#its all fun and games until the alcohol hits the blood stream

[cinamun]

2:25 am

[abbysfrenchbraid]

Daring - Chapter 2

This is part two of my Abby Mordern!Au, you can read Chapter 1 here.

Masterlist

Abby and the reader have dinner at Abby's place. There is music playing and referenced, so I'd recommend you listen to this playlist with all the songs playing in order as soon as the date night begins. About 10k words.

CW for alcohol consumption, mention of death/murder, mention of dubious consent (and possibly terrible grammar. It's 10pm, I just finished this, I don't have a proofreader atm)

Thyme and Tree Bark

“Don’t mess this up, airhead. Take care!”

“Yeah, yeah. Bye, idiot!”

You closed the door behind Mark as he vanished down the stairs and headed straight for your bed. Though you were less wobbly on your feet after devouring half of a perfectly cheesy pizza with just the right amount of jalapenos, it had thrown you straight into a food coma. Your angel of a brother had come over at noon with two chilled cans of coke and a large pizza from your favorite Italian place and not even ripped open the curtains as he usually did. Instead, he had thrown himself on the bed right next to you, handed you a slice, and demanded you start talking.

Of course, he already knew about Abby and your embarrassing shyness when it came to the buff blonde, so he was extremely proud of the progress you had made with your excruciating crush. You both agreed that Abby had definitely invited you over for a date this week - alone, without Manny there - and that it had to mean she was interested, too. He had laughed about the little bar stint when Abby had shut down your flirt with the hot waitress in an instant and was now 100% sure this was going to go great. As long as you kept it together and didn’t ruin everything. As you often did. This needed some tactical planning.

Mouths full of cheesy delight and laughing at each other’s stupid ideas, you and your brother had come up with a fairly foolproof plan. You would text Abby in 1-2 days, keeping it cool and asking when you should come over. Then, you would suggest making cocktails at home, already granting a fun activity and something to loosen the mood. You would keep it casual and bring over some nice liquor and maybe a bag of chips, perfect for watching a movie. You’d try to keep the conversation casual and try to speak mostly about Abby, asking lots of questions so you didn’t get tangled up in speaking about yourself. If you steered the conversation toward movies, you could watch something exciting and maybe even scary together so you could cuddle up on the couch together. And well, if you got that far, things would probably fall into place naturally. Foolproof. Y/N-proof.

You groaned as you reached over to grab your phone from your nightstand. You had a message from your mom asking if you wanted to come over for dinner next weekend and an email from your professor who wanted to submit your last essay to some kind of grant application. You’d have to answer her later, your head still felt like it was filled with cotton. Instead, you sent Leah a message.

-Hey, you still alive? There’s leftover pizza and coke over here.

Five seconds later, there was a delighted squeal at the other side of the wall and you heard the click of your roommate’s door before yours opened and Leah tiptoe-danced inside, beaming at you. She was wearing nothing but an extremely tight-fitting cropped wifebeater and a khaki thong, accentuating her long legs as she leaped right onto your bed and almost made you fly as her weight hit the mattress. You tried not to stare at her perfectly toned abs as she opened the gigantic carton and held up a slice of pizza over her head, letting the tip dangle in her mouth before biting down with a moan that made you snort awkwardly.

“Good morning, you animal.”

Leah just moaned again, making a grabbing motion with her hand and pointing toward the second can of coke on your nightstand. You laughed silently as you handed her the cold can, condensed water running down the sides and wetting your fingers. You wiped them on the blanket. The tall brunette swallowed hard and took a sip of coke.

“Good morning, womanizer.” She grinned widely. “I’m so proud of you, man. This is the first time I’ve seen you in action and I can safely say Abby was just as surprised as I was.”

You buried your face in your hands.

“Oh god, was I that obvious? Did I do anything inappropriate? I thought it went well, but now I’m not so sure.” You spread your fingers to peak at your roommate who was currently chewing on a ginormous bite, tomato juice running down her chin. No manners, that girl. She just shook her head and made a noise somewhere between protest and encouragement.

“No, you were fine,” she said with a full mouth, “very tipsy, but cute. I hope you remember Abby inviting you to her place.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

You ran your fingers through your hair, immediately getting stuck in a tangle of knots. God, you needed a shower.

“Yeah, I already went over it with Mark. We made a plan so I won’t embarrass myself.”

“Good. I hope it goes well, you two would be cute together. Hot, even. I mean, no one can deny the allure of those biceps. And her ass?! Godly.” She easily evaded the kick you aimed at her ribs, laughing and slapping your shin away.

“Come on, let’s not act like you’re not ogling her every chance you get. I am, too - the woman looks like a greek goddess!”

“That’s enough,” you giggled, aiming another playful kick in her direction but only lightly hitting her in the thigh. “I know what she looks like.”

“Right. And soon, you’ll hopefully see a lot more of her.” This time, Leah jumped off the bed before your toes could sink right into her side. You tried to suppress a grin as you two stared at each other for a moment before Leah sat back down cross-legged and began eating the last slice of pizza.

“I mean,” she said casually, “you have seen more of a woman before, right?”

You grabbed your coke and turned it in your hands before answering.

“Yeah, I have. It wasn’t… It wasn’t all that, though. Just one time and we were both so nervous it was just awkward.”

Now Leah looked at you with a mixture of shock and pity.

“Come on, Y/N. Only once? You’ve never seen stars because of a woman’s tongue? Never screamed into a pillow because of some skilled sapphic strap game? Never lost your mi-”

“Leaahhhh!” You groaned, feeling blood shoot into your cheeks. “No, okay? I… I made the other girl cum, but for me, it was just… it was too unfamiliar and I didn’t know her well enough to really let myself enjoy it.”

Suddenly a thought crossed your mind and you felt your eyes open wide.

“Wait. Has Abby…? Is she..?”

Leah paused mid-bite and thought for a second.

“Well, she does have experience with men, obviously. As far as women go… I honestly don’t know. She’s dated a few, but it never went longer than a couple of weeks. I don’t know how fast things go with her and she’s never gone into detail with me. I have to ask Nora about that.”

“Don’t you dare! She’ll know this is about me and tell Abby!”

“Oh come on, I’m interested, too.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell you so you know what to prepare for, win-win!” She nudged your foot and gave you a mischievous half-smile.

“For god’s sake, do what you must.” You finished your coke and threw it perfectly into the bin beside your desk. Leah gave you an impressed nod. “And now I desperately need a shower. There is a literal nest on top of my head.”

“True,” Leah said and stood up, stretching her limbs as she walked to the door. “Thanks for the pizza. I’m gonna ask Jordan if he wants to come over, so don’t walk out naked if you don’t want a threesome.” She winked at you before closing the door, but a small part at the back of your brain knew that she wasn’t completely joking. You sighed and swung your legs off your bed. No point in lying around, it was past 3 pm anyway.

Grabbing your phone, a shirt, and some clean boxers, you headed for the bathroom. You took your time showering, detangling the mess on your head with lots of conditioner, humming along to Marika Hackman’s cover of I Follow Rivers as you stood under the hot stream of water and brushing your teeth for at least five minutes while waiting for a hair mask to do its magic. When you stepped out of the shower, the bathroom was filled with hot steam and you felt like a whole new person. You slipped into your fresh clothes and held the blow dryer to the mirror until your reflection was clear.

So. Here you were. Finally, you had spoken to the woman of your dreams and even flirted with her. She may have even been jealous of your short conversation with Ellie, the bartender. Tomorrow, you would text her, you would be brave and cool and not at all awkward. As you collected your clothes off the floor and took your phone, you suddenly realized something that would destroy your entire plan. You didn’t even have Abby’s phone number. Why hadn’t you asked her? Of course, you could ask Leah for it, but Abby would know because she knew she hadn’t given it to you. It would be a lot less cool and casual. Fuck.

You stepped into the hallway and ran straight into Jordan. Perfect. Good thing Leah had warned you.

“Oh, hi Y/N! You doing alright after all those tequila shots?” Jordan’s face was open and kind. You immediately relaxed. Just a guy, not a threat.

“Better than I thought I would, actually. What about you?”

“Well, I sent them back out the way they came as soon as I got home.” He grimaced and shrugged. “Just glad I’m still alive, to be honest.”

You had to laugh. “I’m glad, too. Leah would have been devastated.”

“I hope so.” He grinned back. The silence between you stretched a little bit too long.

“Anyways, I’m gonna see what she’s up to. See you later?”

“Yeah, sure!” You said, relieved that he didn’t make it awkward. You quickly slipped into your room and sank down on the bed, composing a text to Mark.

-Minor hiccup - I don’t have her number.

His reply came immediately.

-Shit. What now?

You let yourself fall back on the mattress and covered your face with your arm. Your phone vibrated again and you lifted it up, hoping for a brilliant idea.

-Hey, this is Abby. Are we still on for next week?

You almost dropped your phone on your face. For a minute, you just stared at the message. Then you rolled over onto your stomach and screamed into your pillow.

-Hi Abby. We absolutely are. Y/N.

You tried to suppress a fit of giggles as you texted your brother.

-Nvm, she just texted me.

-Omg what!! Play it cool, don’t answer yet. What did she say???

-Oops already answered. Still on for next week.

-Incredibly casual lol. Whatever, good for you!

-Shut up!

Another text by Abby came in and you actually started drumming your feet on the bed with excitement.

-Tuesday? I could cook for us

-Very impressive, I’ll bite. What time should I come over?

-Very clever. 6pm? Any allergies?

-Vegetarian, hope that’s okay. 6 is great, text me your address?

You watched the little text bubble pop up and vanish again for a good minute, getting more and more nervous for her answer.

- No problem. 2425 Constance.

There was nothing else to do but scream into your pillow again.

-

The next two days went excruciatingly slow. You spent the rest of your Sunday in bed, watching a terrible zombie movie and later ordering curry because you couldn’t be bothered with preparing any food. As it got late, you suddenly heard a knock on the wall. At first, you thought it was accidental, until the knocking started to continue in a steady rhythm. With a death glare that you hoped would reach through the concrete, you plugged your headphones into your laptop and continued watching your movie.

On Monday, you threw yourself into art history coursework and caught up on your studies, emailed your professor, and spent three hours on an essay about the depiction of blood in paintings of Judith beheading Holofernes. Lovely subject. Even though you got through a lot of your tasks for the day, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at your phone every 10 minutes to see if you had missed a message. Of course, nothing came up. Around 4 pm, your phone buzzed and you leapt for it only to find out it was Leah asking you to buy toilet paper later. At 6pm, you shut off your laptop and grabbed your backpack to go grocery shopping.

Standing in the liquor store you realized you hadn’t asked Abby about cocktails.

“Looking for something in particular?” the elderly lady behind the counter asked. It seemed to be her own shop and to have been hers for a while, judging by the elegant wooden shelves and the warm, nice feeling of the room instead of neon lights and rows of white metal.

“Uh, yeah, actually. I have a date tomorrow and I thought we could make cocktails, but I forgot to ask what she likes. So now I don’t know what to bring.” You gave her an apologetic half smile. She stood up from her seat behind the register, growing not even 2 inches standing compared to sitting and made her way over to you. Her eyes twinkled behind thick glasses that made her look a little bit like an owl.

“Well, dear. I don’t know if I would go straight into the hard liquor on a first date. On my last first date, we had a delicious red wine, a Merlot. Couldn’t that be something? Are you going to eat anything?”

“Oh yes, she said she’d cook for us, but I don’t know what exactly.”

The shop owner gently put a hand on your arm and guided you to a shelf of dark bottles.

“Well, Merlot goes well with any food, so I think it would be perfect. Cocktails come later, when you dress up and go out together or after a night of theater.” You felt a surge of warmth spread through your chest. Theater? Well, why not? For a second, you began to trail off, imagining Abby in a perfectly tailored suit, you at her arm just as dressed up, every head turning as you entered the room and ordered Gin Tonics at the bar during the break. The voice next to you pulled you back to the present.

“If you’re cooking at home, wine is the thing to bring, trust me.”

“I trust you,” you said with a smile as you took the bottle she handed you. The label was a creamy white, with beautiful golden letters. Hopefully this wouldn’t bankrupt you. “Thank you for your help.”

The shopkeeper sat back down in her chair with a sigh and typed into the cash register. 15.99$. That wasn’t so bad. You paid and gently put the bottle inside your backpack.

“You know, you should come by soon and let me know how it went. I think that Merlot will bring you good luck. My wife and I still have it every Sunday.” Your head snapped up and your eyes met that charming, smart twinkle again, flashing at you out of dark brown irises. For a moment, all of the things you wanted to say were stuck in your throat, then you just broke into a smile.

“That’s wonderful, ma’am. I hope I can have that, in the future.”

“Of course you will, dear.” She really sounded like she meant it. A small lump suddenly appeared in your throat.

“Thank you so much. I wish you all the best.”

“Go get her!”

You laughed and waved at her again as you exited the shop, taking the warmth and comfort of it with you and tucking it right beneath the bottom of your heart and the top of your stomach where you knew it would fuel you for a few days. You had already decided that you would come back and make it your mission to befriend that old lady. What a wonderful woman.

Only 23 hours to go. That night, it was almost impossible to fall asleep.

-

You got through the next day by once again banning any thought of the evening from your mind and diving head first into your assignments. You were going to lead a discussion on different planes of language or communications in women’s art and literature and reading up on the historical differences between male and female narratives, beginning with the ancient poet Sappho. It was an exciting topic, something you were extremely thankful for. Otherwise you might have been looking at your phone every 3 minutes instead of every 20. Of course, no message from Abby.

The bottle of wine was standing on your nightstand, reminding you of your plans with an exciting tingle in your stomach. At 4pm, you gave up on doing anything productive. You spent forever in the shower, stealing some of Leah’s expensive pink body scrub, shaving everywhere and regretting it immediately because you felt stupid for assuming anything, entertaining the but what if thoughts while you thoroughly lathered your entire body in Leah’s shampoo and shower gel and spending a good 10 minutes just standing under the hot water because you weren’t ready to leave that fantasy yet. When you stepped out of the shower, the bathroom was an actual steam bath and you could hardly see the door through the thick waves of wonderfully scented fog. You took your time stealing some more of Leah’s skincare products, having come to the conclusion that if she noticed anything and scolded you for it, you might as well try out the whole arsenal.

When you finally opened your closet door, feeling luxurious and clean and fresh, it was 5.10pm. What the hell were you going to wear? You and Mark had agreed on casual, but what the hell did that even mean? You decided to ask him.

-Help!!! Freaking out over my outfit, need a definition for casual

-Jeans and T-Shirt, just your standard outfit. Imagine meeting me for sushi.

-I’m bringing red wine. It seems wrong to bring wine in jeans and a t-shirt..

-What happened to cocktails?? Trust me, keep it simple. You don’t wanna turn up in a dress and she opens the door in sweatpants.

-I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in sweatpants. Ughh fuck I don’t have time for this. Jeans and t-shirt it is. Lesbian grandma recommended wine, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow x

-Go get her x

You quickly slipped into some black jeans that were just the right amount of tightly fitting around your ass and a white shirt with a tiny pomegranate embroidered on the front. Then you put on your jacket and quickly threw your wallet, phone and keys into a tote before grabbing the wine and putting it in as well. With a last look into the hallway mirror and a yelled goodbye to Leah, you rushed out of your apartment.

The evening air was not as cool as you had expected and the sun was just about to set. On your way to the train station, you typed out an on my way! message to Abby and quickly deleted it again. No sense in sending it now when you hadn’t spoken since Sunday and were about to see her. The train ride was annoying, the wagon stuffed with commuters and some guy trying to convince you the apocalypse was upon you all. Zombies, not the last judgement - something different at least.

During the walk from the station to Abby’s house, you were sure it wouldn’t take much more for you to actually start levitating. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your throat was so cramped up it was hard to breathe. When you pulled out your phone, your fingers were actually shaking. Jesus Christ, get a grip. 5.58 pm.

And there it was, 2425 Constance. Just a normal suburban white house, like any other in the street. It actually seemed a bit weird, Manny and Abby living here in the midst of what seemed to be a family neighborhood with real adults . Then again, they both weren’t in college, so you supposed they actually were real adults. When you walked up to the front door, you could hear faint music from inside - jazz? You wouldn’t have guessed she was the jazz type, but then again you knew almost nothing about her. Right. Ask questions, keep the conversation about her. Be cool.

You knocked.

Abby opened the door, a wave of warm air hitting you from inside. It smelled delightful. Her face was slightly flushed, her lips parted as she took in a deep breath. She had tied her hair back in a low bun, but a few strands had fallen out and framed her face. One was standing up in a funny angle.

“Hi, Abby,” you said, trying to keep your voice level and not stare at her body. Fuck, she had dressed up. And she looked hot.

“Hi!” A smile slowly grew wide on her face. When she realized that she was blocking the door, she quickly shook her head and stepped aside. “Come in! Can I take your jacket?”

Oh God, this was hopeless. You already knew you were hers. Thanking her, you took off your jacket and she hung it in a closet next to the entrance. When she turned around, you got a chance to admire her fully. She wore wide dress pants that perfectly accentuated all of her muscles, topped with a loose white shirt with wide sleeves, reminding you a little bit of a pirate. Her jewelry rounded off the pirate look and you had to bite back a grin. She raised her eyebrows at you.

“What?” Her cheeks were still slightly red, but you attributed it to standing in a hot kitchen for probably the last hour, judging by the variety of smells overlapping and mixing together, already making your mouth water.

“Uh, I brought wine,” you said and held out the bottle. Eloquent as always. Abby took it and whistled through her teeth as she inspected the label.

“That looks classic. The sauce I made has some wine in it as well, this is perfect. Thank you, what a great idea!”

You were overwhelmed with her generous praise and didn’t know where to look, so you settled on her hands. You had always sneaked looks at her hands, at the way she held a glass or drummed on a table or clasped them when she was intently listening to someone. They looked strong and rough from work, but there was also a delicacy in their movement and you were sure her touch could be as gentle as the brush of a hummingbird flying past. Realizing you were staring, you tore your gaze away.

“It smells delicious in here, I can’t wait to see what you cooked.” You followed her into the kitchen, where she placed the bottle on the counter and took a corkscrew from a drawer. A big red pot was standing on the gas stove over a tiny flame, the lid still hiding its contents. Your stomach suddenly growled loudly into the silence.

“Someone’s hungry.” Abby gave you a side glance and an amused smirk as she screwed the silver device into the cork. “Everything’s already set, we can get started right away.”

You covered your eyes with your hand for a second before laughing.

“Yeah, I kind of forgot to have lunch earlier and then I figured I’d just wait so I could really savour this.”

“Smart thinking. I made patates au vin , a vegetarian version of coq au vin which is chicken in wine. It’s basically potatoes and vegetables in a thick brown sauce, served with some good rustic bread.” You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling back at the thought of getting to eat home cooked french cuisine made by Abby in a few minutes.

“Oh my God, say that again.” You could barely stop yourself from moaning. Abby laughed and opened the wine with a loud pop.

“Here, take this over to the dinner table. I’m right behind you.” You took the bottle and followed her nod into the dining room. The wooden table was beautifully set with big and small plates, glasses for water and wine, candles, two blue glass bottles of water and a bowl of salad topped with what looked like apples, pomegranate seeds and feta cheese. You carefully placed the bottle of wine next to the water bottles and stepped aside for Abby, who came out of the kitchen carrying the heavy pot and placed it on a cork coaster in the middle of the table.

“Wait, let me just…” she trailed off as she grabbed her phone from the sideboard and changed the music. A saxophone led a jazz band into the song before a beautiful female voice set in, soft as butter and filling the room like the smell of roses. The voice was familiar to you, but you couldn’t quite place it. As Abby sat down, the music came to a crescendo before breaking off, the voice setting in again with a soft

is it a crime?

“Who sings this?” you asked as Abby opened the water bottle and filled your glasses.

“Oh, it’s Sade. She was my dad’s favorite.”

And I want you to want me too, the woman sang, and your eyes met over the table. You swallowed. Was? Not the right time.

“Sade? Oh, she sings Smooth Operator, right? I know that one, but I never checked out more of her music.”

Abby smiled at you and opened the lid of the pot.

“Yeah. This is the Promise album, my favorite. She is a force.”

A wave of steam erupted from the pot and you bent forward to look inside. Thick, roasted wedges of yellow potatoes lay in a bed of orange and purple carrots, mushrooms and tomatoes in a thick brown sauce, a stalk of thyme on top and a bay leaf poking out from the sauce. You weren’t sure if you were drooling, but you didn’t care.

“Abby, oh my God! This is fantastic.”

A spark had lit in her eyes when she heard you say her name. She elegantly stood up again, grabbed a serving spoon, and held out her hand for your plate. You watched her hands again as she plated an array of vegetables for you and used the spoon to draw a little sauce heart on the rim of the plate. Your ribs felt two sizes too small around your chest. This woman was actually going to be the death of you.

“Thanks,” you quietly said and waited as Abby helped herself to a plate. She sat down and gestured toward the small basket with thick slices of grey bread with a dark brown crust.

“Help yourself. Bon appétit.”

After a few moments of eating in comfortable silence before you showered the blonde in an array of compliments, this time not able to refrain from moaning when you bit into a tender, sweet purple carrot, the conversation began to flow. Abby complimented the wine, you talked about your studies, Abby told a few work stories in which both she and Nora were involved, you told her about your close relationship with your brother and she bittersweetly reminisced about her upbringing as an only child with a single dad. It had just been the two of them, moving frequently because of his changing jobs in different hospitals. He had been a neurosurgeon, and a brilliant one at that, but always humble and ready to help wherever he could. Abby sat up straighter when she talked about him, her chest actually swelling with pride when she told you about one time they had rescued an injured horse that had run away and been hit by a car in front of them.

“I think I was 16 back then. It’s one of my favorite memories of him. It actually wasn’t long before…” Her eyebrows moved into a frown and she bit her lip, pushing a small piece of onion around her plate. Fuck, maybe it would have been easier to talk about you, after all.

“We don’t have to talk about it. You can tell me when you’re ready.”

She looked up and you expected to see tears, but her eyes were full of love and her face smoothed out into a gentle smile.

“No, it’s okay. I’m still working on it, and part of my therapy is telling people who don’t know yet. You know, I don’t really have a lot of friends.” She suddenly laughed, easing the tension at the bottom of your lungs. “That sounds stupid, of course I do. I have Manny and Nora and Leah and Jordan and Owen, I guess. But the thing is, they all knew me before. I haven’t really made friends ever since my dad.. passed away. The idea of needing to open up to someone about all this so I can develop a real connection and friendship with them is just a lot to bear.”

“The mortifying ordeal of being known,” you mumbled, more to yourself, crumpling up your napkin in one hand.

“Sorry?”

“Oh, it’s this quote from a New York Times article that has been floating around the internet for a while. ‘If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known’.” You looked up at her and inhaled deeply. “It’s something I’m also terrified of. Although it seems kind of stupid sometimes, because compared to you for example, I don’t really have a good reason.”

Abby looks at you like she’s just discovered something extremely interesting. She takes a sip of her wine before answering, her silver rings blinking at you in the candlelight.

“It’s not at all stupid. I’ve always been very careful with who I open up to, even before my dad died. It’s horrifying, laying yourself bare for a person, putting yourself on a silver plate and handing it to them and saying there, now do with it what you wish. Maybe they’ll look at it and say no, thanks. Maybe they’ll call everyone and say hey, look at this mad woman with her twisted insides, isn’t that funny? Maybe they’ll see it and think, I can do this, and then after a few years they suddenly realize they actually can’t and you’re way too much and so they leave for someone with a more simple, prettier silver plate. Maybe they’ll even take a few pieces with them as they go.”

She didn’t sound bitter as she said it, and she didn’t look terribly sad either, more as if she was making an observation about something she was mildly interested in. You didn’t know what to say except for show me your silver plate, please show me your all, and I will devour it, savor it, keep it with me forever. But you stayed silent, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.

“I’m quite the handful, am I? Sorry, I shouldn’t have thrown all this” - she gestured toward herself - “at you during our first date.” Then her eyes widened as she realized what she had said. “Fuck, sorry, I just assumed… you probably don’t…”

Finally, movement came back into you. You jumped from your chair and were next to her in a few paces. She lifted a hand and you took it in yours.

“Of course this is a date,” you said gently and smiled at her. “Otherwise why would I have been this nervous for the past three days, thinking of nothing but you, constantly checking my phone to see if you texted me? And I brought red wine, come on.” That brought a smile to her face. She chuckled lightly.

“So I haven’t just ruined everything?” The hope in her eyes was mixed with real, honest fear.

“No, of course not. I’m glad you’re being open with me. You know, I planned not to reveal too much about myself tonight, fearing I would scare you away or say something stupid and make you suddenly lose interest.”

The current song ended and a soft, funky beat came on. There it was again, that twinkle in Abby’s eyes. Your hands were still clasped around hers and she made no move to pull back.

“Well, now I can’t wait to see what you have in store for me. Lay it on me. Over dessert, maybe?”

You raised your eyebrows.

“There’s dessert? You’re going to have to roll me out of here later.”

She laughed, warm and genuine, and the pride you had felt back in The Closet filled your chest again. You would do anything just to be the one to make her laugh every day for the rest of your life. She got up and you both started clearing the table together.

Never going to know

What fate is going to blow

Your way, just hope that it feels right

Could that Sade lady be any more on the nose? You risked a glance at Abby, who was smiling to herself. You followed her into the kitchen and she opened the fridge to produce a large glass dish, showing the several layers of biscuit and white cream, topped with dark cacao.

“Tiramisu? Seriously Abby, how much time did you spend in the kitchen today?”

She gave you a crooked grin before exiting the kitchen.

“Took the day off.”

You just sighed and went back into the dining room.

Such a fine time as this

“Here.” Abby handed you a small plate with a piece of her gourmet tiramisu. Your fingers brushed against each other and you both paused for just the blink of an eye.

What could equal the bliss

The thrill of the first kiss

You sat down and grabbed the small fork left next to your wine glass. On second thought, you took another sip of Merlot. It really was exquisite.

“Buon’ appetito,” you said and sliced off a perfect edge of tiramisu. The soft, coffee-drenched biscuit fell apart on your tongue, mixing with the heavy vanilla-flavored mascarpone. “Did you know where the name tiramisu comes from?”

Abby lifted her fork to her mouth and softly closed her lips around the piece of creamy dessert. You were entranced, watching her hand sink down to the table again, then her jaw moving and flexing as she chewed. She raised her eyebrows questioningly and you cleared your throat, taking another piece on your fork.

“ Tira mi su is Italian for ‘pull me down’. It’s the last thing you eat after dinner and the thing that makes you tired, pulls you right into the food coma. In restaurants, it rounds off the meal and guests will probably leave in the following hour because they feel they’re ready to go home.”

Never as good as the first time

Natural as the way we came to be

“Oh,” Abby said, her voice quiet. She looked up at you through dark lashes. “And are you going home after this?”

“No.” You said it without thinking, only knowing what was true in your heart. “I don’t want to.”

“I’m glad.” Taking a deep breath, Abby straightened up, then reached a hand across the table, her palm facing up. You stared at it for a fraction of a second before placing your hand in hers, feeling something fall into place inside you. The glances you exchanged said so much more than you could possibly dare to say out loud right now.

You used your free hand to stab the last piece of tiramisu. This time it was Abby who was watching you with hungry eyes as the fork vanished between your lips and emerged clean.

“This tiramisu could be the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life,” you said after swallowing and Abby’s fingers twitched ever so slightly around your hand.

“Thank you. I’m really into French and Italian cuisine, as you may have noticed.”

You leaned back in your chair, careful not to pull back your hand.

“I couldn’t do it, honestly. Spending so much time in the kitchen. Especially not with a job like yours, on your feet all day. I’d probably survive off of pasta and takeout.”

Abby smiled and began slowly drawing circles on the back of your hand with her thumb. You were already hyper-aware of how your blood rushed through every vein of your body, a side-effect of the red wine, but now it came to a roar in your ears.

“I guess I need some kind of hobby besides lifting weights. It calms me down. And it’s not just about the end result, about getting to eat something, but also about picking the right ingredients, taking my time cutting them up, trying new recipes with new flavors, and learning more about food and culture, and honestly about myself. It’s like meditating.”

“That sounds…” you were at a loss for words, “unbelievable? I’ve never heard someone talk about cooking like that. And I’ve never felt that way about it, too. I guess I’d like to, though. It sounds nice.”

Abby brushed her thumb over your knuckles.

“Well, I could show you.” You tilted your head slightly. “I mean, we could cook together. Next time. If you want to?”

Sade’s voice, smooth as polished wood and dripping with honey cut into the moment.

How could I have doubted

Honey, it's with me that you belong

“Yeah, I’d love to. What do you have in mind?”

“Do you like lasagna? We could make a vegetable lasagna and substitute the meat for soy. I could show you how to make a béchamel.”

You laughed and squeezed her hand.

“I love lasagna, although I have no idea what a beshmel is.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” Abby’s face was glowing with happiness.

As the last two songs of the album played, you helped Abby clean up the table. You got into an argument about doing the dishes - Abby said she’d do it later but you insisted you would do them now or at least help because so far you had not lifted a finger.

“Come on, Abby, please let me help?” You tried your best doe eyes at her. She grinned and playfully slapped your upper arm.

“Okay. But I’ll put on different music.”

She vanished to the dining room while you began filling the sink with water. A high note filled the room before a man spoke.

You broke my heart / 'Cause I couldn't dance

You didn't even want me around

And now I'm back / To let you know

I can really shake 'em down

Abby stepped into your field of vision. The music set in, a delightful 60’s rock and roll melody, and Abby began dancing toward you with tiny steps and shaking shoulders. She was lip synching to the coarse voice of the singer and reaching out her hands for you. Snapping out of your frozen position, you shook your head, grabbed her hands, and were immediately twirled through the kitchen. A squeak escaped you as Abby pulled you back toward her and with another pirouette, you almost slammed into her chest. You both laughed out loud, continuing to dance through the kitchen with big, overexaggerated moves, flailing your arms and shuffling your feet across the tile.

I can do the twist

Now, tell me baby

Do you like it like this?

You quickly began singing along to the simple lyrics and both of you were giggling at each other’s dance moves. The next song was Stand By Me and you both settled down, beginning to clean the pots and dishes. You did the washing while Abby dried off the pieces you gave her and put them back into the right cupboards. Both of you were swaying and humming along to the music.

During the second chorus, both of you began belting along, filling the kitchen with the wonderfully familiar sound of slightly drunk women singing together. As the song ended, you both comically froze and waited for the next song to set in. When it was La Bamba by Ritchie Valens, you both continued singing along and showing off some probably terrible salsa moves. You were done in no time and Abby took your hand, pulling you into the dining room and sliding across the wooden floors with you. Your stomach hurt from laughing and you couldn’t stop smiling.

Next came the bittersweet Be My Baby by the Ronettes, a song you remembered from your childhood, vague memories of your parents slow dancing together after another terrible fight. You swallowed down the hint of bitterness creeping up from your stomach. Instead, you looked up at Abby, almost a full head taller than you, and dared yourself to step forward. You placed your right hand in Abby’s and your left on her tricep, coming unbearably and exhilaratingly close. Abby put her hand on your back, right below your shoulder blade, warming you through the fabric of your shirt. Your faces were incredibly close, her breath warm on your nose, and you could have counted every single freckle on her beautiful face. There was a slim ring of gold around her pupil, complimenting the green of her iris. She was breathtaking.

You couldn’t take this any longer. Should you kiss her? Everything inside you wanted to, but you couldn’t bring yourself to close the last inch of distance. It felt like wanting to do a handstand but pulling back at the last second every time because of a deep fear of failing and hurting yourself. It was terribly frustrating.

Instead, you leaned your head against the round muscle of Abby’s shoulder, turning your face toward her chest and pressing your temple to her collarbone. You could smell the herbs she had used to cook earlier in the fabric of her shirt, but her skin smelled like pine and something else, earthy and dark, like tree bark or wool. Abby rested her chin against your forehead and her low hum of contentment vibrated against your cheek.

A light waltz melody began, Unchained Melody, a song you knew from some commercial and had listened to for a few weeks straight after.

I need your love

God speed your love to me

You smiled to yourself and could sense Abby was doing the same. You kept slowly turning, dancing through the candle-lit room and swaying side to side. The band set in louder and you lifted your head again. Abby’s eyes were fixed to yours, but you couldn’t stop yours from wandering lower, finding those perfectly pink lips, hanging open ever so slightly. Your hand wandered upward, along her shoulder, and to the back of her neck. As the last verse of the song began, you stood on your tiptoes and brushed your lips against her. Abby inhaled sharply, her fingers spreading on your back and pressing against your skin. You gently pressed your lips to hers again and this time, she kissed you back. You dug your fingertips into the back of her neck, desperately wanting to come closer, to pull her down to you, hell, you would climb her like a tree if you had to.

Feeling courageous, you stuck your tongue out and ran the tip upward over her lips. Abby instantly reacted, opening her mouth for you and greeting your tongue with hers. She tasted like wine and cacao, and faintly like thyme. Releasing your hand, she wrapped her arms around your waist. You reached up and buried your hand in her hair. She gasped into your mouth. You tucked that sound away for later, swearing to yourself you would make her do it again as often as you could.

A few seconds of silence between songs were disrupted by your wonderfully frivolous wet kissing sounds and a small whine that escaped you when Abby’s hand wandered lower to cup your ass. The first guitar chords of Nights In White Satin vibrated through the air and Abby grabbed you tightly before lifting you off the ground and wrapping your legs around her hips. She carried you over to the dining table and set you down.

The dramatic crescendo in the song you loved so much began.

And I love you

Yes I love you

Oh, how I love you

The singer’s voice filled every corner of the room, his declaration hovering above you, the high voices of the background singers ringing in your ears and Abby’s hands everywhere, her body leaning over you, her hips pressed between your legs. You flexed your legs to pull her in closer, almost falling apart when Abby let out a low moan and rocked her hips forward against you. Then she suddenly slowed down and broke the kiss.

“Wait, let’s talk for a second.”

You kept your legs clamped around her, but relaxed back a little, brushing back a strand of hair from her forehead and giving her an encouraging nod to go ahead.

“I haven’t… I’m not that experienced with - with women. And generally. And I don’t want to rush things and do something wrong and lose you. I don’t really know how this works and I want to do it right.”

Her hands on your waist tightened slightly. You gave her a shy smile.

“Me neither. I’m scared, too.” You surprised yourself with your openness. “How about we take this slow, then? Talk about everything openly? And just go one step at a time?”

Abby nodded and pulled you closer again.

Holding Back The Years began playing.

“One kiss at a time.” She gave you a gentle peck on the lips.

“Oh, really? I would have never picked you as the sappy type,” you laughed against her lips.

“You wouldn’t?” She acted shocked. “Let me remind you of how I took the day off to cook a gourmet french dish for you.”

“True.” You shrugged and pulled her in for another kiss. “It’s probably the muscles. With those guns, you can do anything and still be taken seriously.”

Abby snorted and you realized that had been the wine talking. For a second, you were mortified, then she scooped you up again, holding your body with one arm as she ran her free hand through your hair.

“Oh, those? You know, they’re specifically for carrying you around all day. Anything for my - princess.” You had very well noticed the little pause there, but you decided not to say anything yet. Instead, you lifted your chin and eyebrows, imitating what you thought a royal would look like.

“Well, what does that make you? You’re obviously not a prince. My lady knight?”

Abby nodded solemnly.

“Sworn to protect and defend you. And to carry you wherever.”

“Well, do you have a sofa you could carry me to?” You tightened your hold on her shoulders and leaned in closer again.

“Of course, my lady.”

Abby carried you through a doorway at the back of the dining room into a cozy living room, equipped with a large sofa and a gigantic flatscreen tv, two vintage armchairs, a wooden bookshelf with at least 100 books, and a desk facing the window, medical books spread across the surface. The blonde sat down on the sofa and you knelt left and right of her hips, straddling her as you gave her another soft kiss.

“You know,” you began, “I’ve been crushing on you for months now. I thought you had absolutely no interest in me. I didn’t even know you liked women.”

Abby’s eyes widened at your confession.

“Shit, I had no idea. You weren’t exactly forward, you know. The first time we met, you already had this pull on me. But you were so shy and I didn’t want to jump you or annoy you, so I tried to keep my distance and wait if you would come around.”

“You have Leah to thank for that. Me coming around. I kind of forgot to come out to her until karaoke night and she told me you were dating women as well. She knows I’ve been a hopeless case when it comes to you, but she wanted me to figure this out on my own.”

Abby thought about this for a second.

“Yeah, Leah probably only told you because she knew I liked you, too. I haven’t been that open about dating women in the past, just because talking about dating in general was weird with Owen and Mel around and I also just don’t like everyone knowing my personal business.”

“I get that.” You nodded. “As I said, I hadn’t even been out to Leah. Mostly because I haven’t dated anyone in forever and the last time was a disaster not worth talking about.” You winced at the memory.

“You wanna tell me anyway?”

You thought about it for a second, then you climbed off Abby’s lap and laid down on the sofa, resting your head on her thigh. Her fingers immediately began brushing through your hair and massaging your scalp.

“Well, I met this girl during a freshman party at a sorority house the weekend before my first semester in college,” you began. You had felt weirdly out of place, but were determined to speak to at least one person. A few hours and an almost-lethal amount of tequila later, the girl you had talked to all night had dragged you into one of the bedrooms. You both had no previous experience, were extremely drunk and it was already 5am. You had fun making out and were both eager to try more, but it had been more out of curiosity than desire for each other and so the experience had not ended in the expected bliss of lesbian sex. Rather, she had come pretty quickly and afterward she'd begun crying and told you she had a boyfriend, and you had gotten dressed and fled the house. After that, dating in college was not really something you thought about much.

Abby listened to your story with interest and sympathy, laughing at a few parts and stroking your hair as you told her about the end of that fateful night. She felt deeply sorry for your experience of strangeness and betrayal, immediately promising to you that she would always tell you what was going on inside her head and what she wanted.

“Like you just did,” you smiled at her. “That was brave. It’s what I should have done that night.”

“I mean, I had a few weird moments, too, before I learned to speak my mind.” Abby’s gaze unfocused and she frowned as she clearly recalled some not very pleasant memories.

“Wanna tell me, too?” you asked, keeping your voice light. She nodded, looking down at you again.

“I mean, there's Owen, obviously. That didn’t work out well and now he is with Mel, leaving me wondering if he was interested in her while we were still together. After we broke up, Nora and I went on a little bender.” Your heart jumped into your throat. Did Abby and Nora...? A wave of jealousy rose from the bottom of your stomach, but you forced yourself to keep your calm, smiling at Abby as she continued.

“We spent every weekend at a different bar, and one of them was actually at The Closet. Nora was making out with a woman in actual overalls” - she snorted - “and I just hung out at the bar, drinking Long Islands and not brave enough to make eye contact with anyone. And then the bartender started talking to me.”

Suddenly realization dawned on you. You sat up and stared at Abby.

“Wait, Ellie? The short-haired one?”

Abby grimaced.

“Yeah. We talked for a while and I came back the next week with Leah and Jordan. They didn’t even notice I was spending a lot of time at the bar. Ellie and I met for coffee a few days later and I mentioned my dad and she got really quiet and strange. Turns out, she’s related to the guy that murdered my dad, so...”

You were pretty sure your heart stopped for a moment, all the air in your chest building up pressure as you tried to figure out how to breathe out. Abby noticed and gently guided you to lay back down, continuing to weave her fingers into your hair.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’ll tell you the whole story another time. So yeah, Ellie and I. It was horrible, but we still stayed and talked for a while. She couldn’t tell me a lot about what happened, but she had no idea that I even existed and she was about to have a panic attack over it all. I helped her calm down and then she felt terrible for reacting so badly when it should be me panicking and I just told her that there’s nothing any of us can do now and we should probably leave it at that.” She sighed. “I hadn’t been to The Closet until a few days ago. I only came because I knew you’d be there.”

“Fuck, that’s terrible,” you mumbled. “I don’t think I could have gone back there. I’m still glad you did, though.”

“Me too,” Abby said, her voice gentle and honest. She leaned down to kiss you, deeply and passionately.

You stayed on the sofa for the next few hours, talking about school crushes and gay awakenings, about women constantly hitting on Abby and her being confused for a long time. She told you more about her relationship with Mel and you started to actually resent that woman. Who did she think she was? You told Abby about living with Leah and about your current research projects and she listened intently, asking a lot of questions about the art you were analyzing. You began diving into queer art and Sappho and your theory on the different languages of different social groups. Abby actually gave you some great new ideas and some good questions you couldn’t yet answer and you were actually beginning to look forward to writing tomorrow.

As the clock moved past midnight, it became clear you would have to leave at some point soon. Abby had to get up at 7 in the morning for a 10-hour shift, and you had stifled one too many yawns. You were cuddled up on the couch, kisses interchanging with long, deep conversations and more kisses.

“I can accompany you to the station,” Abby suggested as you looked up the departure times on your phone.

“You don’t have to. That’s sweet of you, but I’ll find the way.” You kissed her for her generosity, but she pulled back.

“Honestly. I don’t want you walking alone. I’ll go with you.” A sheepish smile appeared on her face and she did a tiny bow. “My lady.”

You rolled your eyes and got up, making your way to the entrance hall. Abby gently helped you into your coat and put on a black bomber jacket, a strange but hot combination with her fancy pants. She opened the door for you and you stepped out into the cold night together.

You held hands on the way to the station, stopping at every corner to make out, laughing together, and making plans for your lasagna night. You would come over on Thursday, promising to yourself you would finish all your coursework until then. Manny would come back on Friday, so you’d have the house to yourself again.

You arrived at the station way too soon, but your train was announced to arrive in two minutes. Heavy-hearted, you flung your arms around the tall blonde and she wrapped hers around your waist, lifting you up for another deep kiss.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” she whispered against your lips.

“I’ll even dress up next time,” you mumbled and she grinned at you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything but jeans and a t-shirt. I’m excited.” Well, now you had to go shopping. Leah would be delighted to go with you.

You pressed a last kiss to Abby’s lips before unwrapping yourself from her arms as the train rolled into the station. As you stepped away, she caught your hand and pulled you back for another one, cheekily running her tongue over your bottom lip. You sighed and kissed her hand, wrapped firmly around yours, before stepping back and boarding the train. You waved at her through the window as you departed and watched her stand on the platform until she was out of sight.

Letting yourself fall into one of the seats, you pulled out your phone and texted your brother.

-We kissed!!!! Call me when you can

Then you texted Leah about shopping tomorrow, just able to send the text before your phone vibrated with a new message.

-You looked beautiful tonight. I’m the luckiest person in the world.

You tried to keep your squeal as quiet as possible. A woman a few seats ahead of you briefly looked up from her phone.

-Can’t believe I have a personal knight who will carry me wherever I want to go

The reply came in seconds.

-Anywhere and anything you want. Text me when you’re home!

-Can I text you before I’m home? I miss you already :(

You had to wait a few minutes before your phone vibrated again. This time, Abby was calling.

“Sorry, I was cleaning up and getting ready for bed.” She sounded a bit breathless.

“No worries,” you said. “What are you wearing for bed?”

Abby let out a surprised laugh.

“Really, now?”

“I’m serious. I want to imagine being with you.”

“Well, I’m wearing a gigantic black t-shirt with a ton of holes and boxers.”

You closed your eyes, envisioning Abby’s thighs straining against the hem of her shorts and the soft cotton of her shirt that you could bury your face in. She would smell like nature and like home somewhere far away.

“I wish I was there.” You noticed you were sounding desperate. Fucking hell, were you about to turn into a 13-year-old? You could hear the smile in Abby’s voice when she spoke.

“I wish you were here with me, too.” She paused for a moment. Then, “Do you want to sleep over on Thursday?”

“Uhm -” you had to think for a second, remembering you only had dinner plans for Friday with your mom. Before you could answer, Abby cut in again

“Fuck, am I rushing you? I didn’t mean - I just thought it would be nice, falling asleep together. But I totally get if that’s -”

“Abby! Of course I want to stay over!” You clenched your free hand into a fist, punching your thigh a few times in order to divert the explosion of energy inside your chest.

“Oh, thank god,” Abby’s shaky laugh was heart-wrenching. “I thought I messed up already.”

You stood up to exit at your station.

“No, not at all. I’d love to fall asleep with you.”

The way to your apartment was over faster than you wanted it to be.

“I’m home now. I think I should hang up, Leah is probably sleeping.”

“Yeah, don’t wake the monster.” Abby chuckled.

“Good night, Abby. Tonight was incredible.”

“Good night, Y/N. You’re incredible. Sleep tight.”

--

Author's note: Thank you so much for your comments and kudos! If you'd like to support me, you can buy me a coffee here

[smallblip]

Don’t drink the kool-aid

Levihan | rated for mentions of sex

It’s on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/29942904

“Levi... Think of a number between one and ten-“

Hanji says, her breathing is a little ragged, but she’s looking at him excitedly, like there’s something shiny that he has to offer and she’s taking the bait, biting down. Whatever it is, he knows she isn’t going to let go. But he wishes she would-

“Really Hanji? You wanna fucking do this now?” Levi says, he looks down to where their bodies are connected. She laughs and wriggles above him, “just answer the question!”

Levi regrets letting her take control of the situation. Regrets letting her flip them over so she’s on top, promising to ride him until he’s spent and her thighs are burning.

Because right now she’s really not delivering on that promise.

Levi nods, letting her know he’s playing her little game.

She wraps an arm around her chest, another hand coming to stroke her chin. Levi sighs. He shifts uncomfortably under her.

“Seven!” She announces, like whatever shiny incentive there is is within grasp.

“No. Four...” Levi replies, watching as Hanji slumps against his chest. He can’t see her face from where it’s buried against his neck, but he knows she’s pouting.

“Idiot...”

This is how you love in this world. First you toss out the word love. You tell it to its face that Commander Erwin Smith says “love is the ultimate cult of men... A sect... A dirty ploy by the whatever god is up there to make us all vulnerable..." Erwin spits the last word in disgust. "Is that what you want? To be sheeple?”

They are having one too many drinks at the pub and Hanji is laughing her head off at whatever subconscious train of thought streams out of Erwin’s mouth. Love isn't the only thing that can render a man vulnerable. She thinks alcohol is far more practical, and yet, Erwin doesn't seem to have any complaints about it.

Levi shoots Hanji a look, a little tired, yet a little amused despite his frowning- want me to knock him out?

She shakes her head- no, this is fun!

Erwin catches them making eyes at one another and he points from Levi to Hanji, then back to Levi again. “Don’t you dare fall in love... Both of you... You’re too good for that...” Erwin says before taking another swig of whisky. Except it’s a little late in the night and Levi has already swapped it for water. Hanji wonders how long it would take for him to notice.

But it’s a little late and the alcohol settles as a blush on the bridge of Hanji’s nose, and Levi is staring at her now, a little too tender for comfort.

Hanji averts her gaze, this is far too much to deal with now. So she turns her attention back to Erwin instead, chuckling, she says “you must be fun at parties...”

Erwin wakes up the next morning with a colossal headache. “What did I say last night?” He groans at a meeting that’s really just everyone staring at one another with bloodshot eyes.

“Nothing out of the ordinary...” Hanji says, chipper through her hangover. But Erwin catches her and Levi sniggering to one another later. He wonders what the joke is.

But that’s how you talk about love in this world- you don’t. Instead, you replace it with the feeling of bandages wrapped taut over torn skin and broken bones.

“Gentle, Levi... These bones cannot take more breaking... I did the math...” Hanji is wincing and already she’s withdrawing from his touch. He chides her. If she stays still this would all go by much more painlessly. "Stay still or I’ll break your legs too..." he says, but the menace disappears behind deep concentration.

“Thank you...” she says when he’s testing the integrity of her bandages, and his heart misses a beat.

Strange how broken bones can heal themselves in time. But the dull throbbing in his heart and the wrenching in his gut don’t go away. Maybe it just means nothing’s broken. Maybe this is the feeling of life itself. Of the universe telling him hey... You're not done for yet... You've still got a lot of living to do...

After all, this is how you love in this world. First you look romance in the eye and tell it to take a walk. Tell it that it has no business in these parts of town.

Some days Levi is bestowed with the blessing of self-awareness, enough to know he has the romantic capacity of a child with a playground crush.

He kicks her under the table during a meeting, you idiot I told you this was a bad idea, he glares her down, hoping she would somehow read his mind. And somehow, whether by some sort of hallowed bond between them or sheer dumb luck, she does.

She narrows her eyes at him-

watch me.

He pulls her back by her cape, "don’t go charging into danger you idiot!" And he wants to let the sentence run on, you have to be safe, to live a long life, prove the gods wrong, but he doesn’t. Instead he purses his lips and his hand drops from her cape to her arm.

She narrows her eyes, lips pursed. Hanji has always had a rebellious streak and an untamable spirit, and it shows in the way she juts her chin out at him-

watch me.

So Levi learns to love in other ways.

He squeezes her hand before battle, like a silent prayer for deliverance. And she squeezes back, fingers lacing with his, eyes bright with determination- a promise to make it back home.

He drapes his cape around her when she falls asleep at her desk, fingers tracing the lines between her brows, and she relaxes. She dreams of fresh laundry and a small, clean cottage that smells like him. And she learns that love can be kind.

Love is tender, love is kind, love is Hanji’s fingers circling his wrist, her hand on his cheek, her arm around his shoulder. Love is her touches that ghost his forehead, down his nose- little gossamer touches; like butterflies. Like she’s trying to remember every detail before it’s too late. But it’s still early and they still have relatively long lives to lead. Whatever it is “long” means in this world.

“This is easy...” she says, ambiguous.

“What is?” he asks.

“This,” she says again, pressing a kiss to his cheek when they’re sitting in the trees, recovering from battle.

And Levi thinks it’s funny how things turned out. Neat freak, disciplined soldier, fussy little runt from the underground, trailing after a person with a penchant for the macabre and little capacity for decorum. Like two opposite poles of a magnet, pulled together by forces unknown.

He remembers joining the Corps and meeting Hanji Zoë, and thinking he doesn’t want anything to do with her. But somehow along the way she has crawled under his skin, sinking into the chambers of his heart, made a home out of him.

They’re lined up on their horses behind the gates, and Erwin is saying something about freedom, about the cause, about fighting and spirit and bravery. Hanji turns to him in the middle of it all, and Levi braces himself. What's it going to be this time? A joke about sheeple? A comment about the flowers beyond the walls?

“Levi, think of a number between one and ten!” She says, and his instinctive reaction is to roll his eyes. But he nods anyway, crease between his brows relaxing when he watches her smile.

“Five!”

“Three...”

“No way!” She kicks herself. She had been so sure she’d get it right. After all, in the years that have gone by they learn to trust one another, lean on one another. She translates his words with clarity and he tells her how she’s really feeling past her burying herself in work. No matter. The gates are opening and Levi watches her eyes light up in wonder. She looks at him one last time before they ride beyond the gates, and Levi knows what that look means-

this is my favourite part.

He smiles back at her-

mine too.

And Levi thinks he had spoken too soon about not wanting anything to do with Hanji Zoë. Because now he looks for her in the battlefield, he needs to know she’s alright. And every single goddamn time, he finds her looking for him too. And it hits him like a brick, because this is how you love in this world. Levi stares love down from across the room, pocket knife drawn by his side, he tells it to go fuck itself. But the thing about love- it has always had a rebellious streak, and an untamable spirit. It makes its way under your skin and builds a little home for itself nestled within arteries, heartstrings, and skin upon skin upon skin-

First, comes the tentative touches. Like a deer peeking past the trees in the forest. Hanji laughs too much, and it makes his heart beat out of his chest, but it also throws him off. “Stop laughing!” He snarls, but that only makes her laugh harder.

“Don’t look so scared Levi...” she says.

Levi scoffs. He wants to tell her he isn’t scared. But there’s never a point in lying to Hanji. The fact that they’re so transparent to one another proves inconvenient at junctures like these. He tries to think of something else- anything else. But it shows on his face, and she’s giggling again.

It shouldn’t be this difficult. He’s too old for this degree of imprecision. It shouldn’t be difficult at all- first you undress your partner, then yourself, and then everything will fall into place.

Now they’re both stark naked, and Levi can see the goosebumps rising on her skin. He knows he’s supposed to do more than stare at her face. But-

Her hand finds his and she presses their palms together, fingers intertwined, we’re okay. You ready?

And that’s how they love in this world. That’s their signal- palm against palm, fingers laced, a little squeeze- ready? Go! There’s no turning back now.

Sometimes it’s the feeling of fingers digging so deep they bruise, of hair-pulling, of teeth scraping against flesh- a reminder that affection and pain are lovers.

In these times, kisses taste like blood. It’s unclear whose blood it is- only that they all taste the same at the end of the day- like rust and iron and the earth. And Levi doesn’t want to dwell on the details lest it distracts from the way her hands slide under his shirt, the way she guides them to the bed. He wants to comment on how the sheets are ruined beyond salvation, but Hanji doesn’t let him. Oh well. It’s nothing a little soap and a hot iron can’t solve.

Her hands seek his out, and she places them on her neck. I want it harder, every time, that means I want it harder. And Levi gives.

Next comes a reckoning that's something short of divine.

“When are we going to admit we love each other and move on?” Levi asks after, hands stilling on Hanji’s sides, just below her chest.

Don’t stop... she guides his fingers to stroke her skin again, and he does, tracing each bump and raise, each a testimony to survival, feeling the rise and fall of her ribs.

“That would be too easy now wouldn’t it?” She grins sleepily at him.

And love is anything but easy in this world, so why should it make an exception for them?

“My mother once told me to really reel a man in, you gotta slip through his fingers, let him give chase a little...” Hanji chuckles, eyebrows wagging.

Levi scoffs.

“An old geezer at the pub once told me if you know how to give a woman an orgasm, she’s yours forever...” And Levi almost regrets saying this. He doesn’t know why he says most of anything he says. But the words come easy, sloppily when he’s with Hanji. And Hanji never seems to mind, armed with a repository of equally horrific things to say.

“I mean... He’s not wrong...” she shrugs, and Levi thinks maybe this is as good a declaration of love as he’s going to get. He wonders if he’d be alright with this if they weren’t poking a stick at death all the time. Then again, he has fallen in love with a person born with a stick in her hands. So maybe it comes as a package deal.

Levi scowls at her and pinches her nose, “disgusting...”

But she does slip through his fingers a little, returning to him an eye short, a new title gained, and a fog in her lungs that makes it hard to breathe. Levi feels a dull ache in his heart that doesn't go away. This time he's certain that something's broken.

He kicks a chair towards her and sits her down, "you have to rest you idiot. You barely eat, you haven’t slept."

She narrows her eyes at him, “there’s no time, Levi... There are things I have to do...”

Already she’s getting up, but Levi grabs her arm and glowers at her wordlessly, one day you’re going to drop dead and we’ll all have a dead fucking commander on top of every other fucking inconvenience we’ve been dealt.

And Hanji shoots him a look. The one that says watch me do everything you told me not to do. But her expression softens when she sees the anxiety in his eyes. Because she recognises the look on his face- she had worn the same concern when she had found him after Isabelle and Farlan passed. The same look every time they return from beyond the walls. And she regrets pushing him away. She hates it with every fibre of her being. So she squeezes his hand before she leaves, I’ll be alright...

He squeezes back.

And that’s how you love in this world. You take whatever instinct there is to keep your lover from danger, to drag her kicking and screaming from the frontlines. To tell her to stop being petulant and sit this one out. Instead, all Levi manages is a- “don’t you dare go running off playing hero again Hanji! You hear me? Don’t you fucking dare,” when they’re alone again in her quarters, two naked bodies lying by candlelight.

And she grins at him, the nerve, the audacity. She actually grins at him.

“Hey Levi, think of a number between one and ten...” she says, and he really doesn’t want her to change the topic. He wants her to promise him. To swear on everything good that’s left in this world that she’ll be safe. But it’s also too late to pretend he isn’t going to play along.

“Ten?” She guesses.

“Five...” he smiles.

Hanji smiles back, “still got it!”

And he kisses her like it's the first time. He always kisses her like it's the first time. Soft, lingering, like a drizzle in the middle of Summer, like raindrops clinging to skin. She smiles at him when they pull apart-

this is my favourite part.

He smiles back at her-

mine too.

↭

And Hanji thinks it's truly ridiculous. It's a scandal really. Erwin was right. This is mind-control of the highest and most elegant order. Whatever this feeling is, it has possessed her to build an alter from stick and stone and stitches over torn skin.

A little commune for two in the forest.

Levi’s hand is in hers, but she faces away from him. She doesn’t want to see him like this. Not when it manifests an ache in her heart that she doesn't quite know how to nurse. How will they recover from this?

“When are we going to admit we love each other and move on?” Hanji asks absentmindedly. She thinks it’s alright to bend the rules of this world a little. It's okay to talk about love, to give a name to the horror that plagues them. Because whatever conspiracy this whole love business is pedaling, she thinks it’s pretty goddamn convincing, and they might as well admit it.

But they’ve gone so long without having to use words, and Levi doesn’t want to jinx it-

“That would be too easy now wouldn’t it?”

And this is how you love in this world, romance comes in unexpected forms. It's been so long since they've been alone like this. And Hanji dreams of fresh laundry and a small, clean cottage that smells like him. She hopes to god Levi sees it too- and he does. He sees it every time he looks at her. But he settles for the next best option. He takes whatever words left unsaid and hoards them into a stockpile of recurring motifs that are proxy for affection-

"Four eyes... I'm thinking of a number between one and ten..." Levi manages through the pain, and he knows it's all worth it because he gets to watch that smile spread across her face.

"Two?" She says, only a little above a whisper.

"One... You're getting closer..." He says, like a prophecy, because immediately, she closes the gap between them and presses a kiss to his forehead, then to the corner of his lips. She lays down next to him and he musters all the strength in the world to push a stray strand of hair from her face. Like the lifting of a veil-

this is my favourite part.

She smiles back at him-

mine too.

↭

Wall Maria has been breached. The day is breaking and soon everything will spiral out of hand. But for now, it’s still dusk and the sun has barely made its way past the horizon. There’s something so rare and sacred about this moment that it feels surreal.

Levi can’t remember the first part of the conversation. They must have been talking about something stupid. They always are. But the next part falls into place so beautifully that it has to be premeditated somehow. Maybe Erwin was right. This is all some sort of grand scheme, a cult of wonder.

“Don’t tell me you’re in love with me, four eyes...”

“What a ridiculous notion...” Hanji replies with a scoff and a little chuckle. Because this is how you love in this world. You look love in the face and think, oh god no, really? Of all the people in this world, him? But love is tender, love is kind, love is Levi holding onto the belt around her waist as she tip-toes across a short ledge so she doesn’t fall.

���Me? In love with you?” She continues, throwing her head back to laugh. Her arms are out, she’s getting pretty good at keeping balance. But Levi’s hand is still there regardless.

Levi clicks his tongue, “idiot...”

It’s good that they don’t speak of love. After all, this is as far as love goes in this world- the swell in Levi’s chest and all the words left unsaid, translated into a curated repertoire of looks and touches. A hand on the small of her back means I’ve got you.

And god is it inconvenient to love in a world like theirs. It’ll inevitably end in heartbreak, and Levi doesn’t enjoy being a cliché in a tragedy. He hears Erwin’s voice echoing in his head, “don’t fall in love... Just don’t...”

But he looks at Hanji, his lips curve into a smile when she looks back at him grinning. It’s just a moment, but Levi recognises the look, and Hanji sees it too in the glint of his eyes.

Her hand in his says we’re in this together, a squeeze says it’ll all be alright. And a look of determination tells the rest of the world to take a walk.

In this world, they tell you not to fall in love. It's a recipe for disaster. Like cyanide in a Styrofoam cup.

But Hanji kisses him, and she looks at him like he has something shiny to offer, like he’s slipping it into her pockets. There’s a look in her eyes and Levi knows exactly what it means-

watch me.

[rhinklibrary]

College Rhink Top Fics

Hi Readers! We’re so excited for our first official list! This week is one of the most popular genres in our fandom - College Rhink. 

Please note these are all based on the dates of completion and/or the last update. While most are completed or are WIPs, you might come across an uncompleted fic. This list also does not include writings exclusively on Tumblr, or other sites, so please send us those recs!

Below the cut, you will find the top five kudos’d fics from the years 2015-2020. At the end you will also find our librarians’ recommendations. 

Happy reading! 

2015

#1 I’m Not Scared, Man, You’re Scared - thenthekneehits - [Teen and Up] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 3122

College, Cohabitation, Fluff without Plot, Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Awkward Boners, Sharing a Bed

In which two stupid boys turn weak, there is a spider, and no cuddling.

#2 Pierced - Isra/ @mythical-rhink -Rhink - [Explicit] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 5301

College, First time, Piercing, play piercing, Blood, D/s, Kink, BSM, Alcohol, Profanity

Rhett’s in college and wants to try something new, and of course he’s going to bring Link along for the ride.

#3 Rewritten - Chellan_Nicollares - [Explicit] - Chapters: 8 - Words: 16,040

Alternate Universe - College/University, Pining, Angst, Jealousy, Metafiction

If you have the power to rewrite reality, how far would you go for love? Rhett has already answered the question, but his actions might lead to his undoing within the very same day. 

#4 Encounter - Chellan_Nicollares - [Teen and Up] - Chapters: 10 - Words: 9280

Alternate Universe - Past lives, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Strangers, Transmigration, Supernatural Elements

This is a prologue to their life-long love and companionship. A mysterious encounter on a hiking trip gave Rhett some new perspectives. What's meant to be is meant to be.

#5 Grown Up Giggles - thenthekneehits - [General Audiences] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 269

College, Slice of Life, Growing Up, Self Confidence Issues, Cohabitation

Prompt: “I like your laugh.”

2016

#1 Whale, whale, whale - rhincoln/ @bloodbros (orphaned) - [Explicit] - Chapters: 4 - Words: 25,602 

Friends With Benefits, Epic Friendship, Hand Jobs, Alternate Universe - College/University, Mutual Pining, Masturbation, Blow Jobs, First Time, Semi-Public Sex

During the day, it’s all sunny beaches and warm touches and the ocean. At night, strange noises can be heard from Rhett’s bunk. And why did Rhett bring a stuffed Shamu to the beach resort anyway?

#2 What Do You Want Me To Say? - @remembertherandler - [Mature] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 1311

First Kiss, Kissing, I’m dead move, rhink, young rhink, college!rhink, Light Angst, Cute, Touching

So you’re horsing around with your roommate in your dorm room...big deal? Someone saw you? Oh…

#3 Slight Altercations - notasponsor - [Teen and Up] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 4790

College AU, Sorta Enemies to Lovers, Look they just bicker a lot, and they don’t know each other rly before the fic, Studying then cuddling, Fluff

Link glares, “You’re insufferable.” “No, I’m Rhett.” “Asshole.”

#4 Enough - chaoticliv - [Teen and Up] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 2296

Angst, Teenagers, Pining, Pining Rhett, College, Childhood, First Kiss, Kissing, Rhett POV

They were best friends. That was always enough for Rhett.

#5 The Laws of Thermodynamics - MythicallySnappy/ @RatchetRhink - [Mature] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 2819

Recreational Drug Use, Alcohol, Fluff, First Kiss, College, Artistic interpretation of math and what an industrial engineering degree actually entails

Link finally lets loose in the midst of exam season, and Rhett’s smiling and no matter how hard Link tries, he can’t calculate the meaning behind it.

2017

#1 A Perfect Arrangement - rhincoln/ @bloodbros (orphaned) - [Explicit] - Chapters: 15 - Words: 93,859

Fake/Pretend Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Best Friends, Alternate Universe - College/University, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Public Display of Affection, Pining, rhink, Masturbation, Jealousy, Drunken Shenanigans, Angst, Mutual Pining, Mutual Masturbation, Porn, Idiots in Love, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Sickfic, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Grinding, Sex Tapes

In order to win the body and soul of Miss Perfect, a girl they think they’re obsessed with, Rhett and Link figure they first have to win the keys to the coolest place on campus - something that is offered to them out of the blue, with only a single catch: only couples could get to move into the lush apartment. Rhett and Link would do anything for the space, for the girls - even pretend that they’re romantically involved. As true best friends, together they start off on the ambitious quest for love. What happens is its own story.

#2 No Touching! - rhincoln/ @bloodbros (orphaned) - [Explicit] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 5701

Friends to Lovers, Alcohol, Jealousy, No Homo, College, Semi-Public Sex, Rhink

Gregg decides to to take the duo out to a gay clup for a lark. It’s all fun and games, until Rhett thinks it isn’t. (In other words, until Link gets hit on.)

#3 Writing Love On Your Skin - @magicbubblepipe - [Teen and Up] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 3723

Pining Rhett McLaughlin, Injured Link, College, Rhink, Fluff, caretaker Rhett

When Rhett and Link share a bed, there’s a certain game they play.

#4 Lincoln In Distress - meirenyu/ @mei-ren-yu - [Explicit] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 3577

College!rhink, Butt Plugs, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Internalized Homophobia, Fluff, First Time

Rhett’s awoken from a great dream to find Link in dire straits in the top bunk of their dorm.

#5 Over the Phone - tvmoviemaniac/. @galacticnocturne - [Teen and Up] - Chapters: 14 - Words: 28,044

Rhink, Alternate Universe - College/University, College AU, Alternate Universe, Teen Romance, Depression, Awkwardness, Loneliness, Anxiety, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Mention of abuse, Homophobia, First Time, Sexual Encounter

Link Neal, a sophomore in college, finds a remedy to his existential problems and depression in an unlikely relationship he forms over the phone with a stranger - Rhett McLaughlin

2018

#1 Lovers in the Backseat - Matrimus - [Explicit] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 4883

Alternate Universe - College/University, Public Hand Jobs, Link is a little shit, Exhibitionism

Rhett offering his lap as a seat had sounded like a good idea at the time. It doesn’t take long for Link to exploit it.

#2 Forget Me Not - Matrimus - [Teen and Up] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 3404

First Kiss, Temporary Amnesia, Internalized Homophobia, College

After breaking his pelvis in a snowboarding accident, Link suffers from temporary amnesia. He knows he’s in hospital, knows he’s hurt his hip - and knows Rhett is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

#3 The Naked Truth - @missingparentheses - [Explicit] - Chapters: 8 - Words: 22,786

College, Fraternities & Sororities, Light Angst, Dorm Room Sexytimes

After a night of drinking at a frat party, Rhett and Link wake up naked in bed together with no memory of what happened the night before. They set out to piece together the details of the night and see if they can find out what happened, how they feel about it, and if they want it to happen again.

#4 Hungry Ghosts - MythicallySnappy/RatchetRhink - [Explicit] - Chapters: 7 (Incomplete) - Words: 20,241

College, Underage Drinking, Alcohol, Boys Being Idiots, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Angst, Smut, the holy trinity of fanfic

It’s the summer after freshman year and Rhett and Link are back at home in Buies Creek. An uncomfortable experience at a party flips Rhett’s world upside down and Link is there to help him build a new one

#5 Sofa Symphony - @santamonicayachtclub - [Explicit] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 2321

College, Couch Sex

“C’mon, bo,” Link urges, husky-voiced. “Do me like you’re paying for it.”

2019

#1 Live Connection - @linkslipssinkships - [Explicit] - Chapters: 115 (Incomplete) - Words: 87,022

Porn Watching, Camboy!Link, Risky Behavior, Alternate Universe - College/University, Modern AU, Short Chapters, Stream of Consciousness, First Person, Loss of Virginity, Mutual Pining, Angst, Long Distance Relationship, Sex Work, Consenusl sex work, Sex work related slurs, Anal Sex, handjobs, Jealousy, Mentions of Infidelity, First Relationship

Rhett’s just a college kid looking for some good porn. Link is a camboy looking for loyal fans and good money. When Link goes live, the pair feels an interesting connection.

#2 Untethered - Its_mike_kapufty/ @its-mike-kapufty - [Explicit] - Chapters: 32 - Words: 109,097

Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College, Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Demons, demon!Rhett and human!Link, Vomiting, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Master/Servant, Praise, Biting, Oh No He’s Hot, Marijuana, Drinking, Mutual Masturbation, Supernatural Illnesses, Churches & Cathedral, Abuse of Authority, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Vigilantism, Blow Jobs, Police, Guns, Anal Sex, Hearteyes Rhett, Obsessive Behavior, Matter of Life and Death, Blood and Gore, Near Death, Happy Ending

Link would’ve never guessed that the price of fucking up his entire life is approximately 5¢.

#3 Lucidity - Its_mike_kapufty/ @its-mike-kapufty - [Explicit] - Chapters: 31 - Words: 103, 027

Porn With Plot, College, Sensory Deprivation, Ice Play, Frottage, Mutual Masturbation, Stuffed Toys, Scent Kink, Phone Sex, Blow Jobs, Reading Aloud, Intercrural Sex, Sex Toys, Double Penetration, Glory Hole, Protectiveness, Clothed Sex, Anal Sex, Babbling, Feeding Kink, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Under-Table Blow Jobs, Fight Sex, Orgams Delay/Denial, Lingerie, Multiple Orgasms, Humiliation, Free Use, Rimming, Animal Traits, Marijuana, Public Sex, Pool Sex, Bladder Control, Milking Machine, Smoking, Angst, Exhibitionism, Clone Sex, Love Confessions 

Rhett doesn’t know why this is happening. Thank Goodness Link doesn’t know it’s happening at all.

#4  Everyone but Me - Its_mike_kapufty/ @its-mike-kapufty - [Explicit] - Chapters: 11 - Words: 46,790

Alternate Universe - College/Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Jock!Rhett, Internalized Homophobia, House Party, Drinking, Cigarettes, Sthenolagnia, Kissing, Blow Jobs, Bars and Pubs, Social Media, Pining, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Denial of Feelings, Piercings, Bets & Wagers, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Heart-to-Heart, Nude Photos, Masturbation, Basketball, Post-Game(s), Marijuana, Vomiting, Concerts, Slow Dancing, Slurs, Protectiveness, First Time, Anal Sex, Self-Doubt, Pride Celebration

Rhett can fit in anywhere, make small talk with anyone. He’s one of NC State's best players, after all. If he can’t dazzle strangers with his records and status--if he’s not the perfect example of the masculine standard--then who is he?

#5 The Elephant in the Dorm - @goodmythicalghoulboy - [Explicit] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 4940

College, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Mutual Masturbation, Porn Watching, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Spanking, (just the teeniest bit of it though), Boundaries? What are boundaries?, Daddy Kink

Rhett thinks he’s finally got an hour to himself to really take his time and indulge in a little self love. He’s sorely mistaken, but it all works out for the best.

2020 so far

#1 Big Man on Campus - @fanbabble & @mythicaliz - [Explicit] - Chapters: 16 - Words: 41, 973

1990s, Dorms, Roommates, Alternate Universe - College/University, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Sharing a Bed, Strangers, Basketball, Arguing, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Angst but it’s gonna get better, Alcohol, Underage Drinking, Body Shots, Masturbation, Frottage, bed sharing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Forbidden Love, I’m dead move, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, Voyeurism, Public Blow Jobs, Gay Bar, Jealousy, Coming Out, Anal Sex, First Time, Shower Sex, Semi-Public Sex

1996. NC State University. Syme Dorm, Room 24. Two roommates with very different dreams. One wants to play basketball and make his family proud. The other wants to make movies and explore his new found freedom. But there’s a problem… there is only one bed!

#2 The Roles We Play - sassandpanache/ @sass-and-panache - [Mature] - Chapters: 16 - Words: 31,238

Alternate Universe - College/Universe, Theatre, Basketball!Rhett, TheaterKid!Link, Enemies to Friends, to Lovers

Rhett’s failing his theater class so in order to save his grade, he joins the crew of NC State’s fall production of ‘Cat on a Hot Tin Roof’. What he doesn’t realize is that the next month will change his life.

#3 Tell Me About It - Its_mike_kapufty/ @its-mike-kapufty - [Explicit] - Chapters: 1, Words: 7261

Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Sex Toys, Masturbation, Phone Sex, mentions of internalized shame

One of the biggest drawbacks of being incomplete without your best friend is the (very intense) fear of missing out.

#4 Taking Turns - @apparentlynotreallyfinnish - [Explicit] - Chapters: 1, Words, 2465

Alternate Universe - College/University, Friends With Benefits, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Pining

It didn’t take them long after starting college to get to this. One night of too many drinks and too few enthusiastic sexual partners available had lead to an awkward, fumbling experimentation in Rhett’s bunk. Rhett’s not sure anymore which one of them brought it up first, but somehow, in their inebriated and horny state, they’d realized that they could easily help each other out.

#5 Learning to Crawl - DarlingLo/ @darling-lo [Explicit] - Chapters: 5/6 (WIP) - Words: 33,081

College, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - College/University, First Time, First Meetings, Angst, Enemies to Friends, Sexual Tension, Internalized Homophobia

It took Link four hours to learn his roommate’s name. And those four hours are all that was needed for him to absolutely hate him. 

[challito]

Bits of Buttercup

Buttercup stopped frequently to tear up tufts of grass or moo absently. Maya tugged at the worn rope she was using to lead the cow down The Kings Road. Despite Maya’s tugging and urging, their progress never sped. The heifer was far too stubborn. Stubborn like an old friend.

Despite its name, the Kings Road was nothing more than a well-worn game trail, often used by the locals. Maya’s grandfather had apparently named it in drunken jest on a harvest festival long ago. The name had spread like forest fire. To this day, her family was still known for it. That’s about all they had ever be known for.

Maya followed the trail’s twists and turns as it navigated rock and root. She tugged impatiently, but Buttercup firmly kept her own pace. Maya’s family were farmers. For generations they had been farmers and farmers alone. Farming was the worst thing Maya could think of. To be a farm girl for the rest of her life. Then to marry a farm boy and continue the tradition of farming. The sense of dread she felt around the idea was palpable.

The farm girl often thought back on the first harvest festival she could remember. She remembered seeing the local senator and her children. To Maya they looked as though they could be her own brothers and sisters. All of them, dark skinned, dark eyed and thick haired. Their only difference was the clothes they wore. If only Maya had some nicer clothes, then perhaps she could tour the cities. Explore their winding streets. Discover what wares merchants and vendors would offer her. Stare in wonder at silks and swords and mortal made dwellings that were said to rival the majesty of the mountains that stood proudly to the north.

As the farm girl grew older, she understood that her garments would never be so nice as the senator’s or her children’s. Maya’s newest garments always seemed to become stained the first day she wore them. As she grew older, she noticed that what she wore wasn’t the only thing that separated her from those children.

It was the way they stood, the way they spoke. Something else, almost intangible. The way they held themselves or the way they believed themselves to be. Almost as if they were truly better than Maya and her family of farmers. Perhaps they were.

As they grew older, Maya played with the senator’s children less. She spent more time with the farmers. Even though, secretly she resented their calloused hands and leathery skin, and began to resent herself because of it. Soon enough the Senator and her family stopped attending the local harvest festivals. Preferring to enjoy the festivities in grand cities like Ketrosi and Pelaius. Even Port Demahsi seemed many times more vibrant and exciting than the local town centre.

Maya continued pulling Buttercup. The progress was still slow. Though, Maya was grateful there was progress at all. The sun had fallen father towards the horizon than Maya would have liked. By now her brother and father would be wondering where she was. She had hoped she would have been to the glade and back in the time she had already spent.

It took her almost an hour to reach a glade on the edge of the forest that skirted her family’s farm. People rarely entered the forest. It was home to The Shepherds. That was reason enough to give it plenty of distance. Maya wasn’t nearly as fearful as her superstitious parents and had been secretly visiting the glade for years. She had never once seen a Wolf Person.

When she finally entered the glade, Maya breathed a sigh of relief. Buttercup seemed to mimic her relief and happily chewed tufts of grass as Maya tethered the heifer to a sturdy tree. She opened a small leather satchel that she had stolen earlier that day from her brother and removed the contents.

A pipe, flint, and a small pinch of smoking leaf. Maya had never tried it and decided that privacy was the best place to give it a taste for the first time. Maya’s parents were strongly opposed to leaf despite how common place it was. They were also opposed to anything alcoholic which meant they were always the least fun at parties.

Her brother Eagis, as a counterpoint took after their grandfather. You could find him wherever revelry was thickest. Eagis would have been a fine connoisseur of leaf and drink if he didn’t consume them both in such high amounts. Despite that, or because of it there were always cheers of welcome whenever Eagis arrived

Maya had quickly decided to play a neutral role in the frequent bickering that went back and forth between parents and brother. She had no experience with leaf but found mead and ale to be nice enough on occasion. Though she didn’t have quite the same taste for it that Eagis did.

Hesitantly she filled the pipe. With the help of her flint and found tinder she lit it like she had watched her brother do many times before. Frequently he had offered it to her, but she had always turned it down. She’d never wanted to leave the neutral ground she coveted during her family’s verbal conflicts. So, she tried it in secret.

Despite toking at length and coughing violently, the farm girl did not consciously feel the leaf’s effects. She found herself swinging a stick as though it were a sword to stave off her disappointment. Before long she was playing at being the legendary hero Tanga, God Speaker.

  Buttercup ignored the girl, far too interested in the crisp, plentiful grass and a clear stream that ran through the glade. Even when the girl swung her stick and bellowed mightily at the cow, Buttercup paid her no heed. It wasn’t until Maya was laughing and dancing in circles that Buttercup took note. The cow hadn’t watched Maya do that since she was a young calf.

Buttercup looked on, chewing the cud. The farm girl danced and giggled. In a way it soothed the old cow. Buttercup held a certain connection to Maya, as though the girl was her own calf. Buttercup had watched Maya grow from an infant. So, when she watched Maya dance, Buttercup felt her old muscles relax. It was as though she were watching her own calf as she had once played. A rustle in the canopy alerted the heifer, who looked up to see a shadow dart quickly through the branches above them. The dark figure was only slightly larger than a bird. As it raced through the trees it dropped something that sparkled as it fell. Buttercup watched as the glittering object fell straight toward the farm girl. Buttercup snorted as she watched it a dazzling little stone as it hit Maya. Then with a clap like a crack of thunder, Maya exploded.

It was as though hundreds of thousands of tiny fireflies raced from where Maya was standing to encompass the glade. The tiny glittering motes hung in the air after a moment and danced lazily about each other. Almost as though they had not just sprung forth from the dancing farm girl in a violent detonation.  

Buttercup mooed anxiously like she had when she couldn’t see her calf. She stomped her hoof and snorted the sparkling things away when they came too close to her. The heifer tugged on her leash trying to move toward where Maya had been. As though if she could stand where the farm girl had danced, perhaps she would appear again. The rope however, was tied too tight. Buttercup mooed again and then there was another clap like the crack of thunder.

The glittering things that hung into the air raced back toward each other. In moments they converged. Just as suddenly as she had disappeared, Maya appeared again. Buttercup let out a long low moo, but the farm girl just danced and laughed as though nothing had happened.

Buttercup kept her eyes on the girl for a while longer before she decided that everything was fine. In all honesty, it was hardly the strangest thing that the cow had been witness to. Only moments before she had watched as Maya created fire by clapping rocks together. Fire was magic only the lightning could do. Who knew what kind of magics humans were capable of?

Buttercup made her way to the stream and drank as Maya waved her stick around, jumping off trees proclaiming herself to be Tanga, God Speaker, hero of the ages. Buttercup drank lazily as the girl warbled all kinds of indecipherable gibberish that humans seemed to sprout most incessantly. Buttercup only stopped drinking when Maya seemed to speak in a different tongue.

To Buttercup, the language seemed as deep and ancient as the earth itself. It spoke to some long-forgotten part of the cow. A part of Buttercup seemed to understand its syllables on an instinctual level. As the cow watched, genetic memory seemed to take on the voice of ancient beings. They screamed at Buttercup; Run! Destruction is coming! It was as though the ancestors of beast and bird called to Buttercup’s spirit, urging her to flee.

The heifer had known Maya for the girl’s whole life. The cow had been in the stables when Maya was born. She had patiently endured as the farm girl, no more than a calf, pulled at the cow’s tail and hair and teats. She had nuzzled the girl in appreciation when Maya had begun to feed the cattle. So totally enamored was Buttercup by Maya. Because of their connection, Buttercup became more than cattle, she became part of the family. Despite only ever delivering one calf, Buttercup had led a long peaceful life. The whole family treated her with affection.

So, when the spirits of beast and bird screamed at Buttercup to flee, the cow stayed. She had never spoken to these spirits before. She had never even been totally aware they existed until now. Though in some deep part of her, she had always known they existed. But Buttercup was a cow. What care did she hold deep parts of her and ancient spirits?

Maya, on the other hand, was as close to the cow as her own flesh and blood. In all ideas except flesh, Maya was Buttercups calf. So, as Maya bellowed in tongues vast and wide as the sky, Buttercup stood and watched, chewing a particularly delicious tuft of grass.

Buttercup watched as Maya’s eyes glowed and the glade grew dark. She watched as an unnatural wind tore through the trees and birds took flight. She watched as the farm girls’ fingertips grew white hot and spirits screamed for the heifer to flee. Buttercup chewed and watched. Then, as suddenly as Maya had moments earlier, Buttercup exploded.

Buttercup however, did not explode into hundreds of thousands of tiny sparkling motes that hung lazily in the air, and Buttercup certainly didn’t reform herself from the matter that could have been star stuff, or fragments of the weave, or tiny fireflies. Buttercup exploded into chunks of flesh, and blood, and bone.

In a single moment, the chunks that had once made up Buttercup became plastered throughout the glade. They dripped off the leaves and the boughs of the trees. They matted the grass and plastered the rocks. The river ran deep red with the blood of that kind, old cow. Bits of Buttercup sloughed off the farm girl that stood with her stick still held high like she was holding a sword. Her arm outstretched as though she were still playing at being the legendary hero Tanga, God Speaker.

  Maya did not breathe for the longest time, in fear of inhaling bits of Buttercup. She stood in horror, unable to avoid the sight of the grizzly scene around her. Her hands shook, tears rolled down her cheeks and a low moan rumbled deep in her throat.

Maya’s tears crested the corners of her mouth and along with their expected salty taste, they also tasted of iron. She forced herself from blinking, in case she admitted pieces of her dear, old cow into her eyes. With stilted yet determined strides, Maya forced herself over to the stream.

When she and Buttercup first had arrived at the glade, the stream had run so clear the farm girl could have counted the individual stones at the bottom. Now, as she gazed into its surface, it was like a red mirror, twisting and warping her reflection.

Another bit of Buttercup fell into the current as Maya stood. She ran up stream. Begging herself not to blink, not to breathe. At length she came to the part of the stream that had not been touched by parts of her oldest friend. She jumped into the water. As she did, almost subconsciously, Maya inhaled. As she did, she accidentally found herself breathing in little bits of Buttercup. 

[leelee10898]

Louder: part 1

This takes place in the CGW AU, a collaborative universe by @ao719, @speedyoperarascalparty, @cocomaxley, @riseandshinelittleblossom and myself. You can find other works from our crazy universe HERE

This takes place before Genevieve and Rashads wedding. It is a follow up to Never give up (a one shot featuring Leo x Alicia) which was basically the birth of this crazy gang. It is very smutty you can find that HERE.

Rating: Mature, smut content inside

The five ladies stepped excitedly out of the suv, it was girls night and they looked forward to this night every week. Each of the girls took time picking and planning an activity, this particular week was Alicia's turn. "Ok girls, whos ready to get shit faced and paint?" She clapped her hands. "I'm ready to drink, but paintin, not so much. I had to paint a gold fish in middle school. It came out looking like an orange turd floating in the water." Stephanie said with a serious expression. The girls bust out laughing as they walked into the studio.

They each took a seat in front of an easel while an employee came around filling wine glasses. "Anitah took a look at the little bit of liquid in the bottom of the glass and spoke up. "Honey, these ladies and I are going to need alot more then this. I'll gladly pay you guys an extra $200 if you keep our glasses full." The employee nodded and took the cash filling the girls glasses up. An instructor stepped in front of the group. "Hello ladies, I am Gwendolyn and tonight we will be painting the Eiffel Tower in the spring time." She pulled out a painting with the Eiffel Tower in the distance, its reflection in watrr surrounded by chery blossoms. "Has anyone ever been to the effiel tower in the spring." She questioned. The girls all raised their hands. "I've had sex on the Eiffel Tower in the spring." Anitah whispered as she giggled. "Sir would you like to paint too? We have an extra seat?" Gwendolyn asked Brad. "No mam, I am here to observe." Anitah rolled her eyes "Brad, sit down and fricken paint."

"Yes, your grace."

Leo, Maxwell and Drake walked into the study joining Liam, Rashad and Bastien. "Who's ready to pay me?" Leo gloated. Drake rolled his eyes "Yeah ok Rhys, we will see who pays who." "Im glad I can join you guys this time, Stephanie is out with the girls and Savanah offered to watch Evie for us." Maxwell grinned as he grabbed a handfull of pretzels and sat down.

Several hands into the game the guys were feeling the effects of their drinks. Drake slid a large bet into the center "what'll it be boys?" Leo shot him a smirk. "I'll raise you. Go big or go home. That's my motto for poker and the bed room." He winked. Liam rolled his eyes "I fold, but im pretty sure we've already established I'm just as qualified to get the job done big bro." Liam gave him a sloppy grin. "Now boys, lets not forget who has double digits!" Drake sipped his whiskey, pleased with himself. Maxwell and Rashad each shared a look, remembering the night they played never have I ever after Maxwell and Stephanie's baby shower.

"Ok Walker, you have more O's, but when it comes to who can make them scream louder, I got that hands down." Leo gloated taking a long sip of his scotch. "You got jokes Rhys, I'm pretty sure Pam and I have got you beat in that department too."

"Now wait a minute, im petty sure Anitah has both of you beat there." Liam spoke up. "Genevieve, has a set of lungs on her, I'd be willing to bet she could give the ladies a run for their money." Rashad interjected. Maxwell giggled "My red is a firey, fiesty one, she is quite loud don't count her out." The five men stared each other down.

"Ok, since all of you think you have what it takes how about we put it to the test?" Leo looked back and forth between the men. "And how do you suppose we do this?" Liam arched hos brow. "The camping trip, this weekend." Drake said never taking his eyes off his friends. "Deal" the unanimously agreed as they sat back in their chairs. "Ahh guys? How do we tell who's louder? We'll need a judge." Maxwell stated, as their heads turned to face Bastien. "Not even an option fellas, I told you already, you're on your own."

The girls were about 7 bottles of wine in and feeling good. They had just about finished up their paintings when Anitah asked for another bottle to be brought out. "Um, this is the last bottle, do you ladies really need another?" Gwendolyn pleaded. "I am the queen of Gordon, bring me the bottle." She demanded. Gwendolyn nodded and returned a moment later refilling the girls glasses. "How you doing over there queen or Gordon?" Alicia snorted. "Greaaaaat! This thing is fucking awesome. How bout you guys?" Anitah slurred. " I like mine, mines pretty. Im gonna make Leo hang it in the bed room... I hope it doesn't fall off the wall though." Alicia giggled.

Pam held hers up in the air. "I'm done, its nothing special." Genevieve snorted "yeah your full of shit, its a damn masterpiece. Mine, well a five year old could paint better then this shit."

Stephanie placed a hand on Genevieves arm. "Nah girl your doin fine, bless your heart. This paintin's so ugly it'd make a freight train take a dirt road." She motioned to her work. Anitah topped her glass of again finishing off the bottle. "Shiiiit were outta wine. How you doing Brad?" Anitah giggled. "No worries, I brought back up." The ladies cheered as pam pulled put a bottle.

"Ah we dont allow outside alcohol in the studio." Gwendolyn spoke up. Anitah shot her a look. "Gwendolyn, Do you know who I am?" "Ah ye- yes your majesty." Anitah nodded "ok then, the bottle stays. Heres some extra cash for your troubles." Anitah smirked. Alicia pulled out her phone to take a picture accidentally calling Leo on video chat.

Leos phone rang Drake glanced down at the phone and snorted. "Hey Leo, sexy wifey is calling." Leo grinned as the others laughed. "A video call. She must miss my face." He pressed the button "hey baby having fun?" Only she wasnt looking at the screen. Leo could see the art studio, and hear the girls laughing. He heard Anitah ask Brad how he was doing over ther. "Anitah get down, your gonna hurt yourself." Alicia giggled. Liam came over behind Leo. "What are you watching?" His eyes went wide at the sight. Anitah walked over to the table in the center of the room and climbed up. She laid down on her side seductively and said "paint me like one of your french ladies." The girls laughed hysterically. The last thing they seen was paint fly across the room before the call ended.

"This is ridiculous!" Genevieve shouted in frustration as she tossed her paint brush, causing pink paint to fly across hitting Anitah in the face. Anitah gasped. "Gen, what the hell?"

"Ooops, sorry." Genevieve tried stifling a laugh but her attempts were futile. Anitah grabbed a paint brush and flung blue paint at Genevieve splashing across her cheeks and hitting Stephanie in the process. "Awe hell no." Stephanie grabbed a hanful of paint and flung it at Anitah. Alicia and pam looked on at the three, un touched by the paint filled fued until Alicia laughed and Anitah took a paint brush and smeared a line straigh across her chest. "You shouldn't have done that queenie." Alicia giggled as she picked up a bottle of purple pain and squeezed it on her head. Anitah squealed as the two started dumping paint all over each other.

Brad came running across the room "your majesty." His foot hit a puddle of paint and he fell on his ass, sliding across rhe floor leaving a brown streak across it. The girls laughed hysterically "looks like ole Brad left a skid mark." Stephanie howled.

Pam sat there drinking straight out of the bottle. "you guys done yet?" She groaned, a stream of blue pant splashed across the side of her head. "Oh, now you've done it." Pam jumped up and flung paint in all directions. The girls laughed and screamed until Gwendolyn came back into the room "what is going on here?" They immediately froze. "This concludes tonight's session, please get out!" She seethed. The girls took their paintings, and piled into the suv. Completely paint covered, somehow their paintings remained unscathed by the paint war.

Liam stood there jaw clenched "Bastien, please inform Brad to bring my wife home, immediately." " Yes sir." Bastiens phone rang as he stepped outside of the study. "Well, it seems the girls had fun." Leo chuckled. Liam shot him a look. "At least there wasn't anyone else there." Rashad tried to make light of the situation. Bastien entered the room "ah sir." "Yes Bastien. " liam sighed. "That was the art studio, it appears the girls have been banned." The men all turned to face Bastien. Liam ran his hand down his face "of course they have." "Theres more." Bastien continued "it also seems they caused some Damage and destruction of property."

"Bastien please inform the studio that we will cover all Damages, also please make them sign a non disclosure form." Bastien nodded and excited the room. "Damages? That doesnt sound like my Genevieve." Rashad defended. "My red is fiesty, but I cant see her trashing a place... Ok maybe." Maxwell shrugged. "Pam wouldn't do that, theres got to be more to this Li." Drake shook his head. Leo snorted. "We chose American women gentlemen. they're hot headed, hot tempered and hot blooded." "My queen has alot of explaining to do when she gets here." Liam exhaled with a clenched jaw.

Finally they heard a loud yelling coming from the foyer. "HONEY WERE HOOOOOME." Alicia screamed as the girls giggled. "There they are now." Leo chuckled.

The girls stumbled into the palace Anitah took off her shoes kicking them across the room, followed by her shirt. "I need a shower." Alicia kicked her shoes off and pulled down her jeans tossing them. "I need one too." Genevieve already had her shirt off and was working on her pants as they climbed the stairs. Stephanie and pam made short work of theor clothes tossing them aside as the five made their way to the royal Quaters.

"My showers the biggest, we can all get in there." She announced as the girls piled into the bathroom and stepped into the shower. "Mmm bop, do a dop a do oop do it up my doo op." Alicia sang. "Ew, did you say do it up your doo op?" Anitah squealed. "Thats not how the song goes." Genevieve laughed. "Oh yeah, you sing ot then. Ok. "Mmbop do a dop a do op do it up my doo op." Genevieve giggled. "See?!" Alicia laughed as the girls joined in singing very drunk and very off key.

The guys walked out of the study making their way to the stairs when they noticed several articles of clothing strewn about. "Well, looks like they're naked where ever they are. " leo smirked. "And covered in paint." Drake picked up a paint covered shirt "this is pams." The made their way towards the royal quaters when they heard the singing. The door was wide open. They walked in and heard the water running. They opened the bathroom door to find all five women crammed into the shower. "Jesus christ they're packed in there like sardines." Drake ran his hands through his hair.

"Heeey baby."Alicia turned to see Leo, her white bra and panties soaked, showing everything. Leo groaned at the sight adjusting his pants. "Why dont you come on out of there love." He smirked. "No! Were showering." Anitah hollered. "Anitah get out of there right away?" Liam demanded. "Are you angry, my king?" Anitah batted her lashes at him. "Anitah." He warned.

"Ok, Pam lets go." Drake opened the shower door he tried to reach in and grab pam but almost touched Genevieves ass. "Ahhhh, shit. Umm pam baby come here." Pam walked closer to the door when drake grabbed her tossing her over his shoulder, he tried to make a run for it but as he turned he slipped on the wet marble floor and fell on his ass dropping pam on top of him. "Shit baby, are you ok?" He held pam in her arms. Pam looked up at him laughing hard a loud snort escaped her. "Jesus, ok lets get you to bed."

Stephanie was the next to climb out, running right into Maxwell's arms. "Come on rose bud, lets go to bed." He took her hand.

Rashad walked over to the shower "Genevieve." He softly called her name "come on, lets go to bed." Genevieve giggled and climbed out of the shower "night ladies."

"And then there were two." Anitah giggled as her and Alicia danced around under the water. "Ok love, why dont you come with me and we can continue this shower together huh?" Leo gave Alicia that sly look that made her weak in the knees. She jumped out of the shower and into his arms wrapping her legs around him. "Anitah. Come on." Liam sighed. She shut the water off and climbed out. Liam gave her a towel "your angry my king." He shot her a look. "I am." Anitah bit her lip "good."

Liam walked with Leo to the door, Alicia placing kisses on his neck, completely oblivious to anything else. "I think I know just the judge for this weekend." Liam smirked. "Uh huh, jesus baby. Li, can you ah, get on with it." Leo groaned as Alicia continued to kiss his neck. "Brad."

Leo nodded his head and quickly took off. Liam turned to Anitah. "You my queen, you're in trouble. " Anitah squealed as Liam chased her through their quaters.

Tagging: @gardeningourmet @carabeth @bobasheebaby @scarlettedragon @annekebbphotography @speedyoperarascalparty @greyeyedsmile14 @stopforamoment @mind-reader1 @hopefulmoonobject @alicars  @katurrade  @indiacater @bella-ca @blznbaby @blackwidow2721 @liamxs-world  @simsvetements @furiousherringoperatortoad @choicesfannatalie @crookedslimecreatorpasta @coldcollectornight08 @museofbooks @syltti78 @ao719 @3pawandme @blubutterflyy @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @liam-rhys-x-mc-x-constantine @riseandshinelittleblossom @wannabemc2 @gibbles82 @editboutique @lodberg @zaffrenotes

@moneyfordiamonds @give-me-ernest-sinclaire @ooo-barff-ooo @tornbetween2loves @ownworldresident @perfectprofessorherokid @enmchoices

[glykon-fr-blog]

Stupor

Here’s a story I wrote for the Shadom Writing Contest (will reblog with link, since Tumblr is very dumb and bad), for one of my Shadow dragons. It’s about unexpected visits from family, fine wine, and the kinds of tricks and games Shadow Tundras might get up to.

The wine was exquisite, even if the company wasn’t.

A prized import from a storm-swept port in the east, its rarity was matched only by its acidic bite. Deirdre grimaced as she swallowed her first mouthful, nose wrinkling as it stung her throat.

“Not to your taste?” Deirdre’s cousin asked. His shy smile was directed down at their wine-bowls, chipped, dusty things stained pink from countless imbibements. Deirdre would have preferred to use her own wineglasses, which were carved from quartz, but her cousin had set his things up so quickly that she had had no time to protest. And he had supplied the wine.

Still. Drinking bowls were so… old-fashioned. Uncivilized.

“Too bitter?”

With a start, Dierdre realized she had been lost in thought for much longer than was appropriate. Accursed Tundra-brain! She took another pull of wine to clear her head. “Quite the contrary. It has… complexity. Layers. Sour and uninviting, but with a suppleness to it. Richness. How did you get this?”

“I worked on a river barge on the Driftwood Drag,” her cousin said, pausing to plunge his snout into his own bowl. Deirdre suppressed the urge to wince as droplets pattered onto the glossy surface of the granite slab they were using as a table. I just had that polished…

Deirdre’s cousin was the spitting image of a Gloomchaser, the part of their family that claimed relation to the Gaolers of the far frozen south. From his broad, thick-maned head to his wide paws with their blunt, clumsy claws, it was hard to believe that he was of the same Shadow-touched ilk as Deirdre herself. Especially considering his table manners.

“How… interesting,” she said, trying not to look at the spreading table-stains. “Did you meet all kinds of dragons?”

“If I did, how would I remember?” Deirdre’s cousin said. She allowed herself a small twitch of her lips. Tundra humor. An absolute riot.

The evening passed slowly, the cousins slogging through jokes, anecdotes, and stories that had been told and re-told so many times that the words themselves felt worn smooth, like pebbles in a fast-flowing stream. It was all Deirdre could do to keep from dozing off as her cousin droned on about his life as a sailor, how his kin were, who he thought his kin were… and what was this fellow’s name, anyways? Probably something like Spots or Purple. Old-fashioned and dull as dirt.

Deidre herself had been named after a poet, whose collected works she displayed proudly over her fireplace. Her cousin had yet to notice, or if he had, hadn’t understood the meaning of it. He seemed a little simple, come to think of it: his eyes were a pale, milky lavender, and he took long pauses between sentences to mull over his words. Under his familiar scent of fresh-churned earth and waterlogged pines was something pungent, as if he had trouble cleaning himself. Perhaps he couldn’t read at all.

Even if Deidre had never seen snow in her life, and preferred mushrooms to scrub grass, and her fur was so thin that she had to wear a coat in the winter, she was a Tundra through and through. She knew how to treat kin, how to welcome them and make them feel at home. Her cousin had been an unexpected drop-in, but Deidre was determined to send him off well-rested and entertained. It was the least she could do for him, poor thing.

Deidre’s cousin had coyly side-stepped around her direct requests of his identity, and as the night wore on it was clear that he was, in his own clumsy way, invoking an archaic game beloved by Shadow Flight Tundras. The winner would be the first one to ferret out the other’s name, through trickery or truthfulness. She did her best to indulge him.

As the sun began to set, the fungi planted in the far corners of her cave bathed the two of them in soft purple light, as if they had taken up residence in the rapidly emptying wine bottle. Her cousin’s dark gray fur took on a murky hue, and her own creamy stripes became strawberry-colored.

Like a rosé… or maybe a vin gris?

Distracted by this thought, Deidre slopped wine over her paw as she tried to pour herself one more drink. She cried out as she pulled her arm away from the mess, sending a flurry of fat purple droplets over herself and the tabletop. Her cousin lifted his head as wine speckled his nose, disturbed from his drowsing. For such a big dragon, his alcohol tolerance was shockingly low.

“Oh, you look like me now!” he said, crossing his eyes and licking his snout clean. His fur was starkly patterned in black and gray blotches, except a few areas where it grew in shocking shades of violet. Diedre’s wrist now bore a broad purple stain, like the ones scattered over his pelt. “I guess we really are related.”

“I never doubted it,” Diedre said dryly, hobbling three-legged to the shallow wellspring at the corner of her den. She staggered as she lowered her paw into the water, steadying herself with an outspread wing. “Strong wine, this. Feels like the- the room is spinning.”

“Only the best for family! The best wine, the best stories, the best games.” Deidre’s cousin lifted his wine-bowl to her in a toast as she slouched back into her seat. “Are you having fun with our name game?”

She beheld his bland, drunken face and tried to ignore what felt like the makings of a vicious headache. Goodness, this was strong stuff. Nature Flight really knew how to ferment fruit. “Yes, of course. Erm… how about ‘Lavender’?”

“Nope! Wrong again. I’m named after something in this room.”

“Stone? Bottle? Book?” Deidre’s eyes slid over the myriad treasures she had set up on display in her living room, all far too elegant to share a name with her roughspun Gloomchaser cousin. “Um… Mushroom.”

“Too simple! My turn, my turn.” He shook his head, grinning like a hatchling. “Dawnwalker. Dusk. D… Dewdrop.”

“Close. One of those sounds is in my name.” Deidre put her head down on the table, eyelids heavy. Her head throbbed. Deidre’s cousin tapped his chin with a claw, swaying as he tried to focus his gaze on her.

“Giving up? Do I win?”

She said nothing, closing her eyes.

“Cousin?”

“You can’t win if- if you don’t have my name.” Deidre tried to focus on the cool stone beneath her and not the wine churning in her stomach. Her pulse pounded in her ears. “Stalemate.”

“Wrong,” he said, and the ice in his voice made Deidre open her eyes again.

Her cousin loomed over her, pale eyes gleaming in the low light. He leaned forward. One huge paw cupped Diedre’s chin, tilting her head up so that their eyes met directly. She was suddenly aware of the power in that paw, power that could crush her skull like an egg. Her hackles rose, but even that minute movement felt slow and clogged, as if she was swimming through mud.

“How about another game? It’s a simple one.”

“What are you- “

“Two bowls are placed on a table,” Diedre’s cousin said, inclining his head towards their simple setup. His drunken bumbling was but a quickly fading memory. “One is brushed with a powder, tasteless and odorless to all but the most refined of palettes- a deadly poison. The one who drinks from this bowl will be dead by sunrise.”

Deidre felt her blood turn to ice.

“This is my most favorite of all games,” the other Tundra drawled. “Aside from the other one we currently are playing. I’m afraid you weren’t privy to the rules until now, cousin.” The last word was drawn out, mocking.

Diedre made a hoarse, strangled sound and tried to pull away, but her cousin- her guest- the stranger’s grip was like iron. Her wings beat languidly, claw-tips catching on the carpet.  

“It is such a simple thing, to confound the senses. A little liquid fragrance, a touch of magic- Shadowbinder would laugh to see such deception! How could you think we were related in the slightest?” He let go of Diedre’s head and she dropped to the table, teeth clashing painfully as her jaw hit the hard surface. She barely felt it.

That pungent undertone she had smelled earlier- how stupid she had been! How pompous and foolish! - filled her nostrils. It was the smell of incense, of bitter herbs, of dark, dark wine. It was the smell of her death.

“In truth, I can’t quite recall who put me up to this task, or why, but I’m sure it is because you are such a tiresome conversationalist.” She heard the padding of the other Tundra’s tufted feet, and a low creak; he was inspecting her glassware cabinet. “Did you spend your life reading the same three books over and over again?”

Did. Not does. Past tense. Me- I’m- I’m-

A single twitch of her claws was all she could manage. Her limbs felt cold.

“Then again, these household furnishings- they seem rather upscale for a muddy little Tundra living on her own in the swamp. Embezzling from an employer, perhaps?” He tsked. “Naughty, naughty.”

Deidre’s mouth twitched and her eyes rolled as the stranger came back into view, brandishing one of the wineglasses she had wanted to use so long ago, when the world made sense. She let out a choked whimper, tongue thick in her mouth.

“Ah, of course. We never finished our name game, did we, Miss Deidre Murktally?” His voice sounded faint, as if he was deep underground, not two feet in front of her pouring the last of the wine into her glass. He toasted her, took a sip.

“Take this with you, wherever your smug little soul ends up. Think of me when you drink fine wine. Remember the name of Shadowbinder’s favored son.”

He leaned down, breath stinking of sour fruit.

“Zinfandel,” he breathed, and Diedre knew no more.

And here’s a quick scry for Diedre (too bad she’s dead, I love color combinations like this).

[boshawsharky]

Made It This Far

This fic contains references to self-harm, mental illness, delusions, and torture. It details a night of Pratt’s life after the end of the game. What happens in this fic is a work of my imagination and by continuing to read, you are consenting to read what could be potentially triggering.

Staci Pratt, T/W, 1,964 words.

This is my first Far Cry fanfic, so if it is inaccurate I apologise.

It’s official: Staci Pratt is an alcoholic.

Growing up with an alcoholic father, he swore he would never be in this position. He remembers his dad yelling at him for waking him up, or his mum trying to push him out of the house to protect them both. He remembers shamefully going to school and seeing his dad passed out on a park bench.

He swore this would never happen. He swore he would never turn out like his dad, yet here he is. Covered in beer cans and bottles, protecting him as if they were blankets. Almost as comforting, too.

His hand reaches to the nearest can and he lifts it to his lips, tilting his head back and keeping his mouth open to collect the few droplets that pour from inside, even if he can barely taste them. Anything helps, especially if it helps him forget Jacob, even if just for a few hours.

He always comes back in the morning, though. He always sits there at the end of his bed, or by the door, or by the sink- wherever it was that he passed out- smirking, looking down his nose, chuckling at him. Sometimes he is so close, Pratt can smell the coffee on his breath.

Fuck, the man is dead. You are going crazy.

He doesn’t understand how all this happened, he could have never expected to be this way. Then again, it was only two days before he was broken that he was joking about taking fuckin’ Nancy instead of Rookie. He didn’t see that happening, or Rookie saving his ass from Jacob.

Loud music pumps from down the road in Fall’s End, presumably from the bar that he sometimes meets Hudson in. They’re celebrating the New Year- that’s coming in a few minutes. Sharky Boshaw had invited everybody to a party in his trailer park- literally everybody, Rookie, Whitehorse, Hudson, everybody. Even Pratt. But Pratt couldn’t bear to go and see their sympathetic faces and the way they inched around him as if he was a bomb waiting to explode.

Well, frankly, he could. It can only take one little thing to trigger him, sometimes even the sight of his own face can do it. The scar across his nose, or if he has a nosebleed it feels like the world is ending.

The man moves and knocks all the cans off of himself, brushing them from his legs with a great clatter. The glass bottles smash on the floor, but the cans just bounce and roll. He pulls himself up and collapses on the sofa, tears threatening his eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He thought he was getting better. He thought he wasn’t as weak any more.

You’ll always be weak, Peaches. Always.

He really thought the alcohol would take Jacob away from him. He thought it would help him, make him at least the slightest bit better. Why is it not helping this time?

He can see him stood in the doorway to the living room, judging eyes watching his every move, and that same bloody smirk on his features. Staci catches his eye, and immediately feels all the anger, all the upset, everything he has ever felt, fill him again.

The last full can on the side becomes his tool as he grabs it from its place on the table, throwing it out of the open window with a mighty roar and listening to it explode outside, covering the porch with beer. He feels like a prisoner in his own mind, and he wants out.

He continues to scream as he paces around the room, grabbing at his hair and pulling it before eyeing the phone sitting on the unit by the wall. He stumbles over to it, feeling like a dummy numb with emotions. He feels empty, he feels lost, he feels like he isn’t human.

The crowd down the street erupt into cheers and celebration, which tells him it is now midnight, it is now 2019. He has the phone in hand, but he stares at it. Who is going to answer him now? Fuck, who is he going to ring?

He slams it down with force, letting out another scream. He’s twenty-six, and he can’t even take care of himself. He can’t find the key to free himself from his own mind.

When he was seventeen, he was trying to impress his friends at a skate park. Something went wrong, he snapped his board, it flew up and hit him in the forehead, creating a gash. There was so much blood and he passed out. He thought when he came to two minutes later, he thought that was the worst feeling.

It was stupid, really. Just nine years later, he would be being tortured, he would be ruined, he would be broken.

At least he had his friends there, then. And a family to go home to- well, his mum. When Jacob had him strapped down to that chair, he was alone. He had never felt so isolated yet so exposed in his life.

He thought he would die there. He thought that his corpse would rot there until he was nothing.

That, that was the worst feeling.

And you’ve still not escaped.

He can feel Jacob’s rough hands grabbing one of his wrists, and he pulls it away from him.

“D-don’t touch me… You’re, you’re not real,” Staci whispers, closing his eyes and rubbing his wrist. He can’t calm his racing heart or his choking breaths. He can’t even stop the tears from flowing any more. “You- you can’t con, control me like this...”

But you’re wrong.

“Ple-please,”

Tears are streaming down his face and he uses his hand to numbly wipe them away. He’s choking on his own breathing and everything feels too much, too overwhelming.

Peaches, you’re-

“Shut up!” Pratt roars, picking up the phone from the receiver and dialling Sharky’s number- everyone is at Sharky’s place. Hopefully, someone can help.

“Happy new year!”

It’s Nick Rye’s voice that comes through the phone, drunk and happy.

Happy.

When was the last time Staci was happy?

Don’t do it, Peaches. You think you’re strong, handle this on your own. You can do that, can’t you?

“N-Nick,” Pratt whispers down the phone, praying Nick will hear him.

“Hello?” Nick says, and Pratt can imagine him looking at the phone with confusion on his face. Staci repeats himself. “Staci! How are you?”

“I, I need Ro-Rook,” he can barely make sense of his words as they come out of his mouth, nevermind nick trying to listen over the phone. “Please, Nick,”

“Sure, bud.” Nick’s tone goes soft, the same way that he hates people doing, “ROOKIE!”

Their voice is soft and comforting, like a soft, bright hand reaching through the darkness.

“Staci!” They are cheerful, happy, tipsy. Honestly, Staci would have loved to be there, but he would’ve had a panic attack, or he would have got slaughtered and passed out somewhere he cannot get home from. “Happy new year, dude! You okay?”

“I-I-I need you,” Staci puts his head in his hands as he sinks to the floor, somewhat restricted by the cord. It’s just turned 2019- why do people still insist on corded phones? “I need you, Dep. He’s back...”

“Jacob?” They ask carefully, listening to Pratt’s cry and taking it as an answer. “Fuck- I’ll be there soon. I need to find a designated driver, though- give me twenty minutes and I’m with you,”

You’re weak, Pratt. You’re nothing. When the collapse comes, what then? Who are you fighting for? What is the point in your existence if you can’t protect and serve? I mean- that is your job.

It’s been five minutes since the phone call and Staci is sat on the toilet seat in the bathroom, holding a smashed bottle in hand. He’s not coping well with this. He’s not coping at all.

“S-stop. I know you’re not real,” he can’t tell if it’s the alcohol in his system or the trauma that is making him speak funny, but he hates it. It makes him look even stupider than he feels. “I know you’re made up by m’ mind...”

But you hated me, Peaches. Why would your mind think of me if you hate me?

“Ruined my life...”

Your life is pointless anyway.

Pratt takes a deep breath and pulls his legs to his chest, putting his head back and bringing the sharp glass to his wrists.

The Deputy pulls up outside Pratt’s house, asking Kim Rye- the designated driver- to wait there for them, then makes their way inside.

There is an exploded can outside, and all the porch is wet from what they presume to be beer.

“Staci?” They call when they get inside the house, looking around. The empty living room is covered in beer bottles and cans, and the very phone that Pratt had used to call Deputy is hanging by its cord. They furrow their brows in confusion and head up the stairs, to the muffled sobbing. “Staci-”

“I fucked up, Rook,” he says, washing his arm under the tap of the sink, pinkish water running down the drain.”I-I couldn’t help it, ‘n Jacob was tellin’ me I’m worthless, ‘n-”

Rookie takes Pratt’s arm from under the water and presses a towel to it- for the most part, it has stopped bleeding, but they look sore. “We can fix this,” they say quietly, kneeling down in front of him and looking him in the eyes.

They reach for a med kid under the sink and use the bandages to wrap around his forearm, covering the mess he made.

After a short period of silence, Pratt looks to Dep. “How was Sharky’s party?” He asks, trying to fill the stuffy silence.

Deputy laughs, raising their eyebrows. “It was… Er… Explosive...” He says, shaking his head. “I mean, fun, but… A lot of fire. Lotta fireworks.”

Staci smiles, though it is lacking all emotion.

“I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have called you. I should man up and deal with it- I’m weak and-”

“Shh. I don’t mind.” Dep says, shaking his head. “Honestly. You call me whatever time you need,”

“I’m a fuck up.”

“We’re all fucked up, Pratt. That’s what they do, they play mind games with you.”

Pratt feels all the alcohol from earlier in his stomach, and suddenly, he is throwing up into the sink. When Rook first rescued him, they got back to the Wolf’s Den and ate some actual food. This caused him to be sick because when he was with Jacob, his diet was purely raw meat and rainwater. The good food made him sicker than a dog.

“I owe you my life,” Pratt then says, as Rookie helps him stand and guides him into the bedroom. “You don’t even understand, Dep. We would be nothing without you, and I’m so stupid because you helped me survive literal Hell, and now I’m out of there and I can’t even think right-”

“You need to sleep,” they say, not undressing him but helping him into the bed. “Come on, you’ve had a rough night. You don’t know what you’re saying,”

Staci closes his eyes, feeling worn, feeling defeated, feeling nothing but everything.

“I’ll come over in the morning, okay?” They say, holding his hand for a minute. “Rest. Call me when you wake up.”

“Is he okay?” Kim asks when the Rookie gets back into the car, putting on their seatbelt. Quietly, they nod. “Good. Wanna go back to the party or home?”

“Home, I guess.” They answer quietly.

“You know, you really have saved everyone’s ass. We would be nowhere without you. Pratt, Hudson, Whitehorse- everyone. We all owe you everything and we could never pay you back.”

[sickdaysofficial]

Sick Days Day 1 – Not the Norm

WARNING: vomiting, panic attack, ptsd, alcohol, drug use, death, gun violence, child abuse mention (this fic is a fucking minefield lmao)

Fandom: My OCs (Alan and Cici)

“Al, are you sure this party’s not gonna kill us?”

Cici could already feel the slight pain in her feet from her four-inch heels, and her hair, which was down for the first time in over a week, was hanging in her eyes.

Alan laughed, grabbing Cici’s hand and swinging it back and forth.

“I know these guys. They’re not that bad,” he replied. “It’s gonna be fun, seriously.”

“I’m sure,” Cici said sarcastically. “Remind me again why I’m here?”

“Uh…to be a good influence?”

Cici laughed. “You know I trust you.”

“To show off that new license of yours?”

“Like anyone’s gonna card me at a fucking frat party.”

“Because I’ll take any excuse to get you in heels so I don’t have to lean down to kiss you?”

“I’m pretty sure I could wear stilts and you’d still have to lean down.”

“Well,” Alan grinned, “maybe it’s just because I can’t even stand to spend one night without you.”

Cici rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the wide smile from spreading over her face.

“You’re awful,” she laughed. “But I love you. So if you insist.”

Alan bent down and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Love you too.”

It would’ve been a bit late to back out anyway. Already, Cici could hear the beat of loud music, along with a few drunken shouts, from down the street. She took a deep breath. She’d never been much of a party person, but Alan was, and she was a pretty good actress.

“You’ll stay close?” Cici asked.

“Yeah. All night.”

The noise grew louder as the two of them approached the frat house in question, which was clearly already packed with people. Some of them had spilled out onto the front lawn, and were getting stoned or making out in bushes. A bouncer stood at the door, but he greeted Alan with a smile and let them both in without a second glance. Alan always seemed to know just about everyone.

The main room was and dimly lit, and the noise was deafening. Cici felt her breath pick up slightly, as the weight of a hundred people seemed to crush in around her. She forced herself to smile.

“You good?” Alan asked. She could barely hear him over the beat of the hip-hop song playing, but she could read his lips well enough.

“Fine,” she replied.

“You want a drink?”

“Sure. Just beer.”

“Just beer,” Alan confirmed. “I’ll be right back.”

Cici nodded, following Alan with her eyes as he walked away from her. He stood out easily; he was taller than everyone else in the room. She forced herself to relax. As long as Alan was there, nothing bad would happen.

LINE

As the night went on, Cici found herself relaxing and beginning to have a good time. She wasn’t quite in her element, but Alan was, and he stuck by her side. The two of them teamed up to kick two frat boys’ asses at beer pong, and she found herself thanking her perfect hand-eye coordination and Alan’s incredible tolerance as the other two staggered around drunkenly, whining about the game not being fair. She hadn’t had much to drink; alcohol tended to make her more sleepy than uninhibited. But she could feel herself smiling more than usual, as she and Alan danced to the music that didn’t seem so loud anymore. That was one thing she was definitely good at.

Alan stopped dancing abruptly and leaned down, bringing his lips level with Cici’s ear.

“You’re kicking my ass out here, babe,” he said fondly. “Want to go grab some more drinks before I start sweating through this shirt?”

Cici laughed. “Look at you, needing a break.”

“Well,” Alan replied, “if you keep dancing like that I might forget we’re in public.”

She shook her head quickly, kissing him on the cheek. “Well, later, we won’t be. Until then, we are not reliving your trashy sophomore life.”

“Oh my god, that was one time!” He laughed, and Cici could see the reflection of the people dancing around them in his sparkling blue eyes. He grabbed her hand and started walking off the dance floor. “Come on.”

“I think I’m just gonna have a water,” Cici said, as Alan guided her through the throngs of people in the direction of the makeshift bar. “Unless you want me to fall asleep on you.”

“Sounds good,” Alan agreed. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna switch to beer. I’m almost starting to feel it.”

“Well, not everyone here’s a fucking giant,” she laughed. “Come on.”

It happened in an instant. One second, everything was fine; the next, Cici felt the world crash down around her.

“Hey, Al,” a slightly slurred male voice called out over the music. “Wanna come do a line with us?”

Cici registered the words and tried to look away, but it was too late. Her eyes found the mound of cocaine on the table, and the group of people gathered around snorting it with dollar bills or separating it out into lines. Her knees buckled without warning, and she was only vaguely aware of firm hands gripping her, and Alan’s angry voice in her ears.

“You better put that away before I call the cops on your ass!”

“Dude, it’s just coke. Come on, your girlfriend can have some too.”

“Get that shit away from her!”

Maybe he kept talking. But Alan was gone now, his voice replied by a younger, softer one. Jack. She could see him now, like it was yesterday, bracing himself on the frame of their front door. Seventeen, charming, dark-haired and grey-eyed, and more terrified than she’d ever seen him in her life.

“Give me the damn money, I’m not gonna ask twice.”

“I told you, there was a problem—”

“Yeah? Well don’t make it my problem. I want the fucking money.”

She’d heard the doorbell ring, seen Jack hurry to answer it, telling her urgently to stay where she was. But she hadn’t listened. That one time when it had mattered, she just hadn’t listened. She’d followed him out instead and seen him at the door, with the man she didn’t know.

“Jack?” she’d asked, and he’d turned instantly, raw fear filling his eyes. “Who’s that?”

“Cici, baby, go back inside.”

“Well, what’s this?” she man had asked, and she’d flinched. “Damn, Williams, you got yourself a kid?”

“She’s my sister.” She’d never seen his face this tight, this pale.

The man had snorted before turning back to Jack, pulling a bag of something powdery white out of the inside pocket of his jacket.

“You see this? I’m paying you to move two of these in a week. And you can’t even do half that?”

“I told you, they kicked me off the corner.”

“So find another damn corner,” the man had snarled. “And give me the money you owe. This shit comes out of your cut.”

“Cici,” Jack whispered. “You have to go back inside. Go back to Mommy.”

“Mommy will just hit me again.”

“Cici.” He was so scared. Jack was supposed to be too strong to get scared. “Right now.”

But she’d stayed. She’d stayed because she was scared too, and just so confused, not understanding why Jack was acting like that, and why he was talking to that man.

“Let me put it this way,” the man had said. “You get me that cash by tomorrow, and I can think of two people who are gonna be real happy. That’s me, and your baby sister.”

Jack’s hands had started to shake at that. “Are you threatening her?”

“I don’t know. Do you want to find out?”

And then his hands had shaken more, and she’d watched, frozen, as he reached into his jacket. She’d seen the wide-eyed look on Jack’s face, the sheer desperation as he fired the gun. The shot had gone right through the bag, sending its contents flying through the air as the man fell backward. She’d barely even registered the blood at first, just the white powder drifting down and landing in it. Like snow.

“Cici!”

She could sense the arms around her again, half carrying her through the crowd. He couldn’t be here. That made no sense. But she could still see him in front of her, standing stock still.

“Hey, come on, Cici.” A pause. “Caroline.”

Jack never called her that.

“Al,” Cici whispered. Her stomach jolted with fear as the image flashed before her eyes again. So much blood. Jack wasn’t supposed to hurt people. Her mouth flooded with saliva and she let it drip onto the floor as she let out an empty gag.

Alan had been holding her up as he pushed his way through the crowd, but he stopped now, letting her drop to her knees by the nearest wall.

“Hey, hey, I’ve got you,” he murmured. She felt one of his hands rubbing strong and steady circles on her back, the other gathering her hair away from her face. “It’s not real, I promise.”

Cici just shook her head. Old, yes. It had been almost sixteen years. But definitely real. Her shoulders shook as she heaved violently, bringing up a large splash of watery vomit onto the floor.

“It’s not real,” Alan said softly. “I’m right here.”

She retched again, and another sizable wave poured from her mouth. She almost choked and continued gagging, letting up a steady stream of vomit. She had no control over the heaves that continued to overtake her; it was if her body thought that once she emptied her stomach the vomiting might get around to emptying her brain. At least it was almost painful enough to be distracting.

“Try to take a deep breath for me,” Alan whispered. Cici could feel him steadying her, and she tried to obey him, but her inhale just turned into another retch. This time, she only brought up a few small chunks of sick. Another round of gagging scraped the back of her throat. It took several more tries to get anything else up, and then it was just an acidic stream of bile. She had to stop, but she couldn’t. There had to be some way to get it out of her head. She fell into dry heaves, trembling and wincing with every retch.

“Caroline,” Alan said gently. “I want to get you out of here, okay? Can you stand up?”

Cici gagged dryly, but after a few seconds, managed to pull herself to her feet. She swayed once she was standing, and had to lean heavily on Alan as he led her back to the door. Her face felt hot and sticky, but she didn’t know if it was from sweat or tears. She managed to make it several houses away from the party before her legs failed her again, and she half collapsed on a patch of grass. Alan sat down next to her, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “If I’d known it was that kind of party I never would’ve—”

“Not your fault,” Cici got out. “I’m just a fucking mess.”

“You’re not a mess,” Alan replied. “You are so much braver than anyone else I know.”

“He…” Her voice trembled slightly. “He just killed him.”

“I know.”

“He did it for me. All of it. He was trying to get me out.”

“You were a kid. That shit was not your fault.”

“It’s so stupid,” Cici whispered. “Sometimes I wish he weren’t dead.”

“That’s not stupid,” Alan told her. “He was your brother. You can be a good brother without being a good person.”

“Yeah, well, try telling that to the rest of the world.”

Alan squeezed her shoulders lightly. “You probably want to go home, right?”

“Yeah,” Cici agreed shakily.

“Should I call the cab now?”

“I’d rather just walk. It’s not that far,” she said. “I’d rather just be with you.”

She took a deep breath and stood up, leaning on Alan’s shoulder slightly for support.

“Thanks,” she said quietly. “Still don’t know what the fuck I did to deserve you, but…you help. A lot. So thanks for being here.”

Alan gave her a soft smile.

“I always will be.”

[heungtanbts]

re·al·i·za·tion

noun

The moment of sudden clarity when feelings are finally recognized, or are made aware for the first time.

It hit you one Friday night when you received and drunkenly read a text message while leaving the bar at the wee hours of the morning. It was Valentine's Day, more affectionately known as Single Awareness Day, and your friends had dragged you to go out with them because sitting alone in your apartment doing nothing just seemed "too pathetic." You, on the other hand, didn't mind the idea of treating yourself to some wine and Netflix at home, but they obviously thought otherwise. 

"Even Yoongi's going out tonight," One of your friend's stressed, hoping that bringing up your older brother would help convince you in some way, "He and Jimin and the others are single but you don't see them staying at home tonight doing nothing."

That did the trick.

Ever since you were little, you had tried so hard to follow in Yoongi and Jimin's footsteps, fighting to keep up with them even though they were 2 years older than you. Whether it was tree climbing or trying to jump the fence to get ice cream, you'd always follow after the pair of best friends because honestly, you just wanted to hang out with the "cool older kids." But to them you were just "baby Min," the little squirt that wanted to but most of the time couldn't keep up with the big boys. But that certainly didn't stop you from trying, even many years later.

So you ended up going out and after a night of dancing to a lot of Beyoncé (you were pretty sure they played Single Ladies at least 12 times that night) you were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to shower and pass out for the night. But as you said your goodbyes and exited the bar, you got a text.

[1:54AM] Jimin: having a fun galentine's night out?

[1:54AM] Jimin: text me when you get home, little one.

Staring down at your phone, you weren't sure whether to feel giddy or just straight up shitty that Jimin was checking up on you. Another reason why you used to follow Yoongi and Jimin around like a loyal baby duckling was because of your monstrous crush on Jimin. In the past, he was always the one who would make Yoongi wait so you could catch up to them when they were biking too fast. He would always get super competitive whenever he played arcade or video games with Yoongi, but with you, he'd always secretly let you win. He was always the peacemaker if your brother was ever being too mean to you or made you cry. He was the kind of friend that would buy you another ice cream in a heartbeat if you ever dropped yours or just wanted another one. He was your oppa’s right hand man. But Jimin was not just your brother's best friend to you – he was your childhood knight in shining armor. But to him, you were just "baby Min," "squirt," "little one." Every time he saw you he'd lovingly ruffle your hair, only to turn to Yoongi to talk about the hot girls in their high school class. You remembered spending most of your weekends with him and Yoongi, playing video games or shooting hoops out back, even all throughout junior high and high school, but that title still remained, even to this day. To him, you were forever just Min Yoongi's little sister, and nothing more. 

Biting down on your bottom lip hard enough to taste blood, a rush of adrenaline caused you to tap your thumb on the "call" button as you held the phone up to your ear, your heart thudding rampantly against your chest. You didn't know what you were doing, nor what you were going to say, you were just going to let liquid courage lead the way. All you knew was that you were feeling so pent up inside; you just had to say something. 

He picked up on the other line, "Hey, what's up?" 

His soft voice sounded like sweet music to your ears, a tune you could listen to on repeat forever and ever, but you somehow held your ground, remembering that you were angry drunk calling him, not calling just to hear and admire his lovely voice. So you took a deep breath to compose yourself, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could even think. 

"I hate you, Park Jimin." 

He burst into a fit of coughs on the other line and you smirked to yourself, twirling your keys on your finger. "W-What did you just say?" 

Something inside you begged you to stop and hang up while you still had the chance, but the alcohol told you to keep going. And you readily listened to it.

"You heard me, I hate you." 

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, "First of all, it's Jimin oppa to you," You rolled your eyes as he continued on, "And second of all, are you drunk?" 

"So what if I am?" You shot back, "Doesn't change the fact that I hate your stinkin' guts." 

"What did I even do?" His voice softened slightly, and it made you want to melt into a puddle right there and then. But you forced yourself to ignore it, feeling a whole lot of truth starting to bubble up in your throat, threatening to spill over any minute. 

"As if you don't know the reason." You scoffed. 

He laughed in disbelief, "I really don't, baby Min. You're gonna have to help me out here and be a little bit more specif-" 

"That." You cut him off, physically pointing your finger straight in front of you even though he obviously couldn't see what you were doing, "That is why I hate you."

"Because I call you 'baby Min?'"

You had kept the truth tucked away for so long now, for so many years, locking it away like a ravenous caged tiger, just itching for its release some day. And now the copious amounts of alcohol surging through your vessels, Jimin's prying questions, just everything in this moment was acting as the key to release the beast within. And it wasn't going to hold anything back. 

"I hate you because all I am to you is just 'baby Min!'" You suddenly shouted, your knuckles starting to turn white from how tightly you were gripping the phone, "Baby Min, squirt, little one – I hate it all. I hate that you only see me as Yoongi oppa's little sister, I hate that you talk about other girls in front of me, I hate that besides oppa, you're the closest friend I have, I just hate it all okay?! This has been ruining me for so long now and I just think I deserve so much better than this. I want to stop liking you, I want to hate your guts, I want to move on so I don't have to keep living like this." You voice nearly broke into a sob at the end, "I just like Park Jimin so much, I don't know what to do with myself." 

The line went dead silent on the other side. The only sounds that could be heard were your quiet pants for air and the muffled music coming from the bar behind you. Seconds, possibly minutes, passed and the realization of your actions slowly began to sink in, and with a gasp, you quickly hung up on him, your heart rate skyrocketing through the roof. 

You had just let the tiger out of its cage. 

With a groan, your knees crumpled beneath you as you slid down the wall of the front of the bar, your bottom making contact with the cool cement sidewalk. You were beginning to understand why people had so many regrets the morning after drinking too much - not necessarily always because of the physical actions that took place, but a lot of the times, because of the words that were said. Words that shouldn't have been said. Words that should've been kept locked up for the rest of the century. Words powerful enough to ruin a perfectly healthy relationship. Words that could change everything.

With your face buried in the palms of your hand, you lost track of how much time had passed. All you could concentrate on was the regret you felt amidst the lingering dizziness from the remaining alcohol streaming through your blood. You were dreading how the next morning, the next day, the next week, month, and year were going to play out. How were you going to ever face Jimin after all of this? At this point, you almost wished you would never have to see him again. 

In the midst of your drunken self-reprimanding, a figure all of a sudden appeared out of nowhere, silently stooping down in front of you and looping your arms around his neck to hoist you up onto his back. With his arms locked under your thighs, he began to walk away from the bar just as you realized the situation, opening your mouth to protest against this stranger who was obviously trying to kidnap you.

"HEY, who the heck do you think you-" 

"Y/N, it's me, Jimin."

The shout of objection died in your throat, "Oh." 

The walk back to your apartment was painfully silent aside from the surrounding bits of drunken chatter and booming music in the distance. Part of you was dying inside, wanting to say something to him, wanting him to say something to you, but the other part was too tired and emotionally spent from the night. All you wanted was to curl up in bed and hurry up and wake up from this horrible nightmare already. You were hoping to wake up and realize that none of this ever happened.

You were nearing your apartment and Jimin still hadn't said a single word to you since leaving the bar. You wished you could see his face to see what kind of expression he had, if he was thinking or if he was feeling happy or sad or perplexed or something. But he just carried on wordlessly, and the silence was enough to dampen all your hopes. Jimin usually liked to talk things out during conflicts, so it definitely wasn't a good sign that he was being so quiet towards you. Now you really wanted to go home and be as far away from him as possible and just wallow in your rejection alone. His silence was enough of an answer for you. 

The rest of the night was a blur. You faintly remembered him asking for your keys, which you struggled to find even though it was attached to the hair tie on your wrist, helping you inside your apartment and to your room. You remembered him gingerly taking each stiletto off each foot and telling you to scoot over a bit on the bed so he could tuck you in properly. But the next morning, you couldn't remember if he said anything, and that terrified you. 

Until you looked over at your phone on your night stand. A piece of notebook paper with black ink scribbled haphazardly all over it laid next to your phone, catching your attention. You blinked a few times and rubbed your eyes before grabbing the paper and holding it close to your eyes. It was definitely Jimin's handwriting, but the words made absolutely no sense to you. 

Hi Y/N.

If you're reading this, you're probably hungover and not in the mood for ice cream, but I thought it'd make a cute first date to reminisce the good old days and finally tell you about my side of the story. Meet me at Scoops at 12PM, and maybe I'll even buy some pizza for you too. You better come!

Jimin.

It hit you one Friday night (and morning) when you received and drunkenly read a text message while leaving the bar at the wee hours of the morning. It had led to one of the most honest and frighteningly vulnerable conversations you'd ever had with Jimin, let alone anyone. Even though you were so sure you'd wake up that morning with nothing but an awful headache and a heart full of regret, you were pleasantly surprised (and absolutely shocked) to find out that liquid courage actually did something right for once.

It released the truth from within.