#maybe I should put it on a separate canvas and ask my friend if they would be willing to print it as a sticker for me 😭

[glendover]

sneak peak of the Mike and Matt cuddling sketch I’m working on

[meruz]

once again i am answering asks in a big compilation post. included is... gotham, patrick stump, tips about drawing backgrounds, tips about drawing in general, links to my faq, and infinity train

like.... the tv series? No... I’ve drawn dc comics fanart before, though. But it’s been years since I’ve been really into it. I like jumped ship like 10 years ago when the New 52 happened LOL.

AFJHDSLKGH I’m sorry I (probably) won’t do it again??

Actually full disclosure I have a truly cringe amount of p stump drawings/photo studies in my sketchbook right now LOL. He’s just fun to draw... hats, glasses, guitar, a good shape... but I don’t think I’ll rly post those until I can hide them in another big sketchbook pdf.. probably Jan 2022. Stay tuned........ (ominous) 

(ominous preview)

These are all sort of related to backgrounds/painting so I grouped them together even though they’re pretty much entirely separate questions.... ANYWAYS

a) How is it working as a BG artist? Is it hard? What show are you drawing for?

I think you’re the first person to ever ask me about my job! Being a background artist is great. It’s definitely labor intensive but I think that could describe pretty much any art job (If something were rote or easy to automate, you wouldn’t hire an artist to do it) and I hesitate to say whether its harder or easier than any other role in the animation pipeline. Plus, so much of what truly makes a job difficult varies from one production to the next, schedule, working environment, co-workers etc. But I will say that I think while BGs are generally a lot of work on the upfront, I think they’re subject to less scrutiny/revisions than something like character/props/effects design and you don’t have to pitch them to a room like boards. So I guess it’s good if you don’t like to talk to people? LOL

A lot of my previous projects + the show I’ve worked on the longest aren’t public yet so I can’t talk about em (but I assure you if/when the news does break I won’t shut up about it). But I’m currently working on Archer Season 12 LOL. I’m like 90% sure I’m allowed to say that.

b) ~~~THANK YOU!! ~~~

c) What exactly do you like to draw most [in a background]?

@kaitomiury​ Lots of stuff! I really like to draw clutter! Because it’s a great opportunity for environmental storytelling and also you can be kind of messy with it because the sheer mass will supersede any details LOL. 

I like to draw clouds... I like to draw grass but not trees lol,,, I like to draw anything that sells perspective really easily like tiled floors and ceilings, shelves, lamp posts on a street etc.

d) Do you have any tips on how to paint (observational)?

god there’s so much to say. painting is really a whole ass discipline like someone can paint their whole life and still discover new things about it. I guess if you’re really just starting out my best advice is that habit is more important than product. especially with traditional plein air painting, I find that the procedure of going outside and setting up your paints is almost harder than the actual painting. There’s a lot of artists who say “I want to do plein air sometime!!” and then never actually get around to doing it. A lot of people just end up working from google streetview or photos on their computer.

But going outside to paint is a really good challenge because it forces you to make and commit to lighting and composition decisions really quickly. And to work through your mistakes instead of against them via undo button.

My last tip is to check out James Gurney’s youtube channel because hes probably the best and most consistent resource on observational painting out there rn. There’s lots other artists doing the same thing (off the top of my head I know a lot of the Warrior Painters group has people regularly posting plein air stuff and lightbox expo had a Jesse Schmidt lecture abt it last year) but Gurney’s probably the most prolific poster and one of the best at explaining the more technical stuff - his books are great too.

e) Do you have tips for drawing cleanly on heavypaint?

@marigoldfool​ UMM LOL I LIKE ONLY USE THE FILL TOOL so maybe use the fill tool? Fill and rectangle are good for edge control as opposed to the rest of the heavy paint tools which can get sort of muddles. And also I use a stylus so maybe if you’re using your finger, find a stylus that works with your device instead. That’s all I’ve got, frankly I don’t think my drawings are particularly clean lol.

f) Tips on improving backgrounds/scenes making them more dynamic practicing etc?

Ive given some tips about backgrounds/scenes before so I’m not gonna re-tread those but here’s another thing that might be helpful...

I think a good way to approach backgrounds is to think of the specific story or even mood you want to convey with the background first. Thinking “I just need to put something behind this character” is going to lead you to drawing like... a green screen tourist photo backdrop. But if you think “I need this bg to make the characters feel small” or “I need this bg to make the world feel colorful” then it gives you requirements and cues to work off of.

If I know a character needs to feel overwhelmed and small, then I know I need to create environment elements that will cage them in and corner them. If a character needs to feel triumphant/on top of the world then I know I need to let the environment open up around them. etc. If I know my focal point/ where I want to draw attention, I can build the background around that.

Also, backgrounds like figure compositions will have focal points of their own and you can draw attention to it/ the relationship the characters have with the bg element via scale or directionality or color, any number of cues. I think of it almost as a second/third character in a scene.

Not every composition is gonna have something so obvious like this but it helps me to think about these because then the characters feel connected and integrated with the environment.

Some more general art questions

a) Do you have any process/tips to start drawing character/bodies/heads?

I tried to kind of draw something to answer this but honestly this is difficult for me to answer because I don’t think I’m that great at drawing characters LOL. Ok, I think I have two tips.

1) flip your canvas often. A lot about what makes human bodies look correct and believable is symmetry and balance. Even if someone has asymmetrical features, the body will often pull and push in a way to counterbalance it. we often have inherent biases to one side or another like dominant hands dominant eyes etc. you know how right-handed artists will often favor drawing characters facing 45 degrees facing (the artist’s) left? that’s part of it. so viewing your drawing flipped even just to evaluate it helps compensate for that bias and makes you more aware of balance.

2) draw the whole figure often. I feel like a lot of beginner artists (myself included for a long time) defer to just drawing headshots or busts because it’s easier, you dont have to think about posing limbs etc. But drawing a full body allows you to better gauge proportion, perspective, body language, everything that makes a character look believable and grounded.

Like if you (me) have that issue where you draw the head too big and then have to resize it to fit the proportions of the rest of the body, it’s probably because you (I) drew the head first and are treating the body as an afterthought/attachment. Sketching out the whole figure first or even just quick drawing guides for it will help you think of it more holistically. I learned this figure drawing in charcoal at art school LOL.

oh. third mini tip - try to draw people from life often! its the best study. if you can get into a figure drawing/nude drawing class EVEN BETTER and if you have a local college/art space/museum that hosts those for free TREASURE IT AND TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT, that’s a huge boon that a lot of artists (me again) wish they had. though if youre not so lucky and youre sitting in a park trying to creeper draw people and they keep moving.. don’t let that stop you! that’s good practice because it’s forcing you to work fast to get the important stuff down LOL. its a challenge!

b) I’ve been pretty out of energy and have had no inspiration to draw but I have the desire to. Any advice?

Dude, take a walk or something.... Or a nap? Low energy is going to effect everything else so you gotta hit that problem at its source.

If you’re looking for inspiration though, I’d recommend stuff like watching a movie, reading a book, playing video games etc. Fill up your idea bank with content and then give yourself time/space to gestate it into new concepts. Sometimes looking at other art works but sometimes it can work against you because it’s too close. 

Also something that helps me is remembering that art doesn’t always have to be groundbreaking... like it’s okay to make something shitty and stupid that you don’t post online and only show to your friend. That’s all part of the process imo. If you want to hit a home run you gotta warm up first, right? Sports.

I should probably compile everytime i give tips on stuff like this but that’s getting dangerously close to being a social media artist who makes stupid boiled down art tutorials for clout which is the last thing i want to be... the thing I want to stress is that art is a whole visual language and there are widely agreed upon rules and customs but they exist in large part to be broken. Like there's an infinite number of ways to reach an infinite number of solutions and that’s actually what makes it really cool and personal for both the artist and the viewer. So when you make work you like or you find someone else’s work you like, take a step back and ask yourself what about it speaks for you, what about it works for you, what makes it effective, how to recreate that effect and how to break that effect completely, etc. And have a good time with it or else what’s the point.

for the first 2, I direct you to my FAQ

For the last one, I don’t actually believe I’ve ever addressed artwork as insp for stories/rp but I’ll say here and now yeah go ahead! As long as you’re not making profit or taking credit for my work then I’m normally ok with it. Especially anything thats private and purely recreational, that’s generally 100% green light go. I only ask that if you post it anywhere public that you please credit me.

(and I reserve the right to ask you to take it down if I see it and don’t approve of it’s use but I think that case is pretty rare.)

a) @lemuelzero101 Thank you!!! I haven’t played Life is Strange but actually  that series’ vis dev artist Edouard Caplain is one of my bigger art inspirations lately so that’s a really high compliment lol. And yeah I hope we get 5-8 too...!

b) Thank you for sticking around! I’ve been thinking about Digimon and Infinity Train in tandem lately, actually. They’re a little similar? Enter a dangerous alternate world and have wacky adventures with monsters/inanimate objects that have weird powers... there’s like weird engineers and mechanisms behind the scenes... also frontier literally starts with them getting on a train. Anyways if anyone else followed me for digimon... maybe you’d like Infinity Train? LOL

c) @king-wens-king I’M GLAD MY ART JUST HAS PINOY VIBES LOL I hope you are having a good day too :^)

a, b, c, d) yessss my Watch Infinity Train agenda is working....

e) aw thank you!! i think you should watch infinity train :)

[parkjimin1010smuts]

Breaking Point || Kth

Summary: Taehyung reveals just how he deals with his stress to his best friend y/n and late one night y/n reaches her breaking point and decides to put Taehyungs tactic to the test, but there is a slight problem she has no one to help her out, or does she?

Warnings: daddy kink, overstimulation, thigh riding, virgin reader, multiple orgasms, fingerings, unprotected sex (yalls stay safe out there though this is just a fanfic), dom tae, sub reader, pwp. Enjoy!!

An elbow nudging into the side of your ribcage pulled you back into the conscious realm. A slight gasp leaves your mouth as you jerked your head back up. Now who the hell thought it was the perfect moment to need your attention.

You gathered your surroundings haphazardly, a subtle frown settling upon your face as you realized just who it was, Kim Taehyung. “Morning princess, I almost thought you’d never wake up,” his velvety voice mocked.

Turning towards Taehyung, the frown on your face only deepened, a small sound of annoyance escaping you. With your eyes now in his direction you unintendedly began to check him out. The cluster of blonde hair that was normally nestled peacefully was a disheveled mess exposing his forehead. His plump cheeks were pushed up due to the goofy grin he had plastered on his face nearly concealing his chocolate brown eyes that were now mere crescent moons. I had to admit he had a very attractive smile, reminiscent of a box.

His body was clad in a pair of black slacks that clung beautifully against his muscular thighs leaving very little to the imagination. His caramel chest peeked at me from the confines of the loose summer shirt he wore. I was brought back to reality when the view of his chest was suddenly obscured by the change in his position as he was now bent over packing his things. Releasing I heavy sigh I began to mirror his actions before throwing my bag over my shoulder and making a beeline straight to the double doors. In true Taehyung fashion he was right on my tail, trailing me like the faithful guard dog he pretends to be.

You and Taehyung  have been best friends now for over 15 years, you both met in the early years of preschool and by the grace of the angels above you have not been separated ever since. Through thick and thin, trials and tribulations, Taehyung has been there every step of the way. Everything you have experienced so has he, that’s how close you two are and, in all honesty, you wouldn’t have it any other way with any other person. 

This closeness however was more often than not met with questioning glances and needless two cent comments, most of them romance related. But Taehyung was always so quick to shut them down with a little more fervor and enthusiasm than you would deem necessary.  It was clear to you that Taehyung simply had no interest in you romantically, and you understood. Who cared if you had a tini, tiny crush on him. Not you that’s for sure.

But I mean it was inevitable, the man who was now glued to you side in a steady march that matched your own was a literal god send. He was loyal, attractive and physically in shape. What more was there to ask for.

“What’s up with you lately, every time I see you you’re either lethargic or in one hell of a mood.” My best friend voiced before abruptly coming to a halt in front of his black pick up.

“Nothing I’ve just been up studying for finals and the stress Is finally getting to me I guess,” you say through clenched teeth. You really do feel like you're reaching your breaking point and seeing how well put together Taehyung just riles you up even further. Its really not fair, we are in the same course, the same exams, the same workloads and yet there he is basking in his ethereal beauty, fair skin with no signs of exertion. While you on the other hand are left to wallow in the deep dark bags that have taken residence beneath your forever dropping eyes. Don’t even get me started on the acne that picks the absolutely best moments to choose your face as their next canvas, please note the sarcasm.

Allowing your curiosity to surface you voice the question that has been eating at you for quite some time now, “How do you do it?” Taehyung shots a quick glance your way before reverting his attention back to the bustling road before us but the slight dip of his eyebrows was enough for you to know he wants you to elaborate.

With a deep breath you laid everything that had been forming a cluster in your mind out on the table for Taehyung to digest. When you was through with your mini rant session an eerie silence danced between you two for a good minute before Taehyung finally released a hearty chuckle. With his head thrown back and eyes closed from the intensity of his smile he was unable to see the way your face twisted in confusion.

“You think I’m ethereal?” Of course, that was the only thing his pea sized brain was able to pick. Suppressing all the swear words you had an indescribable urge to throw his way you simply rolled your eyes while sinking further into the leather car seat.

“I release my stress through other things.” He finally said after calming himself.

“Other things,” you said with a raise of my eyebrow. 

“Yeah, other things, or more specifically sex.” your eyes grow tenfold as you choke on your saliva. Sex?! Should this really have been a surprise to you, I mean he’s young healthy and oh just look at him.

However it still does nothing to subside the slight blush you feel creeping up your neck as you avert your eyes to your lap. While he was indeed your best friend and things not discussed between the two of you were few and far between, one thing he never seemed to ask you about was your sex life. Not that there was much to ask about in the first place. You were a virgin, not entirely from lack of trying but still a virgin none the less.

“Oh,” that was the only logical response your mind could muster given the circumstances.

“Oh,” Taehyung retorted as he maneuvered the car to rest in his driveway. Choosing to remain silent you purse your lips into a thin line, you refuse to falter, even when he turns his body to allow his eyes to have unlimited access to scrutinize you with their chocolate depths. The car suddenly feels so hot or maybe that’s just your face which is now beet red.

“What’s with your reaction y/n,” Taehyung presses fully failing to read the room, or car in this situation.

You have never had any problems confiding in Taehyung but for some reason you feel embarrassed to mention that you're still in fact a 23 year old virgin, especially after he just shared details of his very thriving sex life.

The silence drags on for a good three minutes and knowing your best friend you know there is no way he will ever give in and so you cave. “I’m a virgin, okay. There, are you happy now,” you hastily say with an exasperated sigh. Choosing to save yourself from the snarky remarks you know are about to flow like a river from your best friend you hurriedly make your way out of the confines of his car. You mentally curse the universe as you see we are in fact parked outside his apartment complex and any thoughts you had of fleeing the scene are disintegrated in mere seconds. As if adding fuel to the flame the sound of the car door sounds as Taehyung makes his way out of his car and round to my side.

“Please save it, I’m really not in the mood for your bullshit right now,” you cut him off before he can even part his lips. “Hey what’s wrong with you. Did you seriously think I would judge you just because you chose to keep it locked up.” you simply avert your gaze as his words settled in your head.

“Hey look at me, your virginity is nothing to be ashamed of okay, I’m sorry if I made you feel that way, but you know me better than that. You know I would never shame you for anything so insignificant.” The tone of his voice was calm and collected and shame suddenly washed over you from the way you had jumped the gun. You never realised how your reaction could have been perceived, Taehyung was always so understanding and here you were assuming only the worst of him.

Deciding not to push the conversation any further you simply lowered your head in embarrassment before heaving a sigh. You've been doing that a lot lately. Being the attentive best friend that he is Taehyung was quick to pick up on my signals and thankfully refrained from pushing the topic any further. A silence soon settled between us before Taehyung laced his fingers around your own before leading you back to his car.

“I’m gonna take you home and you just get some rest okay,” The soft nature of his voice just made you feel worse while simultaneously lifting your mood.

~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•

Yet again a frown had found its way onto your face as you stared at the clock that ticked away on your bedside table. It was just past 2am and yet the lights in your room were still on casting shadows over the immense paperwork clustered all over your bedsheets. Yet another sleepless night with your only companion being a cup of coffee made with  three sugars and a gallon of stress.

Grabbing the cup of steaming goodness you throw your head back as you allow the bitter taste to maneuverer its way into your body with hopes of getting your systems back on high alert. You put down the coffee with a soft clang so it’s now adjacent to the ticking demon that serves as a constant reminder of how shit you have it right now.

Fighting the urge to scream you plunge face first into your numerous worksheets. This was it, you had finally reached your breaking point, the tears that stung the corners of your eyes served as confirmation.

Just as you were about to succumb to the severity of it all and just allow yourself to scream and cry to your hearts content a certain blonde haired box smiled adorning goof crossed your mind. Or more specifically a certain conversation shared between the two of you.

Sex.

You felt tingly sensations dance through your veins as the solution to all your problems was now just in front of you. However this feeling of euphoria was only short lived as not long after you realised there wasn’t a single person you could ask for help. Well there was that one guy you met during spring break, but your relationship came to a rocky end as he bumped heads with Taehyung over your relationship with him. He had accused you of slutting around with Taehyung and the man in question did not take lightly to his words. Lets just say his name is most definitely off the table, and so is my relief plan seeing as he is your only ex. Pathetic I know, no need to remind me.

You run your fingers across your laptop giving it a contemplative tap, while trying your hardest to push the most obvious solution to your problem to the back of your head. There was no way you could call him. Seriously, there was no plausible or conceivable scenario in which you went to your best friend, pleading for him to lend you his body to get off. You brought your hands to your face, a shriek of embarrassment escaping you at the mere idea.

This was the guy who had seen you at your worst, stumbling into your apartment with puke all over yourself when you were going through your hard liquor phase freshman year of college. There's no way he'd be interested in having sex with the girl he spent many nights holding her hair back as she hurled into her toilet.

No.

You couldn’t ask Taehyung to partake in such an activity with you. Absolutely not.

No way.

~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡

The creaking of your apartment door sent you five feet into the air as the reality of the situation sinfully settled in your brain and the nerves were finally kicking in.

“Taehyung,” you whirled around to face him as his gaze zeroed in as you  shifted your body from one foot to the other, a tendency you displayed whenever nervous. You couldn't fight down the heat that was creeping up your neck as he stepped into your apartment, eyeing you cautiously as he slipped off his shoes.

“Hey is anything wrong, you sounded really anxious on the phone.”

“What, me, I’m perfectly fine!” You responded forcibly, the enthusiasm in your voice misplaced, given the nature of the conversation.

Taehyung simply nodded back at you, not noticing the awkward timber of your words or otherwise not minding. "Well if nothings wrong why'd you call me over to your place at 2am?" He inquired, like the wonderfully kind best friend he was. You pressed your lips together.

"About that, do you remember how you said you use sex as an outlet for your stress in order to maintain a level head, well would you mind having sex with me as I’m a pathetic excuse of a human who has no one else to turn to for my sexual needs." Oh god, there was no way you could ask that. Taehyung was your best friend, and that would be too unbearably awkward. What the hell were you thinking?

“Well i wanted to watch the conjuring 3 again and I remembered that you hadn’t watched it yet so what better time than now?” You swallowed uneasily, a gesture that unfortunately didn’t go unnoticed by your best friend. Your eyes nearly fell out of your head as the man of the hour suddenly took a step towards you, his eyes unmoving on your face.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" His tone was suddenly low and severe, eyes running all over your burning face as he searched for any physical ailment. There was something off about you, he realized. He wasn't sure what it was, but he could make out how your form was trembling, your eyes wide in panic.

“Do you want to have sex with me.” You reflexively shut your eyes as you allowed the weight if your words to hang heavy between the two of you it's only competitor being the unbearable silence that lingered in the air not long after. You could hear every inhale and exhale of the tall man that stood opposite you. Every passing second of silence made you regret your words and just as you were about to play it all of as a joke and retract your prior request a pair of soft lips pressed gently against your own stopping you right in your tracks.

Just as suddenly as it happened it came to an end. You could feel something stirring in your chest , the feeling of his lips on yours lingered, radiating heat like an old burn. You turned towards him and the look in his eyes nearly knocked the breath out of you, there was a dark sheen to them, one you had never seen. It was intimidating and attractive all the same, the fire in your belly igniting like never before. Before you could even think to stop yourself, you grabbed the collars of his shirt and pulled him down to you before taking his lips with your own.

In no time at all the kiss got heated as tongue and teeth were thrown into the mix. You feel his tongue explore the darkest depths of your  mouth as you fight back the need for air. His tongue reluctantly leaves your mouth all before licking a stripe across my bottom lip before his teeth bite down on it, hard but not enough to draw blood. You let out a whimper as his teeth finally released your lip.

There was a shift in the room, Taehyung could sense it. He knew exactly what you wanted and fuck if he didn't want the same thing. His entire body was on edge, he could hear every heavy exhale you pushed past your parted lips. "You're a virgin." The whine that came from you in response was low. "I don't want this to be something you regret in the morning.  I can't promise I'll be gentle." He licked his lips.

"Please, I just… just this once," Your words were soft and pleading, the sound of your thighs pressing together in search of relief filling Taehyungs ears. "I need you." He could see your hard nipples pressing against the thin material of your white shirt. They were distracting him, and thoughts of his hands cupping your breasts over your shirts, rubbing your cloth-covered nipple between his fingers, corrupted his mind. How easy it could've been for him to cave right then and there.

Your voice was small and dripping in submission. He felt like he was suffocating in the small space you called your living room. Fuck. He felt himself stiffen in his shorts. You were breathing heavily now, hands trembling as you fought the urge to throw yourself against Taehyung and bury your face into his neck. The mere thought of his skin against yours caused your whole body to shudder in want. When did you become like this. Your thoughts and actions almost made you seem unrecognisable but with the heat of the moment you couldn’t careless. You wanted this and how you wished Taehyung would stop being the gentleman he was and just fuck you already.

Taehyung was already heading towards you as he heeded his last warning, "Do you understand? I need to hear your answer."

“Oh god Taehyung just fuck me already!”  you hurriedly said followed by a deep exhale.

Without wasting another second Taehyung plopped himself onto your mustard couch before pulling you onto him. The sudden movement caused you to straddle one of his meaty thighs which had you quivering as your pussy throbbed from the sudden stimulation.  When you finally got comfortable you pulled the shirt over your head quickly, hands coming to fondle your own breasts, desperate for any skin contact.

You let out a cry as Taehyungs palms found the skin of your hips, urging you to grind against his thigh. You whined rocking back against his thigh. “Mm please Tae, I need your cock,” your own words surprised you.

"Hmm? You seem to be doing just fine without me, though." He cocked his head at you, hand coming up to smack the side of your thigh. A sharp moan fell from you, fingers tugging at your nipple as your hips sped up. Then, to your sweet relief, Taehyungs mouth found one of your breasts, taking no hesitation in pulling the hard bud into his mouth. You threw an arm over his shoulder, fingers floundering as they attempted to find anchorage on his sweat-soaked skin. Your other hand reached out to touch his abdomen, preening as his muscles flexed beneath your fingers.

He pulled away from your breast with a loud pop sound. Smirking up at you as your eyes began to flutter shut, he watched in amusement as your orgasm caught up with you quickly, a result of your heightened sensitivity and inexperience. He would have to teach you later how to refrain from Cumming so quickly.

"Fuck, oh god Taehyung" You cried into his shoulder, body jerking as you came unravelled. Taehyung couldn't help but let out a whine of his own, palming over his crotch as he watched you ride out your orgasm. Although he would never admit it the way his name fell from your lips like honey had his cock twitching in his now too tight jeans. " Taehyung, please." You panted once you had caught your breath, bringing your face up to his. “Fuck me" you managed to pant out without breaking eye contact. Thus lead to Taehyung  unconsciously letting out a groan.

"Is that what my pretty girl wants? Want daddy to fill you up, sweetheart?" The intimate pet name escaping him before he could think otherwise. It should have been no surprise to you that Taehyung had a daddy kink. Nonetheless you could feel a new wave of wetness staining his jeans from the pet name, from daddy, right down to the way his thigh was still flexing underneath your heat. It was all too much, you could feel your senses going into over drive.

"Yes daddy, fuck. Fuck me deep and hard until I'm stuffed with your cum.” You breathed into his neck. Taehyung was going to fucking explode. Every damn word you spoke went straight to his groin, his painfully hard cock straining against his Jean’s fabric. And with that in mind, he flipped you over, pushing your legs up into your chest so that he could see your clenched cunt fully exposed for him.

“You don't have any idea what you fucking do to me, do you? I'm so fucking hard for you, and I haven't even felt that lovely pussy of yours." He growled, his fingers coming down to circle your entrance. You didn't even have time to contemplate a response before his fingers rolled over your sensitive bud. His fingers felt so different to yours – your jaw slack as a silent sob fell out, his light but quick motions sending your back arching. Wrapping a hand against his wrist, you groaned, the feeling nearly overwhelming but still too good to pull him away.

Taehyung cursed as your hand came down to rub against the his cock still retrained by his jeans, the small action just gentle enough to have his hips jerking into you. He felt painfully hard and he feared if you didn’t stop he would bust a load right in his pants. His skilful hands were soon lost to his belt as he hurriedly worked to get rid of the only clothing left separating your bodies. "Gonna make a mess of this wet little pussy, okay? Let me know if you want me to stop." Were Taehyungs final words as he pressed himself inside you, hand reaching over to take yours into his.

A cry left you, eyebrows furrowing together as your head fell back, leaving Taehyung breathing heavily through his nose, jaw tense as he fought back a growl. The urge to sink his teeth into your sweat glistened neck was too much to resist and so he bent down and began showering hickeys over the canvas that was your neck.

The stretch stung a bit but he was able to easily slide into you thanks to your prior orgasm and the help of his fingers. You felt full and content, it was such an overwhelming feeling that when he bottomed out and his groin came in contact with your clit you came for the second time.

Eyes rolling to the back of your head you let out a loud moan that had you hiding your face in embarrassment. You could feel the hot breath of Taehyung as he chuckled from his position nestled between your breasts. After deciding you had had enough time to get accustomed to his size Taehyung pulled out almost completely before sliding back into you. You let out a whine as he bottomed out inside you, watching as his expression changed into a lewd one with your walls clamping around his fat cock. "How's that, baby?" You could only moan in response, nails digging into his back as he began to rock himself into you, entirely obsessed with the way your body was readjusting itself as he moved inside you. It was like your body knew exactly what to do, despite the sensation being otherwise strange.

Your fingers found your clit immediately, knowing that this was exactly how you wanted to cum, dripping down the couch and stretched out around  Taehyungs cock. "So big. Feels so good." You mumbled, your hair cascading around you as his pace quickened, fucking you hard and deep.

You let out an incoherent whimper, shuddering as Taehyungs thrusts into you deepened, spurred on by the way you continously moaned his name submissively. Your thighs felt wet and slick, the combined mixture of both yours and Taehyungs arousal dripping down onto them. You felt filthy and dirty and you were loving every second of it.

You could feel all your stress diminishing right before your eyes with every thrust of his hips. You felt elated, almost as though you were in another dimension, oh how you didn’t want this moment to come to an end. "My pretty little girl. You're making an absolute mess on my dick, isn't that right?"

"Yes, Daddy." You sobbed, body more than ready to succumb to your third orgasm of the night. "Such a good girl." He praised, a hand coming up to squeeze one of your supple tits. Your fingers found your abused clit once more. You circled around it liberally, the familiar euphoric feeling creeping up on you once more. "My sweet little girl. My precious girl." He cooed into your mouth, earning him an appreciative moan.

He was so close, fuck. “Cum in me daddy, I want you to come in me,” you whimpered desperately all in hopes of finally pushing him over the edge. And it seemed to have done the trick because with a final thrust he nestled himself deep within your warmth, a string of groans and curses tumbling out his mouth as he emptied his load into you. His release was the final push you needed to reach your most intense orgasm of the night. You shamelessly screamed as your back arched off the sofa and your body writhed in overstimulation.

"Fuck, fuck. I love you, holy shit, I love you." He peppered your face with kisses, breath shaky. Whether he let that slip due to the heat of the moment or whether those were his genuine feelings he had kept bottled up within him much like you, you chose to just revel in the moment stress free. "I love you more." You sighed adoringly, revelling in such an intimate gesture from him.

Thank you so much for reading 💜

[straightlikewetspaghetti]

Demons of the Past

Pairings: Poppy x MC (Bea Hughes)

Warnings: Mature language

Word count: 3074

Ch.1 Stranger Danger

Poppy Min Sinclair had to arch her slender neck to see her reflection from over the shoulder of Chloe, who had been testing her new artistic vision on her for a good few minutes. For some time now, Poppy had become a canvas for Chloe's magical hands as she tried her luck at running a beauty salon, along with Veronica, who was doing her best advertising.

"What do you think V?"

Veronica tore her gaze away from her phone and looked towards Poppy wrinkling her nose slightly. She usually did that when she was seriously considering something. "As far as I'm concerned she could use some plastic surgery."

"Asshole," Poppy laughed hurling a pillow at her friend, which missed and knocked over a decorative vase standing nearby. Three girls looked in that direction and soon the three of them burst out laughing loudly, curling up on the floor.

"Enough, enough!", Chloe began to shout when she noticed that Poppy wanted to wipe her eyes from crying, and she caught her hands, looking at her with a chastising gaze. She wouldn't let her hard work be destroyed so easily. Poppy rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face remained constant as she silently teased the shorter girl along with Veronica. "Why am I hanging out with you guys..."

"You love us," whined Veronica hugging a reddened Chloe with one arm, who lowered her gaze quickly to her hands nervously playing with the hem of her skirt.

Poppy made the sound of displeasure she made whenever the two girls started acting too cute. She was glad for their happiness, but deep down she felt an incredible jealousy, because she herself would like to share her life with someone too.

The couple sort of understood the blonde, pulled away from each other and looked at her docilely.

"Don't worry Poppy, I'm sure you'll meet someone at the party tonight. From what I heard Zoey invited some cutie from the old days...", Chloe smiled as she tried to convey positive energy with her words. "Besides, you're wearing my makeup, no one will be able to resist you!"

"Cutie you say..."

Ch.2 Party Fever

She was the most beautiful girl in the whole room.

No.

She was the most beautiful girl in the entire world.

Bea watched from a dark corner of the room as Poppy twirled effortlessly to the beat of the music, attracting the stares of drooling people with her movements. Her tiny skirt didn't leave much to the imagination either, but that was Poppy Min Sinclair's style; if she wasn't the main attraction, what was the point of her presence?

"You're acting like a creep," she was snapped out of her observation by Zoey who magically appeared next to her, making her almost gasp.

"You should have some kind of bell around your neck, Wade," Bea rolled her eyes at her friend's laughter.

"Wow, she has nice ass... Ets, yeah, nice assets," Zoey smiled innocently seeing her friend's murderous gaze. "You'd better come over to her eventually,"

Her gaze went back to the dancing blonde. "It's been five years, what should I say to her?"

"Maybe something like; Heya Pops I already have money, maybe you want to come with me for a little Macarena?", the black-haired squirmed as Bea's fist landed right in her stomach, almost knocking the air out of her lungs. The slight pain she felt didn't stop her from laughing at the tomato-like look that appeared on her friend's face. "Come on babe, she's at the bar now, this is your opportunity."

Bea nodded and straightened up, ready to attack. "You finally said something with sense."

Ch.3 Deja-vu

"One Old Fashioned and Sex On The Beach."

Poppy turned behind her with a ready biting remark, but her voice froze in her throat when she saw the person standing behind her. And it was none other than Bea Hughes herself, her first drink, crush, kiss, sex, love, but also her first heartbreak. She stood before her as casually as if those five years of separation between them had never existed. Her short brown hair, now shoulder-length, was whiter than snow itself. Her childlike facial features had sharpened and she could see tiny wrinkles appearing from the overworked late nights. Her style had also changed, from boyishly sporty and bad girl to formal and important. She looked like a millionaire ripped straight from the cover of Forbes. She no longer resembled the person she once was.

"You remembered what I drink," the blonde choked out as the first wave of shock left her and the lump in her throat loosened. Talking to her seemed so unreal that she felt like she had lost consciousness and was now dreaming.

Bea smiled in response, though it was more of a tired smile than the beaming howl with which she had greeted Poppy daily in their school years. "There are some things that are hard to forget Pops," the white-haired girl shrugged her shoulders sheepishly as she slid the hundred across the counter towards the bartender, who with renewed vigor reached over and ran to prepare the drinks, nearly tipping over his own feet.

"Feeling generous tonight?", Poppy chuckled as she watched Bea tuck a rather thick bundle of bills into her pocket. In their teenage years, the white-haired girl had barely been able to make ends meet, but Poppy had always admired her ability to live from day to day and enjoy herself, even when an eviction order from her home hung over her head.

Bea laughed a throaty laugh that sounded almost like a cough. She nodded and tilted her head to one side, the way she did every time she got into a thoughtful mood. "There's nothing wrong with supporting the littles." Poppy's insides tightened to ask where she'd gotten all that money, but by some miracle her strong will managed to curb the urge and nip it in the bud. That would be tactless, and lack of tact is a trait that should not be associated with Min Sinclair.

"You can ask me anything you want," Bea looked her straight in the eye, making Poppy stop seeing anyone else but her. It was as if she had cast a spell on her and moved them far away, enclosing them in a safe bubble illusion. Even the music became just a distant rumble as the white-haired woman looked at her that way. The same way she had looked at her five years ago.

"I don't understand," the blonde cursed herself when she heard her own words, which sounded more idiotic than some of Chloe's wisdom. Bea seemed unmoved, by her clumsy attempt at pretending, in fact, a cocky grin appeared on her lips that she, oh so much, felt like tearing off now.

" Don't play games Poppy, we're not kids anymore," Bea reached for the drinks that had finally been brought in and handed one to Poppy, completely casually, fingertips brushing against the skin of her palm. "Drink up, it'll help you relax, and I know you have a lot of questions."

The blonde lowered her gaze to the drink and took a moment to look at the colors that danced on the surface of her liquor. How was Bea able to read her like an open book after all these years. Everyone said she had changed, but could it be that the change wasn't so great after all? And why was she always questioning herself in her company?

She was pulled out of her reverie by Bea, who unnoticeably slipped her finger under her chin and lifted her face so that they were looking at each other again. This time, however, she was closer, much, much closer. Poppy could without much difficulty smell the expensive perfume that didn't match the Bea of her memories, but did match the woman who sat before her. Just as in years past, Bea's thumb involuntarily stroked her cheek.

For a brief moment, the blonde let her selfish thoughts consume her and savor the touch, but it didn't last as long as she wanted it to. "N-no," she whispered and using all of her strong willpower she moved a safe distance away from the white-haired woman, who didn't object to her reaction. "I can't do it like this," she said as she walked away, escaping as quickly as possible from this cursed place, from this cursed past.

Ch.4 When It Rains, It Pours

When she left the building, it was already dark and chilly outside, and a light rain was drizzling from the heavy clouds hanging in the sky. At this point, however, she didn't care about ruining her expensive and designer clothes and makeup that Chloe had sat on for dozens of minutes. She needed to get some fresh air, cool down, and let her thoughts flow.

Why had she come back just now? Now that Poppy had put her life back together, without her and without thoughts of her.

"Sinclair!"

"You've got to be kidding me," she snorted under her breath hearing Bea's loud voice behind her, who as usual wasn't giving up. At least that hadn't changed. "What do you want Farmsville?"

Bea squirmed at that old nickname, but quickly imposed a stoic expression on her face and shoved her hands into her pockets. Even in this gentle rain and illuminated only by the slightly penetrating moonlight, she continued to look like a goddess, which annoyed Poppy immensely.

"You ran out so suddenly, I thought something happened and I thought..."

"Oooh now you thought?" snapped the blonde, who nervously shifted from foot to foot, almost ready to throw herself at the white-haired woman's throat. Years of pent up rage bubbled through her veins, making her skin almost burn with living fire. "Forgive my surprise, but I would never judge Bea Hughes for her ability to think!"

The white-haired woman watched her in silent contemplation, answering nothing. Her silence irritated the blonde a hundred times more than anything she could say. The atmosphere between them was becoming strained to the limit and all it took was one wrong move, one misspoken word, and the catastrophe was certain. The rain intensifying around them wasn't helping either.

"I don't understand what happened. We were talking calmly like we used to, and suddenly you run out and do one of your tantrums..."

"Ha! Like we used to...," she interrupted her again in mid-sentence, mimicking her and almost bursting into maniacal laughter, but her mood had nothing to do with amusement. "I guess you've already forgotten that you left me for five whole years and now you're back and you expect us to talk like old friends?", her voice wavered between anger and tears. "Someone paid you to come back here? That's where you got the money from, right? You were hired to get revenge on me..."

"What," the astonishment in Bea's voice was almost palpable as she stared at the blonde shaking with anger with her eyes wide open. It was Poppy's nature to explode and make arguments for any reason, but what she was saying now sounded irrational, even for her. "I'm the CEO of my uncle's company, that's where I get my money from," she corrected.

"What," this time it was Poppy's turn to be surprised and her face even softened. "What do you mean, what about your dreams of becoming a music star?"

Bea scratched the back of her neck nervously and lifted her face up, letting the raindrops wash her face of any negativity that had accumulated. When she felt ready enough not to explode, she looked back at the blonde and sighed, her face looking more tired than before. "Those were childhood daydreams. A music career would never make me the kind of money an accounting firm would."

"Childish daydreams? You spent your first earned money on a guitar and an amplifier, how can you call that childish daydreams...", the concern in Poppy's voice was sincere, probably one of the more sincere feelings she had felt in recent times.

"I needed real options and real money," Bea replied dryly, ignoring any emotion from the blonde, who was looking at her with a worried expression on her face.

"What for? Why did you need the money?" she asked, not yet knowing that she would light the fuse from the bomb with that question.

"What for? Is that really what you're asking?", Bea's so far calm expression bent into unnatural anger, her eyes misting over from the emotions gripping her. "And isn't that what you wanted? A girl who can fulfill your every whim, with a stable life, a job and a mountain of money?", a realization and simultaneous remorse appeared on Poppy's face, but it did not satisfy Bea. "Yes Poppy, I heard your conversation with Veronica the other night when you thought I was sleeping."

Poppy blinked several times, unable to formulate a response. She replayed that conversation in her mind, all the words she'd said then that she hadn't really meant, but under the onslaught of people around her, her perception was distorted. "It's not like that..."

Bea raised a hand to silence any explanation from the blonde. She didn't want to hear it. "No Pops" she shook her head, her hair wet from the downpour sticking to her face, masking any tears falling. "It at least gave me the motivation to change my life, for that I will be grateful."

Ch.5 Irreplaceable

"You understand that she still had the nerve to be mad at me? Like it's my fault for changing for her," Bea had been lamenting to Zoey for about an hour, who, like any patient friend, silently let her rant.

"And she's telling me that she changed for me... After all, I didn't ask her to!", Poppy nervously walked around the living room almost already trampling a path in the tiles. A worried Veronica and Chloe watched her in silence, letting her get all the negative emotions out.

"I know she didn't ask me to do this, but I wanted to finally be worthy of her, you know? I wanted to give her the future she deserved, and she wouldn't have it with me if I continued to follow my dreams," the white-haired girl slumped helplessly on the couch next to her friend, dipping her face into her hands. "After all, to a gorgeous girl like Poppy, it wouldn't be enough that I...”

"After all, she knew full well that she suited me the way she was, why did she take away the one person I..."

"Love."

"I wish I could be mad at her...", Bea muttered lifting her face and looking straight at Zoey who seemed to be in deep thought.

"But I can't," groaned Poppy leaning against Veronica's shoulder, who reflexively began to stroke the blonde's back, which slowly began to twitch from her silent crying. Chloe moved to the other side and snuggled into Poppy to give her her full support, knowing that no words could heal these wounds.

Zoey nodded and patted the white-haired girl's shoulder giving her silent support. Bea relaxed from her friend's touch. "Haven't you thought maybe it's about time..."

"To move on and find someone new? It's been five years," Veronica felt Poppy's whole body tense up and prepared for a burst of anger, from the blonde, but the blonde only raised her head and furrowed her eyebrows."

"No. She's irreplaceable."

Ch.6 Where Something Ends, Something Begins

It had been a week since the memorable meeting.

Since then, Poppy hadn't seen or heard from Bea who had sunk like a stone into water. Such disappearing without a word wasn't her style, but the blonde wasn't sure what her style was anymore. The days she lived as she always did, and the nights she sat curled up on the couch with a glass of wine and reminisced about old times while talking to herself.

"Thank you for coming Poppy."

Poppy slipped her sunglasses off her nose and looked over at Zoey who was warming her hands with a mug of hot coffee. "Believe it, I was surprised myself that I agreed," she lied. She agreed without hesitation because she knew it was about Bea, and inside she was dying to know what was happening to her.

Zoey giggled at the blonde's nudge and shook her head. Although her words were biting, there wasn't an ounce of incivility in them. Such a habit between them. "You can probably guess why I met with you."

"Is it about Bea?", Poppy tried to sound as formal as possible and not show that she was thinking about it day in and day out, almost unable to focus on anything else. How pathetic it would be if someone found out she couldn't control her feelings.

The black-haired woman sighed grimly and nodded her head. For a moment she began to search through her backpack and pulled out a strange little bundle. Poppy tilted her head and looked at the colorful paper that only her Bea could choose. She smiled at the surge of positive memories.

"The day she left, she told me to give this to her. I honestly thought about it for a long time, against all odds I wouldn't want you to suffer any more than you already have," Zoey's gaze drifted somewhere behind Poppy's back as she couldn't stand the pain in the blonde's eyes that grew with every word she said. "But I think this will help both you and her close a chapter in your life" Zoey pulled money out of her pocket and placed it next to the empty cup. Without a word, she placed a hand on the blonde's shoulder, who stared at the package as if mesmerized. She squeezed it tightly and walked away, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

With trembling hands, she reached for the bundle and prepared to open it. Somewhere deep inside she knew exactly what she would find, but she hoped that it was only an illusion and that it would not really contain what she had in mind. Unfortunately, hope is the mother of fools and when she opened the package, a velvet box appeared before her eyes.

She opened it with tears in her eyes.

"Maybe in another life and another time we would have had a chance, but I will love you always."

[josiecarioca]

“Family...the real one.”

Summary: Emmet “Fin” Finnerty has found the love of his life in Doug Cleary. The next logical step is introducing him to his family...The real one.

Because “family” are those who take you in, when the ones who should love and protect you, fail.

Disclaimer: Fin and Doug are secondary characters of “Post War”, so while thechnically this story happens in the “Harry Potter” universe, it is not a fanfic as much as it is an original story, hence why it’s a tumblr publication alone. Evelyn is in this, but there will be no Snape, no magic and nothing of what my readers are used to see in my stories. I hope you still like it.

Warning: contains domestic violence, homophobia, homophobic slurs and emotions

Tagging, as usual:   @arabellafiggypudding @the-witches-son  @hummingbird-flying-in-the-rain @artisticreptilequeen @viper-official @be-zoar @violet-knox @mafagafobebum @marvelschriss @codename-thedoctor @zealouspickleeggdragon @green-oasis @drawnfromthedead @snapescapades @madshelily @serosvit  @snapecentric @hbprincealice @hayalee8 @lilythemadqueen @paracosim @oliverlandomens​ @sleepysnapesnake

“Family...the real one”

Dublin, Ireland

June 1998

“Full disclosure?” Fin was rambling. He knew he was. He usually did when he was nervous. Doug surely knew that by now. He even claimed he found it “adorable”. Only Doug could say something like that.

Three months. Three months and he was ready to make this official. He knew Doug felt the same. Unlike Fin, he had no problem showing his feeling, shouting them from the rooftops even. That didn't come so easy for Fin. It never did. But now, now he could do just that. Shout it from the rooftops. Make it official. And making it official started here. Introducing him to Lyn. It was a big step.

“Go ahead” Doug smiled, gazing at him with bright blue eyes full of endless patience.

Three months. Three months and Fin was starting to feel like this was it. He had found what he looked for in that handsome, sweet 6'ft tall dork of a man.

“You´re the first boyfriend I introduce to Evelyn since...God, I don't know...1995?”

“And why is that?” Doug asked, somewhat amused. After all, how much of a big deal could this possibly be? Sure, he was about to introduce his new boyfriend to his best friend, obviouly it was important, but how could he begin to explain it wasn´t just that simple?

“You know how it was...back then, I mean. I wasn't really being safe, and Lyn was just so worried about me and I never really thought she would approve of … Nevermind, now it's different. I want you to meet her. It's important.”

Fin looked around. He had picked a good place. The restaurant was nice enough that it felt like an occasion, but casual enough that it didn't seem like he was making a big fuss of it. But he was. It was a big deal. Fin wasn't the 'dating' type. But Doug was not like anybody he met before. Doug has this sort of tranquil aura about him, this kindness in his words and actions, such love in his eyes. Doug made him feel like he could just rest, breathe easy. This time he knew it was different. It just felt different. It felt like it could last.

Doug reached over the table to hold his hand, reassuringly.

“Her opinion means a lot to you, no?”

“Well, yes...this is my family we´re talking about. The real one, you know?”

Doug had been lucky. His parents loved him unconditionally, as parents should. He wasn´t kicked out of the house when he came out, he wasn´t told his entire being, his entire identity was an abomination before God. He wasn't made believe that no matter how good he was, how much of a good Christian he was, he would still go to hell for something he couldn't change. No, his parents loved him, protected him. Fin had also been lucky, but in a different, more complicated way. The family that loved and protected him wasn´t the one he was born into. It was Evelyn's.

“So, you told me you've known each other since you were kids...but, you never really said much more than that...”

That's right, Fin thought. He'd never told him. Not everything. He had to.

“I was friends with her brother growing up...Paul. We went to school together.”

There it was, that bittersweet ache in his heart. He hadn't felt it in a while

“I daresay I had a bit of a crush on him. Sometimes I wonder if he felt the same. But I guess I'll never know.”

“Why not?”

“Paul passed away. There was a fire in their house when he was just eleven. Lyn was there too. Their father pulled her out in time because she was closer to the door, but when he got to Paul it was too late. It happened too fast. ”

“I'm so sorry” Doug seemed stunned out of words. “I didn't know.”

“I didn't tell you. I should have. Specially today....we still have some time before she gets here, so....I think if we're serious about this, then you should meet Evelyn and her family...my family. That's why this is important to me. That you meet her and that you meet them.”

“Ok...So tell me. Tell me about your family, Fin.”

“I guess I should start from the beginning, then...Paul and I, we went to the same school. Catholic school...fun times.” he scoffed “Lyn was just a yar younger than us, and she went to an all girls school. Their father, Mr. Black was the headmaster, there. Paul took her everywhere with us when we weren't at school. Nothing could separate those two...Well, then...Paul passed away, and I was devastated, but her? I don't think there was a word in the entire dictionary that could have described how she was feeling, the poor girl. So I started going there to visit. They were all in such pain that I think Mr. Black let me spend as much time in their house as I wanted because he hoped it would help her. As it turns out it helped me. Being around her was a little like being with him. She looked so much like Paul it was eerie, nearly identical. I swear, if you could have seen them together, you'd swear they were twins. She was different though. Paul was like a hurricane in a boy's body. Lyn was much gentler. Anyway, the years went on and she just became...my sister, in a way. More than my own sister, to be honest. I'm pretty sure my parents expected us to date or something, but she knew, she was the first person I told. So she just came to my house, and smiled and nodded when my mother went on babbling about how we were perfect for each other and whatever nonsense. Then it happened...”

…

Doolin, Ireland

June, 1977

“What do you think?” Evelyn twirled, wrapped in meters of flowy, flowery fabric. The sun that came through the curtains filtered though the fabric, colouring the room.

“What am I looking at?” Emmet put down his magazine and watched her, trying to picture what she planned to do with the material she was showing him.

“My new dress, Fin!” she smiled, calling him by the nickname Paul had come up with years ago. Fin for 'Finnerty'. After Paul died, it was just the two of them. Fin and Lyn. “For my birthday. Since I'll be 15, mam said I can have it however I want.”

“Your birthday is in September!”

“It takes time to make a dress, and my grandma is going to have her hands full with Halloween costumes soon, so she's going to make my dress now. I want it long, with a bodice and medieval sleeves. Like Stevie Nicks in that magazine my dad brought from Dublin. He brought me the new Fleetwood Mac record too, here put it on.”

She set the fabric aside and fished the long play from the big canvas bag she had brought.

Whenever Lyn came over she always brought that huge bag, filled with clothes, magazines, records and books. She knew Fin couldn´t have any of that stuff at home. His mother didn't allow him to wear anything more colorful than a blue dress shirt for sunday mass, and his father was the one who decided which records, books or magazines were allowed in the house. Which meant no fashion or entertainment mags, no rock or pop music, and no books that seemed “suspicious”, which was pretty much anything that wasn't a school textbook. If not for Evelyn's father Emmet wouldn't even have read Oscar Wilde.

She handed him the record and he put it on, in the old record player Evelyn had snuck in for his last birthday. Her mother had got a new one, so she let Fin have the old 1967 Magnavox. His parents had no idea he had that thing in the bedroom, so he had to keep the volume low enough that his parents wouldn't hear it downstairs, or that they'd just think he had the radio on.

“We should ask my dad to take us next time he goes to Dublin. He promised me new shoes for my birthday. Red leather ones. With heels, I'm old enough for heels now. They only have those in Dublin.” Evelyn suggested, as both of them lay on the floor, staring at the reflection of the sun on the ceilling.

“You know my parents won't let me go.”

“They will if my dad is taking us. Or even better, if mam comes too. Your mother goes to church with her, of course she's going to let you go if she's with us. She's better to shop with anyway.”

“Maybe.” he trailed, knowing it wouldn't happen.

“We can buy some things for Halloween costumes. You should ask my grandma to make you one as well.Ooh, you know what? We can go as John Steed and Emma Peel! All you'll need is a suit, an umbrella and a hat, and grandma Liz can make me a jumpsuit. That purple one, with the chains! Or you want do do something spooky?”

“We´re not kids, anymore, Lyn.” he laughed

“And?”

“You really want to dress up for Halloween? We´re too old for that.”

“My grandparents still dress up for Halloween.” she scoffed

“It's different.”

“How?”

“They're...old-old. When you get to be their age you can do whatever you want.”

“They're not that old. I mean, if you...”

Evelyn's sentence was cut short by loud banging on the door. Emmet scrambled to his feet to turn off the music and toss a blanket over the record player. His father never banged on his door more than twice before yanking it open without waiting for an answer.

“You, downstairs now.” he barked at Emmet, before turning to Evelyn “And you can go back home, young lady. I need to talk to my son”

Emmet felt his stomach drop. His father never bothered to 'talk' to him, unless he was in trouble.

Evelyn picked up her things in a hurry and shoved it all back inside her bag, glancing over her shoulder at him all the while. She looked like she wanted to say something, but didn't know what.

“Now!” his father thundered from the stairs.

Emmet was frozen in place.

“Emmet is just helping me with my things, Mr. Finnerty. We'll be right there.” Evelyn answered, her voice slightly breaking.

“Come on...” she told him, holding his arm. “I'll go with you.”

“You have to go home.” he finally found his voice and his feet moved.

Emmet felt her hand grab his as they climbed down the stairs. His father was walking around the livingroom in circles, while his mother was talking to somebody. He heard her apologizing profusely. Then he realized why. She was talking to Connor Walsh's mother. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Mrs Walsh shot him a disgusted look on her way out.

“Evelyn, dear, you can go now.” Mrs. Finnerty said, and Emmet noticed she had a piece of  paper in her shaky hands. He knew that piece of paper. He looked at Evelyn, feeling like the world was a minute away from crashing down onto his head. She  looked back at him, knowingly. He had told her about Connor...about the letter. She knew. He felt her hand squeeze his again.

“I won't.” she whispered.

Emmet didn't want her to go. But he also didn't want her to stay. He didn't want her to see what he knew was about to happen.

Neither of them had the time to say anything else. His father snatched the letter from his mother's hand and grabbed Emmet by the collar, nearly shoving the paper into his face.

“Did you write this?” he roared

Emmet couldn't find his voice. He felt warm tears swelling in his eyes. He could hear his mother's voice, asking his father to let him go and telling Evelyn to just go already.

“Did you write this drivel, lad?! Answer!” his father insisted, pushing the letter into his chest.

“Answer, Emmet!” his mother was crying “This is just a prank isn't it?”

It was over.

There was no point in lying, he had the letter right there. His mother might try to lie to herself, to convince him it was nothing, but it was there, plain for anyone to see it. They read it. They knew. He was sure they had already heard the rumors, the talk, the othe boys calling him this and that.

They knew it. They couldn´t pretend they didn't

“I did.” he  barely whispered.

Next thing he knew he felt his body hit the wall in full force. It didn't even hurt. It didn´t feel real.

Evelyn screamed and, from the corner of his eye, he saw her run to him. His father stepped in front of her.

“You get out of my house now, before I drag you home to your father, so he can teach you to mind your own business, lass.”

“Fin, I'll be right back!” she cried, running out the front door.

“What the devil were you thinking writing this?!” his father pulled him to his feet by his shirt.

“Stephen, let the lad go. This was just a game, just stupid prank. Tell him, Emmet, tell him this isn't serious.”

This was it.

They knew it.

They read it.

There was no turning back now.

“I did it, mam. I did it, I wrote it. It wasn't a prank, I really wrote it.”

“You hear it, Edith?! Your son can't even have the decency to be ashamed!”

“Why?! Why would you do something like this?!”

“You know why!” Emmet nearly screamed, overwhelmed, dizzy “You read it, didn't you? You know why! Iwrote it because I love him!”

His parents stared at him as if they were looking at something alien, something they couldn´t comprehend.

“Mam...dad...” he felt the tears run down his cheeks, burning. But he refused to cry, to sob. He wouldn't do that. “I'm gay.”

Emmet had expected his father to hit him.

What he didn't expect was for his mother to slap him.

But she did. She slapped him hard across the face and left the room. Like it was nothing. Like he was nothing.

Anything after that didn't hurt. He didn't even feel it.

It was as if he had left his body. He could vaguely discern some broken words, something about “bringing filth into his house”, “shame” and “hell”...he could see the blows coming, and his body acted on instinct, raising his arms to protect his head, his face. But he didn't feel it. He didn't feel any of it.  He just cowered on the corner and closed his eyes, praying it would be over soon. Praying he would get tired eventually. Before he hurt him too bad. Before...

“Stephen, what the devil are you doing?!” Emmet knew that voice, that deep voice filling the air around them like thunder. “Have you lost your mind?!”

The blows stopped and he opened his eyes.

Mr. Black was standing right there, with both his arms around his father, draging him away.

“Let me go, Marius!” his father shouted, like a man possessed, while Mr. Black kept holding him back.

“Leave the boy alone, Stephen! You're trying to kill him?”

Emmet tried to get up but he was too dizzy.

“Fin, are you ok?” Evelyn was kneeling next to him, frantically pushing his hair away form his face.

“You called your dad?” he was terrified.

“Of course I did!” she helped him up.

He heard a loud thump and looked up. Mr. Black had flung his father onto the armchair, and was now standing, looming over him. He looked taller than Emmet remembered him, much taller. And his father, sitting on the chair looked so small by comparison.

“Enough!” Mr. Black boomed, and Emmet could had sworn the ground under his feet trembled.

“You don't get it, Marius! You don't know what this...what this boy did!”

“Whatever it was, it doesn't justify this!” Mr. Black took off his thick rimmed glasses and pinched the brigde of his nose, in evident frustration.

His father got back to his feet, standing right in front of Mr. Black and he still looked small.

“This none of your business!”

“You made it my business when you sent my daughter back home in tears, scared out of her wits that you were going to kill her friend!”

“Then take your daughter back home and let ME handle what happen in MY house!” He pushed past Mr. Black and barrelled towards Emmet.

Mr. Black tried to hold him back, but he took a swing at him. Emmet and Evelyn both screamed, but Mr. Black managed to dodge it. He reached for his father again, shoving him so he'd back off.

“Linnie, get Emmet out of here!” Mr. Black told his daughter, and Lyn tried to pull him by his arm, but Emmet couldn't move.

“Stephen, for the love of God, stop! You'll regret this!”Mr. Black pleaded, stepping between Emmet and his father.

“What do you know, Marius?! You don't have a fecking faggot living under your roof! Count your blessings, Marius, because I rather have a dead son than this!”

For a second, a long, agonising second, time seemed to stand still. Emmet could see it on his father's face that he had regretted those words the moment they left his mouth. Not because of what they meant to Emmet. No, he knew his father meant every bit of that. But because he knew, of all the things he could have said to Mr. Black, that was the wrong one.

Emmet had known Mr. Black his entire life. He never saw him raise his voice, he had never seen him angry. He was a gentle man. A man who took them birdwatching on weekends, who bought them magazines and records whenever he went to Ennis or Dublin, who told them about his favorite poets and painters. Emmet didn't think he was physically capable of being anything other than gentle and kind.

But in that moment, he changed.

Emmet never thougth he'd see Mr. Black punch somebody. But he did it. A single punch, right to the side of his father face, so strong, so sudden, he fell to the floor  like rotten fruit falls from a tree.

“Never” he growled in a voice that didn't sound like his voice at all “you hear me, NEVER talk about my son again! You heard me, Stephen!? NEVER! I promise you, you mention my boy ever again, and it will be the end of your sorry life upon this Earth, I promise you!”

“I didn't mean it like, that, you know I didn't...” Emmet watched with disgust as his father tried to get back on his feet, stumbling, humiliated.

“I know exactly what you meant! And you know what you meant, you dirty coward!”

He kept trying to make excuses, but Mr. Black would have none of it.

“You don't know, you have no idea, what it is to bury a child, and I hope to God you never find out.” his voice was calmer, but there was a frightening coolness to it “Are you out of your damned mind?! This is your son! Standing right there while you´re wishing him dead! What I wouldn't give to trade places with you! To have my boy here, alive, like him!”

Emmet was numb. He felt Evelyn rest her head against his shoulder and weep, softly. He wanted to hug her, to do something, anything. But all he could was stare. Stare at his father, trying and failing to stand up to her father, as Mr. Black towered over him, his face filled with righteous, godly, ice-cold anger. And he felt so embarrassed, so ashamed that this man, this petty, pathetic, bumbling excuse of a man was his father.

“Easy for you to say, Marius, but if Paul had been a...”

“I won't hear my son's name from your mouth again, Stephen. Paul is dead. And if I could have him back, I would have him however he was. Trust me, nothing can worse than a dead child. Nothing!”

“That's a pretty sentiment coming from somebody who doesn´t have to live with THAT under your roof! But I won't stand for this! I won't have this in my house!”

“Fine, I'll take him!”

“What?!”

“You don't want him under your roof? I'll solve that problem for you, then. I'll take him. However he is. I'll take him.”

…

“What on earth happened to you, dear?” Mrs. Black seemed horrified when she laid eyes on him, as Lyn walked him throught the front door. Emmet, still dazed, wondered how bad he must have looked for her react that way. She put her hand on his cheek, and her blue eyes were filled with something he couldn't describe. “What has he done to you?”

Only then did he cry. Only then did he allow himself to sob.

It was Evelyn's mother who held him in her arms as he had, so foolishly, hoped his mother would.

“I...I...told them I...I'm sorry, I...” he pulled back and wiped his tears, suddenly aware that...she didn't know. Mrs. Black went to church with his mother. She didn't know he was...  A rush of panic coursed through him. What would she say? He couldn't. He couldn't go through this twice.

“Take a breath, pet.” she told him, pulling him to sit on the couch. “Linnie, love, go get the first aid kit in the kitchen, we need to patch this lad up a bit. And try not to alarm your sister, if you will. And where is your father?”

“He's waiting for Mrs. Finnerty to get him all of Fin's...I mean, Emmet's stuff.”

Mrs. Black nodded, as if she knew something. As if she had been expecting to be told exactly that. Lyn looked at her mother with the same knowing expression in her eyes and went to the kitchen as intructed.

Emmet felt like runnning away, as far away as he could.

“Mr. Black he said...I'm sorry,I have to...I have to go back, I can't...”

“Emmet, calm down.”

“Mrs. Black, I know you don't want me here. I...I'm...I mean, I...told my parents...”

“I know, pet. I know.”

“No you don't...”

“Emmet, my darling, why do you think I allow you to be in Linnie's room for hours with the door closed? I'm not stupid.” she laughed softly.

“How?”

“A mother just knows...”

“Mine didn't.”

“If she let your father do this, then she's not that competent of a mother is she?” Mrs. Black scoffed. “But, trust me...a mother knows.”

Then it clicked. Then he knew.

“You mean...” he trailed, stunned “...Paul?”

“I carried him inside me 9 months, I birthed him, clothed, fed him, cared for him till the day he left this Earth. Nobody knew him better than I did, except God.”

“God...” he spat out “My mother thinks God will send me to hell. Because the Bible says...”

“Oh pish-posh...I pray on the Bible as well as any Christian, but Jesus knows where I would be if I took  everything it's written in there so seriously. Thou shall now lay with a man, and whatnot, fine, but you don't see anybody that eager to give up their breakfast bacon because the Bibles says it's forbidden, now do you? Your parents didn't stone your sister in the town square when she left the house married for two days and pregnant for 2 months, did they? Like we all didn't know.  Enough of this nonsense, now, we need to get you fixed up. God, you're bleeding.”

“So I really can stay?”

“Do you want to stay?”

…

“So I stayed.” Fin smiled. He looked up at Doug and took a deep breath, hoping he didn't think it was sillly that he had tears in his eyes over this. But all he saw in Doug's expression was understanding...and love. So much of it.

“I stayed until we both left for college, Lyn and I. She studied history and I went for journalism.Mrs. Black was the one who got me my first camera, then Mr Black gave me my first professional camera, and books about photography and journalism. They did everything for me that a mother and a father would do. I stilll go back with Lyn to spend the holidays with them. Well, with her...He passed away a few months ago. His heart. Funny that of all things, it was his heart that would kill him.”

Doug's hands closed over his.

“Thank you.” he said, quietly. “For telling me all this. I know it wasn't easy.”

“I...” he didn't finish. Over Doug's shoulder he saw the restaurant door open, and Evelyn walk in, wrapped in a long, flowy, flowery dress. “There she is.”

[bitch-its-me-alv]

He is mine, bitches

Male Marinette! Male Damian! 

(Next You can’t touch what’s mine, bitch)

Damian did not have a type, he was a ex assassin, trained to eliminate useless impulses such as attraction, or romanticism of his person.

He didn't have a type, he didn't have ... he didn't ... he…

Oh my god, did that guy just threw a motorcycle? Damian had to get his number, his name, something!

Maybe not like robin, that would be clearly irresponsible and unprofessional. 

Judging by his outfit, he was at gotham college, the same one his civilian alter ego was in. That was convenient, he could approach like Damian wayne. 

Was Damian better than Robin? Who would attract him the most? Would he even like Damian or Robin to put his tongue down his throat?

Wait, he was talking to him! 

“I need you to take me to the hospital, I just threw my motorcycle at those thugs, could you?“ Omg, he was even more gorgeous up close, big, slanted eyes of blue, like the cosmos or something magical. Before Robin could answer him Red Hood intervened.

“Don't worry man, our Robin here will be happy to take you after your statement.” Red hood slapped his back.

The boy was even taller than Jason, Damian wasn't sure if he would survive the trip to the hospital on his motorcycle.

Robin momentarily emerged from his stupor, after red hood left, maybe hood thought it was bothering him, Robin was not comfortable with civilians after the fight, he was more fighting, hitting and then leaving the disaster for the police.

“If you're hurt, we could go first to the hospital” Robin said.

“Oh no actually, my friend Chloe was rushed to the hospital after the gas of fear paralyzed her. I am worried that when she recovers she would sue the entire floor.”The bluenette smiled

Robin just nodded, praying that none of his brothers would notice the blush under the mask, or worse, Batman might noticed.

On the way to the hospital, Robin felt the physical difference between him and Marin. It almost felt like he was being hugged by Marin.

They arrived in record time, Robin had a slight disappointment in his chest, but he crushed her, reminding himself that he would meet him later as Damian.

Marin got off the bike in front of the hospital. “Thanks for the trip robin, maybe you should go in too, that blow seems serious.” Marin touched the wound that went through his mask.

Robin didn’t blush, no one can prove it.” Things like these happen all the time, don't worry.”

“Well, I would say I hope to see you soon, but I don't think that's very good. So try not to hurt your gorgeous face.”

Leaving Robin flushed, he turned around to enter the hospital. Chloe would go crazy when he told her he flirted with a vigilante.

➞ ➞ ➞ ➞ ➞ ➞ ➞

If someone asked Marin why he had moved to Gotham city, he would tell the easy lie. After so long as a traveler with his nonna he had decided that he would finish his education in a normal and established way. And since his uncle Jagged and his aunt Penny owned a condo in the city, it was nothing suspicious.

Yeah, it is not as if the rest of his family is not completely legal and they are also conveniently around Gotham.

And if he had to hide some welcome gifts that his godparents and godmothers gave him like, a personalized flamethrower, a carnivorous plant as a pet, or exploding mallets. No one else would know, because he was not very interested in taking people home anyway.

After many close calls like Adrianna Agreste, or Lian Rossi, he did not want to rush into relationships.

But Damian was so cute, maybe he could do an exception for him. I mean, when he practically hit his chest with that stoic expression it was nice, but when Marin made him blush it was even better.

Marin was very good at flirting but not very good at getting compliments. So after seven weeks hanging out as friends, Damian discovered that he could hit him back with compliments.

Damian was in the ninth cloud, Marin was more than he had anticipated, and he couldn't love it more. He was so perfect, and that's why he had tried twice as hard to hide it from his family, he didn't want them to scare Marin away. But his plan was threatened by his very annoying and best friend, Jon.

“I seriously can’t believe it Damian, you got yourself a boyfriend and you didn’t tell me, i’m so upset.”

“Don't be dramatic kent, he is not my boyfriend ... yet. And if I did not tell you it was so that there were no rumors that would reach my family.”

“Damian, it doesn't matter, you got yourself a boyfriend and besides he is hellaMari12, I can never forgive you, meet that bonbon and save it for yourself, very bad Damian.” 

“What nonsense are you babbling kent? hellaMari12? Bonbon? Do you want my katana on your face?”

Jon showed him his cell phone, in a very famous instagram account, where in all the photos marin appeared, in a very specific one, with canvas pants, and a sweatshirt that showed his abs.

Damian couldn't control the blood that ran up his face, omg that photo was so hot. But a big part of himself was not distracted, this photo was public and had three million likes. His possessiveness made him frown, he was still not her boyfriend, he did not have to be angry, and even if he were, he had no right to claim him.

Damn, why did Marin have to be so attractive and kind? Now he not only had competition in Gotham, but also throughout the internet, excluding all the places he had been and assuming he had no suitor abroad.

Damian would have to hurry, because if he got distracted he could lose, and Damian Al-Ghul Wayne never lost.

➞ ➞ ➞ ➞ ➞ ➞ ➞

Marin was nearing the end of his patience. If damian was still so nice to him and didn't kiss him, Marin could hit something or kiss him until his soul was taken out.

With his attractive face in a constant frown, his jade eyes always fulminant, his olive skin so shiny and smooth. His always so neat black hair and his expensive cologne… Damn Damian why don't you just kiss Marin already?

That night Damian and Marin had arranged to do a marathon on how to train your dragon, because the green-eyed man had never seen such a work of art.

If Damian hadn't kissed him before the end of the first movie, Marin would. He had already arranged everything, hid the suspicious gifts, threw the dirty clothes into a closet that he had never opened before, shook the sofa. He put flavoring ... everything so that the atmosphere was perfect.

While they sat on the couch eating sour treats, with damian criticizing the characters' unrealistic choices. Damian let the sugar spread across his lips, unaware of himself as he concentrated on the movie.

Hiccup was about to feed the dragon when Marin couldn't resist any longer.

“Hey Damian, I'm about to kiss you. You can walk away if you don't want it”

Damian had recorded the question, had heard and understood it. But I couldn't believe it, so I just nodded hoping it wasn't a hallucination. 

It wasn't, the hallucinations weren't that perfect.

They were completely lost in their kisses, their environment disappeared as more and more time passed kissing, tousling the hair of the other, writhing to be closer together although that was impossible.

Someone's phone started ringing and suddenly the world was more than just the two of them. Damian was on Marin's lap, his arms under his shirt, and his legs wrapped in a possessive grip on his hips. Marin had one hand buried in Damian's midnight hair, and another dangerously low on his back.

They admired each other for five long seconds, until their phone rang in unison. They did not separate, they had been waiting for this for a shameful time, they could not lose it now that they had started it.

From Damian's phone were notifications from his brothers, asking about his absence hours before the patrol. He reply quickly informing them not to expect him and not to try to track him down. With a couple of threats in the family chat to let them know it was him, he turn off the phone and throw him away from where he was sitting.

On Marin's phone there were a couple of messages from chloe letting him know that if Damian made his boyfriend he would have to pass the blonde test, or she wouldn't approve it. While in the chat of their rouge godparents and godmothers, they would message each other about an assault they would do together soon. 

Marin answered chloe briefly, and ignored his uncles, there were things that he had to turn a blind eye to.

“So ... do you want to stay here at night?”Marin gently rubbed the spot where his left hand was, giving Damian nice chills.

“Had you anticipated this Dupain-cheng? Did you feel lucky?” Damian didn't take his eyes off his lips, making Marin blush slightly.

“I was confident, don't think I hadn't noticed how suddenly all our dates involved sweating and taking off my shirt.” 

Damian shut him up with a kiss, not because he was his boyfriend he was going to allow herself to lose to him.

The night passed with many kisses, hickies on the neck and under the clavicles. His words were lost somewhere between four and five in the morning. Falling exhausted on the sofa one on the other, with the warm sensation in their bodies of knowing that their love was reciprocated.

When the sun raised Damian was ecstatic, he could already hit all those with romantic intentions towards Marin. He could kiss him without being rejected, but… He didn't really know much about romantic relationships, but He’d find out along the way.

Marin was also full of excited and happy energy, fluttering around his kitchen and taking photos of everything as souvenirs for his future anniversaries.

After many signs on the sofa with Damian, and of him just being art lying on the sofa. Damian decided that everyone on the internet should know that Marin was not single.

With a simple photo published in Marin's account, with both disheveled and illuminated by the rising sun. The eyes of both seemed clearer than they were.

In the description Damian did not try very hard, with a simple he is mine, bitches settled, and let his followers burn while Marin danced in the kitchen and Damian tried not to get weaker for that boy.

[spinchip]

As in Lonesome South

Summary: After returning to Ninjago from that Lighthouse prison, Dr. Julien decides it's time for him and his son to move on.

Warnings:  Dr. Julien is not a good dad. Memory alteration and Controlling behavior. ask to tag? Pairing: gen Wordcount:1700 A/N: The name for this fic comes from Hillbilly Man by Gorillaz lol

Packing up his meager room is not a difficult feat, Dr. Julien is glad to note, even in his advanced age. He doesn’t have many belongings now, his life spread out across Ninjago and across the sea, the things left behind and abandoned worthless in his eyes now that he’s been reunited with his son. His greatest creation. It’s not as if he couldn’t stop by that ancient bunker out in Birchwood Forest and gather up his old blueprints, maybe pick up projects left half-finished as his hands wrinkled and gave out, but there’s a clean and simple sort of appeal to a fresh start. Out with the old, in with the new. He had time to start again now. He and Zane could travel down to the outskirts of Metalonia, there’s raw materials there, new construction. Its growing fast with the upcoming tech giant Borg Industries basing it’s manufacturing plants in the heart of the city. It’s an easy place to get lost in, an old man and his son blending in with the crowd, a perfect spot to camp out at and get back to work inventing something new. Something to show up all those slip-shod messes he’d slapped together to appease Samukai.

In a way though, he can’t help but be grateful to the skulkin and his cronies. Without the elixir of life they’d handed him, without the resurrection tea poured down his throat, he’d have been lost years ago. The gift they’d given him had come with a price, seasons passing wondering if his son was safe out in the world without him, stuck up in that lighthouse tinkering away at inventions he felt no passion for. All alone except for the silly little bots he cooked up in his spare time. Now thought, free from the sea salt and stone, he had time laid ahead and a million projects he thought he’d never have the years for suddenly at his fingertips. Zane was his life’s work, and he’d turned out wonderfully. What could he do now, with another life to dedicate?

Organizing his meager things, he pulls out a duffle bag from the School's storage with DARKLEYS slapped on the side, not quite dusty but on its way there with the rebranding they were undergoing. Gutting the School’s unsavory past and installing a new, more healthy learning environment was a big endeavor for the ninja, especially since they wouldn’t be able to rely on his son to help pull it off. He and Zane pitched in when they could, helping repaint, clean up, and discuss a new curriculum, but it was a shame they’d never get to see it come to fruition. It reminded him of his days teaching to pay the bills while he chased his masters degree, there was a comforting nostalgia he almost didn’t want to leave. A shame it was time to go. Zane might have been a good teacher, too, if given the chance- he was as smart as his old man sometimes! Remarkably patient too, always willing to try and talk it out and find the best in people. Too bad. Maybe they could come back and visit, if work didn’t get too busy. He wouldn’t mind getting into the swing of things and whipping up a lecture for the kiddos. He could decide all that later, though. Now it was time to pack. He shakes out the bag and stacks his items neatly inside: a few notebooks of ideas he’d already cooked up, spare clothes Zane and Sensei Wu had graciously paid for, a few old books from the Library he was positive no one would miss. He was even sure to grab a copy of Zanes old favorites, maybe he’d like to read them again when they got settled. He made a mental note to grab his toothbrush and comb from the bathroom before they departed, puttering about his meager living accommodations to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.

The room itself was a modest little thing, an old student live-in dorm repurposed into more permanent lodging for himself and Zanes other team members. They were nice, a bit more long-term than he thinks Master Wu is willing to admit, but Dr. Julien found them quite cosy. Though anything was a step up from that damp and dreary prison he’d been locked in. He’d always loved the beach, but if he never smelled salt water ever again it’d be a blessing… He frowns, stepping over to the map spread out across his tiny desk, mapping out a possible route down to Metalonia. Sticking to the outskirts would take them closer to the coast, but setting up shop in town might bring unwanted attention. It could be worth it to take the longer route along the east if he really wanted to avoid the sea… it’d put him close to Ignacia, but it might work.

There’s a knock on the door, bright and sharp, and Dr. Julien isn’t surprised when he hurries over and opens the door to his son on the other side, “Zane!” He greets warmly, ignoring the troubled look on his face and pulling him into an embrace, “Have you finished packing yet?” He asks, breaking away.

“That is what I came to speak to you about.” Zane says hesitantly as his father begins to tidy up the room, closing the door behind him for privacy despite the others doing their best to give them space and clearing out for this conversation, “Father, we have discussed this, I…” He frowns openly, “I do not wish to leave.”

Julien stops where he’s folding up his map, staring up at his son with a scrutinizing look, “Zane, I thought you said you didn’t want to be separated from me again? Are you feeling alright, son? Come here, let me check.” He beckons Zane over as he tucks the map into his coat pocket, moving out of the way so he can sit on the edge of the mattress for a diagnostic.

Zane obliges on instinct alone, sitting down, “I am fine, Father,” He says, moving his gi aside to open his chest panel anyway, “And I do not want to be apart, which is why I think you should stay.” Dr. Julien moves to sit next to his son, running a quick inspection of Zanes internal wiring as he speaks, and Zane zeroes in on the way he collapses onto the bed- his knees aren’t what they used to be, “At your age, you shouldn’t be traveling anyways.” He says, obviously trying to be gentle.

Dr. Julien laughs, smiling up at his son as he shifts through the mechanics in a confident routine so familiar it came second nature, memories of them going through these exact motions surfacing faintly, “You don’t need to worry about me, Zane, I have plenty of time left. The ressurectea has given me another lifetime, and I want to spend it with you. It could be like it was before, just the two of us. I was happy.” He examines the connection points on his switchboard, making sure they’re all attached properly, “Weren’t you?”

“Of course!” Zane says instantly, cupping his father's hands to send the confirmation home, “I love you, and I’ve missed you ever since I got my memories back.”

“But now you want to go our separate ways?” He squeezes Zanes fingers, before letting go, going back to his ministrations inside his chest to distract himself, “You and I are family, Zane. I’m disappointed you want me to spend my final years alone.”

Zane shrinks, curling in on himself at those words. Dr. Julien has to hold onto the door of his chest panelling so he won’t pull away too far, where he can’t complete his check-up, “I don’t. I am sorry.”

“Come with me.” He insists, smiling up at Zane as if to say all will be forgiven. They would be, these moments of hesitance. He could let them go.

The checkup is comfortingly familiar, but Zane shakes his head, “My friends are here, they are my family too. I cannot leave- I have responsibilities. I am the white ninja, I am protecting people who cannot protect themselves. Is that not what you wanted?” his vocal processor goes small at the end, soft and uncertain.

“It is, and you’ve done a great job. I’m so proud of you, but now it is time for us to move on to better things… You’re my son, Zane. My greatest creation. I love you, and I won’t leave here without you.” Dr. Julien trains his eyes on his inner workings, his hands stilling, a slight nod as a silent decision is made.

“And I am not leaving.” He says firmly, his own decision giving his words strength, then, “Will you stay?” Zane’s voice has the slightest hint of hope, complex emotions coming so easily now that he’s lived a long and complex life. A shame to lose all that progress.

He sighs deeply, a sad put-upon thing, “No, Zane.” and there’s no need to elaborate. 

He watches his facial expression as he does it, half a second of shock and raw hurt, a snap of devastation and fear before his mechanics register that the memory switch has been flipped, the click of it near deafening in the room- the expression vanishes, his wide eyes go glassy and half-lidded and his jaw clenches shut, his body locking and freezing as he goes into limbo. Shoulder stiffly casual, his hands dropping into his lap where they’d made a last-ditch attempt to stop this and stalling short, sitting open and useless on his thighs. All at once his humanity is stripped from him, leaving him a blank canvas, empty and waiting for either a reboot or specific command. He was his son. He was his creation. He was his.

Dr. Julien closes up his chest panel calmly, tying his suit back up properly. He’d need new clothes, these would make him ask questions when he reset him. Dr. Julien didn’t want questions. He didn’t want refusals.

“Come now, Zane.” He says, tapping the nindroid on his forehead, watching those hazy eyes try to focus while in forced stasis. There’s nothing behind his eyes, no recognition other than the need to obey that has been programmed into him, “Follow me. It’s time for us to go.”

Zane carries his bag as they walk right out the front door.

[beclynn-herondale]

In Another Universe: Chapter 9 - The Greenhouse part 2

(characters, tsc, and tmi belong to Cassandra Clare, it's also similar to the original)

After Hodge had fixed Jayce and Simone up, Jayce went off to shower and mysteriously disappeared. Isidore was sitting in his bedroom throwing knives at a target he had in there, when someone knocked on his door. He got up with a sigh, walked over and opened, there was his big sister, looking angry and upset, she tried her best to hide her emotions but so often they were written plain on her face.

"Can I come in?" she asked. He gestured her inside, it was often she did this, usually when Jayce made her upset, unfortunately Jayce made her upset quite often these days. "What's up?" he asked. "Jayce is nowhere to be found, I think she's avoiding us." "Of course she's avoiding us, we both have been picking arguments with her and you know when she gets into these moods, she doesn't like to argue with anyone, well not really."

"I did something stupid, and if she finds out she'll hate me." "Oh?" "I— I slammed Clar against a wall and may have threatened him." Isidore let out a whistle. "Why?" "He knows about me." "I know." "Wait, you knew that he knew?"

"Yeah, he figured it out but I made him promise not to tell anyone." "Well he did, he told me. I want him to leave, to go away and never come back." "Me too, but we're stuck with him for now," he said. "So do what I do my dear sister and throw knives at your walls while pretending it has the face of your arch enemy." "Why are you like this?" He shrugged

They sat in silence for some time. "Hey, Alec?" "Yeah?" "What do you think will happen with Clar when mom and dad get back?". "I don't know," said Alec. "I suppose if he asks for a place to stay, they would have to let him, since he's a Shadowhunter and it would be technically against the law to turn him away."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. So I guess we're stuck with him." "Yeah," she said bitterly. "Maybe he'll grow on us." "Maybe not." "Well, for now we gotta put up with him," he said. "I am tired, so unless you plan to sleep on my floor, cause I do not intend to share my bed, you should go to your own bed and try to sleep a little." "Yeah," she said half heartedly. "Give Jayce time, let her cool off from everything that happened." "You're probably right." "Of course I am," he said, and winked at her.

——————

Jayce opened the door, she took in the familiar smell of the plants, the smell of earth and the sweet smell of the flowers. She looked behind her and saw a look of awe on Clar's face. "Wow," he said, very slowly. "It's so... So beautiful at night." She grinned at him. "And we have it to ourselves. Alec and Iz don't dare coming here, they have allergies."

"What kind of flowers are these?" asked Clar, pointing at one of the shrubs. She shrugged and sat down. "I don't know. Do you think I pay attention in botany class? I am not going to be an archivist. I do not need to learn these things." she may have been slightly lying about not paying attention in botany class. "You just need to have all the knowledge of killing things?" She smiled at him again. "Exactly right," she said as she pulled a napkin wrapped sandwich out if the paper bag. "I also happen to make a badass cheese sandwich. Here ya go." She handed it to him. He smiled at her and sat down across from her.

Jayce pulled some apples, a chocolate bar that had nuts and fruit in it, and a bottle of water out of the bag as well. "Not bad," said Clar admiringly. She pulled her bone-handled knife out of her pocket, Alec had given it to her forever ago. She picked up one of the apples and started carving them into eighths. "It may not be birthday cake," she said, handing him slice. "But hopefully it is at least better than nothing at all.". "I was expecting nothing, so thank you." he said and took bite of the apple piece.

"Everyone should get something on their birthday," she said as she started peeling another apple. "Birthdays are special. My birthday was the one day of the year my father said I could do or have anything I wanted to." "Anything?" he asked with a laugh, his laugh was different from other's laughs. "What kind of anything are we talking here?"

"Well, when I was five, I asked if I could take a spaghetti bath.". "He said no, right?" "No, that's the thing. He let me, he said it wasn't expensive, if that was what I wanted? He had servants fill a bath with boiling water and spaghetti noodles, and after it cooled down enough. . ." she gave a shrug. "I took a bath in it."

"And how was that?'. "Very slippery.". "I am sure." He looked to be in thought for a moment. "Did you ask for anything else?". "Weapons, pretty much," she answered. "Which probably isn't a surprise. Books. I read many books on my own.'. "You didn't go to school?" They were heading to a topic she did not want to venture down. "No," she said slowly.

"But what about friends—" "I didn't have any," she said. "It didn't matter, it had always just been me and my father. He was all I ever needed.". "None at all?" She met his eyes with a steady look. "When I first met Alec," she said. "I was ten years old, that was the first time I'd ever met another person my age. She was the first friend I ever had."

He looked down now. He looked sad and sorry for her. "Don't feel sorry for me," she said. "He gave me the best training, the best education. He took me to see all kinds of places. London. Saints Petersburg. Egypt. We traveled a lot. I've barely left New York at all since he died.". "You're so lucky," Clar said. "I've never left New York. My mom wouldn't even let me go on field trips. I suppose I know why now, though.". "She was probably afraid you'd freak? And start seeing demons in museums?.". "Are there demons in museums?". "I was just kidding," she said and gave him a shurg. "If there were, I am sure someone would have mentioned it."

"I think she just didn't want me to be too far away from her. She changed after my dad died." Jayce raised her eyebrow at him. "Do you remember your father, at all?". "No. He died before I was born.". "You're lucky," she said, she could hear the loneliness in her own voice. "You don't have to miss him, I mean.". "Does it ever go away?" he asked. "Missing your father, I mean?" She didn't answer him, but no it didn't. "You thinking about your mother?". "No. I was thinking about Luke.". "That's not actually his name though," she said and took a bite of apple. "I have actually thought about him. His behavior just doesn't add—". "He's acting like a coward," said Clar bitterly. "You were there, you heard what he said. He won't go against Valentine. Not even if it's for my mother."

"I don't think that's exactly—" The bells started ringing. "Midnight," said Jayce, she set her knife down and got to her feet, she held her hand out to help him up. "Watch." She could feel Clar beside her, but she didn't look at him. She stared at the medianox flowers. She didn't know why she didn't look at him. She recalled the first she had ever saw the flowers bloom. Hodge had woken her, Alec and Iz up at midnight to watch them bloom. She was in the middle between Alec and Iz. The flowers usually only grew in Idris.

She remembered catching her breath at the surprise and beauty of the flower. Alec and Isidore had not had the same reaction, Alec had never been a night person and had fallen asleep against Isidore's shoulder. and Isidore lost interest after he found out it had no lethal uses. She worried perhaps, Clar would be the same: find them interesting, perhaps pleased. But not be enchanted by them.

She wanted him to feel the way she had about the flowers. But she couldn't say why exactly. Then she heard him say a soft "Oh!" As the flower bloomed, opening up, and shimmering with it's golden pollen. "Do the flowers bloom every night?" "Yes, but only at midnight."

She felt relief wash over her. And looked at him, his eyes shining, his fingers flexing unconsciously, they did this she had started to notice when he wished he had his sketchpad, when he wanted to capture an image. She wished she could see the world as he did: see the world as a canvas to be painted. And at the moments when he looks at her that way, as of he were taking her apart, piece by piece to be separated and painted. Almost an emotionless analysis of her — she caught herself on the verge of blushing. Such a strange feeling, so strange she almost didn't know it. Because, Jayce Wayland did not blush.

"Happy birthday, Clarus Fray," she said. He smiled at her. "I got something for you," she said and fumbled slightly reaching for her pocket, he didn't seem to notice though. She pressed the witchlight into his hand, and she was conscious of his hands, Artist hands, delicate but strong, he had calluses from holding paint brushes for hours, he had slight paint stains on his hands. And she wondered did his pulse speed up as well when they touched.

She supposed not, because he drew away quickly, looking at the runestone curiously. "You know when someone says they want a big rock they don't mean literally a big rock." That surprised a smile out of her. Which was odd in of itself, usually only Alec or Iz could surprise amusement out of her. She knew Clar had been brave since she first met him, going after Isidore into a closet unharmed like that took guts. But that he made her laugh was still a surprise.

"Very funny, my sarcastic friend. It's not a rock, exactly. Every Shadowhunter has a witchlight stone.". "Oh." He looked at it with a new curiousity in his eyes. He closed his hands around. "It will bring you light always, even among the darkest of worlds." That was what her father had told her when he had given her first witchlight runestone to her. What other worlds? She had asked, Her father only laughed though. There are more worlds a breath away this one than there were grains of sand on a beach, he had told her. She sometimes wondered about those other Jayces in those worlds, were they happy? Were they sad? Were they dead or alive? Was she by chance so different in one that she could be a boy? Would his name be Jace? And did they wonder about her? Were their parents alive?

Clar smiled again and made a joke about birthday presents. "thank you, it was nice for you to give me anything," he said. "Much better than a spaghetti bath.". "If you share that personal information with anyone, i may have to kill you." she said darkly. "Ok, well, when I was five, I wanted to go inside the clothes dryer and spin round and round," he said. "The only difference is, she said no.'. No"Probably because getting inside a dryer to spin around is very fatal," she pointed out. "But pasta is rarely fatal. Unless Isidore were to make it."

She saw the petals were shedding now. "Then when I was twelve, I wanted to get a tattoo" he said. A strand of hair fell into his eye and like the afternoon he had fallen asleep she wanted to push it away but fought the urge. "Well, usually most Shadowhunters get their first marks at twelve. Maybe it was just in your nature.". "Maybe. But I don't think many Shadowhunters want to get a tattoo of Dontello from teenage mutant ninja turtles on their left shoulder." He had that fond look on his face that he had when talking about something she couldn't quite understand but interested her. It sent a spark through her veins. A kind of fear, but what fear? That he would one day go back to the mundane world and leave her behind in her world of hunters and demons, battles and scars, and do it gratefully?

"You wanted to get a turtle on your shoulder?" He gave her a nod. "I wanted to cover this scar on my shoulder that I got from chicken pox." He pulled his shirt up to show her, there was a scar, it reminded her of something but she wasn't sure what. But she saw more than the scar, she saw the freckles that he had on his back, his shoulder blades. She took the moment to see his eyelashes that were a coppery color, his red curls like fire, the curve of his lips. Some kind of desire swept over her, one she had never felt before, she had desired people in a certain way before, but never in this way. Not in a way that cut through her like fire, and left an almost nervous tremble in her hands.

She looked away and shook her head slightly. "We should probably go back down stairs." He gave her a curious look, his green eyes on her like he could see through her. "Have you and Isidore ever dated?" Her heart still beating too fast. "Isidore?" she echoed. She thought, what does Isidore have to do with this? Why mention him? "Simone was curious," he said, and she disliked the way her name sounded as he spoke it. She had never felt this way before: never anything that could unnerve her like Clar did. She remembered that day back at the coffee shop when she wanted to lead him away into her world, away from the dark haired friend of his, lead him away into her world of shadows. She had a feeling even then he belonged where she did, not with mundanes who did not know the full truth of the world.

This boy right her and his green eyes that pinned her to the wall like a butterfly, was real, so very real. He pierced the distance she had put up so carefully to keep others away. "No, the answer is no. Maybe a time the thought crossed our minds but we're like siblings so it would be weird." "So you and him have never—" "Never," she said. "He hates me, you know." "No, he doesn't," she said, wanting to laugh like a sibling would, knowing their other sibling so well that you knew when they were frustrated. "You just make him nervous, he's always been the only boy in the crowd of our group, getting the attention and now he isn't." It was true, Isidore being the only son the Lightwoods had, was always adored and he got used to it.

"But why? He's so beautiful, and talented, what would I make him nervous about?" "You are too," she said automatically, it surprised herself. His face changed, but she couldn't read it. She had told people they were beautiful before but it was always calculated. This was not, this time she wanted to go to the training room and throw knife after knife at targets, wanted to kick and punch until she was exhausted and bloody. This boy making her this way.

He looked at her not saying anything. Ah, the training room it is. "We should go down stairs," she said again. "Okay." She couldn't read his voice either, she was usually good at reading people but her ability to do so has apparently deserted her and she doesn't know why.

They started to make their way out when she saw something flash a light and Clar backed up bumping into her slightly, he turned around to her and the next thing she knew she was throwing her arms around him to pull him down and kiss him, she was kissing him. She was shocked by herself, she didn't work this way, she always had control over her body. It was an instrument, like the piano. It didn't move without her permission, never. Here she was though, running her hands through his hair and kissing him hard, she ran her hands along his arms. He wrapped his arms around around her and leaned down a little, he ran a hand through her hair, then ran his hand down her back, he smelled like citrus, she tasted the apple on his lips, somewhere for a moment she lost herself. Understanding now why kisses were described the way they were in the books. She was slightly unsteady and she clung to him, he held her weight. She remembered the first time she saw the midnight flower, and thought it was something beautiful that belonged in the world.

She heard a rush of wind, and drew back from Clar, to see Hugo watching them. She still had her arms around him and they were still leaning on each other. His eyes were half closed still. "Don't freak, but I think someone is watching us," she whispered to him. "If Hugo is here that means Hodge is not far behind him. We need to go" He opened his eyes all the way, and looked amused. Shouldn't he be more flustered after that kiss? But he was just grinning. He wanted to know if Hodge had been spying on them and she assured him no, but she felt his laughter through their joined hands and didn't remember how that had happened.

They made their way downstairs. And as they did, hands still interlocked, she understood why people held hands, she had always thought it was something like saying this is mine. But it wasn't like that at all. It was speaking without using words and saying I want here with me and don't go. Suddenly she wanted him in her bedroom, not in that way — nobody she had ever been with had been in her bedroom. It was her safe space, it was special to her, her sanctuary. But she wanted Clar there. She wanted him to see her for who she really was, not the image she put on for the world. She wanted to lay in bed with him and just be snuggled up together. Wanted to watch him sleep and breathe softly. She wanted to see him and have him see her. So even when they got to his bedroom door, and he thanked her for the night again, she hadn't let go of his hand.

"Are you going to bed?" she asked. He looked down at her. "Aren't you tired?" She felt different now. "I have never been more awake." She stepped up on her tiptoes, pulling him down a bit to give a light brush of lips.

Then at that moment Simone flung the door open and came out into the hallway. Clar pulled away from Jayce hastily, and turned his head to the side looking at Simone. She felt a sharp pain, like ripping a bandage off. Simone was saying a bunch of angry words. And Jayce thought back to all the times that she'd been kissing someone in a club against the wall or in a alley behind a bar. And their significant other or the person who thought there was a chance staring at them like someone had ripped their heart out. Jayce had always felt sorry for them, but in a distant way, like in the plays when they were acting out a heartbreak scene.

But now as she looked at Simone she realized she would never have to wonder what it felt like again. Because the look of regret on Clar's face as he looked to Simone, made her realize Simone wasn't the one going to get her heart broken and shattered to pieces. It was Jayce.

Oh, Jayce what have you done now, she thought.

——————

Clar stared at Simone with regret, he knew what was going to happen, something else was going to blow up, and so much had blown up today. He was going to hurt and piss off more people and he had already done that in these last 24 hours as well, he wished he could disappear.

"What the fuck!" said Simone. "Simone! I— I mean I thought that you were—" "Sleeping?" she flushed with anger. "I was asleep, but then I woke up and you weren't there."

He didn't know what to say, he should have known something along the lines of this would happen. He wondered why he hadn't asked to go to Jayce's room, and the thought of that made him blush and want to kick himself more. But the worst part is that he hadn't thought of it because he had forgotten about Simone.

"I am sorry," he said, though not sure who he was apologizing to or for what.

He looked at Jayce from the corner of his eye and thought she looked angry for a moment but he looked again and she looked as she always did: composed, confident, easy, a little bored.

"In the future, Clarus," she said. "It may be a wise decision, to mention you already have someone in your bed, we could avoid situations such as this one.". "You asked her to bed?" asked Simone looking shocked. "Simply ridiculous, right?" said Jayce. "There's no way we could all have fit.". "I didn't ask her to bed," he snapped. "It was just kissing." "Just kissing?" said Jayce mockingly. "How quickly you dismiss our love.". "Jayce. . ."

He saw the malice in her eyes as she trailed off. "I'm sorry we woke you." "Me too," she said and went back into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Jayce had a bland smile on her face. "Go after her and tell her how she's your special girl. Isn't that what you always do?". "Would you stop that," he said. "Stop being like this." She widened her smile. "Like what exactly?". "If you're upset, just say it. Don't act like nothing touches you. You seem like you never feel anything at all.". "Maybe," she said. "You should have thought of that before you kissed me." He couldn't believe she just said that. "I kissed you?" She looked at him with malice. "It wasn't that great for me either, don't worry," she said.

She walked off and Clar wanted to run after her, mostly to shake her and ask why she is like this. But he knew that would fill her with satisfaction, so he didn't, instead he went back into his room.

Simone was in the middle of his room, she looked to be lost. He heard Jayce's words replay nastily in his head. He stepped forward but stopped when. He saw what she was holding. His sketchpad, she had it opened to the drawing he had done of Jayce early.

"Nice drawing," she said. "All those art classes are paying off, I see." Usually Clar would be going off on someone who was looking at his sketchpad without his permission but it wasn't the time right now. "Look, Simone—" "I know how pathetic I look going off to sulk in your room," she interrupted as she threw the sketchpad on his bed. "But i needed to get my stuff."

"Are you going?" he asked "Yes. I've overstayed here. and besides, mundanes really don't belong here, anyway." He let out a frustrated sigh. "I wasn't planning on kissing her, ok? It just happened. I know how much you don't like her.". "That's where you're wrong," she said. "I don't like flat soda. I don't like traffic. I don't like terrible boy band pop. I don't like math. I hate Jayce. There's a difference, see?". "She saved your life, you know," he said but felt terrible for it, because she did it so she wouldn't get in trouble with the clave if either of them got killed.

"Slight details," she said dismissing it. "She's an ass, like those girls in highschool we always avoided, because they thought they were so much better than everyone else. I just thought you were better than actually hooking up with one of them."

Something about that made his temper rise. "Oh, yeah. You're sure on a high horse," he snapped at her. "Talking about going to ask the guy with the best abs to the fall fling." He mocked Erica's tone. Simone's mouth thinned. "So what if she's a jerk at times? It's not like you're my mother or sister, you don't need to like her. I've never liked anyone you dated, but at least I was nice enough to keep it to myself."

"This is different," she said. "How, Simone? How is this in any way different?". "Because I see how you look at her!" she yelled. "I never looked at anyone I dated like that! It was something to do while I waited—'. "For what? Waited for what exactly?" They had never fought like this, all their fights were always about who hate the last cookie or which anime character was better. But he didn't stop, and wanted to again kick himself. "For when Isidore came along? You're lecturing me on Jayce when you have been mooning over him like a foo!' he realized he yelled it.

"I was trying to make you jealous!" she yelled back. "Sometimes you are so stupid, Clar. you can't even see what's in front of you." He just stared, what did she mean by that? "Make me jealous? But why?" He saw the look on her face and realized that was the last thing he should have asked. Bitterly she said. "Because, I've been in love you for the last ten years. I thought maybe I should see if you felt the same. But I have my answer now."

She might as well have punched him. He searched for a response but couldn't find one. "Don't even try. There are no words for you to say," she said sharply. He watched her walk away not being able to move, as if he were paralyzed. What was he supposed to say "I love you, as well"? But he didn't. right? She paused at the door for a moment to say. "You want to know what else my mom said about you?" He shook his head, but either she didn't see it or ignored it. "She said you were going to break my heart."

She left, the door shut behind her, and Clar was alone with everything that had happened in such a short amount of time.

Everyone hates him, he thought. He wanted Joan to be here so bad, at least she wouldn't hate him.

Tag list: @khaleesiofalicante @chibi-tsukiko @spotsandclawsthings @megs-readstoomuch @replayfootsteps @magnus-the-maqnificent @jazzkaurtheglorious @simply-ellas-stuff @bookfast-at-tiffanys @my-archerboy

[secondhand-trash]

A/N: the true mvp of this part is the fact that freehanding memes is apparently a talent of mine

Word count: 1595

(click here to see more of Osamu’s bento)

(taglist in the comments, please go to the link in my bio or send me an ask to be added to the bento taglist uwu)

-

The automatic door of the supermarket opened and closed behind you once again as another customer passed by where you had been standing at for the past moments with a confused look in their eyes at the way you stood there doing nothing.

Should you just make up some lame excuse as to why you went home empty handed? Would he believe it if you said that all supermarkets across the area of your workplace was closed down due to unknown circumstances? He wouldn’t. He could be a bit simple minded when it comes to certain things but he wasn’t dumb. You could already imagine the way he whined at how you didn’t try to go along with his efforts if you just straight up admitted that you gave up on it.

Ah...

Ah.

You had to at least give it a try, didn’t you?

You felt the pulse on your temple pulsing as you thought of what made a supposedly simple trip to the grocery store so damn complicated.

Ever since that time you opened your bento box to literally being stared down by your own lunch, you had been very careful with opening your lunchbox without anyone seeing the contents before actually eating it. The arrangements had been fairly normal since then. You had formed the habit of peaking inside from the barely lifted corner of the lid before opening it completely but there had not been anything as shocking since then. He sound so excited on the phone about his new discovery that you had expected him to keep trying and trying until he eventually got bored of it.

You had come to the conclusion that perhaps he had given up way before you thought he would or that he just couldn’t find the time and effort to think of a different design each day on top of his already heavy workload preparing for opening Onigiri Miya each day.

Either way, you let out a sigh of relieve when you opened your bento each day to see a regular, non-questionable lunch sitting inside. You almost felt guilty for saying this, given the amount of effort he must have put into that eerie lunchbox, but you just couldn’t handle opening your lunch like you were drawing a lot for some sort of weird penalty.

You should have known that something was up when Osamu handed you the cloth-wrapped bento this morning in a particularly good mood. You even heard him whistling in the kitchen as he wrapped up the bento. (”We came out with bento wrapping clothes with the Onigiri Miya logo,” he had very happily held it on his palms before putting it in your bag, “cute, right?”)  But your alert had dropped at this point, almost certain that it was just a one time occurrence and the there was nothing you needed to look out for anymore.

And so you took your bento out onto your desk as usual, laughing along a joke your colleague made as you loosened the knot on the cloth.

“Honestly, I’m so jealous that your boyfriend is so down to making your bento every day,” your friend said with a sigh, “I could barely get mine to put the seat down.”

You chuckled, trying your hardest to hide the grin on your face. Yes, yes my boyfriend was pretty great. “Trust me, he forgets to do that all the time too.”

“But if he can cook as well as yours do, I can let that slide.” they joked, twisting off the cap of their thermos.

You were still smiling when you separated the stacked up compartments of your bento box.

Until you looked down to see what was inside, and you felt the corner of your lips twitching as you felt like you pulled the wrong muscle on your face with how you tried to maintain your look of ease.

“Is something wrong?” they asked, seeing the way you seemed to have stiffened up.

“Oh, nothing,” you said, still holding the lid of your bento, “nothing...”

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the f u c k-

You brought your fingers to your temple to press down at the beating pulse point, trying to clear your head. You had no idea where you should start looking. Hell, you didn’t even know what he wanted you to get.

Why couldn’t he just send you a text like a normal person? You let out yet another heavy sigh as you pulled out your phone, your brows furrowing together as you pulled out the photo you took of the bento before you gulped it down so no one would see it.

Just... you still could not get over the impactful image that you had no choice but to stare at. You had to admit that you were very impressed by the amount of detail that was put into the pattern that was cut out from a piece of seaweed on top of the rice. He did a good job, with the technical aspect of it. But why on earth would he thinks that putting a meme on your rice was a good idea? 

Poor pepe, you silently prayed to the deceased meme that now ended up in your stomach.

Unlike last time, the message of the bento was a lot less abstract. He had opted to make things clear by directly writing out what he wanted to say thought the little speech bubble and tiny strips of seaweed. The seaweed was placed on top of sliced cheese so that it would look smoother and not be affected by the moisture from the rice which he must have learnt from the mom blogs that he had been browsing through religiously a while back.

What he didn’t take into account, was that the steam from the rice would condense on the top of the bento and slide back onto the surface as water droplets. Even though you could still faintly make out that they were supposed to be words, the small pieces of seaweed had already stuck together and was barely comprehensible by the time you landed your eyes on it.

You could understand “tomato” and “please buy”, thanks to how those few letters were mostly straight lines. But the rest... you really didn’t have a single clue what they were supposed to be.

Standing at the front door of the store, you felt an annoyance burning at your chest just by looking at how many aisle there were.

You would only prompt him to keep trying until it worked if you got it wrong, you were certain of it. With that thought in mind, you clenched your jaw and called your last two living braincells to work in this game of edible pictionary.

.

.

.

“Ohhhhhhhh!” Osamu’s eyes were near twinkling when he pulled out the items from your bag to see that it was exactly what he had wanted you to get. He snapped towards you like an excited zoo animal that just heard the sound of a nearby tourist tearing open a bag of snacks, sprinting to your side to compliment you on your good work. 

You were laying face down on the couch like a dead fish when he crouched next to you and when you exhaustedly lifted your hand, he very obediently put his head under your palm to let you take out your stress on his very soft hair.

You were tired. You were so, so tired.

 How did you manage to figure out what the rest of the list consisted of? Well, it was a whole lot of guessing and all the luck you had gathered from the good deeds you had done in your entire life. You had even put the image through google translate once in a futile effort to figure out what it was trying to say.

Grocery shopping was not supposed to be this stressful...

“You look tired, rough day at work?” you turned to the side to look at Osamu who was now at your eye level, tilting his head with your fingers still weaved into his hair.

You were so determined to tell him everything as it was, but you immediately didn’t have the heart to do it when you were met with his round eyes fixed on you.

You had it coming...

“Yeah,” you said, “we are going through this real big project right now and everyone is on edge.”

He took your hand and pressed it against his cheek. You smiled as he leaned into your touch, caressing his jaw with your thumb. He was lucky that he’s cute, you thought to yourself, silently deciding that maybe you would try to be a little bit more openminded the next time he turned your lunch into a meme canvas.

“Then I should try to bring you some excitement with your bento then! Something that both taste good and can motivate you visually!”

What? Was the pepe not exciting enough in his opinion?

“I'll start researching on food that can boost stamina and provide energy right away!” you felt like you had made the wrong move when the glint in his eyes grew and he perked up. 

Your hand was still holding out mid-air when he scurried away after giving you a light pat on your head, telling you that he would go run you a bath soon.

You paused as you collected your thoughts, and then slammed your face down onto the cushion.

It seemed like you had underestimated his will to strive for excellence...

[helahades]

The Goddess and the Grocer

(Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Sappy and hopelessly romantic, the part time art student, part time grocery bagger, and full time fantasy creator Steve Rogers lives in his head, with you as his muse. Making puzzles out of your groceries, and portraits of your every curve and edge, he fears and craves every interaction, while living with you as a lover in his mind.

A/N: Well. I have struggled with motivation for the longest. Something hit me though, and by something I mean other supportive writers and great friends. Hugest shoutout to @threeminutesoflife for being a darling and @imanuglywombat for making TWO beautiful mood boards I stare at more than Steve stares at the Peggy compass.

Warnings: creepy, obsessive Steve. ideation of creepy thoughts. food focused talk. mention of overeating. dub-con concepts. two mentions of alcohol consumption.

New blog, new me! I’ll take this moment to say I’m taking requests, and I love feedback even more than Steve loves you! hope you enjoy

Word Count: about 3k

-

Now rain slicked, the sheen of oil and water twists the reflections of the tonights red, red, green—-“can I make the turn, no too late” on yellow—now red traffic lights into a twisted rainbow on the city streets.

Down those streets, and across a barren parking lot, parents, lovers, businesspeople and more squeak and clack and slap their rainy shoes on the old speckled tile at the entrance (that Steve had just mopped) as they do every week.

At the Potts Grocery Store, nothing ever changes. And never in the night.

It isn’t just night though, it’s dead night. The odd time after things have slowed for sleep, after the rush in between when people bumble in (promising themselves promises they won’t keep about doing the shopping sooner next month), after the ten minute period within which Dr. Banner wordlessly picks up the same array of bland teas.

The night has crawled beyond all the events that happen as they do, and entered the dead night.

Maybe Steve is too poetic—like his dad says he is—too tied up in fate, and hope in life’s mystique, but he holds hope for what happens where the night is dead.

When the night dies, and most are asleep, with it, facades die too. The only people to come in the dead of night, are drunks, doctors, various night shifters, and… you.

He hasn’t yet questioned your reason for showing up so late. Hasn’t really, technically, spoken to you at all, really.

Some part of Steve thinks, maybe if he startles you, says something that clangs too loud or awkward, all your pieces will blow away, like some agitated dandelion, and he will never know you again, if he ever even knew you at all.

No, Steve’s job isn’t to startle you, or to take up your space. It’s to try and meet your eyes as you hand him the reusable bags. It’s to try and figure out what meal you’re planning from what he’s bagging, and what he already knows lies unused in your kitchen. It’s to put the bags in your cart if you’ll let him.

He hasn’t seen you yet. It’s getting late, where are you?

Somewhere between cold fluorescent and neutral warm desk lamps, the lights of the grocery store seem to exist both to chase shadows on tired shoppers' faces, and to mock him, like a candle finally blown out by a stood up date.

Had he done something wrong the last time? If he had, that couldn’t be helped. You were wearing those shorts and looked like you had just gotten ready for bed and you had your hair pulled back, but just a little fell into your face anyway.

And your scent. It always wraps around him like the saccharine spice of pastries when he swings open the bakery door for his morning shift.

The moment you breezed by him after checkout was almost too much to bear. He caught the fresh damp scent of your tied up and deep conditioned hair. You smelled like fresh linens and a life he can only imagine having when he’s chasing orgasms alone and twisting up his sheets.

He could have devoured you.

But he didn’t.

Not even when your shoulder accidentally grazed him while you were rushing out in a frenzy.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry,” came your frantic whisper.

He dreams of making you that delicate again. He thinks he could shape your unsure apologies in his hands like clay, or spread you thin on a canvas when you whisper so soft. But he didn’t do those things at all.

Steve being Steve, he tried to make his large frame slouch, your aura wrapping him up into a double life Clark Kent shyness, despite your gentleness.

He didn’t say a word.

A wordless, mirthless stretch of his lips. An “It’s okay, walk all over me” grin. You regarded him with a flicker of an odd glance, and then you were out the door.

As he finishes up with the last shopper in his lane, his worn Converse squeak as he leans his frame against the bagging station at checkout.

-

Last class, last week, his art teacher dropped a big assignment. Stuffy and sadistic, the man seemed to only eat the pain of lovers kept from expression, so of course, he relished in the moment he told the class to try a new medium, with a subject they hadn’t previously captured.

He seemed to look directly at Steve as he delivered the blow.

Steve's problem certainly isn’t creativity. It isn’t talent or lack of effort. He surely is adaptable, he rarely tells on his love!

For the still life project, he captured the tree that blocks your kitchen window. Heavy strokes in his sketchbook.

He even painted the park in blooms on a paper towel—yes a paper towel—when you justified to a cashier one day that all the crackers and deli meats were for a picnic.

So he has a muse. But he’s not a fool. Sometimes he spends so much time trying not to look like a fool, and paints so much around you instead of you, that it’s a self portrait of his own obsession.

Your face. Your curves. The many separated sections where he tried to master the texture of your hair. All those traces of you live in his sketchbook. Only twice has he turned in a portrait of you.

Being told he can’t have you makes Steve feel like he’s been too obvious. You’re his little secret. And he is no fool. He’ll have to be more careful. So here he is.

The canvas is as bare as the walls of his studio apartment.

Three jobs and a potted plant from his mom just aren’t enough to decorate life. He wishes he could capture sleep in a picture frame and hang it on the wall. When he got too tired and caffeine stopped working, he thinks he’d pick up those frames and absorb the sleep in the way he can absorb nostalgia when looking at a real picture.

Then, he thinks, that’s the sort of thing art majors say when they haven’t slept in three weeks.

The canvas is still bare. It isn’t like Steve. He always knows where to go, what he feels, what he wants.

His teacher told him to try something different. Had the nerve to clap Steve on the back after class and say something about stretching creative wings and finding a new muse.

He thinks the guy should have punched him in the face instead.

There’s nothing stuck about Steve. He knows what he wants and how to get there.

He also knows that schooling ruins the intent of art, he knows how to put love into colors, that art teachers know the least about expression out of everyone on earth, and that he works two night jobs a week to barely afford to be taught by that man anyway.

Life is full of oddities.

-

Some of life’s oddities are right there in your cart as you approach. Steve notices the rain has frizzed your hair, the lovely heart shaped curve of your lips as they stretch into a smile, and the way you yawn before you say hello to the cashier.

He makes a mental note that your hair might have a warmer tinge when illuminated by the sun. You’re already his sun. His stars too. Maybe even his whole universe.

You’re always warm in his paintings. Anything to separate you from the dreadful scheme of this commercial death trap.

What’s for dinner this week?

Your groceries thump onto the counter in practiced succession. Perishables together at the front, and non perishables as neatly as possible following behind.

So thoughtful, my sweet darling.

Your produce today mostly consists of fruit. It reminds Steve of how practiced he is with a knife. How he’d slice up your apples just right for you. He has the practiced skills of an artist. He’d take care of you.

Bucky likes to tell him that cooking is the art and baking is the science. That’s meant to mean that it’s no surprise that Buckys got a perfect little life with a perfect little baker who smiles like the sun and only trusts Bucky in her kitchen.

...And it’s no surprise that Steve’s artsy streak has led him here. Thinking about folding mandarin slices between your perfect lips and letting the flavor explode across your tongue.

He thinks about kissing you. How you would taste tangy and sweet as you try not so hard to push him off so he gets back to cooking and doesn’t burn the house down.

The house. A house with you. A home.

He sees you’re wearing a sundress, and tries not to pity you for the irony. In the closet of some cookie cutter three bedroom, you might ask him how you look in it. He would beg you to wear it just for him a little longer, but ultimately, he would have been able to warn you about the rain.

You wouldn’t have listened though, my stubborn angel.

He thinks about your thighs beneath your dress, and the heat between them.

Sometimes, his dreams betray him, and he steps through the threshold to your shared home, not an artist, but a “Honey, I'm home” suit wearing prisoner.

He fears the simple life, but with you, he believes simplicity could be enough. Maybe he would be rich enough to buy you a million sundresses.

But without his art, he’d be powerless to show you how rich you look, bathed in color, divine from his perspective.

Without his art, he has no outlet for imagination. The only thing that gets him off these days is imagining what you look like under your clothes, and how it might sound if you spoke his name.

When you buy lotion, or a candle, he makes a mental note of the scent, and uses it to color his experience later. You like warm sugary scents, or natural outdoorsy ones, with no in between.

As you small talk with the cashier, your card slips from between your fingers and clatters onto the unswept floor. Finishing a thought, you delay in retrieving it, but by the time you’re leaning down, Steve’s already handing it back.

Eyes flitting up to meet the baggage boy standing up at full height, you melt into an easier smile.

You notice first that his eyes are incredibly blue behind the dark window frames, and second that his hands are incredibly warm as he hands your card back.

Frazzled, and just a bit smitten, you smile kindly.

“Thank you,” you say sweetly, regarding him fully, perhaps for the first time, and pausing only to let your eyes drift to the knitted cotton polo stretched across his broad chest—no, to the name tag resting on it…

“Steve,” you finish with a smile that makes it ring like an exclamation point. To hear you finally pronounce his name… it’s like church bells. But they’re muted because now he can only consider your eyes locked on his.

He’s never wanted to escape somewhere and go home with someone so badly. And would it be so wrong?

He could slice up fruit for you. He could bring sausages and deli meats and blocks of cheeses whole from the market where they slipped him things free. He’d slice them up nice and wrap them in cloth and surprise you with an old fashioned wicker basket picnic in the mountains.

He’d let you eat yourself round. And after you were full, he’d still offer to feed you grapes, to pour you more wine.

Steve never understood why the rich ate bread with olive oil, but God he wanted to be rich enough to give you that. All the things that sound ridiculous to people who work to live. He wanted to work so hard you’d never work again.

He wanted to kiss you dizzy, bunch up the fabric of your dress on your hip and tell you he loves you while you’re wine drunk. He’d carry you back to the car and surprise you with wildflowers in a bunch.

Later, he’d paint you nude with them in your hair, and he’d feed you more grapes.

He would tuck you in and wrap you up for later when you woke up missing him. Maybe he wouldn’t leave at all. Maybe you would want to spend the whole day with him too.

He’s got a twinkle of charm in his eye and just a bit of sadness that looks every bit like the starving artist people believe him to be. Bucky hasn’t stopped bringing him the leftover rolls at closing since he found out Steve spends more money on paint than meals.

And is it so wrong? As Steve looks into your eyes, he musters all that charm his mom said he was born with. He blinks brighter the twinkle in his eye.

“You’re welcome,” comes Steve’s gentle, but sure reply.

You pause at that, because really it’s nothing... But people always seem to say “Don’t worry about it!”, “It’s nothing”, or maybe nothing at all.

You pause at how the reaction seemed genuine, in a world of practiced replies, and on a day that you’re feeling shitty because the rain ruined your hair and happiness.

You smile at him again, grateful for a pocket of truthful kindness, and turn back to the cashier, effectively ending the interaction.

Steve’s mind is spinning in ways he just can’t bring himself to understand. So he bags your groceries. You forgot the reusable bags, he doesn’t pause to wonder why.

Click. Click. Click. Beep!

Tomatoes. He bags them with the apples. Double bags for good measure.

Beep.

Spaghetti. The good kind that most people overlook in favor of a more common brand. New bag.

Beep.

Frozen garlic bread. He adores you. You’ve got garlic and basil and more herbs than you’ll ever need at home. You’d probably make the spaghetti noodles and parmesan yourself if you could. But you love five minutes at 400 garlic bread.

He imagines your pretty little kitchen, with all its various knick knacks, smelling like garlic and tomato sauce. He can’t help thinking you’d be impressed with his chopping skills too. Just how his mom taught him.

He imagines cooking with you in the dead of night, instead of being here. He imagines you bending over with your legs straight and your back curved and the oven mitts on to get garlic bread out of the oven. You put the tray on the cold burners Steve’s not using.

Maybe he would ask you to try the sauce, he’d hold the spoon to your lips after blowing off for you. Your eyes always flutter closed to process the taste of things, and sometimes he swears he could read your mind.

Then they would open. Wide. The same way they did when you tasted the new product double chocolate brownie sample last Tuesday. You would tell him how perfect it is and praise how he finally isn’t shy about using garlic anymore. Turning off the burners, he’d pull you into his arms, he’d kiss you til you saw stars…

-

Walking you backwards, still entangled in the breathless kiss, he wouldn’t stop until you bumped the padded kitchen bench. Then he’d fall to his knees.

“Steve, honey”—

You’d cut yourself off with a breathy moan because he’d already be under your skirt.

Kissing up your thighs, flattening his tongue against you, kissing you gently, before sucking your clit, while working it with the tip of his tongue, he’d show you again, like always, how passionate of a lover he is.

You’d moan like heaven, because you are.

You’d lean back, propping yourself up on an arm and pushing the other hand through his golden hair. You just can’t stop your hips from rolling against his tongue that’s still worshipping you.

He won’t use his fingers. It wouldn’t be proper, he’s just been cooking. So instead, he uses those hands to pull your thighs up onto his shoulders.

Still swirling his tongue around your clit, Steve is drawing you closer, your body seeming to know it’s own ways to pull him to you too.

It’s electric. You can’t stop and you’d never want to. He’d make love to you every single—

-

That’s not where he is though. He grabs the paper bags he’s bagged up with your ingredients and some other oddities, and he places them in the cart you’ve pushed forward.

He tries not to think about the fact that you’re going home alone. He tries not to think about how he’ll be sleeping alone, and in cold colors. Tries to skip forward to later when he has all the time in the world to imagine the way things should be.

A quiet goodnight and you’re on your way. You’re careful not to graze him as you walk away, and he’s careful not to be obvious watching.

The cashier leaves the station, and Steve puts his head down as he passes, before looking up in your direction as he always does.

Except… when he looks up to see your sundress swishing, it isn’t. And you’re turned back looking at him with this funny little look.

You smile. A twinkle of embarrassment, nervous to have been caught looking. He tries not to chuckle for all the irony.

He watches you as you watch him just a bit longer, before your sundress swishes out the door, and the light of your halo fades into the distance, consumed by the rain.

-

By the time his shift is up, the rain has stopped and the sky is colored like a bruise. The sun knocks at a threshold unseen, just slightly feathering light through the sky.

Steve is dead tired, but he won’t sleep a wink. Once he arrives at his apartment, he begins the project.

A mixed medium piece. Acrylic paint, charcoal shadowed details. It’s a wicker basket, full of apples, grapes, and wildflowers.

-

Later, as the sun rises, and the painting is half done, he flops into bed, finishing up a stale roll from the bakery, and dreams about waking up to you.

He pretends there’s no job to be at in three and a half hours, but instead, that it’s a quiet Sunday, and he’s waking up to you in his arms...

Soft and ethereal.

-

Thank you for reading!

Whether or not this is your type of writing, or you liked it at all, I just want to tag some authors who generally inspire me and helped in some way to motivate me posting my first piece: @threeminutesoflife @imanuglywombat @sherrybaby14 @jtargaryen18 @heavenbarnes @tropicalcap @allaboardthereadingrailroad @thotty-tatertot @sapphirescrolls

[debbiechanclub]

Best Two Out of Three, Part 20

Holy Toledo how is this Part 20? Wanna hear something dumb? I have all the parts in a Word doc on my laptop and that m’fer is 80,356 words long and 149 pages. In 11-point font. This thing is a whole ass novel, wtf is wrong with us XD

Wanna hear something even dumber? @what-does-mine-say was deadass consoling me like this shit is real life while I was writing this part. And I think that’s all the intro it needs.

*cries*

Best Two Out of Three

Part: 20/26

Pairing: ...recalculating...

Word count: 5.9k

Warnings: Language; angst. So much angst.

My tiny tag list: @freshlysqueezedmox @gabbynorth98 

Catch up on previous parts here.

“So I kind of want to try something new tonight.”

Callie bounced on the balls of her feet as she and Britt stood in the middle of the ring at Daily’s Place. She had a match that night—a Dark match against Penelope Ford—and she was both excited and a little bit nervous. It was the first match she’d had in two-and-a-half months, since her match against Alex that she’d lost by disqualification. Knowing that, she felt like showing off a little.

“Oh yeah?” Britt asked. “What were you thinking?”

“Well, I’ve been wanting to show that I can be more technical than just throwing hard punches and kicks, and I don’t really have a submission move in my arsenal… so I was thinking of trying out the octopus hold?”

“Oh yeah!” Britt proclaimed. “That’s a good one. Have you worked on it at all? Because I honestly haven’t tried it.”

She nodded. “A little. But it’s been a while.” She stared at the mat, her thoughts growing distant. It had actually been Alex who’d shown her how to do the octopus hold, back when they’d first started becoming friends. Callie wasn’t sure how Alex would take it if she used it tonight. But she also didn’t really care.

“Well, I’m down to try it if you’re comfortable,” Britt said. “Just tell me what to do.”  

Callie shook her head, bringing herself back to the present. “Okay, cool. It’s actually pretty simple for you. All you need to do is pick me up like I’m going for a tilt-a-whirl. But instead of swinging through for the takedown, I’ll keep one leg behind your head and lock the other around your leg.”

Britt nodded. “Alright. Sounds easy enough. You want me to just stand here?”

“Yeah, I’ll run at you.”

“Okay.”

Callie took a breath to ready herself, and then she rebounded off the ropes and ran at Britt. Britt picked her up just like she was supposed to, and Callie locked her legs around her head; but when she swung around and tried to hook her left foot behind Britt’s left leg, the momentum caused Britt to lose her balance and they both went tumbling ungracefully to the mat.

“Whoa!” someone suddenly shouted. “What the hell was that?”

Callie looked toward the entrance ramp as she and Britt untangled from each other. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment when she saw who it was. Matt Jackson.

“It was supposed to be an octopus hold,” Britt said as she pushed herself to her feet.

“Ah,” he returned. “Well, that’s a relief. I thought it was a terrible attempt at a hurricanrana.”

He leaned against the ropes and sent Callie a teasing smirk. She narrowed her eyes at him. “If I wanted to learn how to do a hurricanrana I’d ask Nick, not you.”

Matt clutched dramatically at his chest. “Ouch, Callie. That hurts. But, lucky for you, I’m feeling generous today.” He ducked through the ropes and walked toward her. “Plus, I know you know I’m a better teacher than Nick.”

He offered her his hand, that cocky smirk of his still in place. She pursed her lips; but she slid her palm into his and let him pull her to her feet.

“Well then what did we do wrong, Professor Jackson?” Britt asked.

“Finally, some respect,” Matt commented. Britt and Callie both ignored it. “Well, if that was supposed to be an octopus hold, you need to catch her as she’s coming around,” he explained. “It looked like you didn’t do that, which is why she pulled you down to the mat.”

“Oh.” Callie’s cheeks tinged pink again. “Yeah, that’s on me. I might have forgotten to mention that part.”

She expected another snarky remark. But Matt just grinned. “Well, now you won’t forget again. Here—try it on me.”

Britt stepped out of the way; but Callie froze, suddenly nervous. What if she screwed up again? When it came to wrestling, Matt was the last person she wanted to look like an idiot in front of, even more so than Adam. But she trusted him, and she wanted to get this right.

He looked at her, waiting. She bounced off the ropes and ran toward him. She jumped up and wrapped her legs around his head just as she had Britt; but when she swung around, he caught her with his left arm and squatted down, cradling her against him. The added support allowed her to bring down her left leg and hook her foot behind his calf; her right knee remained hinged over his neck. She caught his right arm and pulled.

“Ah, okay,” he grimaced and tapped out—on her butt. Callie untangled her limbs from around him and fell to the mat. “That was good,” he complimented. “It actually hurt.”

“Thanks.” She arched a sly brow at him. “And is it normal for the opponent to tap out on your butt?”

Matt’s eyes widened. “Oh. Did I do that? Sorry, I couldn’t tell.”

Callie playfully rolled her eyes at his grin. He’d known damn well what he’d done, and he wasn’t sorry at all. “Uh huh,” she returned as she got to her feet. “I’ll let it slide this time, Professor Jackson.”

He gave her a wink. It happened so fast that Callie almost missed it. “Alright, try it on Britt now.”

They ran through the move a few more times, and once they were confident executing the hold from a run, Matt showed them how to do it from a standing position. Twenty minutes later, Callie felt more than ready to use it in her match that night. And she’d even admit that Matt was a good teacher—but maybe not better than Nick.

“Well, thanks for the lesson Professor Jackson,” Britt said. “But I’m starving now.”

“No problem,” Matt said. He gave her a wave as she ducked through the ropes; but even though Callie was hungry too, she didn’t follow her. She and Matt both watched as Britt walked away. As soon as she disappeared down one of the entrance tunnels, Matt asked, “So are you still staying at her place?”

Callie glanced sheepishly down at the canvas. She and Matt had texted back and forth throughout the week, but they hadn’t talked about Adam or their “separation.” They’d talked about anything but: what they were up to on any given day, memories from their time together on the indies, funny things they saw online. And Callie had enjoyed it; it had been a nice distraction. But, now that they were face-to-face, she wasn’t surprised that he wanted an update on the situation.

“No,” she revealed. “But not because Adam and I worked it out. I felt like I was starting to overstay my welcome with Britt and Cole, so I’m staying at the hotel here between now and Thursday’s episode. But after that... I don’t know.”

Callie frowned to herself, realizing just how pathetic that sounded. After tonight, everyone else on the roster would go home to their families and houses; and she’d still be in Jacksonville, living alone in a hotel room for the next five days. She knew she could probably just go back to Virginia; no matter their issues, she doubted Adam would put her out. But her pride kept her away. She didn’t want to go crawling back to someone who she wasn’t sure even wanted her anymore.

“So you and Adam still haven’t talked at all?” Matt asked.

She shook her head. “Not since last week’s Dynamite. And that wasn’t a productive conversation.” She fidgeted, hoping he wouldn’t ask her to elaborate; she really didn’t want to get into her late-night confrontation with Adam and Alex. Thankfully, he seemed to get the hint and left it alone.

“Well, did you have any plans for tonight?”

She looked back at him, a deer in headlights. “Not really. Why?”

He shrugged, casual. “We’re going out to dinner like usual after the show, and I thought I’d see if you wanted to come with.”

Callie’s eyebrows arched at the invitation. Those dinners were sacred. At least, they seemed to be. “With you and Nick and Kenny?”

“Yeah,” he returned, visibly amused by her shock. “Why not? We’re friends.”

“I’m friends with you and Nick,” she corrected. “Kenny… not so much.”

“It’ll be fine,” he breathed. “Besides, I won’t be surprised if Kenny bails. He’s too busy chasing after Alex.”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Him and Adam both, it seems.

“So… you wanna come?” Matt asked.

Callie chewed the inside of her mouth, considering. She knew she couldn’t avoid Adam forever. But dinner with the Bucks—and even Kenny—was more appealing than any conversation she and her estranged boyfriend could have.

“Sure, why not?”

* * * * * * * * * *

“So, we’re totally going out tonight, right?” Chuck asked.

“Affirmative,” James said. Trent nodded, his mouth full of food. Alex, however, didn’t say anything. She was too engrossed with her phone.

“Alex.”

She looked up. All three of them stared expectantly at her from across the table. “Oh, yeah,” she reflexively agreed. “I’m down.”

Chuck smiled. “Cool.”

The three of them started talking about where they should go, but Alex tuned them out, her thoughts turning inward as she looked back down at her phone. Her conversation with Cash last Saturday hadn’t just ended because Kenny had sent her one of the most adorable pictures she’d ever seen. She looked over their texts now, ruminating.

You should have texted me, she’d sent him back. I should have texted you.

I know, he’d replied. We’ve both made emotional mistakes. But I want to move forward, Alex. With you.

I’m worried we can’t. Everything is so fucked.

Let’s talk at Dynamite next week. I don’t want to do it over the phone.

Okay.

After that, they’d texted here and there throughout the week—he’d sent her screenshots of stupid things fans said to him on Twitter and more pictures and videos of his dog, she’d sent him silly little updates about how she was filling her time being stuck at the house. It was almost like things were normal between them. But Alex knew they were far from normal. And, depending how their conversation went today, she might need a few drinks with the boys.

“Hey, guys.”

Alex looked back up as Adam suddenly joined them. She locked her phone and put it face down on the table as she exchanged a glance with Chuck. Word had gotten around about what was going on with Adam and Callie; Alex had heard their names whispered more than once since she’d arrived at Daily’s Place. Adam must have picked up on it. He looked tired. She could only imagine how he felt.

“Hey, man,” Trent greeted. “How’s it going?”

“Wondering what the hell I’m doing here,” Adam returned. “I don’t have a match at all, on Dynamite or Dark. Kenny does. He’s wrestling Dark Order with Matt and Nick.”

Alex’s frown deepened. Kenny had mentioned that to her. She hadn’t known what to make of it then and still didn’t know what to make of it now.

“Well, come out with us tonight,” Chuck offered. “It’ll be better than sitting around doing nothing.”

Adam paused to look back at him. “What?”

“We’re going out for drinks after the show. You should come with.” He snapped his fingers, suddenly thinking of something. “It’ll be like that thing I’ve seen on Twitter. What was it?”

“Cowpals,” James provided.

“Yes!” Chuck proclaimed, an excited smile on his face. “It’ll be like Cowpals.”

Adam went back to his food. “That’s not a thing.”

“Oh, we’ll make it a thing,” Trent said.

A corner of Adam’s mouth quirked up. But the smirk was gone as soon as it appeared. “Well, let me know when and where, I guess. I’m probably gonna drink anyway, so might as well do it with y’all.”

“Will do,” Chuck said—just as Alex’s phone let out a chirp. She tried not to seem too eager as she picked it up off the table and looked at the screen.

Hey, if you’re free I’m in our locker room.

Alex stared at the text. Now or never.

Alright, I’ll be there in a minute. She hit “send” and grabbed her plate of half-eaten food as she stood from the table. “I’ll see you guys later,” she said, and she walked off before they could ask any questions, threw her plate in the trash, and went out the door in the direction of FTR’s locker room.

She tried to keep her mind blank as she walked, tried not to anticipate what Cash might say to her, but it didn’t stop her body from overheating with anxiety. By the time she reached his locker room, her heart was beating so hard that she worried it would burst from her chest. Her palm was clammy as she knocked.

“Come in,” he called from inside. She opened the door. He stood when he saw her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she returned, and she crossed the room and hugged him.

Cash wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. The familiar scent of his cologne filled Alex’s nose, and she was transported back to that night at Adam’s house, as they’d hugged in the hall in the dark. She remembered how she’d felt then, like she’d known exactly what she wanted. She wished she felt that way now.

“I’ve missed this,” Cash said. He rubbed his hand over her back in slow circles. Alex relished in the feel of it.

“I have, too.” She pulled back and looked at him in question. “Is Dax…?”

“He knows what’s going on. He won’t interrupt us or anything.”

She nodded. He took her by the hand and led her over to the couch. He didn’t let go after they sat down, their knees touching.

“Thank you for coming,” he said.

Alex looked down at their hands, watched and felt as he rubbed his thumb over her skin. “I’m surprised you wanted to talk,” she said, her voice small. “I haven’t exactly given you reason to want to.”

Cash squeezed her hand. “I shouldn’t have told you choose that night, Alex.”

She flicked her eyes up to meet his, stunned. Of all the things he could have said, she’d expected that the least.

“I shouldn’t have told you to sleep somewhere else,” he went on. “I was hurt, and it was a knee-jerk reaction. I’m sorry. We should have talked it through right then and there. We should have slept in the same bed.”

Alex’s eyes stung. It tugged on her heartstrings to hear him say that; she’d been aching to hear him say those exact words, and now that he had it was like a weight had been lifted from her chest. But it didn’t make the situation any easier. “I’m sorry that I hurt you,” she said. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t, sweetheart. I know.”

She frowned. But you don’t know what I’ve done since.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.

Alex glanced away again. She wrestled with herself, debating whether she really should tell him what she was thinking. But, in the end, her conscience won out—no matter how badly she knew the truth would hurt.

“Um, when I saw you walk into the hotel with Callie last week, it stung. And I know you just went out as friends; I believe you. Callie said the same thing. But, in that moment, I didn’t know what to think. I just saw what I saw, and I got jealous. I felt like I was the furthest thing from your mind. And on top of the shit with Dark Order it was just too much and I… I stayed with Kenny that night.”

She had to tell him. For the sake of honesty, she had to. He let go of her hand and ran his palm over his face. Her heart pounded in her ears.

“Did you sleep with him?” he asked.

“No,” she said.

He went quiet. Contemplative. When he spoke again, there was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before. “So what are you saying? That you want to be with him?”

Alex’s brow furrowed. “No. I’m saying exactly what I said. I was hurt and jealous when I saw you walk in with Callie, so I went running to Kenny. It was an emotional decision. But it felt like you’d already moved on.”

Cash cut his eyes at her. “Are you serious? Do you really think I’d do that to Adam? To you?”

“I don’t mean moved on with Callie,” she clarified with a breath. “I mean in general. I mean, you went from saying you wanted to talk to me to fleeing the arena without so much as a word. And then on top of it you went out drinking with my friend instead of trying to talk to me.”

“You could have just as easily texted me, Alex. And I would have told you that it was nothing.”

“I know I could have,” she admitted. “I’m not saying I’m blameless in this; I know I’m not. This whole thing has been a clusterfuck of jealousy, and mistakes, and miscommunication.”

Cash shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. Maybe everything is just too fucked now.”

Alex’s heart dropped into her stomach. With those seven words, just like that, the mood in the room suddenly shifted. There wasn’t hope or forgiveness between them anymore. There was a wall. A dead end of her own construction.

A tear rolled down Alex’s cheek and she wiped it away. A thought lingered on the tip of her tongue, and she couldn’t swallow it down. “Do you think things would be different right now if we’d talked it through that night?”

Cash didn’t look at her as he answered. “I did. But now I’m not sure.”

Alex’s chest constricted. There was nothing left to say; more words would be the casket that put her six feet under. She stood from the couch and walked to the door on shaky legs. As she gripped the doorknob, she looked remorsefully back at him. There was one last thing she had to say.

“For what it’s worth, I do think things would be different if we’d talked that night. But I don’t blame you for thinking otherwise.”

Cash looked up. Their eyes met one last time—his full of hurt, hers regret—and then Alex forced herself out the door.

* * * * * * * * * *

She went through the rest of the afternoon in a daze. She was there but not fully present. Trapped in her thoughts. Listless. Apathetic. And it damn near got her injured again.

A third of the way through the show, Alex, Trent, and Chuck had accompanied Orange to the ring for his interview with Tony Schiavone about his win over Chris Jericho the week before. But Jericho had interrupted. After Jericho had challenged Orange to a ridiculous Mimosa Mayhem match at All Out—which Orange had accepted—the rest of the Inner Circle had surrounded the ring and attacked them. Alex hadn’t reacted quickly enough, and Trent had literally pushed her to safety. It had been a shock to her system, and she’d watched helplessly from the floor as Inner Circle laid waste to her friends and drowned Orange in champagne. Now, as she followed Chuck and Trent through the entrance tunnel to the back, carrying a defeated and embarrassed Orange between them, all Alex wanted was to go back to the hotel, take a hot shower, and go to sleep. She didn’t want to go out anymore. She just wanted to crawl into bed and forget this day had ever happened.

“Alex.”

Someone caught her arm as she crossed through Gorilla. She looked up. Kenny stared down at her, concern etched into his blue eyes. Alex blinked; she’d walked right by him, completely unaware. He was in his gear. His match with the Bucks against Dark Order must be next.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she returned. “They waterboarded Orange with champagne, not me.”

Kenny pursed his lips. “I don’t mean that. You seemed a little… out of it out there. What’s going on?”

She glanced after Chuck, Trent, and Orange as they disappeared backstage. Alex didn’t want to do this with Kenny. Not right now, in the middle of Gorilla, in front of Matt and Nick and a ton of other prying eyes. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to do it at all.

“I said I’m fine, Kenny. Alright?”

She pulled away from him and tried to go after her friends; but he caught her again. She bit down on her jaw in frustration as he stepped in front of her.

“I know that means you’re not,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

Alex let out an agitated breath. “It’s just been a shitty day, alright? But you’ll be happy to know that it’s officially over between Cash and me.”

She looked away, feeling that tightness in her chest again. She hadn’t meant to blurt that out, much less so sarcastically. But maybe it was good that she had. It was her raw emotion. Kenny should feel it.

He moved his hands to her shoulders, gently gripping, his fingers pressing into her skin. “Alex, I’m confused. You spent the night in my bed last week. The way things have been between us… I thought that was what you wanted?”

“It was,” she breathed. “When I woke up with you that morning… it was what I wanted. And when I hugged Cash ten minutes ago, before everything fell apart, that was what I wanted. My heart has been in two places for weeks, and there’s nothing fucking left, Kenny.”

She stared up at him, weary and broken, the truth laid bare at her feet. Kenny searched her eyes, just wanting to understand—

“Hey, Ken, we’re up.”

He closed his eyes at the sound of Nick’s voice. “Alright,” he breathed. He looked back at Alex. “I’m sorry. I promise we’ll talk about this later, okay?”

Alex drew in a steadying breath. She wasn’t sure she would want to talk about it later, but she nodded anyway. “Yeah, okay.”

He gave her a squeeze, and Alex watched as he turned and disappeared down the entrance tunnel, a hollow feeling in her gut.

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie had told Matt she’d meet them at the restaurant. She’d taken more time than she’d expected getting ready before she’d left, carefully applying her makeup and styling her hair. Even Britt had commented on how much care she was paying to her appearance just for dinner with Matt, Nick, and Kenny. Callie had brushed her off, claiming that she just felt good after winning her match against Penelope. But even she hadn’t fully believed herself as she’d said it.

Unsurprisingly, they’d chosen T.G.I. Friday’s. Callie spotted them through the window as she walked toward the building; Nick saw her and waved. When she got inside, she slid into the free spot in the booth next to Matt, across from Nick. Kenny was typing away on his phone, oblivious.

“Hey,” she greeted. “Sorry I’m a little late.”

“No worries,” Nick said. “We’ve only been here like five minutes.”

Matt smiled at her. “I’m glad you came.”

She smiled back. “Thanks for inviting me.”

She opened her menu and started looking—she was starving—when Nick cleared his throat. Callie glanced up. He was staring expectantly at Kenny, still engrossed with his phone. He nudged him with his elbow.

“What?” Kenny looked up, startled. “Oh, hey, Callie,” he said, and went right back to typing.

“Are you writing a novel there, bud?” Matt asked.

Kenny glanced up just long enough to shoot him a sarcastic glare. Matt looked apologetically back at Callie. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, as if to say it was fine.

“Congrats on winning your match tonight, by the way,” Nick said.

“Oh, thanks,” Callie smiled. “It felt good. Congrats on winning yours, too. I’m sure Alex appreciated your extra effort after the bell, Kenny.”

The air seemed to thicken as Kenny looked up at her snide comment. She didn’t need to elaborate—they all knew exactly what she meant. After Kenny had put away Dark Order’s Five with a One-Winged Angel, he’d grabbed a steel chair and nearly powerbombed him on it; Matt had pulled the chair out of the way just in time. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that he’d tried the stunt to avenge Alex for last week. In fact, he’d seemed to wrestle that whole match angry. He definitely looked angry now.

“I don’t know; we haven’t talked about it,” he evenly returned. “Actually, I think Alex is out drinking with your boyfriend right now.”

He set his phone down and opened his menu. Callie’s eyes narrowed. This was going to be a long dinner.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Okay. You, me, darts. If I win, you show me your boobs.”

Adam watched as Alex playfully rolled her eyes at Trent’s suggestion. She was a shot of Jose and a beer-and-a-half deep and feeling it; he could tell by the lazy smile on her lips. She always got that smile when she drank.

“And if I win?” she asked.

Trent looked up, deep in thought. “If you win… I’ll pay for your next set of gear.”

“Deal,” Alex immediately accepted, and she grabbed Trent’s wrist and pulled him over to the dart boards, a satisfied grin on his face. Adam shook his head as they went.

“Y’all are weird,” he said with a drink of his nearly empty beer.

“Oh come on,” Chuck returned. “You’ve known Alex longer than us. You were probably acquainted with Mariposa years before we ever gave her a name.”

He shook his head. “No comment.”

“That’s guilty,” James quipped.

“Yeah, it is,” Chuck smirked in agreement.

Adam drained the rest of his beer to hide his grin. He almost hadn’t come out with them tonight—he was surprised they’d still wanted to at all, after what the Inner Circle had done to Orange—but he was glad he had. If he hadn’t, he’d just be sitting in his hotel room, ruminating. About how his relationships with his girlfriend and his tag team partner were falling apart at the seams, about how he wasn’t sure who his real friends were anymore. Buzzing on whiskey and with nothing better to do, he’d confronted FTR back at the arena about what they’d done to Ricky Morton last week, about how Dax had faked a leg injury the week before that—and they’d completely turned it around on him. Something about how it wasn’t personal; how they’d needed to know if they could trust him after all the nasty things Matt, Nick, and Kenny had said about them; something about how he’d always been stuck in their shadow. They weren’t wrong. And with a tag team gauntlet match next week to determine who would get a shot at Adam and Kenny’s championships at All Out, Adam wasn’t sure he wanted to give Matt and Nick yet another opportunity to eclipse him.

“You guys want another?” James asked.

“Yeah,” Chuck said while Adam nodded. “Put it on Trent’s tab.”

James pointed at him as he stood from the table. “Was already planning on it.”

He walked off, and Adam’s eyes drifted to where Alex played darts with Trent. She stood close to him, her fingers laced behind her back, and just as he was about to throw his dart, she tilted her chin up, pursed her lips, and blew into his ear. He flinched, and she let out a loud laugh as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to say something in her ear. Alex pushed him away, a flirtatious grin on her face, and Trent turned back to the board and threw his dart.

“Trent certainly seems to like Mariposa,” Adam remarked.

Chuck scoffed as he glanced over his shoulder. “Are you kidding? He loves her.” He turned back around. “It annoyed me when I had feelings for Alex, too.”

Adam went stiff. He reflexively reached for his beer only to remember he’d finished it. He gripped his empty glass anyway, just to have something to do. “Too?” he shot.

Chuck met his question with skeptical eyes. “Come on, man. I recognize that look.”

Adam shifted in his seat. “I don’t know what look you’re talking about,” he said—but Chuck didn’t buy that, either.

“Sure, you don’t,” he dismissed.

Adam bit down on his jaw and glanced toward the bar. James needed to get back with the beer, already.

“Look, I get it,” Chuck went on. “Alex is your friend, and your relationship status is complicated right now. And so is Alex’s,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Plus, there was that time Callie hit her with a chair because she thought you two were screwing around. I don’t think I’d want to prove her right, either.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Is there a point you’re trying to make?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I’m just saying; I recognize that look.”

James returned with a beer pitcher in hand, and not a moment too soon. “Trent was feeling generous,” he smirked as he set it on the table.

Adam grabbed it and refilled his glass. The way this night was going, he might need a whole pitcher to himself before it was over.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex almost hadn’t come out tonight, but she was glad she had. If she hadn’t, she’d just be laying in her and Chuck’s hotel room, replaying her conversation with Cash and all of the decisions that had led up to it. The boys had no idea what had happened; she didn’t want to tell them, didn’t want to talk about it. Thankfully, they’d been too preoccupied with what had happened to Orange and the upcoming tag team gauntlet match to ask her why she’d been so spacey all day. She hoped it stayed that way. She just wanted to forget about it.

“You do realize you’re about to lose, right?”

She pursed her lips at Trent. “We haven’t been scoring properly.”

“But I’ve gotten more closer to the bullseye than you.”

Alex just took another sip of her beer. Trent squared up and tossed his final dart. It stuck in the single bullseye.  

He gave her a cocky smirk. “I’d say that’s a pretty definitive victory.”

“Congratulations,” she slyly returned.

He rubbed his hands together, basking in his win. “So, where do you want to do this? The bathroom? Actually, no—I can wait until we get back to the hotel. I want you to be as comfortable as possible.”

Alex stepped close and put her hand on his shoulder; he reflexively put his on her hip. She frowned apologetically up at him. “Oh, Trent. Mariposa made the bet, but it’s Alex’s body.”

His head fell back. “Goddammit,” he breathed.

A wide grin broke out over her face. “Come on, I need a refill.”

They walked back to the table. Adam sat alone with a nearly empty pitcher of beer, his phone in his hand. Alex gave him curious look as she sat down across from him.

“Where’re Chuck and James?”

He glanced up at her. “Oh, they went to buy shots and a round of pool on Trent’s tab.”

“What?” With that Trent hurried off to the other side of the bar, leaving Alex alone with Adam. She reached for the beer pitcher.

“Want more?” she offered.

He shook his head. “No,” he said, and so she emptied it into her glass. “So, did you lose?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she answered. “But he’s not seeing anything.”

Adam shook his head again, a smirk on his lips. “You’re a tease, you know that?”

“I take that as a compliment, thank you very much.” She grinned at him as she reached for her purse and pulled out her phone. She’d put it on silent and thrown it in her bag as soon as they’d arrived, keeping it out of sight and out of mind; but she couldn’t avoid the temptation any longer. She was expecting to see a whole lot of nothing—but she had a text, unsurprisingly, from Kenny. Her pulse started to race as she read it.

I’m sorry that you’ve felt torn in two the last few weeks, Alex. It kills me to know that I’ve been a cause of it. All I want is for you to be happy, no matter what that means. I understand if you need some time and space. I’ll be here. You have my whole heart.

He ended it with a red heart emoji. A chaotic mix of emotions battled within Alex as she stared at it—anger, frustration, love. She couldn’t tell which one of them would win out in the end.

“Is everything alright?”

She looked up at Adam’s question. “Yeah,” she noncommittally answered as she slipped her phone back in her purse. “It was just a text from Kenny.”

He arched a brow. “You’re not gonna answer it?”

“No,” she returned. “Not right now.”  

The atmosphere grew awkward and she took a sip of her beer. Alex didn’t think he would ask; he couldn’t ask without opening up the floor for questions about his personal life, too, and she knew he didn’t want to talk about his any more than she wanted to talk about hers.

But she thought wrong.

“Do you want to be with him?”

Alex glanced across the bar. It didn’t look like the boys would be coming back anytime soon, so she obliged him. “The answer to that question seems to change every day.”

He nodded. “I guess it’s the same for Cash?”

She looked down at her drink. “Well, Cash pretty much closed the door on us today so. No.”

If Adam was surprised to hear that, Alex couldn’t tell. He had a quiet, introspective look on his face, like he wasn’t sure what to say. No—like he had something to say but wasn’t sure he should. She turned the tables on him before he had the chance to spit it out.

“What about Callie? Is that how you feel about her?”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he admitted.

Alex let out a frustrated huff. She propped her elbow on the table and leaned her head in her hand, tired. “Why?” she asked. “What happened? Did you fall out of love, or something?”

He stared at a spot on the table. “I don’t know if I fell out of love so much as her insecurities just became a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

Alex froze. She gripped her drink harder, pressing her fingertips against the glass. Her voice came out nervous as she asked, “A self-fulfilling prophecy about what?”

Adam’s eyes met hers, vulnerable and blue. Obvious. “You know what, Alex.”

Alex’s heart leapt into her throat. This wasn’t happening. Not here, not now, not after all the other shit she’d already gone through. What was he thinking? She couldn’t deal with it. She couldn’t.

“I’m gonna go make sure Trent doesn’t kill them,” she said, and she grabbed her purse and hurried away in panic, pretending that her oldest friend hadn’t just admitted that to her.

[remywrites5]

For @casualmaraudering who is having a bad day. Have some artist!Remus schmoop. 

***

           Remus sat with his legs crossed in the center of his art studio, an unknown streak of blue paint on his cheek. He scratched his cheek with the back of his paintbrush, unsure why it was itchy to begin with. Sticking his tongue out in concentration, he smudged his thumb over one of the lines to soften it slightly.

           The sounds of a motorbike pulled his attention from his canvas just as it always did at 5:15 pm when Sirius Black returned from work. Remus glanced out the slightly ajar window, his head just barely poking over the sill from his place on the floor. Sirius was whistling what appeared to be Another One Bites the Dust as he made his way up the driveway to his front door.

           Feeling inspired, Remus grabbed his phone and pulled up Spotify, letting a playlist of Queen fill the room. He lost himself back in his art for a while until what sounded like hail on his window made him jump. He found a few small pebbles by his feet and went to the window to find Sirius Black standing underneath it.

           Remus put his hands up the bottom of the window and yanked it upwards. Sticking his head out, he found Sirius beaming up at him from his front yard. “Care for a walk?” Sirius asked, shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

           Remus blinked a few times in surprise. Never mind that Sirius Black was unfairly attractive but they had never spoken more then ten words to each other despite being neighbors for the past two years.

           “Why?”

           Sirius shrugged in response. “You coming or not?”

           Remus considered for a moment and then spent another few moments wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Gorgeous blokes didn’t show up at your window every night for moonlit strolls.

           “Be right down!”

           Remus turned the music off on his phone and shoved it into his pocket. By the front door he crammed his feet into his sneakers before grabbing his wallet and keys. When he opened his front door, Sirius was standing on his front stoop waiting for him.

           “Overalls?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “Really?”

           “Shut up,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. He stepped outside and made sure his front door was locked. “They’re comfortable and I don’t care if I get paint on them.”

           Sirius walked backwards down the steps in a manner so smooth Remus would have thought it had been rehearsed, however he doubted Sirius Black was practicing on Remus’ front porch. He looked up at Remus expectantly from the few steps the separated them. Remus chewed his bottom lip for a moment and then joined Sirius on the sidewalk.

           “So…” Remus said, breaking the silence as they fell into step with each other.

           “So,” Sirius echoed, grinning mischievously. “Hi. I’m Sirius.”

           “I know that,” Remus said, playing with one of his longer curls by his temple. He really needed to get a haircut. “Is there a point to this?”

           “Does there have to be?”

           “Two years of pleasant greetings and suddenly you want to go for a walk.” Remus sighed and kicked as a rock. “Doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.”

           Sirius turned and stepped in front of Remus, blocking his path. “Would you ever consider painting me?”

           Remus managed to keep his jaw from dropping but it was a near thing. “If that sentence ends with like one of your French girls I will hit you.”

           Sirius snorted. “I am actually French but we don’t have to go full nude on the first portrait.”

           “Oh you imagine there will be many, do you?” Remus sidestepped Sirius and continued walking. It felt a bit like running away from the handsome man who had just offered to pose nude for him.

           “Don’t you want to know why I want my portrait done?” Sirius asked, following after Remus.

           “Probably so the portrait can grow old for you and you can stay youthful for the rest of time?” Remus quipped over his shoulder.

           “You know,” Sirius said, catching up to Remus. “Oscar Wilde believed art showed more about the artist than the subject. What would you reveal, Remus?”

           Remus swallowed thickly and picked up the pace of his walking. “I want a milkshake,” he said, changing the subject entirely. “Would you like a milkshake?”

           “Remus!” Sirius called out, hurrying to keep up with him. “What’s the rush?”

           Remus didn’t slow down until they’d reached the little diner on the corner. Remus sat down at the counter, as sitting in a booth across from Sirius felt too intimate. Sirius sat backwards on the rotating stool next to him, his elbows on the counter as he lounged back, his legs crossed at the ankles.

           Remus ordered a chocolate milkshake for himself while Sirius got a strawberry one and a plate of chips.

           “You’re a strange one, Remus,” Sirius said as they waited for their order.

           “Am I?” Remus asked, pulling a napkin from the holder and beginning to doodle on it. Before he knew it he’d drawn Sirius’ mouth. He quickly sketched his eyes and nose so it wouldn’t be quite so weird. He always doodled when he was nervous.

           “You know you’ve got paint on your cheek,” Sirius said, grinning that same wicked grin. Remus found himself pulling out another napkin so he could attempt to capture it. “And it hasn’t bothered you in the twenty minutes we’ve been together. Not once.”

           “Shit,” Remus said, licking his palm and attempting to clean his cheek. “Hazard of the trade, unfortunately.”

           “Let me,” Sirius said softly. He dipped a napkin into his glass of water and gently began to rub at Remus’ cheek. “May I tell you why I want my picture done now?”

           Remus nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

           “When I was little my mother had our portraits done, it was a family tradition. Your portrait went on this wall that formed a family tree. Well when I was sixteen I came out to my parents and my mother proceeded to take my portrait off the wall and throw it into the fireplace. Symbolic gesture, right?”

           “Sirius –“

           “Last year my brother went into rehab and guess what? His portrait also ended up in the fire. She’s got high standards, that mother of mine, and unfortunately neither of her sons quite lived up to them. He’s getting out soon and he’s going to come stay with me until he feels like he can be on his own. I thought I would start a new tree, you know? Turn a negative into a positive. Start with my portrait and then his, if you’d be up for it. Then maybe my best friend Jamie, his wife Lily and my godson Harry. New family, new life, you know?”

           “Sirius,” Remus said, wrapping his fingers around Sirius’ wrist to still his hand. He didn’t know if the blue was off his face but he didn’t care. “Fuck, of course. I’d be honored.”

           “Really?” Sirius asked, his smile so bright and wide it made Remus’ heart clench. “It’s not a whim, by the way, although it might seem like it to you. I’ve been trying to gather up the courage to ask you for months.”

           “Why?” Remus asked, shaking his head in confusion. “I’m not exactly intimidating.” Remus gestured with his free hand to his paint splattered overalls.

           Sirius huffed out a laugh and broke eye contact. It was only at that moment Remus realized they had been staring at each other quite intently. “You know when you first moved into the neighborhood I was going to make you a cobbler. It was Jamie’s mum’s recipe and I tried so hard to get it right because it reminded me of home. But it was rubbish. I went wrong somewhere, I’m not sure where but I’m not great at baking. All that measuring, bleh.”

           “You were going to make me a cobbler…” Remus said, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

           “I wanted you to feel at home,” Sirius said, tucking his hair behind his ear. “I wanted you to stay, I wanted…”

           “Sirius?” Remus said softly, barely audible even to his own ears as his heart threatened to beat out of his chest.

           “I wanted to be your home, eventually. You were so cute and fuck I’m so gay and I left it too long. It got to the point where I didn’t even know how to say hi to you without getting fucking lost in my feelings.”

           Remus opened his mouth to respond but the waitress interrupted them by bringing their order. Sirius let his hand drop and quickly spun around to face the counter, his head ducked down as if embarrassed. He shoveled a handful of chips into his mouth as if he was trying to get himself to stop talking.

           Remus watched him for a moment with a bemused smile on his face. Sirius Black, the unattainable gorgeous bloke that liked to cut his lawn shirtless had been…pining for Remus all this time. “So what kind of cobbler was it?”

           Sirius began to choke in surprise at the question, thumping his fist against his chest. Eventually he managed to swallow, bypassing the straw to take a large gulp from his milkshake. “Blueberry.”

           “Maybe you should try again,” Remus said, playing with his own straw, dipping it in and out of his milkshake.

           “I did,” Sirius said grumpily. “They never came out right.”

           Remus bit his lip to keep from laughing. “So there were several cobblers.”

           Sirius made a funny noise in the back of his throat and then mumbled something that Remus couldn’t understand.

           “What was that?”

           “I said eleven!” Sirius snapped, biting a chip roughly. “I drew the line at an even dozen.”

           Remus turned to the side so he could look at Sirius. He rested his cheek in his hand and just stared at him in a mix of flattered and bewildered. “You made eleven cobblers that all turned out wrong?”

           Sirius shot him a look and then drained half his milkshake in one go, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “They weren’t good enough, okay? Sure they were edible but when has that ever impressed anybody? When Mrs. Potter made them they were amazing. I never quite got to amazing.”

           Remus took a chip and dunked it into his milkshake before popping it into his mouth. “What did you end up doing with eleven edible cobblers?”

           “I’d take them up with me whenever I visited my brother Reg,” Sirius confessed, taking a napkin and beginning to shred it with his fingers. “Do me a favor and let me wallow here for a while alone in how pathetic I am. I’ll pay for this.”

           “I don’t think you’re pathetic.”

           Sirius gave Remus a wary glance. “You don’t?”

           “A little misguided, perhaps,” Remus said, taking a pensive sip of his milkshake. “Maybe you just need a little help, not that I’m that good at baking myself, but two heads and all that.”

           Sirius stared at him in awe. “You want to come back to my place?”

           “For cobbler.” Remus said sternly, poking Sirius in the chest. “Don’t get any funny ideas.”

           “Of course,” Sirius said, slipping off his stool and going to the register to pay for them. Remus finished off his milkshake and went to the door to wait for Sirius. A few moments later, Sirius joined him, bounding over like an excited puppy. “Ready to be amazed?”

           Remus considered it for a moment and then laced his fingers through Sirius’. His face broke out into a wide smile matching Sirius’ own. “I’m ready.”

[cordonian-literature]

The Aftermath - Ch. 17

From Lovers to Strangers

SUMMARY: Liam rushes to Ramsford after hearing about Riley

Word Count: ~4.9k

Warnings: Mention of character death, language

*All characters belong to Pixelberry, except those that are unique to my story (I’ve also used some characters and fictional instances from Donna Tartt’s “The Goldfinch”)*

Catch up here

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I’m so sorry, I don’t know if the tags are working or not... but I hope I got everyone down! If I missed someone, or anyone wants to be added/removed, let me know!

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

...Present Day...

- Liam - 

Gripping the steering wheel as tightly as he could, Liam swerves in between other vehicles on the highway, doing everything he could to get to Riley faster. I should have made driving too slow illegal, Liam thinks after getting trapped momentarily between drivers going at their own comfortable pace. They block him from all sides until he loses his nerve and punches the horn, scaring other drivers to move out of Liam’s way. 

Almost twice he bumps into another car when trying to change lanes at the same time. Then, he gets stuck in traffic, where Liam forced himself to wait for a total of seventeen seconds — during which the cars around him didn’t move a centimeter — until he drives the car into the grass next to the roadway and continues. 

Thankfully the dirt wasn’t muddy or bumpy, so Liam reaches Ramsford thirty minutes sooner than he would have if he’d continued on the roadway. 

He doesn’t even take the keys out of the ignition before racing across the driveway and knocking furiously on the front door. Liam tries to push it open to no avail, then screams for Maxwell to open the door. 

Drake is the one who allows him to enter. When Liam tries to push past him, Drake blocks his path and puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder. 

“Wait a sec, Liam,” Drake tries to stop Liam from rushing into the estate. 

“Where is she? What happened? Is she alright?” Liam begins to push forward, but Drake shoves him back. 

“Calm the fuck down, Liam!” Drake says in a low voice through barred teeth. “The kids saw us bringing her upstairs and started crying.”

Liam feels his heart clench.

“Rowan started fussing over where to put her and Gabriel looked like he was about to pass out. Maxwell thought to distract them with some TV, but they’re still unsettled. Don’t make it worse.”

“Where are they?” Liam tries to walk away from Drake again. 

“We put them in their own room next to Riley’s. East wing.” 

Before Drake can say anything else, Liam races up the stairs and down the hall. He turns his head to look into each room as he passes.

Liam slows once he hears strange voices. Nearing a room with an open door, he sees Gabriel and Eleanor’s tear-streaked faces illuminated by a television in front of Ella, while Gabe stares down at a laptop. Ella watches a group of teenagers and a talking dog lead an investigation, while Gabriel furiously types. Neither of them look up when Liam’s figure blocks the doorway. 

He wonders if the light from the electronics strain their eyes, so he moves his hand along the wall to turn on the ceiling light. When it turns on, both children squint in Liam’s direction, blinking rapidly. 

Once their vision clears again, Ella gives a tired wave and says, “Hi, Liam.” 

“Hello, Ella.” He’s about to move forward to wrap the exhausted child in his arms, but his heart is still racing. “Do you know where your mother is?” 

Eleanor points behind her. “In that room with Aunt Rowan.” 

Liam leaves the doorway and goes to the door next to it, which is closed. He reaches to open it, but notices a dim light coming from the space at the bottom. If she’s still unconscious, perhaps I could spend time with the children? Liam goes back into the children’s room.

There are two couches, and each of them sit on a separate one. Noticing that Gabriel has his eyes locked on the laptop screen, Liam takes a seat next to Eleanor instead. 

He leans back against the cushions, and she leans her head against his arm. Liam contemplates putting a fatherly arm around her, but decides that he shouldn’t test his luck; it was enough that she allowed him to sit next to her. He didn’t want to move a lot to make her change her mind. 

“What are you watching?” he asks her quietly, mindful of Gabriel focusing on his device. 

Eleanor yawns before she answers: “Scooby Doo.” 

“Oh. What is it about?” 

“It’s about this dog who talks and helps his human friends solve mysteries.” 

“Really?” Liam tries to sound enthusiastic to keep the conversation going. “What kind of mysteries?” 

He feels her shrug against his arm. “All kinds. Daddy said that this one is a newer series. There’s an evil owl who wants to end the world.”

“An evil owl?” Liam thinks to himself, What on Earth do they make children watch nowadays?

“Uh huh. And he has a German accent and—” she breaks off her sentence to yawn again “—and he was also in a mystery solving group.”

“Really?” Liam continues watching the show with her, uncertain of what was happening. “Do you have a favorite character?”

“I like Scooby. That’s the dog’s name.” She lifts her head from his arm to look up at Liam. “Do you have a favorite character yet?”

“Well... uh.” Liam stutters while glancing rapidly between the characters on the screen. “What about that blond one in the white shirt? He seems like a leader.”

“That’s Fred,” she tells Liam. “Mama used to say that he was obsessive.” 

Liam tries to laugh at Eleanor’s insight, Leo’s words vibrating through his head. She gives a sleepy chuckle, then puts her head back on his arm. 

After a few minutes, Drake silently knocks on the doorframe. Only Liam looks up, and Drake asks him if he had a chance to call Olivia and Hana yet. 

“No, I was occupied.” He remembers Leo having the nerve to visit him, and Liam’s jaw clenches. 

“You gonna do it in the morning?” Drake asks. 

“Yes, I will make sure to.” 

Drake nods and then walks off. 

For the next few hours, Liam sits silently next to Eleanor watching the show, occasionally pressing buttons on the remote next to him to get to the next episode. Eventually, he hears her loudly breathing, and when Liam glances down he can see that she fell asleep leaning against him. 

He cradles her head and neck in his other arm, then grabs a couch cushion to put under her head as he lies her down. Liam considers putting her on the bed, but doesn’t want to wake her. Instead, he grabs the blanket off of the bed and places it on her. 

Gabriel is still on the laptop. Liam takes out his phone to find that it was almost midnight. 

He takes a seat next to his son. Gabriel doesn’t look up at his father, and keeps scrolling through some articles. 

“What are you looking at?” Liam asks. 

The boy doesn’t glance up when he responds, “News articles. About the bombing.”

Liam frowns, wondering why Gabriel was researching an event that brought him so much emotional pain. “What have you found?”

He sits up straight and turns to look at Liam. Gabriel gazes at his father with a controlled intensity. The boy knew what he was talking about. “They think the bombers were foreigners ‘cause there’s some evidence towards one of them having come on a plane from Europe. And there are also a couple missing paintings from French, Austrian, and Cordonian painters. But from the eighteen hundreds.”

“Ah.” Liam leans closer to try and see what the article says. “Do you know which pieces?” 

“One was The Dance Class and another one is... uh... Bain à la G- Gren?” Gabriel turns the computer screen towards Liam. He sees an oil painting of people on a boat and on what seemed to be a man-made island or platform in the middle of a lake. 

On the bottom of the image was the title, “Bain à la Grenouillère,” which Liam pronounces for Gabriel. 

“Yeah, that,” he says. “And there are some others, too, but I can’t find that much information on them. There are two more that they think were stolen and another few they think might have burned.”

Liam allows Gabriel to continue scrolling and typing for a few more moments. He regards his son’s features. The slight upward curve of his chin and nose are the same as Liam’s, but the curve of his ears and the vague eyebrow arch scream Riley. Gabriel’s eyelashes are longer compared to Liam’s when he was a child, and they brush against his pale cheek. While he gazes down onto the laptop screen — as the ceiling light slightly flickers and the field outside the window seemed like a dark canvas — Gabriel looks almost otherworldly, like he’s not real. Maybe it was the sleep in Liam’s eyes, but for a moment he feels like he’s hallucinating, but he turns his head to see Eleanor still sleeping on the other couch, and Gabriel began to fiercely type something. It’s like they were born from a dream.

Both Liam and Gabriel turn their heads when there’s a loud noise from the television. The characters are being chased, and while running, they are accidentally separated from each other. 

Gabriel chuckles and tells Liam, “I hate the way Scooby talks.” 

“Why?” Liam asks. 

“Because he starts every word with the ‘r’ sound. This one time—” he laughs to himself “—Ella had this phase where she would talk like Scooby. It was only for like, two months, but it was the most annoying thing ever.” 

Liam laughs, imagining younger and chubbier versions of his children annoyed with each other. 

“My brother and I were like that, too,” Liam tells his son. He doesn’t expect Gabriel to listen, but when he turns to look at Liam, his heart stops for a moment. 

“Really? Did you annoy him or was it the other way around?” There’s a true excitement in Gabriel’s voice, and Liam could tell that he was trying to suppress a laugh. 

“Both, actually. There was this show that we used to watch when we were children. The Andy Griffith Show.”

“Oh. I’ve never heard of it.” 

Afraid that Gabriel would lose interest, Liam sits forward and continues, “For a long time I used to whistle the tune for the show, like this.” He proceeds to whistle a lively tune while snapping his fingers. 

“That’s... actually really good!” Gabriel comments. The amused look on his face sends a spark of joy through Liam. “It’s not annoying! Well... maybe if you did it too loud.” 

“It wasn’t my volume that annoyed my brother,” Liam explains. “I used to be terrible at whistling, but I refused to stop playing the tune.” 

“Oh.” Gabriel chuckles. “I whistle a little too loud, and Ella hates it. She says it hurts the inside of her ears so I stopped doing it around her.”

“Perhaps I can... teach you the song in the morning?” Liam hesitates. He wanted to take this opportunity of Gabriel’s friendliness, but didn’t want to do anything that might make Gabriel wish to avoid such conversations in the future. 

“Y- Yeah,” Gabriel says. The boy’s lips twitch upwards, and Liam smiles warmly. 

Liam takes out his phone to check the time again. “Well, it’s getting late.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Gabriel closes the tabs he had open, and turns the laptop off. Putting it on the coffee table, he takes a cushion and puts it under his head. Once Liam understands that he wanted to sleep on the couch, he goes into a closet to grab another blanket. Gabriel gives a tight smile when Liam drapes it over him. “Thanks.” 

Liam moves a lock of hair out of Gabriel’s eyes, then goes to check on Ella. She was on her stomach, turned away from Liam. He goes to turn off the light, and through the light in the hallway, he sees Gabriel lift a hand in farewell. Liam raises his hand as well, then closes the door.

He walks back towards the foyer, hoping to see someone who could lead Liam to a room he could stay in, when he remembers the car. Only Drake knew that he had arrived, but he was unsure if Drake knew to take the keys out of the ignition. 

Liam quickly goes down the stairs and slowly opens the door to peer out. He can’t see the car, and instead hears sniffling. 

Someone is crying. 

Liam freezes, focusing in on the sound. There’s an immense pain in the person’s huffing. It seems like they’re having difficulty breathing through the tears, and Liam’s breath catches in his throat. 

Sure he had cried very often himself when he was younger, he had heard Olivia weep as a child, and Liam had also seen Hana cry when she announced that she was leaving Cordonia to get married. But this sound was different; the person whimpers for a few moments, as if they’re trying to calm themself. 

It’s a painful noise, and has gripped Liam’s heart. He turns his head, almost involuntarily, and sees Riley sitting on the couch on the patio, her back facing him. Her shoulders are hunched, though they shake with the force of her tears. He wonders how she got downstairs.

Liam forces his legs to stay in place. Running to her while she was crying didn’t seem like the best idea. He softly closes the door behind him, expecting her to turn at the sound of the click, but she doesn’t move. His heart begs him to run towards her, wrap her in his arms. He doesn’t even realize that he’s moving in her direction. 

Liam sits on the couch towards her left. He wants to say something. His heart aches — this was the moment he had been waiting forever for. His mind rehearses what he wanted say to her; though he had been practicing the past ten years, he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

I love you, Riley. I’ve missed you, Riley. Why did you leave me, Riley? Are you upset to be back, Riley? I still love you, Riley. Do you remember me, Riley? 

I’m sorry, my love. 

Grief stops him from saying anything. He allows her to cry, though the sound pushes him deeper into sadness. The moment feels like eternity, but Liam still says nothing. She seemed to be crying for both of them. Perhaps for Theodore, too. Watching her cry squeezed Liam’s heart so ferociously that for a moment he believed death would cause less pain.  

Her crying slows to just sniffles. Riley lifts her head but stares out into nothingness. Liam knows she can see him from the corner of her eyes, but he still doesn’t wish to speak. If he did, who was to say that she wouldn’t run away again? 

Perhaps I shouldn’t have come here. I am the one who brings her so much pain. For her sake I should have let her be. 

She turns to look at him, and they lock eyes. Riley’s face is red and puffy, but she’s still the most beautiful and purest thing he’s ever seen. 

They sit like that for a while, Liam’s heart alight. For him, the moment was sore: painful, with the fear that doing anything more could ruin this action of reserved love. 

They have everything to say to each other, they have nothing to say to each other.

Finally, she breaks his gaze and stares down at her knees, running her hands up and down her legs. “Are the kids asleep?” 

Once the words register in Liam’s mind, he answers, “Yes.” Out of fear that those words would be the only she would say to him, he continues, “The flight must have exhausted them.” 

She lets out a breath that sounds like a laugh. She looks up at the dark landscape again, this time a nostalgic look in her eyes. “Theo used to stay up all night with them before we traveled, just so they would sleep on the plane.” Her lips twisted, and she puts her head in her hands. 

Hearing moments of their family together sent a jolt of anger through Liam’s body. He wanted to erase that man from Riley’s life and replace it with himself. There was no doubt in his heart that he would have treated Riley better, he would have loved her better.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Riley says through tears, her voice breaking. “I can’t believe I spent the last few weeks oblivious to the fact that he died. Alone. And I let it happen.”

She remembers?

Liam jumps up from his seat to sit next to her. “Riley, none of that was your fault.” He puts an arm around her, and she leans into his chest, shaking. Their knees collide, and it feels like second nature when he puts a hand under her cast and brings her legs over his thighs. Her head falls under his chin, and he leans down to kiss her temple. 

But then she takes in an unstable breath and shuffles to the opposite side of the couch. 

She remembers.

He’s surprised, but also embarrassed that he let his feelings overtake him. “I’m sorry, my love,” he blurts out. 

“Don’t—” Riley begins, but stops herself. She puts her head in her hands again. 

Liam blinks the pain away. He feels small, suddenly. Alone. Adrift. Lost.

Her voice is broken when she says, “Ten years. More than a decade... before it felt like we would last forever. We had to. But now look at us. We’re practically strangers.”

He wants to scream, But I still love you. Perhaps I love you more now than before. Do not for a moment think that a day went by during which you did not occupy my heart and mind entirely. Instead he manages, “That’s not true.”

She looks at him with a face that screams “you can’t be serious?” Shaking her head, Riley states, “Liam, ten years is a long time. Longer than either of us have realized.”

He sits confused for a moment, thinking about how the time went by in slow motion for him. “I feel like I’ve lived and eternity within those ten years.” 

She chuckles, the melody warming Liam’s heart. “I think having kids does the opposite. One minute they’re saying their first words, the next—” She stops, her eyes going wide. “Liam, I didn’t mean—”

He puts up a hand, “Please, we don’t have to discuss that right now.” 

Her eyes brim with tears when she says, “You have no reason to believe me when I say that I wanted to tell you more than anything. I was about to fight Theo while he was bringing me to the hospital.” Her voice breaks again when she says, “I didn’t want to have the baby without you.”

Anger shoots through his veins when Liam hears the man’s name. But that was Riley’s husband. She was now Theo’s widow. He didn’t want to upset her more than she already was. “At least you weren’t alone.” 

She leans her head backwards, her features now numb. Riley stares at the sky and says, “And then I let him die alone. All he wanted to do was help.”

Liam feels his skin boil, momentarily glad that man was dead and out of his way. 

When they slip into silence, Liam leans his head back as well, staring at the stars that glittered behind the clouds, listening to the crickets and the music of night. Neither of them move, but after a while, Liam’s eyes become heavy with sleep. He turns to look at Riley.

“It’s late,” Liam says. 

“You’re right.” She stands, and Liam notices the crutches against the wall. He hands them to her, and goes to open the door. When they reach the stairs, she carefully pulls herself up a few steps. 

“Please, don’t hurt yourself,” Liam says. He holds her hand to help her stand, then takes the crutches from her, balancing them against the railing. He puts an arm under her knees and lifts her. To his surprise, she snuggles into his chest. 

On the top of the stairs, she says that she can continue by herself, but Liam mentions that her crutches are still at the bottom of the stairs. 

She looks up at him. “You can go get them. I’ll wait. I don’t want to strain you.” 

“It’s nothing,” he says. “Really.” He would carry her to the ends of the Earth if it meant that she would go through less pain.

Liam carries Riley to her room, gently placing her on the bed. He pulls the blanket over her. She doesn’t meet his eyes, and turns away from him. 

“Good night, Riley,” he says, turning off the lights. 

Liam found Bertrand in the study, and the Duke gave Liam a room for the night. Sitting on the bed, Liam began to cry. It was only tears falling down his face. His breathing was still even but his eyes burned. Holding Riley against himself had felt like a blessing. Bring able to press his lips against her head. Not the Riley who didn’t know who he was, but the Riley who knew the weight of their shared past. For the last ten years he had been a drowning man, and Riley was his air. 

He knew she was the only woman he would ever love, and now, with the relief that had filled his soul after he knew she remembered him, it was beyond confirmed. Even though he was not the only man Riley had loved, he was determined to show her that his love for her was greater than any other metaphorical or physical thing in existence.

He promised himself that he would take the next opportunity to talk to her. There are so many things he needs to ask her, so many things that need to happen for them to be together again. 

She has her memory back. She remembered. The next few steps shouldn’t be too difficult.

...

The next morning when Liam sits at the table for breakfast with everyone, he wants to ask Riley’s whereabouts, since she’s the only person not at the table. But Drake talks with Savannah and Bertrand, while Maxwell and Rowan have talk quietly between themselves. 

“Did you sleep well?” Liam asks Gabriel. 

The boy’s mouth is filled with pancakes, so he just nods. 

“I wanted to tell you that I had someone create a lesson plan for you.” That wasn’t completely a lie. “I think it would be best for you to start as soon as possible, seeing that the social season is quickly approaching.” 

“Considering the social season,” Bertrand jumps in. “I think now is the time to send an announcement out to the people.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t push Gabriel into the spotlight too soon?” Savannah suggests. 

“True,” Liam comments. “But he has been kept from the people’s knowledge long enough. It’ll take a while for us to convince them that it was for good reason.”

“Perhaps it would be best to schedule a press conference as well?” Bertrand asks. 

Liam chews thoughtfully. “Yes, but it would be better to have it a few days before the social season starts. Just to give Gabriel some time to get accustomed to courtly life.”

“Li, two weeks isn’t enough,” Drake states.

Liam sighs. “You’re right.” He turns to look at the children, who stare back at him. “I will call Duchess Olivia and Countess Hana. They can help the children in their lessons and give them some tips. And of course I will always be nearby.”

The children smile, then turn back to their food. 

After the plates are cleared, Liam suggests that Bartie bring Eleanor and Gabriel to the ballroom to teach them the Cordonian Waltz. Liam promises to help them, but first decides to go talk to Riley about the announcement.

He knocks on her door, and hears a faint, “Come in.”

When Liam walks in, she seems shocked. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Is... this a bad time?” Her hair is wet and her skin glistens. Liam can tell she just came out of the shower. 

“No, it’s fine.” She laughs. “I thought it would be Maxwell.” 

Liam chuckles. “He always woke you during the social season, didn’t he?” 

Riley smiles to herself. “Yeah.”

“I wish I could have been the one to greet you every morning, but I’m glad you were always met by a friendly face.” 

Her smile falters. After a moment, she says, “Liam, we need to talk. About everything.” 

He holds up a hand. “I know, love.” He clears his throat, wondering if she was still comfortable with him calling her that. “We have a lot to discuss, but I wanted to let you know that I’ve hold Bertrand to help send out an announcement about Gabriel.” 

Her eyebrows crease. “What about Gabriel?” 

He pauses, wondering what her expression meant. “That he will be anointed as the heir at the end of the social season.” 

“Liam, are you serious?” She shakes her head. “You’re just going to push him into courtly life? With no knowledge of how anything works, of how people act? I felt stressed during my social season, and I was just a suitor. As the heir there’s going to be so many things he needs to learn—”

“Yes, and he’s already ten years late,” Liam interrupts her, trying to be convincing. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel stressed. “Riley, trust me, this is in his best interest.” 

“Excuse you?” Riley’s face hardens, and Liam regrets his words. 

He knew she was in a delicate position, perhaps it would have been best to let her speak. 

She continues, “It’s not in his best interest, it’s in your best interest, because you need an heir.” 

Liam takes a step back, offended. “I meant to say that it’s in his best interests because as Crown Prince, there are such things due to him which he hasn’t received—”

“Oh, God, Liam. You haven’t changed, have you?” Riley frowns and looks Liam up and down, seemingly disappointed. 

Liam regards her, too, wondering where these thoughts were coming from. Did she not trust him anymore? Who poisoned her mind against him?

“You’re the same,” she states. “Willing to throw people you ‘care about’ under stress and anxiety so you look good in front of your people. Is that why you brought my family here when I was suffering from memory loss? So you could put him through whatever you wanted while I would be oblivious to it?” 

Liam’s face falls. Did she think he was being selfish? “Of course not, Riley. And I’ll be there to help him with whatever he needs, and I will do the same for you.” 

“Just like you were there to help me during the social season?” 

“Riley, that was different.” 

“How so?” 

“I told you, Riley, I had to be fair to the other suitors, I had to—”

“How is his first social season going to be any different than mine? Considering all the pain and humiliation I was put through? Not only will I be badmouthed again, but Gabe will, too.” 

“I won’t allow that to happen.” 

“Really?” Her eyes redden. “Just like you didn’t allow the court to shame, bully, and taunt me during your Engagement Tour?” 

Liam felt like he was being backed into a corner, and he didn’t like it. He was doing everything in his power not to lash out at Riley. Liam knew she was in a delicate position. It was his job to make her feel better, not worse. 

He walks up to her, holding her hands in his, the softness of her skin a fresh feeling, but she yanks her hands away. 

They stand inches from each other, Riley staring defiantly up at him, while Liam looked down at her in pity and heartbreak. 

Neither of us have changed, have we? 

That’s not right. She’s changed. 

"Riley,” Liam says in a soft voice, staring deep into her eyes, quietly begging her to be on his side. “I know there is a lot we have to discuss, and you know I have a duty to my country, to my people. It’s not my choice whether or not to introduce Gabriel to everyone, it’s my obligation. But, Riley, I promise you, I won’t let anything or anyone hurt you or our son.” 

She sighs, about to respond to his declaration, but Eleanor walks through the door, crying, “Mama! I learned the Cordonian Waltz!”

Liam turns, noticing Bartie and Gabe in the doorway. He turns to Ella and says, “That quickly?” 

“Yup! Look!” 

She proceeds to hold up her arms around an invisible partner, then takes a few calculated steps and spins. Finally, she strikes a pose facing away from Liam and Riley, both of who begin to applaud. 

“That was great, baby!” Riley says, reaching to hug her daughter. 

Liam turns to ask Gabriel if he’s had the same luck as his sister, but Rowan appears. “Hey, Riley,” she says. “Have you had breakfast yet?” 

“No. I was going to come down in a minute.” Riley glances in Liam’s direction. 

He puts a hand on her shoulder and tells her, “I’ll be in the Duke’s office, helping the announcement and press conference.” 

Liam stands next to her for a few more moments, his heart aching for her to look up at him. He turns to leave, and Eleanor waves at him, while Gabriel gives the most genuine smile Liam has seen.

[mxvladdy]

A Break

This is an on going Hanzo x Reader I’ve been working on. (First chapter is pure smut but the rest- for now- is plot)

 Summery: Balancing a hectic work life, annoying customers, and an elusive boyfriend? Maybe your friends are right. You need a break.

Chapters: 1-2-3-4

One

A shiver runs up your spine as your boyfriend's broad tongue licks at the corner of your mouth, savoring the glaze hiding there. Bitter coffee and sweetened vanilla blooming in his mouth only amplifying the sensation of your lips. You taste divine. He pushes closer wanting nothing to separate you from him; if only for this moment.

“Hanzo-" You murmur into his swollen lips breaking away to breathe into the quiet room. He grunted back. Sharp gaze locking onto your glistening lips, his hands wandering absentmindedly.

“Yes, my love.” Hanzo whispered into your plush lips watching a gentle blush paint your face. His eyes sparkling in the early morning light of your living room.

“I have to go~” You struggle lamely in his steel grip looking up at your kitchen wall, you are running late- again . A recurring theme whenever Hanzo was involved. He sighed respecting your request, loosening his lock around your waist; of course he would let you leave.

Once he was done.

You barely register his impish grin before your position flips. The world spinning as you were pinned beneath him, plush couch cushions absorbing your fall. He was on you again. Teeth nipping your neck, his beard scratching your skin making you giggle. “Surely the shop can open without you? Just this once?” He teases his accent thick and warm. Hanzo fingers the hem of your shirt thoughtfully, biting hard on your clavicle making you mew.

“You said that last time you came over.” You chucking musing his hair lovingly. “My employees need me you know?”

He hums noncommittally unconvinced by the weak excuse. “ I need you.” His lips brush yours again before traveling lower pushing your shirt up to your chin. “Besides they will be thanking me soon enough, no boss for the next few hours. Neko ga hanareru toki …”

Hours?

Your thoughts slip away as he presses a hot open mouth kiss to the exposed lace of your bra. Saliva pooling in his mouth soaking the expensive silk covering you making you whimper. Hanzo moved to your other breast letting cold air pebble your nipple before his fingers pushed the cup of your bra up to finally touch your flushed skin. You can’t help but squirm at his masterful touch, callus fingers pinching and pulling in a perfect mix of pain and pleasure. His tongue following close behind to soothe the burn his fingers created.

“Let me steal you away.” He tempted nipping your earlobe impatient for your response. “Let’s waste the day away together.” The idea had your stomach in knots, you needed a break anyway... You nod eagerly the thought of work miles away. Dragging his face to yours you savor his minty taste and spicy scent, wrapping your legs around his toned waist.

Hanzo navigates your house effortlessly, eyes never wandering from yours. Slipping into your bedroom like a ghost, floorboards silent under your combined weight. Supporting you with one hand he dimmed the lights and shut the door firmly letting the pleasant stillness of the moment engulf you both. Resting your forehead on his you smile fingers tracing his proud nose and brow line. He kissed you sweetly, eyes trailing to look behind you when he parts. Before you could question him you were airborne. His muscular frame blocking your vision of the ceiling as you landed safely on a pile of soft unmade sheets. The cotton still warm from that morning.

Squealing you try to right yourself before steel covered flesh pins you playfully. Large warm hands tug at you pulling at the tangled mess of your clothes. Blouse and pants tossed away in colorful blurs across the small room as he made his way to your delicate lingerie. “Careful!” You laugh at his hasty tugging, teeth skimming your belly. “I just got those.”  

“I’ll buy you more.” Hanzo smirked, flexing his arm in an unneeded show of force ripping the silk from your body. His latest gift ripping like tissue paper. You hiss enjoying the slight sting of the elastic digging in, leaving red marks on your soft thighs and sides before tearing under the strain. His show of strength sends heat straight to your core.

Finally naked you lounge back arms raised curling under your mound of pillows. Your blush deepened under your boyfriend's heated gaze thighs rubbing together subconsciously.

“It's only fair don’t you think?” Your eyes comb over his still clothed form. His black compression shirt and cargo pants rudely shielded him from your lustful gaze. His jacket and boots lay muddied and forgotten on your doorstep. In truth you hadn’t expected him to show up at your doorstep at all, still believing he was halfway across the world on ‘active duty’. His evasiveness made you curious, but the looks he gave you had long since made you stop asking. Not that you minded too much. You had guessed military a long time ago. It would explain a lot.

But opening that door had been like opening an early Christmas present; a slightly out of breath flushed Christmas present. Yet, you couldn’t have been happier.

Kneeling over you he locks your legs underneath his. Muscular thighs twitching as he slowly pulls at his shirt revealing skin inch by inch. Your throat clicks dryly watching him put on a show. It always took your breath away when he did this. White scars and healed burns smattered his chest and stomach were slowly revealed, pulling and playing across the vast canvas. When you first shared a bed you spent half the time finding, kissing, licking, and loving each and every mark you could find till he was a quivering mess. There seems to be a few new ones you needed to become acquainted with.

His dragon tattoo was untouched though. The shadows cast from your window made it look like it was moving along his skin. The dragon's eyes alight with life. It’s pristine blues and yellows seemingly glow around him like an aura playing a trick on the eye. He was beautiful, you tell him regularly, if only to watch color grace his high cheekbones and his eyes widened in disbelief.  You wanted to touch him. To help him remove his loose pants knowing from past experience that that was the only thing keeping you away from him. But that wasn’t part of the play. At least not today. He batted away your meandering hand groaning low as you brush his straining cock hidden behind the heavy fabric shooting a stern glance at you through heavily hooded eyes.

Later. His amber eyes promise. Hanzo shifts to grab your legs and pulls them up. Wrapping your legs around his shoulders and rising to his full height. Stopping only when your shoulders and head were the last things touching the mattress. The rest of you is supported on his folded knees and chest, your own knees hooked around his muscular neck. He pins you again in his iron grasp, beard tickling your inner thigh. You felt a faint smile on your skin. Playful bastard.

His tongue and teeth marked a trail up to the juncture of your thigh. Hanzo groans in delight when his nose brushes at your light patch of curls. He shoots you a radiant grin before placing a scorching open mouth kiss on your heated core tongue cupping and stroking your clit with relish. You choke on a whine, blood rushing to your head making you light headed as Hanzo moans into your heat.

Supporting your weight on his shoulders, his hands wandered freely. One moving back to your breast squeezing and playing with the soft flesh. His other going to the apex of your thigh, thumb coming in contact with your sensitive clit. His touch had you reeling, hands tearing at the sheets. “Soaking already, my heart?” He purrs, slipping a long thick finger into you, curling it slowly inside as if beckoning. “I haven't even started yet.”

Oh gods… You whimper as another finger enters you slowly. Your boyfriend cooing above you, tongue lapping and tasting. Wordlessly you gyrate your hips matching his slow rhythm.

“Going to make you feel so good-make you scream. Till I'm the only thing you can think about.” He stares down at you, eyes glassy words falling freely from his sinful mouth. You can never get enough of him like this. All his self imposed walls crumbling, his wants and desires free to you.

You shift uncomfortably the position hell on your neck and shoulders but not wanting this torture to end. Reading your mind he loosened his grip letting your body rest fulling on the bed and sunk to the foot of the bed. He was clearly not done preparing you for what he had in store. Once settled he delved back into you. One finger becomes two, then two becomes three, his pace steadily increasing till all you can focus on is the lewd sounds emanating from between your thighs and your harsh pants as he brings you masterfully to your release.

The fire of your climax hit suddenly thick fingers curling and pressing onto your sweet spot, thumb rubbed your clit in harsh circles. The pleasure/pain of it all makes you arch off the bed fingers yanking uncontrollably at his hair, nails scratching through his undercut. Your harsh panting turns into cries for mercy when he doesn't pull away from your languid body dragging another stuttering peak from you.

Finally boneless and shaking he unravels himself from your thighs making a show of licking your slick from his lips and fingers. “A breather my love?” He chuckles dragging shaky fingers through his bedraggled hair coming to lay beside you hand rubbing possessively down your soft midriff.

You flash him a cocky grin. “Why? Winded already old man?”

Hanzo smirked back dangerously. “I assure you I am far from old,” He takes your hand kissing the knuckles before lowering it to cup his straining erection. “And nowhere near done with you.”

In hindsight, you should have known that antagonizing him always ended badly for you. Pinned and writhing you sob failing to stem the flow of tears trailing down your nose, teeth damn near close to tearing through your comforter. You were so close…

“Noo!” You wail as your walls clench around air. Again your orgasm threatens to overflow before dying down again to an agonizing simmer. You choke on a cry as your boyfriend slams home again with an animalistic grunt draping over your back, hands gripping your burning backside. His thrusts fast, hard, and punishing. You would have bruises tomorrow for sure.

Just how you like it.

“What’s wrong?” He pants in your ear tongue tracing your sensitive shell. “Winded already?”

Your snide remark was cut short at the feel of rough fingers pinching your swollen clit, the head of his shaft grinding against your folds. He wouldn't last much longer, as much as he was edging you he was holding himself back too. He hissed sheathing himself again in one rough thrust finally ready to finish this.

Oh this time please...please! You beg wantonly clawing at his forearms braced on either side of your head. Your words becoming a garbled mess. The world fades at the edges your climax bloomed slowly but stronger than before. You tremble helplessly underneath him as he guides you to a shared peak.

“Beg for me hime.”

You wail pitifully, crying out his name like a mantra begging for anything, promising you would do anything if he just let you have this.

He breaks before you swearing roughly teeth sinking into the tender flesh of your shoulder, hips stuttering as he releases deep inside you. The heat of him filling you finally bringing you over. Eyes open but unseeing you scream wordlessly into your blankets, knees giving out feeling your combined spend spilling past the tight seal of his cock to trail down your sweat soaked thighs.

Hanzo falls on you, sated body twitching sporadically as his dick softens inside of your well used cunt. You lay breathless and entangled enjoying the weight of him covering you as you both catch your breath. He moved finally collapsing beside you only to scoop you up reverently to lay on his chest. Gentle kisses pepper your face and shoulders as he rubs your back soothingly.

“Was I too-" He began brows knitting in worry, noticing the faint start of bruising blooming across your hips. You cut him off with a kiss, fingers scratching the underside of his chin.

“Shh. It was perfect thank you.” You mutter before drifting off.

He hums kissing your forehead and wraps his arms around your exhausted form, sleep calling you both.

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

New message at 7:50 am

Tabatha: Hey boss lady! You coming to open shop today? Could have sworn I saw your man on the corner of east and main when I was walking up...

Miss call from Tabatha at 8:00 am

New message at 8:05 am

Tabatha: Gurl you coming in today?

New message at 8:05 am

Tabatha: Or is he ;))

Sent message at 11:23 am

 Heyy Tab sorry I missed your call… I got caught up in some stuff

Sent message at 11:25 am

 Sorry you had to open by yourself.

New message at 11:28 am

Tabatha: Is stuff ya boyfriend’s dick?

Sent message at 11:45 am

Hanzo says good morning

[i-do-trash-fanfictions]

Ann’s Journal Entry #7

“So, movie night tonight?” Thera asked as we both transmatted to the Tower courtyard after just finishing our mission on Europa.

“Actually, I’ve got somewhere to be.” It was currently six’o’clock, so I had a few hours until nine.

“Really?” Thera seemed a bit surprised and curious.

“I can’t believe I forgot to tell you!” I exclaimed. I had told her all about meeting Lana, Mace, Jacks and Alex, and had forgotten to mention that I was heading to the bar to meet them at nine. I quickly told her where I was going.

“Glad you’re making new friends.” She said with a smile. “It’s good to have a fireteam.”

“I’m heading to my room to take a shower and hang out. Then I’ve got to get dressed and ready.”

“I should probably take a shower too. Hey, if you don’t mind after we both finish, I’ll head over to your room. We can hang out together. You still haven’t shown me that new painting of yours.”

I nodded.

Nearly an hour later (both Thera and me take long showers) I heard a knock at my door and opened it. Thera came in. Since she had given me the code to her room, I had given her mine. I closed my sketchbook and put it on my nightstand. Poppy floated over to Scout.

“This is the new one?” Thera asked, passing my small bed and going to the corner of my room where my art easel sat with a canvas on it. It was a painting of the Traveler I had done from one of Thera’s stargazing spots. “It’s amazing! Wish I could do art like that.”

“Do you think that it’s a skill I had in my past life? And that’s why I’m so good at it?”

“Maybe. Maybe that’s why I’m good at cooking. So, you going for casual tonight?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure.” I stated. I hadn’t thought about what I’m going to wear.

“Oh, I asked Lana’s Ghost, Sparks and he asked Lana. She said that you could just wear casual, since that’s what everone else will be wearing.” Poppy told her.

I sat there for a minute then looked at Thera. “I don’t have any nice casual clothes.” I stated.

I wanted to look nice, yet casual. Not the usual hoodie and jeans that I always wore.

“I’ve got you. Come on, let’s head back to my place.”

We walked over together, our Ghosts floating ahead of us, lost in some conversation between the two. I never was quite sure what they talked about, but I knew that they enjoyed each others company greatly.

After we arrived at Thera’s room she had me sit on the bed and she went over to her close, slid back the sliding door and dug through the hanging clothes. She pulled out an outfit, plus shoes and then went over to her dresser which had a jewelry box on top. She grabbed the accesories then put them with the outfit.

“Now, put that on.”

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

I walked down the streets lit by the streetlights and the Traveler up above. Finally I reached the right bar. Lana, Jacks, Alex, and Mace should be in there waiting for me.

Thera had picked out the perfect outfit for me. A red/orange shirt, one of her many black leather jackets (she had tucked a knife into the pocket of it for self defense), and black skinny jeans with one of her many pairs of boots. Also, golden earrings, and a necklace. 

Poppy would be staying home. Ghosts didn’t really show up to bars or parties with their Guardian much. She had told me that the chaos of things like that didn’t really entertain her as much as others, and that Glint had decided to come over to hang out with her after Crow finished his work while I was gone.

I walked in and immediately spotted Lana sitting at the bar with three others sitting beside her. An exo who had dark blue plating and yellow eyes, who I knew had to be Jacks. Alex who had blue skin and dark blue hair (it looked black but if it was in the right light you could see it was blue) with orange eyes,  and who had told me he was an awoken earlier today, sat to the right of Mace. He let his light brown, almost blonde hair, fall over his face a bit.

Alex looked towards the door and saw me, then waved me over. I went and joined them, sitting beside Jacks.

“Hey!” Lana greeted.

“So, when are we gonna get to hear those stories? Or are ya gonna want to hear some of ours first?” Mace asked in his southern accent.

“After we get drinks.” I said. “Never actually been to a bar before. What do you guys think I should get?”

I had had alcohol before, just it wasn’t an all the time thing, and I definitely knew I couldn’t hold a lot. Certainly not as much as Thera could.

“You drink a lot?” Mace asked.

“Not really. I don’t drink hardly at all.”

“Get her somethin easy.” He told Lana, who called over the bartender and ordered me a drink. Jacks got him another glass as well. The others were already working on theirs.

“Okay, so what kind of story would ya’ll like to hear first.”

“Whatever you think is the best one.” Jacks said, taking a sip.

And so I began, telling one of the many stories I’ve had. This one about a gamble me and Thera had taken once, and that she had been destined to make sure she won it, no matter the cost. That had led us into a bunch of trouble.

The night was filled with laughter and conversation and drinks. I had felt a buzz coming along soon enough, and after the third glass I knew I was starting to get really drunk. Without Poppy there to knock it out of me, I knew I was on my own and decided not to drink anymore.

“You’ve got some good stories.” Mace stated, taking the final sip from his glass and turning down the offer to have it refilled by the bartender. But then decided a bit more wouldn’t hurt.

“Thera’s got even better ones. Maybe next time I’ll bring her with me.”

“That’d be amazing! I’ve always wanted to meet her in person!” Lana said excitedly.

“Well, I’d like to call a toast.” Said Alex, holding up his glass. “To new friends!”

We all raised our glasses and clinked them together. “To new friends!” We all cheered in unison, then each took a sip.

I watched Mace drink nearly a quarter of his glass then say, “Well, I better get goin. My Ghost’ll get mad if I stay out to late. She’s always worryin about me.” He went to stand and nearly fell, if it hadn’t been for him quickly grabbed the top of the bar.

Jacks sighed and stood, helping Mace up. “I’ll make sure he gets home.” The two walked off.

“I should head off too.” Said Lana. “We should do this again sometime. Uh, say next Friday, ten, maybe? All five of us?”

I nodded and smiled. “Yeah.”

She nodded and left.

“See ya later, Ann. You okay? Need help gettin home?” Alex asked while walking out the door. I shook my head. I would be fine. I followed behind and we all headed our separate ways.

I made it back to my room.

Poppy turned to me. “Oh, hey, your back! Glint just left.”

“I’m gonna take a shower and head to bed. I’ve been talking all night telling them stories, and I think if I talk to you about my day I’ll run out of voice.”

Poppy bobbed up and down in a nod. “I’ll make sure to heal your hangover in the morning.”

I nodded then turned to the bathroom.

[franboos]

I don’t want to be your friend i want to kiss you neck

a vds college roommate fic

written by @gucciboner and me <3

word count: 3282

chapter one, part 1/3 (part 2/3)

They arrived in Antwerp about a half-hour ago. It is the beginning of September. The weather is still okay and since these are the last days of summer everyone is making the best of it by enjoying the sun outside. Lucas is driving a minivan with Isa in the passenger seat. They arrived in the last part of their journey, since they are just a few streets away from their new student residence.

“I already love Antwerp,” Isa says while looking out of the window, “the city looks so full of life.” She smiles and turns to look at Lucas. “Yeah, I’m excited too,” he says smiling back while still focusing on the road. “I hope our roommates are as nice as they told us online.” Isa starts laughing and bumps Lucas’ shoulder. “I’m sure they are nice people, don’t worry about it.”

Just a few minutes later they arrive in the correct street. “okay, now we gotta find the right house,” Lucas says slowing down slightly so he can absorb his surroundings, “It’s house number 264, you’ll look right, I’ll look left.” He slowly keeps driving through the street looking for the house until he hears Isa screaming next to him.

”Stop, it’s here, number 264!”

Lucas stops the van and turns to Isa her side to check out the house. “Well, that looks about right,” he smiles.

“We, surprisingly, survived this 2 hour trip together with you behind the steering wheel, so I think we are gonna be totally fine here in Antwerp,” Isa teases.

“Ah! I’m a perfectly good driver,” Lucas reacts offended but quickly changes his voice to a teasing one, “how dare you offend me like that Isa Keijser!”

“I think, Mr. van der Heijden, as one of your best friends, I’m privileged enough to offend you like that,” she says with a serious but still mocking tone.

“So you're one of my best friends? Weird I didn't know that.” 

“Luc!” Isa says offended.

“I’m just kidding Ies, I’m really happy we are doing this together, since you are one of my best friends.”

She gave Lucas en smile with a hug right after. “Well, what are we waiting for, let’s go and meet our new roomies!” Isa giggles and jumps out of the van.

Once they both stand in front of the door, Isa rings the bell. They wait a few seconds until they hear a voice through the intercom. “Hello?”

“Oh, uh hi, we’re Isa and Lucas. we're here to move in,” Isa says.

“Ah yes! If you wait a sec, I’ll come open the door,” the voice, that probably belongs to a guy, says.

After a moment a figure appears behind the door. They hear the jingling sound of keys, a loud sigh, some more keys rustling together and finally the lock clicking open.

The door swings open to reveal a guy. Lucas swallows, taking in his appearance. He looks about their age, tanned skin and dark brown hair, or maybe it's black? Lucas can't really tell in this lightning. He's wearing a maroon-coloured shirt with grey sweatpants underneath that are just a tad too short. He looks taller than Lucas, altogether he was very handsome.

“Hey guys, come in,” the guy smiles stepping aside. They walk inside and Lucas closes the door behind him.

“I’m Jens, nice to meet you.” He stretches his hand out in front of Isa who takes it.

“Nice to meet you too, I’m Isa.”

Jens smiles and releases his hand from hers and turns to Lucas, sticking out his hand again. Lucas looks at his hand for a second before taking it in his own. He sucks in a breath at the touch.

Suddenly Isa elbows him in his side. He totally forgot to say something. “Oh uh,” his voice comes out shaky, “I’m Lucas.”

“it’s nice to meet you, Lucas,” Jens nods with a smirk on his face.

They drop each others hands. The small silence that followed was quickly replaced by Isa’s voice.

“So, can you give us a little tour?”

“Yes, sorry, of course,” Jens said, shaking his head, “follow me.”

Lucas and Isa follow Jens from the small hallway to the stairs, which leads them to another, but little bigger, hallway with a few doors on the right side, another staircase on the left side and a door on the end of the hall.

Jens point to the doors at the left. “these are few of the bedrooms which you can look at later, because first I’m  showing you the living room.” He keeps walking to the door at the end of the hall, and opens it before stepping aside so Isa en Lucas can enter first.

There are two couches placed on the left side of the room with a small coffee table in the middle, which already as some empty beer cans laying on top of it. On the wall is a TV, and it looks like there is already a PlayStation installed. In the middle of the area, there is a big wooden dining table with place for at least 8 people. And on the right side is a kitchen that is, for the most part, separated from the living area with a white empty wall. Behind the kitchen table are a few large windows and two doors that lead to a balcony. The whole place looks a bit crappy, it is still just a student residence, but Lucas thinks they will be able to make this a nice and homey place. Maybe they can add some plants?

“This is our main living room. As you can see it’s mostly still empty, I just moved in three days ago and I thought it would be more fun to decorate it all together.”

“It looks nice,” Isa says while walking to the middle of the room to take a better look.

“Are any of the others already here?” Lucas asks Jens.

“Ah yes, one guy named Friso. We arrived at the same time, but I think he is in his room right now. He isn’t so talkative, so I don’t know much about him.”

Lucas nods.

“and the last people should also arrive today if I’m correct.”

“That’s awesome,” Lucas says while giving Jens a small smile. “But how does this work, can Isa and I just choose between the leftover rooms?”

“Yeah, the rooms are all kind of similar, so it doesn’t really matter who gets which room. So there are two rooms down this hall, one of which is already in use by Friso, with a small bathroom in between them. Then we have three more rooms on the second floor, but with a bit bigger bathroom. And lastly a room in the attic with a small bathroom.”

Lucas and Isa nod and take in all the information.

“I’m using one of the rooms on the second floor, the one right in front of the staircase, so you can choose between the rest,” Jens says while walking over to one of the couches to sit down.

“Okay, thanks Jens,” Isa said while grabbing Lucas's arm to drag him out of the living room. ”Come, Luc, let’s get ourselves a room.”

After checking out all of the rooms, Isa settles in a room on the second floor, at the end of the hall next to Jens his room, with the bathroom next to hers.

Lucas went for the room on the attic. It has a big window, which he likes because now his room has a lot of light, and there is enough room to leave all his art and his easel.

The rooms already contain a bed, a dresser for some close and a small desk with a chair. Lucas his bed is placed on the left side against the wall, opposite from the window. It is a double bed, which he likes. The desk is also placed on that side and the dresser is next to the window.

Lucas looks at the setting for a while, before deciding to switch the dresser and desk. He places the desk right under the window. this way he has a lot of daylight while working, and he can look outside while doing so, which calms him down.

After giving everything a place he is satisfied with, he hears Isa calling him from under the staircase. “Luc, come, we're gonna get our stuff!”

“coming!” He walks out of his room and hops down the stairs.

“Jens and Friso are gonna help us,” Isa says when Lucas walks up to her.

“Friso?”

“Yeah, that other guy. Do you ever pay attention, Luc?” she rolls her eyes in a playful way. “I just had a little chat with him, he seems nice.” “So come, you got to meet him too and we're gonna get our stuff from the van.”

They walk down the other staircase, through the hall to the front door. Jens and Friso are already waiting at the back of the van. This is the first time Lucas sees Friso. He has black hair, is wearing a simple grey sweater with dark blue jeans and wears a pair of glasses. He kind of reminds Lucas of Shane from buzzfeed unsolved.

When Lucas is in front of him, Friso shakes his hand. “Hey, I’m Friso.”

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Lucas answers.

“Okay, let’s get all this shit to our rooms,” Isa says, while opening the back of the van.

-

When Jens walks into Lucas his room, he sees him sitting on the floor opening one of his clothing boxes. “This is your last box”

Lucas looks up. “Thanks, you can put it next to the others,” he says while pointing to the last unopened boxes standing next to his desk.

Jens walks over to the other boxes and places it next to them. he stands back up and takes a look at the stuff that Lucas already took out. There is a skateboard placed against the wall under some band posters. He takes a better look at the posters. One of them is from the  1975 and the other from the arctic monkeys. He does recognize the names and knows they are indie bands, but he doesn’t really listen to it himself. Next to his desk is an easel with an empty canvas on it. There are a few pictures on his desk, probably with his friends, a few books, an open sketchbook and a lot of paint and some brushes. He wants to take a better look at the sketchbook, so he moves some of the boxes making more room for him the stand.

On the paper is a pencil drawing, a portrait of a woman laughing with wavy hair and eyes that sparkle. The whole drawing has a calm and happy vibe to it.

“that's my mom.” Jens jumps a little from Lucas’s voice, before looking up.

“It’s really pretty. Did you draw this?” Jens asks curious.

“Yeah, I think that's kind of obvious since half of my room contains art-related products,” he laughs, “but thanks,” he says with a genuine smile.

“Do you just do this for fun or do you also study art or something?”

“Well, of course, I do this because I like to do it, otherwise it would be a waste of time. But yes, I’m gonna start studying art, here in Antwerp.”

“That’s so cool! From what I have seen, it looks like you’re really good at it.”

Lucas laughs. “You have literally seen one pencil drawing I did.”

Jens rolls his eyes. “Okay, then show me more, convince me,” he says with a cocky smile.

Lucas stares out the window, staying silent for a second.

“Unless you don’t want to show me more, of course,” Jens says, realising art can be something very personal.

Lucas looks back at Jens. “Maybe another time,” he says before ducking down to grab another box and walking back to his dresser.

Jens stays silent for a second, watching Lucas walk away. The small interaction had left him stunned for some reason. “I’m heading to the supermarket for dinner, any requests?” he asks, walking over to the door.

“Uhm, can we just get pizza. I’m really hungry from the drive so some good pizza would be nice,” Lucas looks over his shoulder.

Jens nods. “That sounds good, see you later.”

“Later,” Lucas answers going back to unpacking.

-

After putting some of his clothes away Lucas decides to check how Isa is doing. He walks into her room and sees that there are still a lot of closed boxes on the floor. It looks like she hasn’t done anything at all.

“Looks like you have made a lot of progress,” He says while scanning the room.

Isa is laying on her bed that is located in the middle of the room with the head against the wall. She is scrolling through her phone while mindlessly eating out of a bag of leftover chips from the trip.

“huh? O yeah, I’m not in a rush,” she says with her eyes still glued on her phone.

Lucas laughs. “I can see that.” He walks up to her bed and drops himself down next to her.

“You excited for your first day of school tomorrow?” Lucas asks. “Gonna be kinda scary, new country, new people.”

“Yeah and new hot people,” Isa says with a cocky smile while finally taking her eyes off her phone and looking at Lucas. “It is time for you to meet a nice Belgian guy. On our way here I already saw some cute guys walking around.”

“Ugh Ies,” he says annoyed but with a smile on his face. “I’m not really looking for anything you know.”

“Okay I know that, but it doesn’t hurt anyone to at least meet some new guys, does it?”

Lucas rolls his eyes. “I know, I know. I will meet some people, for you,” he says while getting off the bed.

“No, no Luc. You gotta do it for yourself!”

“Yeah Ies, whatever. Get off your lazy ass and start unpacking these boxes” He gives her a big smile and walks out of the room.

-

They are all sitting on the couches in the living room, eating their cheap pizza while watching some random program on the tv when the doorbell rings.

“who's that?” Isa asks with her mouth full of pizza.

“Probably one of the new housemates,” Jens shurgs.

When nobody gets up to open the door friso says “somebody needs to get up,” but everybody stays put.

“Alright, I’ll go,” Friso sighs moving off the couch.

Just a few minutes later, Friso comes back with two new people behind him. Jens sits up straighter so he can see who the new people are.

One of them is a girl. She has blond wavy hair, her skin is kind of tanned and she is wearing light blue denim skinny jeans on her long legs with a black tank top and white Nike air forces. She looks kind of sweet but arrogant at the same time. Next to her walks a guy. He has messy dark blond hair, he is wearing a white oversized band shirt with dark blue pants and a pair of white dr. martens underneath. He has a big grin on his face while scanning the area he is standing in. He looks like a chill guy.

Before Jens observe them more, Friso starts talking.

“Guys, this is Annabell and Ely, our last roommates.”

They all put down their pizza and stand up from the couch to properly meet.

“Do you guys already know each other, since you came together?” Jens asks after they introduced themselves.  

“O no, we just arrived at the same time,” Ely answers.

“Ah, okay cool,” Jens says. “Well you guys can fight over the last two available rooms. One of them right down the hall and one upstairs on the second floor.”

Ely turns to Annabell. “Oh, I don’t really care, you can choose. I’m going for a smoke,” he says while turning around to walk to the balcony.

“Is it okay if i come with you?” Jens asks.

Ely looks back. “Yeah, sure.”

Jens walks over to the coffee table where he has an already rolled joint ready. He grabs it, and walks to the balcony where Ely is already lighting his joint. He leans back against the railing and looks at the view. It is around 8:30  in the evening. The sun is slowly setting, giving Antwerp a orange glow.

“You need the lighter?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jens says while taking the lighter from Ely.

He puts the joint in his mouth and covers it with his right hand from the wind while lighting it with his left hand. When it is lit, he lowers his left hand and takes the joint in his other and inhales slow but deep.

“What do you study?” Jens asks after exhaling the smoke.

“Music production, gonna start my second year tomorrow. You?”

“That’s so cool! I’m gonna study communication and multimedia design, it’s a lot about programming and visual design and stuff. This is my first year so I’m pretty excited.”

“I’ve heard of that, sounds cool,” Ely answers. “What do you do in your spare time?”

“I like to skate with my friends.”

“Really? I also skate, we should go to the park together sometime,” he says while taking another drag.

“Yeah sounds cool,” Jens says with a smile. It’s gonna be fun living here with these people he thinks.  

-

“Does anyone else want anything?” Annabell shouts from where she’s standing in the kitchen

They’ve been spending the rest of the night hanging out in the living room, getting to know each other. Except for Friso, he wanted to go to bed early and get a goodnight rest before his first day.

“No thanks, we’re all good” Lucas yells back at her.

When she returns from the kitchen holding a can of coke, she walks over to the couch that Jens is sitting on. She plops down right next to him. Leaving almost no space in between their bodies. Jens rubs his hands over his legs and gives her an awkward smile.

“Have you lived in Antwerp your whole life?” She asks him, turning her upper body into his direction.

“Yeah I have.” he slides his body away from her, completely leaning against the armrest of the couch.

She pushes the tab of her coke can down before taking a slow sip, looking into Jens’ eyes the whole time.

Across from them, on the other couch, Isa is trying not to laugh at how uncomfortable Jens looks.

"wow me too, weird I haven't seen you before," Annabell says, making Isa and Ely snort at the same time.

Annabell tries to give them an innocent look. “What?” She says, batting her eyelashes.

Lucas rolls his eyes at her, he already doesn’t like her. Right when Annabell is about to say something else to Jens, Lucas cuts her off. “I heard there was a chill skatepark around here somewhere, is that right?”

“Yeah, there is.” Jens looks relieved and sends him a small smile. “You skate too right? I saw your board in your room.”  

“Yeah, I do.”

Annabell slumps down against the couch and crosses her arms with a big pout on her lips making Isa laugh again.

“Jens and I were talking about skating together, you should join us,” Ely suggests.

“Yeah, you should” Jens grins directly at Lucas.

Lucas smiles weakly and nods, “Yeah cool.”  

He was kind of hoping to skate alone with Jens, but there’s plenty of time for that in the future.