didn't think this part through. It's not really his style to come up with detailed plans, just to try things out and see if they work. Finally, after a bunch of starts and stops, half asked questions, an exasperated sigh, he just says, "do you want to make out?"

And in the silence after the question, in the dim light of his desk lamp, Taemin's tongue wets his lips.

"Sure," he says.

Nice.

Sure turns into Taemin in Jonghyun's lap, turns into Jonghyun gliding his thumb over the studs under Taemin's lip, turns into Taemin cupping his face and pressing their mouths together. Kissing turns into Jonghyun's hands sliding up under his shirt, turns into Taemin groaning the hottest noise Jonghyun has ever heard into his mouth, turns into him standing with his sweater half way over his head frantically whispering to Taemin that his bed is too squeaky and his family is trying to sleep.

He takes Taemin to the floor, sits on his hips and grinds down while Taemin fumbles with his own belt buckle, hands bumping Jonghyun's cock through his pajama pants. Jonghyun hadn't meant for this to happen, wasn't planning on fucking Taemin, but he doesn't want to stop.Taemin doesn't either, says god no when Jonghyun asks and that's enough of a reason to Jonghyun to keep going. He's pushing Taemin's shirt up while Taemin is trying to reach up onto his bed for a pillow, and it's rushed and it's messy, but Jonghyun discovers that Taemin not only has studs along the V of his but also one over his belly button, bars through his nipples, and, best of all, when he pulls Taemin's pants down, four of us small silver balls like an X around the head of his cock.

Lube from his desk, three fingers deep into his own ass, thumb tracing over every piercing on Taemin's hips, so hard it hurts, almost delirious with want, Jonghyun barely hears Taemin when he says, "I've always thought you were cute."

The piercings in his collar bones glint in the light, his skin glistens with summer sweat, the sharp angle of his jawline, the shadow of his adam's apple bobbing in his throat, the raw edge on his voice as he says, "I've always liked you, ever since we were kids, I've always–I don't know when it turned into a crush, but I–god that feels so good. Oh my fucking god." Halfway down Taemin's cock, Taemin grabs Jonghyun's hips and pulls him down all the way, knocks the breath from his lungs. "Jonghyun," he says, "more."

Jonghyun gives him more until he can't anymore, until his thighs are burning and his arms are trembling. Taemin removes the effort for him by turning them around until he's on his back. Taemin fucks him like that, tries to kiss him more but quickly gives up and buries his face in Jonghyun's neck instead. With "you're perfect, you're perfect, you're so fucking perfect, " breathed under his ear, Jonghyun hooks his leg around Taemin's back, pulls him in harder, faster, whispers his own pleads back, begs Taemin to bite him, bite his neck.

Taemin bites him, hard, and that's how he comes, body frozen underneath him until he goes all the way limp, only barely registering in some faraway part of his brain Taemin's choked breaths and the warmth pooling inside of him. He's weak, hazy, loopy, giggling, and Taemin's gentle hands are on him again, picking him up, putting him on his knees, and Jonghyun is glad to obey, glad to do whatever the fuck when he's this blissed-out.

Quiet curses as hands smooth over his back, the softest "oh, wow," whispered as fingers trace his constellations, and then the deepest groan as Taemin's tongue touches his skin. Jonghyun's eyes fly open, his voice rises three octaves, he slaps both hands over his mouth to stifle the noises he's making, noises he’s never made before in his life. The moment that he realizes that Taemin has a tongue stud is the moment that everything goes white, and then the next moment, everything goes dark.

The next morning he wakes up alone, in his bed, pajama pants back on, candle burned all the way down to nothing, window closed. He's not angry, or hurt, but he is a little grumpy all day long until he walks up to the entrance of the apartment complex after work and Taemin is sitting on one of the big potted plants outside the door.

He stands up when Jonghyun gets close to him, presses a large jar candle of the scent from last night into his hands, and, blinking a mile a minute, blurts out, "hey, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for last night when I told you I was in love with you and then fucked you and then panicked and left," to which Jonghyun, baffled, wracking his memory, replies, "did you tell me you're in love with me?"

Which kicks Taemin's blinking into overdrive, starts up a long, stammering babble that Jonghyun can confidently say he understands about 20% of. After a minute he realizes that Taemin isn't going to stop, so he interrupts him by asking, "Taemin, do you want to go on a date?"

A few days later, they share a mountain of fries on an outside table at some burger joint. Taemin, embarrassed, reading notes from his phone, admits that he's had a crush on Jonghyun for what feels like forever but was always too shy and infatuated to make a move. Jonghyun, embarrassed, scratching the back of his head, admits that he just got suddenly horny for the piercings one day and was a little too impulsive in making his move. Both of them, laughing, agree that it would probably be nice to work towards a middle ground together.

And it is.

[comebeonetwothree]

Blog #8: Country Roads

07/13/2021

Currently driving through roads where pro-life billboards are placed in front of graveyards… we are officially on the road back home.

Traveling fast but seeing the most we have while covering 1,500 miles and two time zones in the last week. 900 miles to go. We jumped from Portland to northern and southern Montana then all the way through to Chicago… our last stop ;(

We met some really nice people out here- the kind of people that want to take time out of their day to interact with you. People actually smile at you and mean it when they say “have a good day.”

There were a lot of experiences this week that were indescribable. All senses were at full throttle from sleeping in the heart of Portland to camping in National Parks.

Being our last stretch of the trip, it has been hard to not feel sad when we are closing such a big chapter of our life. It’s a weird feeling of being sad but also still being so excited for the next stop. I hope the excitement doesn’t end.

Who

Who is ready to rumble…

In Portland we got to meet up with Maya’s cousin, Michael and his daughter Thea. He moved out there 13 years ago and never looked back.

He was telling us he did a similar trip with his college buddies back in the day and fell in love with the city, so moved there shortly after the trip.

Sounds fun, might fuck around and move…

Batman was ready to rumble, and fumble and everything in between. While whitewater rafting in Glacier National Park, we had the pleasure of riding with Batman The Guide. Batman, because you can’t change who you are but if you can always choose Batman.

He had been living in Montana for 17 years after moving from Oregon. He had previously worked in the park as a shuttle bus driver and recently switched over to a whitewater rafting instructor.

He was a funny fucking dude; the whole crew was super hyped but he had a comedic sense that made it an entertaining day.

While on the water, we were joking around and splashing the neighboring rafts, an independent rafter said they will bomb us with beers if we splash them. One of the other people on the boat yelled back, “Are they full beers?” and they responded by launching three full miller lite beers at our raft.

At the end of our tour, Batman gave us the three beers then we dedicated those three beers to him with a funnel.

More Friends!!! Its wild how many people we got to see throughout this trip. Hitting Yellowstone National Park, we met up with Mayas friends from home: Cole, Jamie and Declan.

They were just starting their cross-country trip from Nyack, NY, hitting the Northern route to the southern, vs our trip ending in the North. Funny coincident.

We camped out with them for two nights… it was too beautiful to just stay one night, so we pushed back our trip to badlands and stayed the extra night.

We were all out at this joint called Buffalo Bar, it had a great outdoor area with corn hole, ring toss and puppiesss. There is something so fulfilling in petting random dogs with a beer in your hand.

This one dog I was petting had an exceptional owner who was traveling him across states to bring him home. I spoke with the owner for quite a while, she was so friendly about letting me pet her dog. She really was doing it all, back at home she has three kids and two other dogs.

When people hear about our travels, their reactions usually make us realize how cool it is to have the opportunity to do a trip like this.

Many times they wish they did the same when they were our age, *cough, cough, go travel right now, cough, cough.*

This woman explained how she jumped right into working out of school and has always regretted it. Her children were already teenagers so I told her she should get out there and do it. Traveling her new dog home was a great start to the on-the-go lifestyle, she seemed to be enjoying it.

I later found out she picked up our tables tab… thank you Jennifer, you have a heart of gold and a generous soul. She explained her hopes that her kids will one day get out there and see the world like she always wished, and we were accomplishing. It was a pass it forward request, when I am able to cover the bill of a lovely traveling stranger. I hope I cross paths with this family eventually and pay it forward for her children that may travel.

What

What a reality…

The National Park pass is something you buy and are given access to all the national parks in the US. We got one in the beginning of the trip knowing we would be reaching quite a few parks. Unfortunately, we lost it after just seeing the Grand canyon.

It fell in a black hole… the area where your dashboard and windshield meet. Remember this when you put shit on the dashboard. It can slide right down to its death, the only way to get the shit out is by taking off the windshield.

Those passes are irreplaceable, of course.

In badlands, we posted up around 10 p.m. in our hammocks. It was a new experience for us, we thought hey its our last time camping, lets try it a new way. 

We set our hammocks up underneath this podium and slept there. It was perfect for a quick and easy set up/clean up. There was a solid amount of people around us, so we weren't too worried about getting attacked by coyotes again. 

Where

When driving to Portland we drove through the Redwood National Forest. This made me realize how long this Earth has been around.

Trees take a while to grow, and these trees were as thick as three full grown pine trees and as tall as two stacked on top of each other.

Neck breaking tall.

After crossing through, we hit the upper west coast and traveled on route 101 until we hit Portland. It was filled with jaw dropping views, so much so I woke Mary and Maya up every 5 minutes to show them the views. Most times it was the same view as before, just with a new massive rock to look at.

It was a relatively foggy day, so we couldn’t see certain lookout points, but there was something so majestic about the fog within the forests and hanging on the coast.

There were points where you cross over a bridge and there was nothing around you, just white. It appeared as being stuck in a dream or driving my bitchass to heaven.

Arriving in Portland, we stayed at a place in ChinaTown. It was so cute and located on top of a great deli, Charlie’s Deli.

We checked out a bunch of shops and stores while in Portland. While we were walking around, this coffee shop had the sweetest workers. They enjoyed interacting with their customers and weren’t just looking to take your money.

Portland is filled with mockingly friendly people, they weren’t mocking anyone though, they were just that fucking friendly. They actually want to converse with people... what a concept.

For dinner we went to this food truck pod place, which is about 15 different food trucks serving food, with a communal sitting area to eat the food.

We met up with Maya’s cousin there for a drink and to catch up.

Hitting Glacier National Park, we started our camping excursion. We started off sleeping in our car since we arrived late to our campground after driving 10 hours to get there. It was pretty comfortable and with the knowledge of bear attacks in the area, it was a secure place to sleep.

While in Glacier, we decided to go whitewater rafting, a whole new way of seeing the parks. It was so dope, the rapids were on the weak side since the heat waves.

After rafting, we found a great lake front public access point where we hung our hammocks up and took a nice long nap.

There are lakes EVERYWHERE here in Montana and great fishing! Let’s travel and fish all over Montana, okay? Cool.

We waited until 5 p.m. when the park lets you in without a pass, to do a sunset hike in the park. We took Going-to-the-sun road to the highline hike, where we got to see some wild animals!

In the parking lot we got to see a horned sheep (looks like a ram) and more mountain goats!! We saw three full grown goats and one baby goat.

This horned sheep actually stormed at us and we had to jump into our car. The people that parked in the spot before us left their cheetos on the ground. This guy was hungry as fuck I guess. Relentless to say the least. 

This National Park is my new favorite spot-on Earth. Spread my ashes here. Moseying through the park was a full body experience.

All your senses are involved, the smells of the forest are beyond refreshing. The touch of the crisp air brings goosebumps to your skin, and the taste of wind in your face emphasizes the overload of oxygen in that area.

There are no commercialized areas for hours outside the park. Just a fuck ton of trees.

The sounds of different birds chirping harmonizes in your ears with the wind blowing and the rocks falling below you. Your sight is spiked the highest out of the senses. These views seemed so unreal they appeared fake. When you finally touch the grounds around you, you realize how really unreal this land is.

Heading to Yellowstone the following day brought a similar element of nostalgia. We camped right outside the park, on the state border lines of Wyoming and Idaho.

Our friends we stayed with luckily still had their national park pass, so we all took our car and got into the park early that next morning. We got to see some bison! Fun Fact: Bison and Buffalos are actually the same thing.

There were so many beautiful trees and hot springs throughout the park. So many cool colors to see. We also watched Old Faithful blow her hole!!

Getting to Badlands eventually, we got a campground directly in the park. Since we got there later than five it was free. We posted up our hammocks for our last night camping on the trip ;( when we woke up, the views were so cool.

Badlands is a shit ton of clay forming giant sandcastle hills all over. But there is so much green for a desert it was an interesting combination.

When

When can we shower…

We have completed so much of the drive home its wild. We stayed in an apartment for the first two nights in Portland and then spent the rest of the week camping.

We hit our record of days without a shower… 5 full ass days. I’m so proud of Mary and Maya, they really can’t stand being dirty.

When driving long ass 10 hour plus drives for a week you find yourself enjoying nothingness. Head empty is such a vibe after jamming to music and listening to murder mystery podcasts for hours on end.

Our music ranges widely, depending on crashing periods. Whenever Mary is driving, she is either blasting screamo edm music or 2000s pop music.

Maya plays some bomb bops; I really don’t know any of the songs, but it has opened my mind to all these new artists!!

I personally love the murder mystery podcasts, there were a few times I had to change it though because it got too spooky. In the case of this week, we were driving to camp in Montana and a murder mystery came on about the Montana Child Killer… dope.

Why

I have ruled out ever living in a city. From the driving on busy ass streets to the dirty smells everywhere, I will happily reside somewhere in the country. Where? Still have no idea… Why? Because there are so many pros and cons to all these places we saw.

I guess i'll just have to come back out here!

I’m really thinking somewhere up north on the west coast. The west coast will forever hold my heart, but I really don’t have the money or the ability to live in a city out there. Maybe one day with a bombass money making job.

Coming back to the East has made me realize how much nicer people are out west and how much slower of a pace it is.

How

How are we coming up on our last spot…

We are hitting our last stop… Chicago. Shoutout to my cousin for going to school here and letting us use and abuse his apartment! Hehe just kidding we will take care of it for ya, Owen!

It feels so strange to be this close to New York. Our license plates being from New York is no longer that cool.

I’m going to miss people peeping our plates and asking us about our travels and/or wishing us luck!

Thanks everyone throughout, we are almost accomplished with this chapter!

[bxstvrd]

ENTER STAGE RIGHT... JONAH PRYCE AS “THE VILLAIN”

content warnings for: infidelity, disassociation, emotional abuse, gaslighting, disordered eating / body image issues

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&& basics–– full name: jonathan alexander pryce sinclair age: twenty-one (sensitive little cancer, his birthday’s july 1st) sexuality: bisexual baby (literally bc he’s still parsing all of this / figuring out this part of his identity) gender & pronouns: cis, he/him/his character comps: kendall roy ( succession ), the man in black ( westworld ), bojack horseman ( bojack horseman ), adam groff ( sex education ), tim riggins ( friday night lights ), max evans ( roswell new mexico ) full statistics page here

&& history––

jonah’s got legacies on both sides of his family. his father, william pryce, is the heir of a meat distribution company based in pennsylvania that’s become one of the largest beef distributors in the continental united states. his mother, charlotte sinclair, is from old money that’s now tied up in several magazines / newspapers in the tristate area

his whole childhood, he could never figure out why william hated him so much, why william would never give him an ounce of paternal love, not the way he did with jonah’s brothers. and then one night, in a drunken tirade, william reveals: jonah’s a bastard. he’s not william’s son, but rather a product of charlotte’s infidelity

the truth of who he is makes too much sense to jonah, contextualizes everything that’s ever happened to him, and it breaks something in him. he grows into the role of the ‘destroyer’, the villain, the bastard. he learns coldness from his father, apathy from his mother, and shoulders the guilt of his own birth as though he’s not just a child, as though he did something to deserve this. he comes to realize, it’s not that he did anything wrong. simply put, jonah was just born wrong.

theater helps, and he’s good at it too, but it doesn’t undo the ache of being cast aside. jonah becomes obsessed with finding his birth father and finally, after sixteen years of pretending, he confronts his mother, who reluctantly gives jonah his name: desmond burnes.

desmond burnes is a playwright, much to jonah’s delight. and he’s an alderidge alum (which is why jonah even applied here to begin with). the summer before he goes off to college, jonah decides to go to new york to track down his dad, using a summer theater program at columbia as a guise for tracking des down. and at first, des is everything he wanted in a parent: thoughtful, attentive, engaged. but the more jonah gets to know him, the more he realizes how hot and cold des is, how similar the two of them are, in all the worst ways.

the summer ends in turmoil, as you would expect. jonah developed a bit of a crush on hugh, the prop designer for des’ play, not realizing that des and hugh were already entangled sexually. jonah finds the two of them together, and it breaks him, not because he’s jealous, but because he realizes: des will never be the kind of father jonah’s needed his whole life. it leaves a hole in his heart, a void he thinks will never be filled.

until....enter stage left!! orson hobbs. that slimy mother fucker saw how much pain there is in jonah, but also saw how he could harness that deep, deep agony for something great. and jonah, for what feels like the millionth time in his life, put all of his trust and love and hope into the wrong fucking person because he was so desperate to be good in jonah’s eyes, so desperate to have someone who saw him and wouldn’t leave, like everyone else before orson.

his relationship with helen really threw a wrench in that though. orson always liked jonah broken, and with helen, he finally sound some sense of healing. so he reeled jonah back in, using the role of achilles as the hook line and sinker, and jonah, oblivious to how he was being manipulated, fell for it all. he’s always been so susceptible to changing himself for the approval of other people, always twisting himself into whatever shape he thinks people want to see. it’s only towards the end, days before the curtain rises for troilus and cressida, that jonah understands: orson never cared about him. orson likes him broken, docile, his. and orson will cast him aside if he refuses to comply.

orson’s death has shaken him to his core because, even though he didn’t kill orson, a part of jonah knows that, if he saw orson that night, he would have. knowing he has that rage in him, knowing that that’s what he’s truly capable of... he’s never felt more wrong, more evil in his whole life, and hell, maybe that’s just who he is. maybe he’s failed, so many times, at being good because he’s got a black mark on his heart, just like des, just like william.

&& random facts––

smokes too many cigarettes & doesn’t drink enough water

hates birds

sketches when he’s bored, likes drawing butts

is a staunch vegetarian, trying to go vegan but likes cheese too much

would cry @ everything if he didn’t have to deal w the embarrassment of being vulnerable in front of people

doesn’t know how to swim

knows literally every single thing there is to know about david fincher, one might call him... obsessed??

always looks like he just woke up from a nap... probably because he did

and in that vein, Nap King, he’s been diagnosed with a mild form of narcolepsy, don’t fuck w jonah’s naps

allergic to cats, but loves them so much its stupid

compulsively buys candles when he’s sad (so always buying candles because he’s always fucking sad)

gets HEATED about the great british bake off. don’t talk to him about it if you don’t want to open a pandora’s box of his love for mary berry

favorite color is yellow

always cold

disaster bi: clumsy as fuck. horrible driver. can’t sit properly in chairs. never knows what time it is

[jjk-emotrash]

Blood and Gasoline - Chapter 6

Type: Mafia!AU

Group/s: Mainly BTS, Got7, Blackpink

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (OC), Jikook x Reader (OC)

Safety: NSFW

Warnings (Whole Fic): Swearing, Violence, Prostitution, Misogyny/Anti-Feminist Views, Torture, Smut, Non-Con/Rape, Death, SOME Fluff

Word Count: 4.6k

Masterlist

Hectic is the only way to describe the following week; training with Jackson in the morning, rehearsals with the girls in the afternoon and every night Y/N would perform at the club in a variety in skin-tight, exceedingly revealing, sparkly outfits then sit by Yoongi's side in his private booth -drinking and laughing with the boys. Y/N got closer to Jimin over the course of the week as he drove her to and from the club, their conversations relatively short but sweet. She learned that, when Jimin could help it, he was a lover, not a fighter - though, apparently, was skilled with many weapons. As he told it, he never saw himself as a violent person but after getting himself kicked out of college for almost killing someone with his own two hands when they pissed him off a little too much, he started to realise how violent he could get. Even his own mother was scared of him when he got angry. Y/N couldn’t understand for the life of her how anybody could be scared of such a sweet looking face, so soft and gentle with his slightly rounded cheeks and plump lips. However, as he told her the story, she decided to never get on Jimin’s bad side - never wanting to see that beautiful, happy face contort into pure malice and rage.

Her fight training with Jackson was something she was apprehensive about, having never fought anyone before. However, she settled into the routine pretty quickly and actually enjoyed the cathartic nature of her training sessions, allowing her to release all of her pent-up anger and stress. They started simply, him merely testing her strength and stamina in a series of brain-numbing workouts on the gym equipment that left her muscles aching. After thoroughly assessing her ability, he finally decided to teach her the basic fighting techniques. Knowing her flexibility from dance and surprising strength for someone who had never fought, after teaching her how to block a hit, he taught her how to force push someone away with a kick to the chest.

“Get this right Y/N, and you could quite easily knock someone off their feet,” Jackson told her as he puts on a padded vest “or at the very least push them back enough to stun them so you can try to get away.”

At first, she wasn’t so confident and was lacking in motivation – also not wanting to do it wrong and accidentally hurt him, or herself. After some reassurance, she tried again, and again, and again, until eventually, she managed to push her teacher back an inch.

“Well done, Y/N. You’ll be able to take me down in no time if you keep training like this.” He said with a smile and patted her sweat soaked back, “I think we should stop here for today, go have a shower and then I’ll meet you for lunch.”

During Friday's training session, he goes over everything they had done that week, Y/N managing to push him back on the third attempt, before he decided that she was ready to start learning to shoot. At the sound of that, her face goes pale and she gulped nervously as he pulls out a gun. Jackson taught her all the important information she would need if she were to fire a gun correctly and without injury to herself. Her hands shook when he told her to fire a blank at the dummy set up in the corner.

“Oh no, I can’t do that-” She started nervously.

“Y/N. You are here to learn to defend yourself. There’s only so much Jungkook can do to protect you. Now shoot the dummy.” He said slowly to calm her as he guides her into the correct position. She yelped slightly as she pulled the trigger, her arms coming up over her head to avoid injury as he showed her. When she looks over at the dummy, there is a small red dot on its waist.

“That was pretty good for your first shot. But it does help if you don’t close your eyes,” he teased her and chuckled, making her laugh slightly. “Try again.”

He stepped back to let her concentrate. She took a deep breath and positions herself before aiming for the x marking where the heart is. Pulling the trigger for the second time, she doesn’t flinch. The bullet missed the target but it was definitely more controlled. She sighed and smiled tightly.

This is going to take some getting used to…

That night, Y/N had another encounter with Taehyung. Now knowing his true intentions and “lifestyle”, she allowed herself to joke with him a little but doesn’t forget who he is and what she is now to him. Taehyung doesn’t forget either so doesn’t push his limits too far, only making a few flirty comments and buying her a drink after her performance. She knows Yoongi’s eyes are on her the entire time but it doesn’t stop her from sharing a drink with the man, she also knew that for some reason that the blonde won’t try to hurt her in such a crowded space. A voice in the back of his head told him that he should not be so nice to her now she is technically his rival but for whatever reason, he felt the need to be gentler with her. And not just so he could try to get in her pants. He couldn’t explain it and didn’t want to try figuring it out; he had other more important things to occupy his headspace…

Saturday flew by without hassle and on Sunday Y/N had her first gang meeting. The group sat around the dining table dressed casually, a platter of pastries in the centre of the table for anyone to eat. She sat between Lisa and Jimin, him poking her repeatedly on the thigh to ease her nerves, the small gesture on his part making her have to struggle to contain her giggles. She punched his thigh gently in response and he grins widely at her, his eyes creasing. The meeting started with a quick review of how Y/N has settled in, Yoongi questioning both her and Jackson on how her training has gone. Pleasantly surprised by their responses and happy that she is doing well, he moved on to more pressing issues and the reason for the meeting.

“With Taehyung’s frequent appearances at the club over the past two weeks, I think it is safe to assume that the rest of the gang is in town as well.” A heavy silence fell over the table. “I have decided that we are going to have a small private party at the club on Wednesday. Smaller associated gangs will attend, as well as the Scorpions.”

Immediately a chorus of protests were thrown at the boss.

“Are you fucking crazy? Do you understand how badly this could end?” Mark fired at his boss but the man didn’t seem fazed by the outburst.

“As long as everyone stays calm, nothing will go wrong. That being said, I want you all armed. Just in case” Yoongi made a point of looking Y/N in the eye, causing a shiver to run down her spine, before turning to look at the other dancers. “Girls, you are free to join the party, no escort duties necessary.” They nod and thank him, the side of his mouth quirking up in response. “Yugyeom, you’ll assume your usual post – Bam Bam will be expecting a delivery.” He nodded and calculates something in his head.

“Who’s ‘Bam Bam’?” Y/N whispered to Lisa

“One of our rival gang’s henchmen, and druggie.” She whispered back, “He’s also a massive flirt, and a firm believer in ‘wham, bam, thank you, ma’am’. So, stay away.”

Y/N giggled slightly then turned her attention back to Yoongi. He continued talking about plans, asking Jimin to hack into the rival gang’s systems and send them an invitation, and Mark to have some of his “speciality” – whatever the hell that was - on hand. With that, they all stood and left the room.

The gang spent the next two days planning the party, Jimin successfully managing to send the rival gangs in the area invitations to the party. They all responded saying that they would be attending. With the party looming, the gang grew more and more stressed. Yoongi could be heard yelling at many points during the day, the only person he didn’t scream at was Y/N. In fact, he actually went upstairs and sat with her in her room to let some steam off, practically begging her for a distraction. She told him some more about her life pre-gang and he listened carefully, trying to ingrain as much information as he could about her in his head as humanly possible. Before leaving to go to his study, he gave Y/N a quick kiss to her knuckles as a thank you for calming him down.

“Thank you, darling” He murmured softly, the pet name a new addition to their agreement. She blushed and hummed in response. He stood and left without looking back; she flopped down on the bed with a groan.

By the time the party rolled around, the gang appeared to be completely calm. All were dressed immaculately, looking more like models than dangerous criminals. The boys all wore their usual designer black slacks and perfectly shined shoes, silver chains hanging around all of their necks; the four experienced girls wore tight mini dresses in jewel tones, each with their own personal style, accompanied by sparkling gold heels. Y/N, on the other hand, wore a long, figure-hugging, black dress with a slit travelling up to the middle of her thigh and on her feet, a beautiful set of red heels.

Jungkook, hair parted to the side and blood red shirt perfectly hugging his toned chest under a black velvet jacket, travelled with her to the club, holding her hand the whole time. Her driver, Jimin talking to her like normal to calm her nerves also looked stunning with his black silk shirt unbuttoned at the top and hair styled up, accentuating his strong cheekbones and jawline. She walked into the club with a boy on each arm, feeling confident and beautiful yet strangely out of place. Being new to everything and knowing that a lot of people in the club could kill her if they so wished, she gripped onto the boys tightly making them snicker.

“Nervous?” Jimin asked with a soft, teasing smirk gracing his lips.

“No shit.” she replied almost immediately and he laughs, the sound settling her nerves a little.

“You’ll be fine, just act like you belong here - which you do, by the way - act like you’re the most important person in the room, and nobody will question it.” Jungkook reassured her as the two boys escort her to the bar for a drink.  

As time progressed and after consuming a few glasses of her usual drink of choice, she started to relax and enjoy herself at the party. Jungkook’s arm stayed tight around her waist with Jimin and Yugyeom close by as they talked to the associated gang members, male and female. All were unnervingly beautiful and it caused her anxiety to creep up on her. However, it dissipated with every sip of the pink alcohol in her hand.

About an hour into the party, Jisoo found her and practically dragged her onto the dance floor where she was met with three pairs of mischievous eyes belonging to the female dancers that were quickly becoming a lot like sisters. Y/N couldn’t help but giggle and danced with the girls, those surrounding them ogling their every move, desperate to see more. Dancing for what felt like hours, she eventually had to take a break much to the dismay of the dancers and the onlookers. She blew them all a kiss before walking back to the bar and receiving a low whistle from Mark, who was leaning against the bar with a pint of beer in hand.

“I thought you were off-duty,” he said and smirked slightly, his eyes glinting mischievously. Mark looked devilishly handsome, his white shirt accentuated by the hints of silver thread.

“I am,” she laughed and asked Yugyeom to get her a gin and tonic, “But what’s a party without a bit of dancing?”

He laughed and nodded “I conquer,” he downed the rest of his pint and pays Yugyeom for Y/N’s drink “Just be careful, beautiful. Those men are savages.”

“And you’re not?”

He only smirked and winked at her before walking into the group of dancing people leaving her chuckling at him. She stood watching the club and chatting with Yugyeom like she had on many other nights before, him having to leave to deal with this ‘Bam Bam’ guy after a while, and felt calmer than she had in a week. Yes, she had been at the club almost every night over the week but she never got to properly relax. She always had to be performing and faux-flirting with Yoongi in his booth. Tonight, she was free of most worries and expectations.

That was until Yoongi eventually came over to get himself another drink, which Yugyeom immediately gave him, and he brushed a kiss to Y/N’s temple. Her body tingled momentarily before she remembered her position in the gang. Yoongi’s ‘consort’. They had to make it look like she was his completely like they had been doing all week. Swallowing her pride, she snaked an arm over his shoulder. He smirked darkly and leaned in so his mouth was level with her ear, his free hand resting on her waist. To any onlooker, it would’ve looked like they were a couple stealing a quick moment away from the chaos of the party. To those that knew better, the sight was strangely saddening.

“How are you feeling?” He whispered to her gently, his tone completely contrasting everything else about his protective aura.

“I’m okay, this is actually really fun.” She replied happily and absentmindedly played with the hair at the nape of his neck. She could swear he growled slightly and tightened his grip on her waist at the action but she brushed it off.

“Good, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. Don’t have too much fun though, don’t think I didn’t see you dancing for all those men earlier.”

She blushed slightly but smirked nonetheless, wanting to play her role well.

“Did you enjoy the show, Sir?” She all but purred into his ear.

This time, she definitely heard him growl.

“Very much so.” He said, the hand on her waist travelling to the small of her back and pulling her closer. “I’ll see you later, darling.” He kissed her once more, this time dipping his head to press his lips to her jaw, and left her to go up to his booth where Namjoon was waiting for him with a few other associated gang leaders.

After Yoongi left her side, Yugyeom came over to top up her drink and muttering so only she could hear something about putting on a "great performance, your majesty". Receiving a smack on the arm from Y/N, he laughed and returned to his other customers. However, she didn't stay alone for much longer than a few minutes.

"Hello again, beautiful," said a deep and annoyingly familiar voice.

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned to the blonde, "Hello, Taehyung. Enjoying the party?"

"Not as much as you apparently,” he smirked and glances behind her to Yoongi’s booth, “how does it feel being Yoongi's new whore?" he asked with the intention of hitting a wound but it misses.

"Pretty good, not gonna lie." she quickly retorts and drinks a mouthful of her G+T, he laughed.

"When I heard about your master’s latest conquest, I didn’t even think about the possibility that it could be you but I have to say - I'm not disappointed. I knew you had some bite in you." He smirked and placed a hand on her hip, but she quickly pushed it away.

"Didn't you ever learn not to touch things that aren't yours?" Y/N questioned with a seemingly innocent smile. He merely scoffed and leaned against the bar. The two continue talking for a few minutes, Jungkook then coming over to join them. Taehyung immediately tensed as Jungkook’s hand none too subtly brushed against Y/N’s, making a show of his obvious protective instincts over her.  

“You two seem abnormally close for people who only met last week.” Taehyung stated bitterly as his eyes lock with Jungkook’s in a fierce glare.

“What’s it to you, Taehyung, it’s not like you didn’t just meet last week. And for the record, we didn’t first meet a week ago.” Jungkook bit back through gritted teeth.

“Boys, calm down.” Y/N attempted to ease the tension then turned to the tall blonde scowling at her bodyguard, “If you must know, for whatever twisted reason, Taehyung – Jungkook and I knew each other as children. Happy?”

Taehyung nodded curtly at her response but didn’t break the glaring contest that seemed to be going on between the two boys.  Y/N could only sigh at them disapprovingly and resort to downing the rest of her drink. They stood in an awkward standoff for another few seconds before Namjoon came and broke them out of it by stepping between them to get to the bar. Y/N silently thanked the dimpled man and chuckled to herself at the sight of the two surprised boys looking at a completely unfazed Namjoon. Jungkook cocked his head to the side, jaw clenched before securing Y/N’s hand in his and squeezing it in apology. She scoffed and unlaced their hands. He shook his head slightly in surprise and looked at her only to find her looking right back with an eyebrow raised, daring him to question her. He didn’t.

Namjoon walked away, with a small wink at Y/N and whispering something the Jungkook who nods once in response, and leaves them in peace. But it doesn’t last long. Just as Taehyung was about to make another probably snarky remark, the loud crash of breaking glass was heard from the other side of the club and then all hell broke loose. Suddenly bullets were flying, a fire was burning bright and slowly filling the room with smoke and Y/N was being forcefully dragged out of the club by Jungkook. She looked back and is horrified by the sight of countless, bodies on the ground in a puddle of their own blood. Y/N choked on her breath and forced herself to keep moving despite wanting to break down then and there.

Jungkook took her out to the car then grips her shoulders to check that she hadn’t somehow been hurt in the small journey from the bar to the car. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of a small cut on her cheek where a small piece of glass had caught her skin but he quickly let it go, knowing her injury was extremely minor. Jimin then ran over, gun in hand and jacket disposed of. His hair was dishevelled and a gash graced his jaw but he didn’t seem to care.

“Are you okay?” His voice was raspy as he spoke and opened the door for her to get in.

“I think so…” She got into the vehicle as Jungkook turned to leave, pulling out his gun and double checking how many rounds of ammo he had. Noticing, she grabbed onto his free hand and pleads for him to stay with her wide, scared eyes but he just pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles and ran back into the gunfire. Jimin closed her door then rounded the car to get into the driver’s seat and quickly speeding off to the mansion, jaw clenched the entire time and constantly checking on Y/N’s crumbling state in the rear-view mirror. In the exceedingly short time it took for them to arrive back at the mansion, Y/N was restless in her seat – trembling, her breathing frantic as a few tears slipped down her cheeks. Jimin cursed under his breath and goes to her immediately, slamming his door shut in the process.

“Y/N calm down, you’re safe now.” He tried to calm her as he unbuckled her seatbelt and turned her to face him, “Look at me Y/N.”

She looked at him and he wiped her tears away with the pad of his thumb.

“Nothing can hurt you here. I promise.”

She took a few deep breaths and nodded before standing and walking to the front door with Jimin by her side protectively. He ushered her inside and watched as she took off her heels and shook her hair out to calm herself.

“Will everyone be okay?” She asks and leans against the wall, her face contorted with worry.

“We can only hope,” He answers hoping for the same thing. He opens his mouth to say something but thinks against it, choosing instead to give her a quick hug and whispered to stay safe before running out to the car and speeding back to the club.

After he was out of sight, Y/N ran upstairs to the bedroom to put on her pyjamas. She carefully took the gun out of her thigh holster that Lisa had given her and placed it on the bed whilst she got changed. She started to leave the room before coming to a halt in the doorway in the doorway. She thought that it was probably due to it being her first time alone in the giant house but something didn’t feel quite right. With a gulp, she picked up the gun and placed it in the pocket of her dressing gown. Feeling safer, she headed back downstairs and made a beeline straight for the kitchen, deciding to make herself some toast to soak up some of the alcohol. Once her toast was plated she made her way to the lounge to eat and relax with an episode of her favourite show.

“I was wondering when you’d come to find me,” An unknown voice said from the sofa causing Y/N to scream and drop her plate, before pulling her gun out of her pocket with shaky hands. The orange haired man that sat on the sofa chuckled darkly at the sight and stood up.

“Come any closer and I’ll shoot.” She managed to say though she wasn’t sure if she meant it. He scoffed and travelled to Yoongi’s liquor cabinet, getting out a bottle of whiskey and pouring himself a glass.

“You want a glass?” He asked, holding up an empty glass for her.

“What I want is for you to leave.” Her voice shook slightly as she spoke.

The man rolled his eyes and poured her a glass anyway and holding it out for her to take. When she made no move to take it he chuckled once more.

“Lower the gun, sweetheart, I’m not here to hurt you.” She scowled at the pet name but put the gun back in her pocket.

“Don’t call me sweetheart.” She said and took the glass from him.

“Would you prefer ‘honey’? Or ‘sweetie’? ‘Babygirl’?”  He smirks, “Or what about ‘darling’?”

How would he know that that’s what Yoongi calls me?

“Who are you?” She sets her glass down on the table.

“Let’s just say I’m an old friend of your ‘Boss’.” He resumed his previous place on the sofa then downs his whiskey. The strange man then patted the space next to him for Y/N to take. She sat on the opposite end of the sofa and he scoffed. “Come on, I don’t bite.”

She scoots a little closer.

“Y/N!” Yoongi called as he entered the mansion, sweaty, blood-stained and bruised – the rest of the gang following him in, in various states of disarray.

“I’m in the lounge!” she called back, nervous to see if they all came back. Letting out a sigh of relief as the whole gang entered the lounge, injured but alive, Y/N’s heart beat furiously in her chest. The girls immediately ran over to engulf Y/N in a hug, all cut and bruised in one form or another.

Once they released her, Jungkook, Jimin and Yugyeom came over to hug her. They all recoiled slightly when they smelled the whiskey on her.

“Whiskey?” Yugyeom asked in confusion and the looks at the table to see not one but two empty glasses on the table.

“I may have had an unexpected visitor,” She responds and sighs in frustration.

“What happened?” Yoongi asks sternly, already stressed from having to close the club for a week or so for refurbishment and not wanting to deal with an intruder as well. Y/N sighs and tells the gang what happened after Jimin dropped her off.

“…and he was waiting for me on the sofa. I freaked and pulled my gun out but he turned out to be harmless, if a little flirty,” Both Jungkook and Yoongi scowl at that, “anyway we talked about my new-ness to the whole gang thing, he cleaned up my cut and then left.”

“So, he didn’t try to hurt you?” Yoongi asked and sits down next to Y/N with an annoyed frown, frustrated that somebody had gotten in.

“No, he didn’t touch me apart from to sort my cheek out,” she assured him and racks her brain for anything she might have missed, “he said he was an old friend of yours…what was his name again...?”

She trailed off and tried to remember what the handsome, orange-haired man had been called. Jimin apologised profusely for not being more careful and checking the house before leaving, or locking the front door. He repeated over and over again that this was entirely his fault and deserved any punishment Yoongi saw fit, but Yoongi brushed it off and said, ‘what’s done is done’ but not to make the same mistakes again. The smaller blonde nodded and looked down, ashamed of himself. Namjoon put his arm around the pouting blonde and whispered something in his ear that made Jimin calm down a little.

Yoongi leaned back against the sofa with a sigh as Jungkook spouted off security and that they should never have had the “stupid fucking party” in the first place. The gang could only sit and wait for the man’s rant to finish in silence.

“Are you done?” Mark asked, completely fed up with the entire situation; Jungkook just glares at him but sits down and quietly broods to himself.

Yoongi looks to Y/n as the gang talks amongst themselves, checking over her to see if she was okay. Noticing his gaze on her she looks up and quirks the corner of her mouth up in a small smile, something he did to her on a daily basis. He watched her quietly thinking to herself and felt himself grow calmer and his body un-tense.

How can she do this to me? She’s not even doing anything and yet...

His thoughts were clouded with all the possibilities of why he felt so comfortable and relaxed around her, all of which made him feel strangely sick. An unknown fluttering feeling growing inside him the more he thought about it. It was all pushed away however as the subject of his thought suddenly shot up-right and gasped.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“His name…how could I forget it fit him perfectly…”

“What was he called, Y/N.” Yoongi pushed but instantly regretted it as the words fell from her mouth, making his entire body run cold.

“Hoseok. Jung Hoseok.”

[literary-spirit]

Confessions of a Mikaelson: Possessing the Bennett

*Warning there's not only smut in this chapter, but there'll also be a crap ton of lemonade throughout this story. It's rated M for a reason, my fellow Bonnie lovers. So if you're not with it then I'll completely understand and for those of you who wish to proceed, please remember to buckle your seatbelts and strap on you helmets, this road is cluttered and broken.* Okay so Francesca and I are working on something new. This WIP begins at the end of 01X01 TVD and swerves recklessly out of the canon plot line into a very strange AU! So you've been warned! Flame it or acclaim in comments. I'll leave it up to the Bennett Fandom on whether this hot mess of a WIP lives to see another update!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, none of these characters belong to me. And to add unfairness to poetic injustice, neither does the shows or the books. However, I still intend to pull the characters' strings and make them dance, all while having a ball upsetting canon plot lines!

Bonnie Bennett glared down at her smashed to hell pager. "Fucking, fuckery, fuck!"

She cringed after the string of no-no words leapt from her mouth. Unholy hell. Well, that would be another fifteen dollars for the swear jar. Her Grams had created the damn thing before she passed away. It was meant to help her broaden her vocabulary now it would probably be what put her through college.

For reasons she never really wanted to consider, she still faithfully added money to the jar whenever one of those slippery bastards (swear words) tumbled from her lips. Which fortunately only occurred when she was upset, stressed, depressed, bored, or angry. Okay, when she reflected upon it, half of her verbal interactions consisted of inappropriate phrases. Who the hell was she fooling? Her tongue had never met an explicit word it couldn't commit to.

Her glare left her broken pager to assess the front wheel of her bike. The damn thing had nearly folded in half. Well, it could've been worse. Instead of Caroline Forbes making her crash her bike into one of the wooden poles of Wickery Bridge, she could've simply knocked her over the rail. Bonnie wondered if the vapid bitch would've stopped then. She shook her head. Probably not. Why would she?

Bonnie Bennett was selectively invisible to the Mystic Falls' High elite. The only time any of those beautiful vultures ever acknowledged her was when they wanted to score some mushrooms and organic Mary J from her Grams garden or if they wanted to purchase a term paper. Other than that, she could walk down the halls bare assed wearing nothing but a smile and no one would raise even a threaded eyebrow. However, their impaired vision on all things Bonnie Bennett suited her just fine. She preferred living her day to day in between the lines. It afforded her certain privacies those who basked in the spot light were denied.

Yet, that evening she could've used just a bit of the spotlight. Not only was her bike a fucking tragedy, but her ankle was busted all to hell too. Without a ride or a phone, she'd have to limp her happy ass all the way home. Unless, the caretaker of the Mikaelson Estate took pity on her and allowed her to call a taxi. Bonnie didn't hold out much hope, though.

She honestly couldn't remember the last time the old crusty son of a bitch opened the wrought iron front gates. Maybe it was the last time the Mikaelsons were actually in residence. But when the hell was that? She'd lived in Mystic Falls all of her life and she'd never so much as caught a glimpse of the family. Talk was, they travelled year round and the Mikaelson Estate was only one of many properties they owned. And if rumors danced close to fact, then the residence should be in possession of at least one damn phone.

Not wanting to linger any longer on the bridge which hosted a shit ton of animal attacks, Bonnie struggled to drag her bike to the grassy area under the Wickery sign. Once she chained it to the wooden pole, she began to limp towards the Estate. It took her fifteen slow as shit minutes to reach the intercom outside the gates. To her surprise the house twinkled with a dozen or so lights too many. A frown crumpled her face. Normally, the house stood cloaked in shadows around that time of evening. For a brief second she found herself hesitating to press the intercom button. However, the aching throb of her ankle gave her the motivation she required to ring the caretaker.

A few moments after the crackly sound subsided an elderly voice answered. "Yes?"

"Hi," she said, trying her damnest to put on her sweetest good girl voice. "I just wrecked my bike on Wickery Bridge and broke my pager. Would it be possible for me to use your phone?"

Without explanation the intercom went silent. When she moved to press the button again, the gates swung open. Her eyes nearly hit the paved driveway at the sight of an old school Bentley pulling to a stop at the entrance. Seconds later, the—older than sand—caretaker exited the driver seat and shuffled around the car to open the back door.

Bonnie hobbled over to the car. Once there, she eased herself into the back seat. After closing the door, it took him every bit of eight minutes to reclaim his seat behind the steering wheel and another ten before he pulled the Bentley in front of the huge French glass double doors at the front of the Mansion. Deciding not to wait another twenty minutes for the caretaker to open her door, she slid from the backseat.

By the time she'd limped to the entrance, the caretaker had pulled the car away from the front of the house. Soon as she teetered to a stop on the proverbial welcome mat, the doors swung open. The air thickened right before several intoxicating forces nearly knocked her to the ground. An electric pulsing sensation shot from her center and surged through her vessels. The pulsating pooled in the palms of her hands, while forcing its way outward to thrum just beneath the surface of her skin. It was almost as if the intense vibrations deep within her responded to the pounding energy pouring from the mansion.

Bonnie stood on the fucking precipice. Her spidey senses told her that if she leaped nothing in her world would ever be the same. If she turned back now her life would resume unchanged. Being a habitual creature who never deviated from patterns or set routines, she knew the choice she should've selected. However, the draw beyond the threshold appealed to her way more than the comfort of her normal resting state. She inhaled enough oxygen for two and stepped inside before she had the chance to second guess her sanity.

Once inside the doors automatically closed behind her. Bonnie barely took notice. The spacious ornate foyer held her focus. Truth was, she didn't know what the hell to ogle first. From the massive crystal chandelier suspended at least sixty feet off the ground to the floor to ceiling marbled columns, everything vied for her absolute attention.

She couldn't believe people actually lounged in such a cushy lap of luxury. She'd never seen anything so...lavish. Not even Zach Salvatore's Boarding House could hold a blow torch to the Mikaelson Estate and his mansion was believed to be the nicest in town. That's if one didn't count the Lockwood Plantation. And she didn't. The slave quarters the Lockwood's still maintained on their property snatched them right out of the running.

The fine hair stood on the back of her neck as goose bumps pebbled the skin on her arms. She was being watched. Of course she was being watched. Whoever maintained the place alongside the caretaker probably wanted to make sure a few priceless knick-knacks didn't find its way into her pockets.

"Hello," A feminine voice greeted her from behind.

She limped around to face the owner of the voice. A sophisticated middle age lady stood before her looking like she'd just taken a bath in one percent privilege. The ends of her silky blond hair fell a couple of inches below her jawline in a professionally tapered bob to frame a passingly attractive oval shaped face. Tasteful, but expensive jewelry twinkled from her ears, wrist, and neck. The low-key touch brought a little more glamour to the understated white sundress she wore. After a head to toe assessment, she concluded there was no way in hell this woman was the housekeeper.

Bonnie cleared her throat. "Hey, I'm Bonnie Bennett." The woman's assessing blue gaze slightly flared with recognition. "I wrecked my bike a couple of hundred yards back on Wickery Bridge and totaled my fucking pager." Shit! Another five dollars for the swear jar. She squeezed her eyes closed. "Sorry, didn't mean to swear," she mumbled before retraining her gaze on the older lady who looked more amused than offended. "But in my defense this day has been a total shi-..." she shook her head, "never mind. Would it be okay if I used your phone?"

"Absolutely, Miss Bennett," the woman said, while strolling further into the foyer. "And before I misremember my manners allow me to introduce myself. I'm Esther Mikaelson."

Surprise stretched Bonnie's eyes wide. No fucking way! Wait until the founding families got an ear full of this news. Carol Lockwood would no doubt wet her panties when she heard the Mikaelsons had come to town. She mentally shook her head as she limped forward to grasp Mrs. Mikaelson extended hand.

The corners of the woman's mouth travelled south under the weight of a frown as she gazed down at Bonnie's sneakers. "Were you harmed?" Mrs. Mikaelson questioned as her intense stare reestablished eye contact between them.

"Think I sprained my ankle," she said, while lifting her injured limb. "I'm sure it'll be fine once I get some ice on it, though."

Esther's brow puckered. "Finn!"

"Yes, mother?" A tall—totally fuckable—man appeared from behind the same door Esther exited.

"Miss Bennett-,"

"Miss Bennett?" He questioned with an arched brow.

"Yes...Miss Bennett, this is my eldest son Finn," she shot the man a pointed glare before continuing. "Miss Bennett has unfortunately injured herself during a biking expedition. Would you do a great kindness and carry her to the beige and gold sitting room?"

"That's not necessary. I can walk-,"  

"Of course, mother," he said, before turning to approach her. The atmosphere around him crackled. Waves of intoxicating energy seeped from him and tentatively swirled around her, all while taking care not to make contact. The temperature of her body crept north. When he towered over her, he paused, "May I, Miss Bennett?"

"Really, it's not-,"

Without giving her time to finish her sentence, he lifted her into his arms as if she weighed nothing more than an arm full of feathered pillows. He then swiftly made his way deeper into the mansion. After a few minutes of sprinting, he stopped in front of a set of closed doors. An array of voices drifted to them from inside the room. Finn took a step back to allow Esther to enter ahead of them.

Upon the opening of the door, a wall of highly charged energy slammed into her and lit her the fuck up. Her body temperature sky rocketed and leaped off the damn meter as if she'd been tossed into a hell blaze. Combined magnetic forces pricked at the exposed surface of her skin. She became extremely cognizant of Finn's hard frame firmly pressed against her side. A fantasy of her running her hands over hills of rigid muscles while he stood before her in all his bare ass glory, blasted away her conscious regard for shame. Without out grazing two thoughts together, she began to rub her cheek back and forth over his pec. The growl her actions elicited provoked her nipples to tighten almost to the point of being painful.

"Well, well! Look what the Finn managed to drag in, Bekah," a boy with precision cut sable tresses snarked from his place in one of the armchairs positioned in front of the fire place. He watched her with unblinking chocolate brown eyes that was downright predatory in nature. His calculated serial killer stare should've scared her crapless. Yet, all she could manage to think was...hmm, dessert! "Do say you're intending to share, brother." Finn's hold tightened around her.

"Curb your vile tongue, Kol. Miss Bennett is a guest in our home and you would do well to honor her as such." Esther hissed as she impaled him with a glare that would've made Satan piss his pants.

Guest? She just wanted to use the damn phone.

"Bennett?" A jaw dropping blond bombshell questioned from a satin bronzed sofa.

Finn gently placed her on the opposing loveseat. "Yes, Rebekah. This is Miss Bonnie Bennett." His slightly timid gaze found hers as he positioned a pillow under her ankle. "Miss Bennett, these are my siblings Kol and Rebekah."

Faster than her eyes could track, Rebekah shot from the sofa and reappeared again as she placed Bonnie's ankle in her lap.

"Fucking, fuckery, fuck! Am I having a stroke or did you just imitate a fucking Lambo?" Shit, another twenty for the swear jar.

Rebekah's mouth fell open and a chortle tumbled forth. Finn tsked his expression absolutely scandalized. Esther's eyebrows leaped into her hairline and Kol...wait...where the hell was Kol? Moments later she was lifted from the loveseat cushion and resettled in a hard bulging lap. Cool lips nuzzled the crook of her neck as something steamy floated from a tea cup that hovered in front of her face.

"Sweetness, your wicked terminology enflames me. Curiously, I find myself longing for the affordable affections of an all too willing dockside harlot," Kol whispered next to her ear. "Here, have some tea while it's still warm. It'll do wonders for your injured ankle."

With no further warning, Kol placed the tea cup to her lips and spilled the contents down her throat. To prevent herself from, choking she swallowed the metallic tasting tea. As she drank her thoughts spun the hell out in her head. How the...where the...something was extremely twisted about the Mikaelsons. Strength, beauty, and speed. She felt as if someone had dropped her off in a damn Twilight flick. Had she been one of those drugged out hippy, dippy, students Grams used to invite over for dinner, she'd truly believe herself to be in a house overran with vampires.

"Mother, will you not correct Kol on his forwardness in regards to Miss Bennett," Finn demanded, while attempting to commit visual homicide on his younger brother.

"Kol," Esther spit, her tone warning.

The caretaker appeared in the open doorway of the room. "Lady Mikaelson, Lord Niklaus wishes you attend him on the telephone."

Telephone? That's what the hell she needed!

"Excuse, Miss Bennett. I won't be but a moment," she rose from seat next to a large paned window. "I'll receive the call in my study Hannibal." She sashayed from the room and the door softly clicked closed after her.

"Oh, brother of mine. Celeste has yet to launder our unmentionables." Kol paused to blow a stream of cool air in her ear. The walls of her pop rocker quavered. "Why not preoccupy yourself with sniffing mother's soiled knickers. Your absence will allow Bonnie and me an opportunity to become better acquainted."

After she finished drinking the tea, Kol pushed the cup and saucer into Finn's hands. She opened her mouth to bless him with some more of her, wicked terminology, when she noticed the throbbing in her ankle stopped.

Flexing her ankle back and forth, she side eyed Kol. "What the hell was in that tea?"

"Family recipe," he said with wide guiltless doe eyes. He, however, looked about as innocent as a wolf covered in blood and feathers.

Rebekah snorted as she stroked her now apparently uninjured ankle. The vibrations which pulsed from the tips of her fingers triggered her to squeeze her thighs together to assuage a whole other throbbing. When the youngest Mikaelson licked her painted rosy lips, liquid heat flooded Bonnie's center. What the fuck? When had girls ever done it for her? Not that a boy had ever done it to her, but still. All her crushes over the last few years were geared towards the opposite sex. She'd never thought about a girl in such a way.

Uncomfortable in her own damn skin, Bonnie hopped from Kol's lap to put distance between her and the Mikaelson siblings. "Look, I just needed to use the phone. But since my ankle is-,"

"Brilliant." Rebekah climbed to her feet and grabbed her wrist. She then dragged her towards the door. "You can use the one in my room." When Kol moved to follow, Rebekah speared him with an over the shoulder glare, before saying, "no boys allowed!"

                                      ****

Rebekah covertly watched Bonnie Bennett through her lashes as she painted the tiny witch's toes. Nik's spies in Mystic Falls hadn't exaggerated. She was exquisite. Her smooth bronzed brown skin appeared to be quite edible. The way it stretched uninterrupted over her hills, peaks, valleys, and dips, compelled her tongue to glide back and forth across her bottom lip. She couldn't refrain herself from imagining the lovely dove stripped bare and reclining in the center of her bed with her luxurious chocolate tresses fanned out about her head. Quite the fetching sight she'd make to be sure.

Vanilla, coconuts, and the sensually mouthwatering scent of arousal tempted Rebekah's nostrils. Her core clenched as a hint of a smile flirted with her lips. It pleased her to know the witch struggled with her lust as well. The proof saturated the air with her delectable fragrance. The sweet attar, teasingly baited and ensnared them. Even now Kol stood vigil outside her bedroom door. While Finn had abandoned his perpetual crusade of self-loathing to recite aloud, Napoleon's love letters to Josephine. In verity, they'd all become rather batty for Bonnie.

If the witch caused this big of an uproar in the house of Mikaelson before the manifestation of her powers, they would all be raving lunatics after her quickening.

"What'd you think, Dove? Do you fancy them?" Rebekah questioned, while tightening the top on the nail polish.

The witch's enthralling green eyes slightly narrowed as she peered down at her toes. "Um...they're really red."

Rebekah rolled her eyes as she placed the fingernail polish back on the night stand. "How perceptive of you, Miss Bennett," she said, allowing sarcasm to thread itself through her tone. "Do you have the inclination to inform me on the blondness of my hair as well?"

"Whoa, there's no need to take the leash off the bitch. All I'm saying is-,"

"Hmm..." The witch's sentence skidded to a halt when the blonde original began to massage her shapely calves. "What were you saying, Dove?"

"I..." the little beauty paused to swallow. "Didn't mean to offend you."

"Oh..." she murmured, while she allowed her fingers to inch up Bonnie's jean clad thigh. "Well, I'm relieved. The task of pleasing you is extremely important to me." The heel of her palm connected with the lovely dove's crotch.

A breathy moan crept from the split of the witch's lips. "Rebekah, I'm not into...ahh...ooh..." Bonnie whimpered as the youngest original began to grind her hand into her witch's denim clad mound.

"Shh, Dove," she whispered, while urging the witch to lie back on the pillow-top mattress. "It's just us girls..."

Rebekah moved to straddle Bonnie's lap. She then leaned forward and brushed her mouth against the witch's to gauge how receptive she'd be to a kiss. The Bennett witch's arms slithered around her neck and drew her closer. Once Rebekah's mouth loomed over hers, she lifted her head from the mattress to close the distance. Since her lovely little dove initiated the kiss she allowed the tiny witch to take the lead. However, when it became blatantly apparent she'd never been properly snogged, the original reclaimed control.

With the tip of her tongue, she traced the seam of Bonnie's lips. A moment later the witch opened her mouth and granted her entrance. The sweet taste of her extracted a throaty moan from Rebekah and motivated her lower half to grind into Bonnie's. Pretty soon the witch's hips began to rise from the mattress to meet her wild writhing thrusts. Each of their whimpers and moans climbed in volume until their lips tingled and the press of their joined mouths could no longer suppress the sounds.

[trixiesmountainbikingfuturewitch]

IN MY WILDEST DREAMS (Trixie&Fan Fanfiction *explicit*)

I never thought that going to a drag show would change my life in such a drastic way.

It was the week of finals my junior year of college. A friend and I drove three hours to see our favorite drag queen, Trixie Mattel, live in concert. We arrived and waited anxiously in the queue. We had spent an inordinate amount of time preparing for the show, each spending hours replicating Trixie’s makeup and our favorite looks. Many people wanted to take pictures with us and we happily obliged. Once inside the venue, my friend and I ordered a drink or two (a move I would later question as a driver behind my actions). We sat on the floor near the stage. I had paid through the nose for our tickets and we had never been so excited. I was secretly nervous, a fact I declined to share with my friend. I had a serious crush on Tracy Martel and Brian subsequently since he appeared on season 7 of RPDR. Having recently won the all stars season, my obsession and love for the queen had reached an all new high.

Also unbeknownst to my friend, I had a RealDo tucked away between my legs with the bulbed end pushed up inside my pussy. The dildo portion was tucked up and duck taped between my legs and I could feel the plug inside my every time I took a step. I was dripping before we even got to the venue. By the time the show got underway with the opener, I was ridiculously horny. Somewhere in the back of my delusional mind I wondered if Trixie would notice me and think I was hot; completely absurd coming from a curvy, somewhat-straight white girl. Brian prided himself on being gold star gay and there was no reason for me to expect any kind of attention from him.

After the opener finished his set he announced Trixie and she marched out on stage in all of her pink and blonde statuesque glory. I nearly fainted I was cheering so loud. I couldn’t believe it, my idol was in the flesh right in front of me. She sang her opening song and started her comedic set. I sat in my seat slack jawed, completely dazed with my legs tightly crossed through the beginnings of her set. I couldn’t get over how beautiful she looked. She was so tall and slender in her pink jumpsuit I couldn't take my eyes off of her. When she came back on stage in a giant pink coat and pink all-that-jazz dress I literally lost my mind. It occurred to me that I shouldn’t be so attracted to her since I considered myself straight. But I couldn’t stop staring at her voluptuous, full hips and breasts as she swayed across the stage crooning the lyrics to my favorite song. I was so close to her that I could see Brian’s beautiful deep chocolate eyes behind all of Trixie’s makeup.

Toward the middle of the show, Trixie took her guitar off and asked for the lights to go up so she could see the audience. My heart leapt at the mere thought of Trixie seeing me. Everyone in the audience jumped to their feet trying to catch the attention of the beautiful queen. Luckily, I was quite tall compared to everyone else around me, especially in my killer heels so I was easily seen above the crowd. She began picking people at random, asking them questions and making jokes. Then she called for a volunteer. A tiny part of my mind cried out “this is your chance.” So I raised my hand and waved. I stared at her and willed her to look in my direction, to choose me. By some stroke of luck, she twirled around and looked directly at my and pointed at me without hesitation. I walked toward the stage in a complete daze as Trixie said “a round of applause for this amazing queen, she dressed up and none of the rest of you did. You can all leave now, she showed all of you up.” The crowd chuckled and applauded as I climbed the side stairs up to the stage. My heart was in my stomach as a walked up to the blonde bombshell. She was even taller than I imagined, towering over me. Even being near her made my poor cunt throb and contract around the plug. She put her arm around me and asked me for my name and where I was from. I responded and she told me not to be so nervous. “You did a really great job we look just alike. But mine is all fake, tell me did you pad or is this lovely figure all yours?” she asked, her eyes smiling. “Its all me,” I replied becoming shy at being ogled but secretly pleased by the attention. I knew that I was good looking, with my thin waist and wide hips but I never expected Trixie to notice. She made a mock shocked face that made the audience roar. She turned to me and began to feel around my waist “so Skinny,” she said into the mic. I could feel her strong hands and guitar calluses through my catsuit as she touched me. “Not as skinny as the skinny legend tho,” I responded smiling, to which the crowd roared with laughter. After addressing the crowd again, she turned back to me and tilted her head down slightly to meet my eyes. I looked back deeply into her dark eyes and saw a flash of uncertainty there in the depths. She continued to stare at my for another heartbeat or so before looking away and cracking a joke. “Ok, now then,” she said looking at me, “were going to play a quick game of truth or dare and we have to do what the cards say.” She produced cards with dares written on them and handed me half of the stack. She went first, “truth or dare,” she asked. “Truth” I replied. Trixie drew a card from her stack. “Have you ever had a crush on a drag queen?” she asked laughing and saying “who the fuck wrote these questions, a teenage boy?” The crowd laughed. I personally was panicking because I did indeed have a crush on a drag queen that just so happened to be standing right in front of me on stage in front of hundreds of people. “Yes,” I said, being too shy to give any further details. “Oh come on, who?” she prodded. I looked at the crowd then looked back at her nervously. Summoning my courage I replied, “you.” The crowd gave a loud, collective “awwwww”. “That’s very sweet,” she replied giving me a lingering side hug. As she squeezed me, the hand wrapped around my side traveled slowly down to a questionable level just above my ass. I responded by moving my hand further down to which she quickly moved away. “Ok my turn” I stated, “truth or dare?” “Dare,” said Trixie. I drew a card from my stack and read the contents, “I dare you to continue with your set for five minutes with my hand taped to your crotch and yours taped to mine.” I doubled over laughing at the horrified expression on her face while the crowd lost their god damn minds. Trixie looked hesitant but agreed. It was at this point that I panicked. Would she feel the dildo through my leotard even with it tucked between my legs? Would I be able to feel Brian’s cock through his many layers of padding? A crew member then stepped on stage with a roll of duck tape and proceeded to tape my hand to Trixie’s crotch and then his hand to mine. I kept my hand relaxed not wanting to make him uncomfortable but I felt him moving his hand around on my crotch trying to put some space between my body and his hand. I cautiously curled my hand inward and pressed slightly, feeling for his allegedly huge cock. He mirrored my movements curiously and I could tell that he felt the dildo because he froze and his eyes grew wide. He played it off well, cracking a joke and making an uncomfortable face, joking about never touching pussy before. While he stoked I could feel his dick twitch slightly, making my face red with embarrassment and arousal.

We somehow managed to make it through the five minutes without further embarrassment. We were untapped from each other and I expected to be shown back to my seat. As I waved to the crowd and turned to go, Trixie grabbed my arm and whispered, “wait for me in my dressing room after the show.” I looked into his eyes and slowly nodded, the implications running through my brain which I quickly quieted. I waved again and climbed down the stairs. A staff member met me at the bottom and directed me through a side door and into the backstage area. They then led me to a door off of the main area, which was opened and I was instructed to stay and wait for Trixie. They asked if I wanted/needed anything and I said no. They then left me alone in his dressing room. I was in such a state of shock at the events that just transpired that I stood in the middle of the room for a good five minutes before I was prompted to move and explore the space. The room was tiny and littered with makeup products and quickly disregarded costume changes. I wandered over to the mirror where Trixie’s phone and other personal things sat. I looked up at the mirror and imagined him doing his makeup and getting ready. There were photos attached to the mirror. Photos of him with friends, some of whom I recognized were hastily stuck into the frame. I don't know how long I sat before the mirror lost in thought before I heard a rousing cheer from the crowd and knew that Trixie must have completed her show. Moments later the door opened and in stepped the skinny legend herself. I rose out of the chair and moved to the side of the room as she entered with her crew that helped her get un-miced and then left us alone. I was so shy I couldn't even look at her. It was slightly awkward as I stood to the side looking at the ground while he stared at me. “Well,” he said pausing I looked up at him and he had removed his wig and was beginning to shrug out of the dress he was wearing.

I had always been attacked to the duality of Trixie and Brian, the quiet strength and confidence of Brian mixed with the over-the-top persona of Trixie. As he stood there and looked at me half out of drag, I had never been so turned on in my life. I tried to inconspicuously cross my legs but his eyes darted toward the movement and they flickered back up to mine and his face changed into a knowing smile. He continued taking off his dress, watching me the whole time. When it hit the floor, I was able to see the thick padding and corsetry that he wore. The silence of the last few moments was broken by “so are you a woman or trans or what because I know what I felt?” He continued undressing, clearly not bothered by my presence. He stripped the many pairs of tights off and I could see the heavy bulge of his cock through his underwear. “I’m a woman” I replied, looking him dead in the eyes. “Well I could have sworn I felt a dick down there,” he said unbuckling his corset. He eyed me up and down, lingering on my crotch. I suddenly felt less nervous and self-conscious so I walked closer to him and he looked up with interest. I purposefully cupped his hand around my crotch and ground forward into his palm all the while looking into his eyes. His irises expanded and he took a shaky breath in, cautiously moving his other hand around to cup my ass and squeeze. With him accepting my advances, I quit holding back and wrapped both of my hands around his luscious ass and pulled, grinding our pelvises together. A huge breath punched out of him and he stepped back, shaken. “I don't understand this, I’ve never been turned on by a woman before,” he stated clearly distressed. I didn’t verbally respond but I reached up and began to remove my catsuit, pulling it down over my chest and shimming out of it. I straightened back up with my breasts exposed and his eyes were glued to my crotch where the clearly visible dildo was peaking out from between my legs. His legs seemed to carry him forward of their own accord as he continued to stare at me. He got closer to me and then stopped, hesitantly pulling his underwear off and tossing them in the corner.

He was even more gorgeous out of drag with his shining eyes and wide shoulders tapering to a thin waist but I couldn’t look away from his cock. It was truly huge and about half hard hanging slightly away from his body. A few variations of what could happen next flashed through my mind, me fucking him; him fucking me. I reached down and removed the tape holding the dildo between my legs. His eyes zeroed in on my crotch and got even larger. His eyes traveling up the rest of my curvy form, he stepped closer to me and put his hands around my waist. I couldn't believe it when he turned his head slightly and hesitantly closed the distance between our faces, our lips meeting.

I breathed out and slipped my tongue into his mouth, dominating the kiss and pulling him closer by his ass. We made out for a good couple of minutes before I was so turned on I couldn't see straight and I grabbed him by the arms and slammed him face first into a nearby wall. I plastered myself across his back and rubbed the dildo up and down the crack of his ass. I he moaned appreciatively. I let my hand wonder around to touch his cock and found him fully hard and dripping pre-cum. “What do you want?” I snarled into his ear, continuing to grind against his ass. “I want you to fuck me,” he responded, shoving back with great strength. I agreed and asked him for lube which he quickly produced from his bag. I slicked up the dildo, trying to keep my breasts from brushing against his back for fear of putting him off. He didn’t seem to mind tho because he kept reaching back and pulling me closer to his back. I reached around and slowly began to stroke his huge cock while I pushed a single finger into his ass. He sighed and relaxed back against me. I was quickly working three fingers in his slutty ass and determined he was ready. “Is your ass ready for my cock baby?” I whispered into his ear, teasing his hole with the head of the dildo. “Yes please, fuck me, I’m so ready.” I continued to tease him as he grew more desperate, whining under his breath and doing his best to impale his ass on the dildo. “Please put it in, I can’t cum without something in my ass, please,” he begged. I finally acquiesced, shoving the whole length of the dildo up his ass in one smooth slide. “Fuck god yes!” he moaned shoving his ass back. I proceeded to pound his ass against the wall, feeling the bulb of the dildo shift inside me with every thrust. “Harder, god fuck me harder” he pleaded using the hand not propping himself up on the wall to stroke his leaking cock. I wrapped my arms around his torso and shifted my thrust to try and hit his prostate while slamming forward as hard as I could, our bodies slapping together. With a yell, he came, painting the wall in front of him with cum. Hearing his pleasured moans and feeling his ass contract around the dildo, I quickly reached down and stroked my clit once, twice, three times and came shuttering through the best orgasm of my life still buried in Trixie Mattel’s ass. We stood there just breathing slumped against the wall for a few minutes before I regained the strength to pull out. I pulled the bulb of the RealDo out of my cunt, shuttering with oversensitivity and set it on the vanity. I turned back to Brian who had turned around, but was still leaning against the wall. We both looked a mess, both of our makeup smeared to hell from our make out. “That was incredible, you've ruined me for all men now, thanks!” he said smiling, breaking the silence. I giggled as I began pulling my clothes back on. Trixie went and sat down in front of the mirror and proceeded to remove what remained of her makeup. She then faced me and I was met with sweet, simple Brian in the flesh. The gravity of the situation hit me and I couldn't believe that we had just fucked; not only fucked but that I fucked HIM. “Do you want to stay the night with me?” he asked, looking hopeful but also uncertain. I thought for a moment, “I would like that,” I responded. He quickly pulled on an oversized black hoodie and tight black jeans before stepping out of the room to talk to his crew. I took the opportunity to remove the over-the-top Trixie makeup and fix my wild hair. I texted my friend who had been blowing up my phone wondering where I was. I didn’t give her any specifics and told her I was going to stay in town for the night and that she should take the car and head back home. She begrudgingly agreed, demanding an explanation upon my return. It was then that Brian walked back into the room. He smiled sheepishly at me like I hadn't just fucked the shit out of his ass and offered me a hand, leading me out of the room. The crew was around taking down the massive Trixie letters and generally gathering things as we walked by. I could feel their stares as we walked through backstage and out the side door into the night. I followed closely behind him as we walked toward a car parked a little down the street at the curb. He paused and held the door open for me while I slid inside. He walked around and got in on the other side and the car started toward the hotel. It was slightly awkward for a few minutes before I began asking him questions about the show and the cities he had been to. He seemed to genuinely appreciate my interest and we talked the rest of the way to his hotel. We got out and walked straight to the elevator and up to his room. He said goodnight to his crew member that had ridden in the passenger seat and she looked at me with a questioning face and bid me good night. He opened the door and walked into the typical hotel room throwing his suitcase on the couch and walking toward the bathroom. “I’m going to shower, I feel really gross,” he said stripping out of his shirt. “Get whatever you like out of the fridge or order whatever you'd like. I’ll be out in just a minute,” he said smiling at me kindly. I nodded and went to sit on the bed while I heard the shower kick on from the other room. I took a minute to think about all that had transpired that day and the crazy fact that my wildest dream and hope had come true. I continued to sit there lost in thought, replaying the day over and over. Then I began to think about fucking him and the way he looked and how he sounded. I felt myself getting wet again just thinking about his ass and how well he took my cock. I proceeded to strip out of my clothes and lay back on the bed, gingerly putting a hand between my legs. I used to fingers to begin to gently pump in and out of my pussy while imagining Brian fucking me, his huge cock filling me up and making me cum. I was getting dangerously close to orgasm when I heard the shower cut off and Brian stepped into the room wrapped only in a towel. I looked at him lazily for a minute, wondering how he would react as a gay man to seeing a woman masturbating on his bed. “You’re gorgeous you know,” he said walking further into the room and letting the towel fall from his slim hips. He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, mindful of his still tender ass. He continued to watch me while I slowly thrust my fingers with one hand and circled my clit with the other. “I want to see how you touch yourself,” he stated, leaning back on one hand and surveying the scene. I turned my body on the bed slightly toward him so he could see better and continued with my ministrations, mindful of his eyes on me. I closed my eyes and flickered back to images of us fucking earlier and picked up the pace with my fingers fucking in and out of my pussy. I was getting close when he gentle said, “turn over.” I opened my eyes and looked into his lust blown eyes. One hand was clasped loosely around his half hard cock. I hesitantly rolled over onto my stomach and spread my legs slightly to still be able to access my cunt. I felt him shift on the bed behind me and my stomach dropped, imagining the possibilities. “You may be a girl but there is something I could do thats familiar to me,” he said. I could hear the smirk in his voice. Before I realized what was happening I felt something wet skate across my ass. My first instinct was to shy away but Brian grabbed my hips to hold me in place. To this day I don’t know how I didn’t cum on the spot. He continued to lick and bite at my cheeks before moving his tongue to move up and down my crack, just missing my aching hole. My breathing sped up and I let rhythmic little sighs escape. He finally focused his attention on my asshole and pushed forward with his tongue to slip just the tip inside. He lapped at my hole, every few passes pushing it further inside my body. Eventually his tongue was as far as it could go up my ass and I was seconds away from coming my brains out. I felt him move up my body and he asked “can I fuck your ass?” “Yes god please anything, anything you want,” I responded desperate for whatever he would give me. He got off the bed and return with lube which he liberally applied to his cock. He slicked up his fingers and slid one in my hole. I stopped touching myself to better support myself with my legs spread wide on the bed as he fingered my ass, getting it ready for his huge cock. He was gentle and mumbled phrases likes “you take it so well” and “I cant wait to be inside you.” Eventually he was easily pumping three fingers in my ass and I was pushing back to meet his thrusts. He removed his fingers and I missed the sensation of being filled immediately. I didn’t have to wait long for the press of his cock that felt like it would never fit. He pushed forward at a glacial pace, forcing my ass to take his cock. The feeling of my hole opening wider and wider was both indescribably hot and painful. Soon enough, he was all the way seated and paused for me to adjust to his massive girth. I nodded my head, indicating I was ready and he pulled out slowly and thrust back in with slightly more power. He then picked up the pace and before I knew it I was being well and truly fucked through the mattress. “Your slutty ass takes my cock so well, like you were born for it,” he said between thrusts. We were both drenched with sweat and breathing hard. He pushed my down flat onto the bed, plastering himself across my back and grinding his dick hard into my ass. He put his hands on my hips and shoved them all the way to the bed as he bit the back of my neck. I bucked back against him, needing a little more to push me over the edge. It was then that his hand wandered down to my pussy and clumsily fingered my clit. “Cum baby,” he said into my ear. I moaned loudly as I squirted all over the sheets, bucking back violently with my orgasm. The contractions of my ass sent him over the edge, moaning brokenly into my neck as he ground his dick inside me until finally coming to a halt, collapsing onto the bed. We both rested for a few minutes before rapping around each other. He kissed me sweetly on the head and began telling me about other sexual conquests he had had and how he would never get over how the best fuck he ever had was a woman. I was content to gaze lovingly into his beautiful face until he told me goodnight and fell asleep tangled together, meant to be.

[dadvans]

hey del, any advice for a just became homeless trans kid stuck on the east coast? i've been staying at public libraries and friends' places but i know their kindness is going to run out soon. i got 200 in my account (after paying this months rent LMAO) and no car because my mom threatened to call the cops on me since its still under her name, even tho i paid it off a while ago. things are looking bleak and im ready to email all my teachers and tell them im dropping out

so i don’t know your age, and i don’t know where you are, but whatever awful conditions you are currently enduring, there are ways you can survive them and thrive.  don’t give up.  

if you’re near the new york area, i had a high school friend who i believe stayed with the Trinity Place Shelter and they helped him find full-time employment and a place to live. if you’re under the age of 18, i have found a number of different shelters, particularly in Washington DC and New York that provide free accommodation, employment and education resources for LGBT youth individuals.  there are also a number of places, like the center in new york that offer employment assistance to those in need.  

here is a link to a directory for homeless housing and transitional living resources from the national coalition for the homeless.  here is also a recommended list by them for those that might find themselves homeless in a short period of time:

Try to locate an assistance program near you.Some agencies provide homeless prevention assistance. These programs may have waiting lists, require an appointment/interview, or have certain restrictions on who they serve. For these reasons, the sooner you can find a program that may be able help you, the better. If you do not know of any programs near you, the Directory may help you find one. 

Apply for Public Housing and/or Section 8 HousingWaiting lists for public and Section 8 housing vary across the country, but in many cases, the waiting list for public housing is shorter than for Section 8 housing. You can find out how to apply by looking for the number of your local public housing authority in the government section of the phone book.

 Apply for Transitional HousingIn some communities, transitional housing is an option for people who are homeless. Transitional housing programs vary greatly across the country as far as who they serve and what their requirements are. You will have to fill out an application and make an appointment for an interview. Follow through with as many of these programs as possible.

 Make sure your ID is current and available.If your driver's license has expired, or been taken for a traffic ticket, etc., reapply or get your State ID processed. If you only have a printout of your Social Security Card, get a new card to replace it as soon as possible. Many shelters and employers have strict ID requirements, and it will make things easier if you have these things ready or in process. Set up a P.O. Box for delivery and mail if that is possible. 

Make an Emergency Pack.If you have more than two bags for yourself, or one for each child, try to find someone you know who can and will hold your things for you. Almost every shelter has limits on the amount of baggage people can carry with them because they don't have enough space. Pack the things you can take with you. Try to arrange a ride or some sort of transportation for the day you'll have to leave. If there is anyone who can lend you some money, now would be the time to borrow it. Try to keep at least $20-$50 with you in a safe place just for emergencies. Make sure your ID is in a safe and accessible place -- you will want to take it with you. Some shelters charge money, or have strict ID requirements.

i have personally never been homeless.  i do have friends who have been homeless growing up and through college, however they never explicitly discussed their experiences and that was not a discussion i felt comfortable pulling anyone into. i can say that is fucking sucks to rely on friends or family in times of need, which i definitely have, and doing so has kept me from being homeless.  being poor and homeless and surviving in america fucking sucks.  it doesn’t say anything about you, but it does suggest a lot about the failures of our country.  you have been strong enough to make it this far, and i am so proud of you.  keep fighting.  remember you don’t own anyone anything.  if my followers have had any experience surviving conditions that i personally cannot attest to, if anyone has additional resources, i am happy to update this post with links or hotlines for better visibility. 

[gretchensinister]

Burgess Wilderness Recreation Area 9/?

And so continues the story I began for the Black as Pitch Halloween event. It’s the kind of story I’m sure you know well. Five college kids, a cabin, and a state park that just doesn’t get many visitors any more… (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8)

“Oh, fuck,” Nick said. After seeing the radio, he hadn’t expected anything good when he opened the hood, but it was one thing to suspect, and another to see his engine overgrown with vines.

His first impulse was to follow the agreed-upon plan. He’d seen that his engine had been attacked by the same strangeness as the radio, so he obviously should just go tell the others so they could go back inside and wait for daylight to make their next move. But Nick didn’t want to give up. He’d already given up on Jackie, earlier. He couldn’t do that again, not when there might be some chance.

He would tell the others the situation, though.

“Hey!” He knocked on Bunny’s window. Three faces turned toward him. “There are vines all over the engine, but I don’t think it’s broken like the radio. I think I can get it to work if I just clear the plants away.”

“What? No!” Bunny rolled the window down an inch or two. “The whole point of this was to spend as little time out in the dark as possible. Fix it in the morning. We’re going back inside.”

“You can go back inside,” Nick said. “As long as you wait for me to call you back out. I can fix this. We can get out of here tonight.”

“Nick! That’s even worse! We’re not going to abandon you here while you work on the engine. Come on. Just come inside.”

“No, I really don’t think I should,” Nick said. “We have no idea if what can be fixed now could be fixed in the morning. All of this happened so fast. I don’t want to risk a really good chance of escape.”

“And I don’t want you to risk your life,” Bunny said. “Tooth, Sandy, help me out.”

“We agreed we’d stick to the plan,” Tooth said. “Come on. It’s only a few hours till dawn.”

“And things around here could change in a few minutes,” Nick said. “In the time we’ve been having this argument, I could’ve had us up and running.”

“Five minutes,” Sandy said, and Tooth and Bunny turned to him in shock. “Come on,” Sandy said. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but this argument isn’t going anywhere. It’s not getting us inside any faster.”

“Thank you,” said Nick. “I’ll be back. Five minutes. Then I’ll know.”

“I’m timing you,” Bunny said. “And anything weird happens, you get inside.”

“Thanks!” Nick said. “Get ready, we’ll be in Burgess in half an hour.”

Bunny pressed his phone against the window so Nick could see the timer counting down.

“I got it, I got it,” Nick said. He moved back to the front of the van and started pulling vines away from the engine. It wasn’t as easy as he’d assumed it would be—the vines were actually alive and rooted to the ground, not just wrapped around the engine parts as they might have been if people had been the ones doing the tampering. Luckily, he had his pocket knife with him, so he could cut away vines as he went, even if it did make his progress slower than he’d expected.

 ***

 “They are hurting me again,” Pitch’s companion said. She pressed against his side, and he stroked her hair.

“I got the light-haired one,” Pitch said. “I will get the big one soon. I just want to make sure of the best way to hunt it.”

“I know, I know,” she said. “But they are hurting me.”

“You are sure they will not be able to escape in their machine?” Pitch asked. “No matter how much the big one fusses with it?”

“I am sure as I can be,” she said. “I have forgotten a lot about machines.” She grimaced, and Pitch continued to stroke her hair. “If it does move, I will stop it. I will stop him.” She paused. “I know that would take away a hunt from you, but I would still do it,” she said.

“I understand, I understand,” Pitch said.

 ***

 It wouldn’t have worked to just drive away with all the vines in the engine compartment, but now, Nick was starting to feel much more hopeful. The cylinders were clear, the belts were fine…yes, they might be all right. Yet even as he grew more hopeful, he also grew more fearful. He’d check as much as he could, of course, but it would always be impossible to check everything. To account for everything. He’d learned that even before he’d gotten his license.

Ugh, why did he have to think about that now? It was almost six years ago, it was over and done with. Completely over and done with.

But it could happen again tonight, couldn’t it? Tonight, when he had to drive through the woods to get his friends out and away from that thing that killed Jackie. And wasn’t that just the cherry on this shit sundae?

Nick had driven fast as soon as he’d started to learn to drive, and this was a habit he would never break. But, while Bunny would tell you now that Nick was extremely heavy-handed with the brakes, he hadn’t always been that way.

His parents had let him take the old car that was eventually to be his, all by himself. He wasn’t supposed to drive alone on his permit, but his parents wanted him home early in the morning. They wanted that—Nick couldn’t remember why anymore—and Nick wanted to stay out at a friend’s house until who knew when, building a utopian city in minecraft. So he got the car keys and his parents got to go to bed early.

It was nearly dawn before he and his friend reached a good stopping point. Perhaps he should have given up and caught a few hours of sleep at his friend’s house, but at the time it seemed more important to get home and pretend that he’d been asleep longer than he really had.

He started driving back home just as the sky started to brighten. The drive back was half an hour on back roads, a half hour that was perhaps possible to shave down to twenty minutes if he drove as fast as possible.

His journey started off smoothly—smoothly enough to make an exhausted teenager forget everything he’d ever heard about what to watch out for when driving at dusk and dawn. Along the sides of the road, barely-tamed stands of trees stretched tall towards power lines they’d only recently been beaten back from, their fall colors just beginning to awaken in the new sunlight. Even nearer the road, the undergrowth was nothing but a tangle of gray-brown unevenly illuminated by his headlights. The deer that jumped in front of his car had been beautifully camouflaged until the moment it wasn’t.

In the instant it blocked his path, Nick could barely comprehend anything about it. It was huge and alive and present, bringing as much shock and awe with it as an old-time miracle. Nick didn’t have time to think any of this before his car collided with the animal.

Later on, Nick couldn’t provide much of a narrative of the follow few seconds. The insurance investigation concluded that the car had hit the deer head-on, car grill meeting flank of deer at fifty-five miles an hour. Nick remembered this being loud. The bang of the metal, crunching and buckling. After the impact, the car swerved wildly—in shock, Nick couldn’t find the strength to grip the steering wheel, and while he did take his foot off the gas, he told his parents later that it seemed like the brake had disappeared.

The airbag deployed, breaking his nose.

Eventually, the car stopped, and Nick either managed to shut it off or some hitherto unknown safety feature kicked in and did it for him. In the new quiet, birds started to sing, and the car ticked to itself, cooling down for a long rest.

Nick fumbled himself free of the seatbelt and fought his way past the airbag and out the door. Outside the car, his legs wouldn’t hold him, and he slumped against the side, shaking with adrenaline. He knew he had to do something, but not right now, not quite yet.

The birds continued to sing, but an odd scraping noise now pushed its way into Nick’s awareness. It kept going, and going, and Nick had the thought that, despite all contrary evidence, the accident had killed him and the scraping was the shuffling of the bony feet of the grim reaper coming to get him.

But, of course, the sound had a more physical source. A fair distance behind him (but then again, not far enough) the deer was still alive. It struggled on the road, bloodied, but not bleeding much. The blunt force of the car had given it less obvious injuries than a sharper weapon would have. But, obvious injuries or not, it couldn’t get up, and though Nick didn’t move closer to confirm, he guessed that its legs were broken. And still it struggled to get off the road, its hooves scraping and scraping on the blacktop, weakening but not stopping.

Finally, as his mind flitted around, trying to escape that scraping sound, Nick decided that he had to call his parents. He found his phone still on his car charger, and, wonder of wonders, his parents answered on the second ring. “I hit a deer,” he said.

Honesty to anyone other than his parents would have jeopardized Nick’s path to a driver’s license and wreaked havoc with their car insurance. So, when both his parents showed up, his dad driving the pickup truck he used for work, they had a slightly different narrative prepared.

Nick had never been driving, they agreed. Nick’s mom, who usually drove the old car, had driven him to his friend’s house last night and had picked him up very early this morning. When they hit a deer, they’d called Nick’s dad for help.

Nick would break his nose at the beginning of his next football practice. No selfies, and no treatment but a bag of frozen peas until afterwards.

Nick understood that the lies and the secrets were utterly necessary. Nick needed to be able to drive sooner, rather than later. And if that meant that he couldn’t talk about the accident with anyone his own age, so be it.

No one needed to know that Nick had gotten in an accident at all. He was, after all, young enough to be subjected to plenty of parental rules. So when he stopped driving for a time, to just say that his parents wouldn’t let him was a complete answer.

He got his license at the expected time, and as the years went by, he stopped worrying so much about people finding out, but he still never told anyone. Because people hit deer all the time, right? So why should his experience feel so bad? He’d been hurt worse playing football.

But it was still bad, no matter how much he avoided thinking about it.

But, damn it! Usually he was so good at not thinking about it! Why was tonight so different? Shouldn’t he hardly be thinking of anything but the present moment, when he was elbow-deep in his engine and his arms were covered in the sticky goo that had oozed out of the weird vines that had been tangled over the mechanics? Whatever, whatever, his five minutes had to be almost up, they were almost ready go, and there probably wouldn’t be any deer around, because what kind of self-respecting deer would hang around in the woods where a monster lived?

[looneylooomis]

Blush (Danny Rayburn) Smut One Shot

Okay so my heart really goes out to Danny and the bullshit he had to endure at the expense of his own family. It just really hit a personal note with me. How he just yearned for closeness. So I wanted to give him that closeness with this fluffy smutty piece with a smidgen of angst (cause bloodline lol). Also I totally recommend listening to RY X “Howling” while reading this, it honestly inspired me to write this. It's such a gorgeous song. Enjoy!!

"The whole state of Florida would implode if there was such a thing as a cool night." Muttered a miffed feminine voice, burning cigarette wedged between her lush lips.

The warm breeze of a typical summer night in The Keys, caressed Jacqueline's bare arms and legs as she stood in the back alley of the club she was partying in.

Dressed in a tight black mesh tank top and short shorts, she was ready to have a fun night of getting absolutely blitzed. That was the case until her 'friend' bailed on her, leaving with some rando she met on the dance floor.

"What an idiot." Jacqueline muttered again in remembrance as she threw her cig, stomping whatever was left with her combat boot.

Heading back into the club, she felt inside her bra for her cell and pocket knife. Relieved that they were still in place. Never could be too safe.

Ordering a shot of whiskey, she observed the mirage of bodies on the dance floor. Quickly downing the shot, she decided that some flake wasn't going to ruin her night. And with that she headed towards the swarm of gyrating bodies.

Swaying her hips to the sensual beat, closing her eyes as her hands ran over her body, and through her soft long locks that bounced in sync with her. She didn't need anyone to have a damn good time.

The weight of large hands on curvy hips, made her pause for a moment then she whipped around. Pocket knife at the throat of the asshole who thought he could touch her without so much as a 'hello'.

Instead of some handsy creep, she stared into the crystal blue eyes of one, Danny Rayburn. Her glare turned into eyes wide in surprise and happiness as she lowered her knife.

"Geez, Jax. You sure do know how to welcome a guy home." Danny joked loudly over the blaring music, lip curling as he openly stared at her putting the folded knife back in her bra.

Jacqueline blushed at hearing his nickname for her. Only Danny ever called her "Jax". Whenever anyone else tried, she'd swat at them. Danny was the only one she'd ever allow to call her that.

"Well I sure do know how to leave a lasting impression." She flirted leaning close to his ear, biting her lip. "Don't I, Danny boy?"

Jacqueline's family, The DeLeos, had moved down to Florida when she was bordering on eighteen and her sister, Maria, was just shy of fourteen. Her DA father having been offered a lucrative deal with law firm sent the family to the sunshine state.

They had initially stayed at The Rayburn House while their new place was being renovated. That's where she first met Danny. He was significantly older than her but that didn't stop her from fawning over those mischievous baby blues.

Even at her young age, she noticed how differently everyone else in the Rayburn household treated Danny. The hurt look on his face after every interaction, he expertly masked such looks but Jacqueline could always see the hurt, the pain, the devastation.

A look she knew too well.

"You sure do. Wanna take this outside? As much as I love yelling over the music and all that." Danny chuckled at her excitable nod, steering her towards the exit.

"Phew, from one sweat infested area to another. What a relief." Jacqueline quipped, her bottom lip still wedged slightly between white teeth.

"So I ran into Maria at the gas station earlier, told me you came home early from college." Danny leaned lazily against the clubs brick wall, eyeing Jacqueline's face for a reaction. "Wanna talk about it?"

Danny always looked out for Jacqueline when she was younger, kept her wild child tendencies in line for the most part. Much to everyone but Jacqueline's surprise. He wanted her to be something, someone better. No one ever gave Danny the credit he deserved.

Jacqueline closed her eyes, fighting off anger at Maria for opening her goddamn mouth. She really didn't want to talk about school, hence why she grabbed the first so called 'friend' and hit the club. She didn't want to think, just be.

"Danny I really don't wanna do this right now. I mean...that's the whole reason I'm even out tonight!" She could feel tears threatening to fall, but stubbornly willed them back in place. "I just...please Danny...just let me be...just...'be' with me?"

Danny hated the way Jax's voice cracked especially towards the end. Something horrible happened to Jacqueline, didn't take a genius to figure that shit out. Fighting her about it wouldn't get him anywhere. When she was ready she'd explain. She always did.

"Okay okay...uh...where do you wanna just 'be'?" Danny knew the only way to perk Jax up was by teasing her and her quirky way of wording things. He knew it did the trick when he received a twinkling laugh in response.

"Hmmm, I don't know...how about our spot?" Jacqueline suggested as she wrestled her car keys out of her bra. Throwing them at Danny, pecking him on the cheek as she walked past him, "Come on Danny, it's been forever since I've been home long enough to see you, let alone our little nook of the beach!"

"And you want me to drive?" He asked following her black Jeep Cherokee. At her affirmative nod, he hopped in the drivers seat.

Legs stretched out, resting comfortably on the dash, Jacqueline's thoughts drifted.

Danny bringing up what Maria told him, however very vague and little, rehashed everything she was trying to forget tonight. Being with Danny would help, he always had a way of soothing her frantic nerves.

She'd be a total fool to deny that the school girl crush she always harbored for him, morphed into the ferocious beast that was called 'love'. Not knowing whether he requited such feelings, so she never mentioned it. But never did she hide how she felt either.

Pulling up near the shore, Danny parked the jeep. He looked over at the spacey beauty before him as she absentmindedly twirled her one blonde lock in her finger. How that one blonde lock contrasted with her chestnut locks. Jax was significantly younger than him, at a mere twenty-six to his forty-three. She didn't seem to give a shit about it, so neither did he.

He was always protective of her when she was younger, more of a little sister type at the time but then he was sent away. She tried to keep up a strong front but anyone could see the hurt that bubbled underneath the surface when he told her he had to go. Claimed she understood even while big doe eyes glistened with angry tears, though not directed at him. Never at him.

Seeing her now though, he couldn't believe this was the same girl, no..woman, that he teased about her fascination with Posh Spice. Eyes taking in her long legs covered in nothing but combat boots and short shorts. "Jesus Christ."

"Let me grab a towel and we'll be on our merry way!" Jacqueline grunted leaning over her seat, rustling through some random crap she had lodged in the back. Her wiggling rear end sending its own regards to Danny's ever growing attention.

Danny swiftly exited the vehicle, eyes swimming along the crashing waves, his gaze ended up on the blurry outline of his family's hotel. An old ache reared its ugly head as he rubbed his shoulder.

"Got it! Knew I had one stashed away in the back! Even found my old mini radio!!" Jacqueline giggled triumphantly, making her way towards Danny. The giggling died down after seeing his hand resting on his shoulder and what his gaze lingered on.

Pulling at him so he was now staring at her, she spoke "Danny remember this is not a night of thinking, it's a night of 'being'." A rosy color tinted high cheekbones as a gentle hand soothed his ache, "Let's just be, okay?"

Grabbing his other hand, she pulled him along the sandy ground, towards a small secluded area that not too many people seemed to ever notice, perfectly dubbed their "spot". Their little oceanic nook.

"Always could make you blush." Danny teased, breaking out of his thoughts. A mischievous grin stretched out on his face as she spread out the large beach towel, "Without even trying, I might add."

"You've done a lot of things to me without even trying, Danny Rayburn." Jacqueline admitted, her blush deepening. She was thankful for her olive complexion, it hid some of the redness. It fooled some, but never Danny.

"Oh yeah? Care to elaborate?" Danny's voice roughened up slightly as he swallowed in anticipation.

"Well for starters, you've managed to be the only man to ever hold my heart. Still are in fact." Jacqueline bit her lip, tucking a blonde lock behind her ear as she stretched out on the towel.

"Jax, you don't want a fuck up like me." Danny sighed as he lied down next to her, the self loathing deep rooted inside him speaking out. "You're better than that." Than me. He added silently.

"When have you ever known me as someone who did something she didn't want?" Jacqueline could feel herself get angry as she fiddled with the small radio. A lone guitar started strumming away as the singer crooned.

"Well, Danny?!" At his lack of response, she shook her head letting out an exasperated chuckle. "Exactly."

“Gold I fell into your spell..”

"I've wanted....no needed you ever since we met. You've been there when you didn't have to. Hell, you still kept in touch when you were shoved out of here!" She might as well lay it all out on the line tonight. "I mean it was no secret I had such a stupid crush on you, but now it's...I don't know...become something more real. I need real...I need you."

Before Danny could respond, plush lips were pressed against his. She tasted of whiskey, cigarettes and lavender. A smokey bite yet with a soothing end note. A perfect contradiction.

Hands dived into her long hair as he pulled her closer into him. He nipped at her lips, groaning at the feel of her fingers slipping underneath his shirt, dancing up and down his spine.

“On the rite of god we fell.."

"Are you sure about this, Jacqueline?" He whispered, hating how vulnerable his voice sounded.

"As corny as it sounds...this is honestly the most sure I've been about...well anything." She confessed, knowing he was always dead serious whenever he called her by her whole name.

That was all the confirmation that was needed as he kissed along her neck, pushing down the straps of her tank top. Teasing the skin, earning a moan as he glance up the moonlight illuminating her face. Her cheeks still rosy.

“You were plush and I laid bare..”

Jacqueline pulled back ripping off her top along with the bra, exposing her chest to him. She went to tug his t-shirt off, he stopped her by flipping her so she was no laying on her back.

Danny made quick work with his lips as his littered her perky chest with love bites. He lavished her taut nipples with his tongue, the rosy tips pointed in the warm breeze. He marked his way down her slim stomach pausing at her shorts.

Large hands easily unbuttoned and removed her tiny shorts. He bit hard on his lip at the lack of panties.

"Oh you naughty girl." He rasped into her skin as he continued moving his lips down to her sex.

“You had me howling..”

"Oh, Danny..." Jacqueline moaned at the feel of his tongue gliding along her lower lips, the way he teased her clit. She was in bliss.

The build up she felt as he lapped and nipped at her was at its peak when stars burst in her vision, following a raspy howl that escaped her lips.

The sight of Danny lick his lips, reveling in the taste of her, aroused her even more. She pulled him to her, ripping off his shirt. Making him lay down as she now trailed her lips up and down his chest. Touching every inch of him that she could.

“Cold I fell into your skin..”

Tearing his pants from his legs, she beamed at how ready he was for her. She could feel his eyes on her as she watched his cock twitch excitedly.

"You now know another reason why I love making you blush." Danny husked out, grinning widely at the now furious blush covering the apples of her cheeks. "Oh sweetheart, you have no idea what you do to me."

Jacqueline licked her lips as she pressed them to the tip of his thick cock. Relishing in the gasp escaping his lips. Trailing her tongue along the length of his shaft and back up, she took him in her mouth.

“On the night you led me.."

Head bobbing back and forth, she hollowed out her cheeks looking over at Danny, whose line of sight never strayed from her. Him watching her made her feel confident in what she was doing, as delicately soft hands massaged his balls while her tongue continued its sinful dance along his cock.

"Fucking Christ, Jax... that's it baby...shittt!" Danny could feel himself getting close and as great as this felt, he wanted to be inside her more. "Jax, babygirl ya gotta stop or this'll be over before it really begins."

“Under your sin..”

Swapping positions with her, he placed himself between he legs, rubbing his wet cock along her waiting pussy. Slowing sinking into her warmth, he could feel his eyes threaten to roll back to his skull. "Shit."

Jacqueline felt like she was gonna cum again already as his cock stretched and stroked her walls in the most delicious of ways. The sound of their skin smacking against each other, the heat they gave off, the ever escalating spasms in her body...the overstimulation of it all was enough to make her blow.

“You had me howling..”

"Ohhhh, DANNY!" She didn't give a rats ass if anyone heard her, she was riding out this ecstasy train full steam ahead. Toes curled, legs shook, she felt completely elevated. Like she was floating on air.

Seeing her face relax and hearing her appreciative moans, as her body shook and pleaded with him, the pressure that was building within him was coming to a hilt. His pace quickened, her walls clamped down around him and then he was gone.

His vision blackened for a second as he basked in his release. White ribbons of cum showered her inner walls, filling her inside.

“You had me howling..”

"Jaxie..Jaxx... fuck Jacquelinee.." Her name was a repetitive murmur along his lips as his body became a boneless heap.

Breathing heavily, he chuckled at the goofy relaxed grin Jacqueline was sporting as he laid next to her. A different kind of warmth spread through him as she nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck.

"Jax?" Danny asked breaking the tranquility of the moment, hand gently stroking her cheek.

"Yeah, Danny?" She responded leaning into his touch.

"You're real for me too."

“Blush..”

Hope y'all enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it!!!

Tagging: @zoesmama2024 @wickednerdery @valkyrianne @lotusprincessdi @retrostarfreak

[primrose-path-of-dalliance]

rating: General Audiences characters: Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) additional tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autistic Keith (Voltron), ADHD Lance (Voltron), Paramedic Keith (Voltron), Chance Meetings, it's a hospital parking lot!, Lance owns a bright blue convertible from his college days, cheesy black skinny jeans get soaked and teach Keith a lesson in clothing choices on rainy days, also there's an umbrella, One Shot, Mentioned Hypothetical Car Accidents, Unresolved summary: Rainy days suck. Especially when they involve getting nearly run over by a maniac in a lighting blue car. word count: 1836

Sometimes, Keith’s glad he goes the extra mile to regularly haggle for a parking spot—one in the row located most conveniently close to the hospital building. (Medical professionals bargain so many things in exchange for favors. Or chocolate. Or coffee.) Such as today, as he sighs and turns up the speed of his windshield wipers again, his favorite playlist turned up to blastissimo against a backdrop of hammering rain.

It’s pouring so heavily that the city around him’s been reduced to tall gray smudges, thunder rumbling in the distance even through his music, and he can already imagine the accidents that might get called in before the storm’s end. Keith taps the side of his steering wheel pensively as he turns into the parking lot. Most of them are car accidents, and half of them aren’t pretty.

But then he reaches his parking spot and he thinks, How about a rear collision with a trunk that looks like a metal sandwich?

Someone has parked in his spot.

Keith stares at the nondescript blue sedan as if glaring harder might make it disappear and takes a mental note of its cheery New York license plate. If it belongs to any of his coworkers, he will find out, and there will be hell to pay.

There’s an umbrella in his back seat, of course, but he’s still irritated as he drives away in search of space. That was his parking spot, dammit.

He eventually pulls into what might as well be half a mile away on the other side of the lot, and Keith grumbles as he steps out with his umbrella into the storm and slams his car door shut behind him. Hospitals and their shitty parking space. Even standing still, he can already feel stray drops of rain pattering against the fabric of his jeans, the inch-thick currents of water trying to seep their way through the soles of his boots. This is exactly what he wanted to avoid.

A bright blue convertible speeds past right in front of him—dangerously fast, he can tell in the split second he registers it in his field of vision—and splatters his lower half with a deluge of cold asphalt water.

Great. Just fucking great.

Keith grumbles louder as he aggressively shoves the discomfort into the back of his mind, a few choice curse words aimed at the owner of that ridiculously vivid blue car, and starts striding through the storm. The faster he can get inside, the faster he can change into his uniform and hopefully leave his soaking pants somewhere in a closet to dry.

“Hey! Hey, wait—!”

Keith looks back with a frown to see a man splashing his way hurriedly towards him, stuffing his keys in a pocket of his bright orange raincoat. He glances back further and spots the blue convertible directly behind the stranger, parked only a few spaces away from his own, and scowls.

Ah. The driver of that neon blue car.

He’s tempted to start walking even faster—but the chafing is already horrible, and his hesitation’s cost him. The man’s too close now to make an escape possible, and Keith lets out a long breath before turning fully to wait for him.

He’s overestimated the orange of the man’s coat in this rain, at least; the color of his car hadn’t helped. He can see that it’s a bit faded actually, this close up (perhaps it’s old?), and paired with matching orange galoshes scuffed up at the toes. The stranger’s brown hair lies plastered on his scalp, making his head look comically carrot-shaped, and he’s panting by the time he reaches the shelter of Keith’s umbrella. It’s not terribly big, and Keith finds himself shifting away a fraction as Blue Car Man ends up closer than he’d like.

“Thanks,” Blue Car Man says, and runs a hand through his hair. “For waiting up. I forgot my umbrella.”

Keith doesn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes at him, leaning away a bit further, but against his wishes, his scowl relaxes from an ‘are you fucking kidding me’ to a mere ‘I really have to deal with this?’; tufts of Blue Car Man’s hair are sticking up where he’d dragged his fingers through like a terrifying, award-worthy case of bedhead. “Sure. You soaked my jeans.”

Blue Car Man cocks his head, clearly confused, and Keith clarifies, “Your car. You drove right past me—way too fast for a hospital parking lot when it’s raining, by the way.”

His face immediately looks a bit horrified. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, glancing down at Keith’s black jeans and seeing that, yes, they were indeed soaked through. “I’m really in a hurry right now. My sister’s giving birth. It’s seven weeks early.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Can we start walking?”

Without another word, Keith starts walking towards the hospital again, and Blue Car Man follows quickly. Labor and delivery isn’t exactly his area, but he knows that seven weeks premature means alarming things, and he can’t exactly hate a complete stranger—who seems to be around his age—for a pair of wet jeans. Although speeding around a hospital parking lot is unequivocally a terrible idea. He has enough trouble delivering patients without maniacs in lightning blue cars thrown into the mix.

“Really sorry about the pants again,” Blue Car Man says suddenly. (He should really stop calling him ‘Blue Car Man.’) It’s accompanied by jingling, and Keith looks over to see the car keys back in the man’s hands. He seems to be fidgeting with them nervously. “Why are you here? You don’t seem to be hurrying for anything.”

“I work here.”

“Oh.”

The stranger fiddles more with his keys (stimming?), glancing up ahead to the hospital with a tight frown, and Keith takes the opportunity to study him more closely. He’s a few inches taller, judging by how he’s hunched over slightly to stay beneath the spokes of the umbrella, and his sharp, currently frowning jawline tapers into a narrow chin. His fingers match his features, thin and nimble, and his skin is a soft, dusty brown that reminds him of a couple of his Puerto Rican coworkers. But then the man suddenly turns back to him as he’s looking back up, and Keith slides his eyes away so fast—catching a glimpse of pensive, dark blue eyes—that he’s one hundred percent sure he was obvious as hell.

There’s a beat of silence, and then the man asks, “You don’t happen to work at wherever does childbirth, do you?”

Keith shakes his head, painfully aware of the man’s gaze on him, and subconsciously he leans away again an inch. “EMS. I’m a paramedic,” he adds after a second, in case he doesn’t know what EMS means.

“Oh. Must be a pretty crazy job.”

“Yeah.”

They fall into silence as they close in on the hospital entrance, and Keith glances back at the man again for a quick second. Fortunately, he seems to be distracted with his thoughts, still playing with the keys in his hands (probably stimming).

Unfortunately, he’s good-looking, and Keith can already hear his brother’s voice in his head, accompanied by his smiling, supportive face. Come on, it nags teasingly. Ask him out. Give him your number. It can’t hurt. He says no, you never see him again. He says yes, well... What do you have to lose?

But he knows exactly what he has to lose. His first few attempts at dating were good enough signs for him to know that it’s really, really not his thing. People stay inconsistent and difficult to figure out, third dates are either a myth or they eventually get fed up with each other, and frankly he never wants a repeat of Joshua again. For all Keith knows, this stranger would end up thinking that he’s “just a confused straight girl” too.

They reach the sheltering overhang, and Keith snaps his umbrella shut with little fanfare.

“Take the first right, then follow the signs to the maternity ward,” he says as thunder rumbles around them. “Whoever’s at the desk should be able to help you out.”

Something big seems about to slip out of his grasp—and Keith shouldn’t even care this much about some stranger he just met who soaked his jeans in essence of parking lot asphalt. He doesn’t even want a boyfriend. Maybe he’s just being stupid. Or maybe the universe will do him a kindness for once, considering everything else that’s happened so far today.

The man nods, slipping his car keys back into his pocket. “Okay.”

Keith shakes water off of his umbrella and raises an inquisitive eyebrow when he notices the man looking at him, still standing nearby. His chest tightens up, and he doesn’t know if it’s in fear or hope.

After a long second, the stranger holds out a hand to him and smiles, almost apologetically. “Thanks for the help, man. And the umbrella space. My name’s Lance.”

Keith returns a wry smile and shakes his offered hand, trying carefully to mimic the same amount of pressure. The man—Lance’s grip is soft and warm in the chill of the morning storm, and he knows he’s filing away far too many details. “Keith. I hope your sister and her baby end up all right.”

The smile grows into something grateful, and that’s what’s about to slip away. That smile. “Thanks. And I’m still really sorry about your pants.”

With that, their hands return to their sides, and Keith shoves his into a still-dry pocket of his jeans in search of the same pressure, flicking the umbrella in his other hand in an echo of sensation. Words are right on the tip of his tongue (“It’s fine. Hey, I know you’ve got a big emergency and this is kind of a bad time, but let me give you my number—”), but then the man offers him one more crooked quirk of the lips before turning away and pushing past the hospital doors. His faded orange raincoat flaps around into the first turn right, and Keith gives his umbrella one last vigorous shake as Lance disappears from his life just like that.

“Well, goodbye, I guess,” he says aloud to that empty hallway past the glass doors.

He shakes his head, bemused at his own silliness, and instead grins a little at Lance’s expense once he realizes that the man will probably be bursting into the maternity ward with hair that looks like a little kid tied it up in five different pigtails, then attacked it with hairspray. Maybe he should’ve warned him before he ran off.

Keith ties up his umbrella and takes the first left, walking with deliberate steps to avoid squeaking his boots. He needs to get to work—and, he remembers with an irritated sigh, track down whoever stole his parking spot today.

God, are his jeans soaking wet. He has to change soon, before the chafing drives him mad. Thank you, Lance.

[dharkness-bdbrw-blog]

#GoingToTheTraineeProgram

(I laid on my back, staring up at the ceiling for what seemed to be an eternity. My mind could not stop playing that alley scene. It was on rewind in my head. Roughly I turned to my side, and I knew I should have brought home one of the working girls from ZeroSum. It’s not like none of them had never been here before. Hell, after my transition, fucking was always on the forefront of my mind, and well, nothing better than friends with benefits to help you sleep. I thought about rubbing one off but hell, that even got old sometimes. I looked at my clock as the seconds ticked by slowly. Feeling frustrated I flipped back my blankets and jumped out of bed. I walked my naked ass over to the closet pulling on a pair of joggers and a muscle shirt. If I couldn’t sleep, and I didn’t have a female in my bed, I might as well work out. I began with the punching bag, doing a boxer's dance, light on my feet as I circled the floor then landing a right punch sink hard into the bag. After thirty minutes of this, I moved over to the weight bench keeping it light since I had nobody to spot me. I just needed to burn off some of this energy until the sun set then, well, I was going out, it was my night off, and I was going to drink away last nights ally movie and bury myself between the warmth of any females legs. I would worry about this trainee program bullshit after that. I wasn’t even sure If I was cut out for all of that. I got that they had opened up the program to anyone who could pass some initiation I guess. I bet it was like a college hazing or some shit, but with bigger hooded pledges, and possibly larger paddles aka fists to beat us down with if we failed a task.

I showered after I was done, letting the hot water soothe my muscles. I was still wide awake, and the shutters were now rising. I was already dressed and ready to go. Of course, once again I was armed, with my favorite pistol holstered behind my back at the top of my jeans. Even though it was my night off I still never left without some form of weapon. The streets were not safe enough to walk about any other way.  It was like my car had an automatic driver, leading me through the streets of Caldwell to my favorite drinking hole. Rounding the corner, I saw the line was back a half of a block, waiting in the chilly night to go dance and drink. Good thing I didn’t have to stand out there, although half of them would never gain entry tonight, they still came nightly in the hopes of being lucky enough to enter. The beat of the music pounded in my chest as I made my way down the side alley, I was going to use the employee entrance so I wouldn’t have to cut through the crowd. I looked around, hoping I wouldn’t see any kind of glow emanating from any direction. I safely made it to the door, punching in my employee code to enter in. I sighed heavily as I safely made it to my destination without incident.

I had been sitting at the bar for about an hour. I watched as the girls took turns heading to the private rooms in the back. There was a lot of new faces here tonight, along with new working girls. I was better off than most of the now orphaned civilians; I was left with a hefty inheritance when my family was killed. I used it wisely for the most part. I did splurge and bought a muscle car to sport around town. I also purchased a condo just for the sake of having it altered to fit my transitioned needs. I had become somewhat of a manwhore; I don’t deny that at all. Who was I kidding, alcohol, sex, and feeding were always on the forefront of my mind. So not living with a parental figured helped in this area.

I tipped the bottle to my lips, taking back the rest of my beer, setting it on the bar motioning I  finished. I left a hefty tip for the lovely lady who kept up with my thirst tonight. Turning and rising from my stool I started eyeing the crowd. Damn, the girls did get prettier at closing time. There were many to choose from at this point, and I made my way through the dance crowd where half of them were already grinding on each other. Being blessed with rhythm, and it was no time before I had a lovely backing her ass onto my bulge, my hands easily made their way up her outer thighs reaching her hips. My fingertips dug into her curvy flesh as I pulled her even harder against me helping her move over my ever hardening length. I could smell her sex; she was into this which was in my favor. I let one of my hands skim around to the front of her lower abdomen. As I eased between her legs,  my fingers smoothly ran over the heat that I desired to bury my cock deep in. I was such a fan of the short dresses the females wore these days.  A faint whimper from her made its way to my ears. Game on. I tilted my head down as she automatically arched her neck. Her vein called out to me, and my fangs dropped as I drug them over her flesh. If this kept up, I was going to bend her over a table. Pulling my senses back some as my lips skimmed up to her ear whispering what I was going to do to her. Turning to me she took my hand and led me towards the front door, I put the brakes on, “No darlin, this way.” This female was more than ready to scratch both our itches as I lead her to the side door. Was I proud of taking her to the side alley, I didn’t care, not being mean but we both were going to enjoy this. I had her outside with lightning speed and in a dark part of the alleyway. My body pushed against her searing hot lips found mine. Her tongue danced over my own, and I thought how nice it would feel gliding over my now hard cock. She reached down and unzipped my jeans as I raised her skirt up and hooking my finger in her panties snapping the thin string on the side letting them hit the ground. I softly draw her knees apart as I enter the warmth of her flesh letting my cold hands cup her soft ass lifting her so she can wrap her slender legs around my waist. The heat of my erection was coated with her juice as my thrusts become rhythmic. I felt the spasm of her body. Jerking about and rushed from her like a raging river. I drove hard, letting my orgasm flow. My fangs dropped again, striking fast and hard as we both were in a euphoric state of mind. Taking a few hard pulls of her blood, I stopped and snaked my tongue out closing her puncture wound. She was fully satisfied, and soft moaning continued to escape her lips. Pulling myself together I had to carry this female, as her legs were like jello and didn't seem to want to work properly, not going to lie, I was secretly patting myself on the back. I was happy to she had a little shoulder looking coin purse and I looked inside hunting for her driver's license. I thought I could at least make sure she made it home in one peace. My luck all she had was some cash and no form of identification. FUCK. Great, I pick the chic who doesn't carry an ID and was drunk and in a blissful state.  I had no choice but to take her back with me to my condo.

Tossing my keys on the table, I walked straight to my bedroom with this female over my shoulder, carefully placing her in my bed and covering her up before I made my way back to the kitchen. I grabbed a beer from the fridge popping the top off. The envelope on the table seemed like the elephant in the room. I pulled out a chair with a pen in hand and started filling out the application for the trainee program.)

#GoingToTheTraineeProgram

#BDBRW