#my angel of a bff breathing down my neck over it for weeks

[writesaboutbangtan17]

customer satisfaction

woozi x reader smut

20,480 words

a/n: my first woozi fic, my first seventeen fic, my first kpop fic. this was supposed to be something really simple and silly, but my dumb ass had to go and add a bunch of sadness and backstory to it, as always. as you can see, it got dramatically out of hand. i’m so sorry, i hope someone likes it

~ in which you haven’t gotten off in like six months, and lee jihoon is the pleasure specialist, himself. (he’s also a little bit more than that.)

     “I promise you, you won’t regret this,” Wendy reassured you, but they were words she always said right before she convinced you to do something that you definitely would regret. She’d used them very often over the past year, during which she’d somehow persuaded you into going on roughly thirty blind dates that she’d set up in her desperate attempts to get you “back out there.” You knew her heart was in the right place, but every single date had been a disaster. 

     The problem was that if she knew a guy who wasn’t already taken, there was a reason for it. The first set-up been with a guy named Jinho who still lived with his ex-girlfriend (in a one bedroom apartment) and adamantly refused to wear deodorant; one guy, Jinwoo, told you he had recently quit his job and moved back in with his parents because he hadn’t had enough time to play League; you’d tried so hard to will yourself to forget the second to last guy, but how could you forget the name (Daehyun) of someone who sat down across from you and proceeded to ignore you for the whole two hours it took him to eat a salad, baked potato, and two steaks before “suddenly realizing” he forgot his wallet, telling you he didn’t think you were his type, and leaving you to foot the bill.

     The most recent potential suitor had been named Chanhee, and he’d actually seemed really great. He insisted on buying you popcorn and a drink at the movies, made you laugh with jokes about how bad the movie unsurprisingly ended up being, and suggested getting pizza instead of going to the fancy restaurant where Wendy had taken it upon herself to make a reservation for the two of you. When he walked you to your door at the end of the night, he didn’t even try to kiss you, which was a relief. Most of the guys you’d been set up with were mainly interested in getting you out of your clothes and into your bed all before they’d even learned your last name. So you made up your mind that you’d ask Chanhee if you could meet up again, to which he eagerly answered that he’d love to, and then asked him if Monday night for drinks was good?, insisting you’d rather see him sooner than later.

     But of course, whatever higher powers that be were obviously working against you, and perfect Chanhee stuttered through an apology about not having a fake ID and how he had a big calculus test on Tuesday morning that he had to study for (“or my mom will kill me.”) You’d never bailed on a date so fast before, not even the guy who showed up to meet you at a club wearing Crocs. The poor kid spent over an hour pounding on your front door and begging you to come talk to him, before seemingly giving up. “Probably because he had to get home before curfew,” Wendy had laughed, trying to make light of the situation when you showed up at her place offering death threats the next morning.     

     You didn’t find the joke funny.

     (She’d also said, “It’s just a minor setback,” through giggles, “we’ll find you a really good adult man soon,” at which point you stomped out of her house, slamming her door behind you, and got to work ignoring all her attempts at contacting you for several weeks. It took an offer you absolutely couldn’t refuse to stop giving her the cold shoulder; one desperate text promising she’d come over and wash your dishes every other day for a month if you’d just start answering her damn calls. You had immediately messaged her back telling her that your sink was full and she needed to come over right away.)

     After The Chanhee Incident, you decided that romantic companionship was simply not in the cards for you. You’d sworn off Wendy’s blind dates and men entirely, which you were mostly fine with. They’d never done much besides break your heart or otherwise emotionally damage you, anyways. 

     The small part of you that wasn’t as happy about this decision was no piece of your brain or your heart, it was a part of you that was…a little further south. It had been over a year since you’d last had sex, since your first and last serious boyfriend had cut you off long before the relationship itself had ended (courtesy of the other women he was sleeping with instead). It hadn’t seemed like much of a loss at the time, since he’d never been great in bed to begin with, and you’d always had a way with your hands. Rub here, pinch there, then a little prodding—and you were off to O-Town.

     You’d never anticipated that your own body would turn on you like this and suddenly stop responding to your tried and true methods. At first, it had just taken you longer; where you were once seeing stars in ten minutes, tops, it was now taking twenty minutes, then half an hour. Instead of being able to hop in bed and get off whenever you felt like it without any interruption to your usual schedule, you had to plan ahead of time when you were going to masturbate. That only made it worse, since jotting down “masturbate” in your planner at 11 o’clock, once you’d gotten home from work and eaten something, but needing to get it over with soon enough that you’d get a decent night’s sleep really killed the mood. It had gone on like this until one day, it seemed your body just shut itself off. Sure, you could get a good buzz going, but climax never came.

     Wendy had suggested having a good old one-night-stand, and while you weren’t one to judge those who took part in them, they really weren’t for you. If you were having sex with someone, you’d prefer to at least know them at a base level and think they were a decent person. If Wendy’s blind dates were any indication, you just weren’t going to meet somebody like that. 

     The one time you’d thrown caution to the wind and decided fuck it, I don’t care how awful this guy is, I just wanna get laid, had been a nightmare. His name was Hyunsik and Wendy had arranged for you to meet at a coffee shop, where he spent the first thirty minutes of your date describing the traffic on his way there in excruciating detail, before ruminating on how concerned he was over his cat’s most recent bowel movements for a good hour. Two hours after first meeting, when your date had moved to a dinky little restaurant down the road, Hyunsik was talking about how his mother called him last night and talked him through making kimchi fried rice. He was telling you every step, very slowly, exactly as she’d told him. You found him boring and obnoxious, but at that point it had been nearing six months since your last orgasm and you were feeling particularly despondent. As Hyunsik mimicked a violent stirring motion, you decided he had nice hands. And upon further inspection, you decided he had pretty nice hair, too. And you decided that you’d go home with him.

     What a horrible mistake that had been. As soon as you stepped through his front door, he started screaming because his cat had pooped on his couch. You had to clean it up for him. He offered to pour you a glass of wine, but he took a sip of his own as he was carrying yours over and promptly spat it out all over you because it had gone bad. After trying (and failing) to appropriately clean yourself up in the bathroom, you came back out into the living room and he was nowhere to be found. He’d put on music, and apparently his idea of mood music was early 2000’s pop because “It Wasn’t Me” by Shaggy was the background noise to you getting fed up after waiting twenty minutes for him, and discovering him half-dressed cuddling with his cat in his bed. Potential orgasm be damned, you refused to sleep with that man.

     As you walked home from Hyunsik’s in the cold that night, calling Wendy a thousand times and putting curses on her in your head every time she didn’t answer, you wondered if you’d ever have a decent orgasm again. It was starting to seem like the answer to that question was a resounding fuck no, which was frankly putting a damper on your entire life. This constant need to get off had you on edge at work; in classes; when you had the rare chance to see friends; when you sucked it up and visited your parents. Everyone noticed that you were tense and unhappy, and the only person you could turn to for advice was Wendy.

     Which brought you to this moment in time, sitting in your car with your phone pressed to your ear, Wendy promising that “you won’t regret this.” You jumped at the sound of another car passing by, taking note of exactly what make and model it was, running that information through your brain to determine if the people in that car could possibly be anyone who would recognize you. 

     “Do we know anybody who drives a silver Honda Civic?” You interrupted her, eyes manically looking one way down the road, then the other, back and forth and back and forth. Wendy heaved a sigh before repeating for the dozenth time or so time in this one conversation, “Y/N, you’re not going to see anybody you know. That’s just not gonna happen, that’s not real life.” Her words did not comfort or convince you even a little bit.

     Of course, she had gone to the trouble of finding a shop for you outside of town, dramatically decreasing your chances of being recognized in your great journey to…buy a vibrator. At 21-years-of-age, you had never even considered buying a sex toy, but that was much less about being against sex toys and much more about how you’d get one. The idea of parking outside of an adult store and having to walk up to it in front of however many people in cars passing by made you want to shrivel up and die, and the idea of ordering one online and having it sit outside your door one day while you were at work for all your neighbors to see had the same effect.

     But as they say, desperate times call for desperate measures, and you were thoroughly desperate. Maybe if you’d never known what it was like to have an orgasm, you could have gone on in this life without one...but that was simply not an option. You had never been more determined to do anything in your life than to get yourself off again. 

     “Ok, Wendy, I…I’m gonna go inside,” you finally said, after fifteen minutes of hiding in your car. You could just see her huge smile of relief in your head as she replied, “Good! I’m so proud of you! Remember to buy something that plugs in, not battery-powered!” With a groan, you hung up on her and shoved your phone into your purse, then pulled up the hood of your jacket and stepped out onto the sidewalk. According to the directions you’d been given, the shop was just down this road, in a little alleyway to the left. You figured it would take less than five minutes to get there, and tried to pump yourself up as you slowly made your way. You’re an adult, you reminded yourself, this is a perfectly normal adult thing that adults do. There’s no reason to be embarrassed.

     You supposed the place seemed inconspicuous enough—it was sandwiched between a drug store on the corner and an exotic cheese shop, with windows tinted dark enough that nobody could see the goings on beyond them, and a sign over the door that read Bits & Pieces Boutique in a neat red script. There were no neon triple X’s like similar shops displayed, for which you were thankful. All of these things combined still didn’t make you feel much better about going inside, but you mustered up what little courage you could, grabbed the handle, and forced yourself to take that first step across its threshold.

     A quick eye-level scan of the shop revealed a lot to you; you weren’t sure what you were expecting, but there was nothing particularly extraordinary about the place. It looked like any other store would, with rows of shelves, display tables, products hung on the walls, the check-out counter in the back, and bad fluorescent lighting. Ariana Grande sang through out and you just didn’t know how to feel—this was all so…normal. Too normal. You pulled your coat tighter around you, resolving not to let your guard down. 

     To your left was a wrinkly old man perusing the large selection of flavored condoms and lube, holding hands with a woman who was clearly less than half his age. As you hurried past them, you couldn’t help but notice the ball gag, furry handcuffs, and box of libido enhancers in the basket hanging at the crook of her elbow. You stopped in one aisle with butt plugs and nipple enlargers down one side and DVDs down the other. Through sheer power of will, you ignored the movie titled “Mrs. Dashing and the Dick of Her Dreams”, with a lady on the cover who looked a lot like an old high school science teacher of yours circa 1972. 

     From behind, you could hear the young woman asking her partner which cock ring he wanted, and he chose one called the Ball Banger. His tone of voice gave away the smile on his face as he did so. Despite your morbid curiosity, you refused to look back and see how the supposed “ball banging” took place.

     Instead you pushed on, next finding yourself standing in front of a table filled with aromatherapy products, lotions, creams, and candles; then the one next to it displaying oral sex kits, clit pumps, and testicle binders. You had never imagined that things like this existed, especially not in so many varieties. It was overwhelming, to say the least. One aisle you passed through, which you could only determine to be the novelty aisle, featured among many sex card games and not-safe-for-work birthdays cards: a blow-up punching bag with a place to put a picture of an ex. If you hadn’t been on a very direct mission, you might have considered buying it.

     It was just as you were losing hope that this store even had vibrators (although you had assumed they were a sex toy staple), that you saw it: the wall beside the check-out counter with the words above it in neon lights that read Vibration Station. You swallowed down your deep desire to run away, hop in your car and drive home and pretend this never happened, as you approached it. The first thing you took note of was the range of colors, wondering why anyone would ever want to put anything neon yellow or baby-poop-green inside of their bodies. 

     The second thing you noticed was the 15-inch flesh-colored dildo proudly stretched out underneath the sign, that just the sight of made you hurt inside.

     You were disarmed by the amount of vibrators to choose from, realizing how stupid you had been to not do any research beforehand. What are the qualities of a good vibrator? How much is too much to spend on one? Is this something I was ever supposed to learn? Why didn’t they ever teach me this stuff in Sex Ed? All you could assume was that something really cheap would probably be weak or break easily, and you remembered Wendy had said to get something that you could charge instead of something you had to put batteries in. But what materials should it be made out of? How intense should the vibrations be? And for God’s sake what is a neutral, normal color to get one in?

     Just as you had grabbed one to read the details on the box, you heard the bell over the door chime, and saw your life flash before your eyes. All the times you’d smiled, frowned, scowled, laughed, cried, and yelled…everything you’d ever experienced would mean nothing if the person who had just walked through that door was say, your boss. Or your mother, or an old classmate, or the old lady who sold ice cream on your street corner, or your cat, or the guy you saw walking by you as you left work the other day, or the priest from that time your parents made you go to church for a couple weeks as a child. 

     Without looking up to see who exactly it was that had come through or possibly gone out the door, you bolted to the counter in a blind panic, needing to leave as quickly as possible. It was only as you were about to throw the vibrator down by the cash register that you even saw what it was called—the Big Boss Thruster. A plus-sized, bright pink vibe that made thrusting motions. You would have grabbed it and put it back immediately, if the person behind the counter hadn’t already taken it out of your hands. You slowly looked up with a bright scarlet flame licking up your cheeks, bracing for the embarrassment that was sure to hit you in a monsoon-sized wave.

     God has it out for me, you thought to yourself, now I know for sure. You thought you’d steeled yourself for any possibility, whether the worker be an old lady who would tease you good-naturedly, or a hot dude to remind you of everything you were missing out on, or whoever in between. Nothing could have prepared you, however, for looking up into the always judgmental eyes of your next door neighbor. You noticed them widen just a fraction as he realized exactly who’d handed the Big Boss Thruster over to him, and his mouth drop open as if he meant to gasp, but was holding it back in an effort to remain professional. 

     Of course, for you, professionalism was not a concern.

     “Jihoon?!” you screeched, wishing the earth would open up beneath your feet and suck you in right then and there. He dropped the Big Boss Thruster back onto the counter and flailed his arms in some vain attempt at hushing you. “Are you fucking kidding me?! This is a joke, right? Wendy put you up to this? Please, Jihoon, please fucking tell me that this isn’t real, you are not actually standing there actually about to sell this to me. Am I having a nightmare? I’m right on the verge of a breakdown, Jihoon, say somethi—”

     “Stop calling me that,” he hissed, slapping his palms down on the counter. Of all things, you had not expected him to say that, and it at least confused you enough to get you to stop rambling. Between taking deep breaths to calm yourself down, you raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “Call me…Woozi,” he continued, “don’t look at me like that. We get some weird customers, so we use fake names, sometimes.” 

     You almost laughed, but the other thoughts and emotions that were paralyzing you kept you from finding it very humorous. You were quite sure, at this point, that the moment you’d walked into the Bits & Pieces Boutique you had stepped into an alternate reality. There was no way that, in your actual life during which you had always tried to be a good and decent person, any deity could put you through so much torture. One half of your brain was concocting a devious plan to get back at the gods, planning all the sins you were going to commit because you’d be damned if you were going to get dealt a hand this bad without milking it for all it was worth. The other half of your brain was visualizing the shop behind you, calculating what would be your fastest escape route.

     Down the aisle with all the fuzzy handcuffs, take a right to pass the fifty copies of “Mrs. Dashing and the Dick of Her Dreams” and go around the cart with all the flavored lubes and condoms. That would take you directly to the door, at which point you’d rush home and try to forget this ever happened. In the morning you’d strategize on how to avoid Jihoon (Woozi?) at all costs until you could end your lease and move across the country. Solid plan, you straight lied to yourself. You’d taken one backwards step, seconds away from making a run for it, when Jihoon (…Woozi) let out a deep breath and asked,

     “Did any of our Pleasure Specialists help you find what you needed today?” You blanched at the words Pleasure Specialist, and belatedly realized that was what was stitched across the chest of the sweatshirt he was wearing, with a name tag reading “Woozi” on his left side. Instead of pointing out that he was the only employee you had seen in the rather small shop, you meekly shook your head. With a forced smile, Jihoon-Woozi set the vibrator back down and asked, “Well are you sure this is what you want? The Big Boss is a decent vibe, but in my opinion the price is just for the gimmick. Let me show you some other products.” Then, to your abject horror, he rounded the counter and started walking back towards the wall of vibrators you’d just moments ago been standing in front of. 

     Oh, no, no no no no no, you chanted in your head, he’s completely out of his mind if he thinks I’m gonna have him suggesting vibrators for me to use right next door to him. The thought both terrified and excited you, but you smothered the latter feeling to the best of your ability. I’m going home, you decided, to die of embarrassment in peace.

     And yet, you were taking one step after him—then another, and another, and another and another and another until your pattern of footsteps could reasonably be considered walking. Your own two feet were following behind him as if they had a mind of their own. “If you’re into realistic stuff, we have plenty of better options. The Big Boss is fine but the real thing isn’t bright pink, you know?” Jihoon-Woozi was saying, as if he was telling you, but he was mostly talking to fill up the dead silent, empty space. To top it off, under his breath, he mumbled, “Do you know?” You chose to ignore that, stopping a good three feet away from him, asking yourself why you hadn’t left when you had the chance. 

     The answer was as simple as this: you couldn’t take back walking in this store and you couldn’t control the fact that Jihoon of all people had to be working here, fifty plus miles from home. And if you stuck it out just a little bit longer, you’d be leaving this hell with the one thing that could possibly end your months of stress and suffering. If you couldn’t turn back time and keep yourself from coming in, then another ten minutes in this store of having a vibrator selected just to fit your tastes couldn’t make things any worse than they already were.

     “Hello, Y/N? Are you listening to me?” Jihoon-Woozi was waving not just a hand in front of your face, but a box decorated with stars, stripes and red block letters calling the large flesh-colored vibrator depicted on it the All American Whopper. You hadn’t been listening to him at all, too busy drowning in your own thoughts of how you couldn’t fall any further than rock bottom, but you wished you had been as you swatted it away. Jihoon-Woozi snickered and held up the All American Whopper and another box, purple with pink loops that came together to make the words Power Stud Vibe.

     “If you want a realistic vibrator, I suggest one of these bad boys. The Whopper is made of skin-safe rubber and the Stud is made of silicone; both have seven vibration modes, are an inch and a half wide, and can be angled to rub the G-spot. But the Whopper has a suction cup for hands-free fun, and the wide base on the Stud vibrates for added clit stimulation. What do you think?” You were pretty sure you had never been more wrong in your life—just when you thought things were as bad as they could possibly get, they took a sharp nosedive for the worst. The yet undiscovered tenth circle of hell had opened up right around you, and Jihoon-Woozi was smirking at your discomfort like he was the devil himself. Of course he’d take satisfaction in your agony, that was so like him.

     “I’m not…I’m not really into realistic stuff. I just want something…good. And pretty?” Jihoon-Woozi turned on his heel, putting both of his suggestions back in their place. With his back turned, you tried to pat away the burn on your cheeks but you were sure it had little effect. You watched Jihoon-Woozi running his fingertips over several boxes, head turning this way and that, thinking hard. He was humming to himself, and you tuned in just enough to decipher the main melody of an old SHINee song. Not that humming was hard to do, but it at least seemed to you that he had perfect pitch.

     “Good and pretty, I can do that,” Jihoon-Woozi said, as if to assure you, and you closed your eyes as if not looking could make you believe it wasn’t him, “but are you more interested in clit stimulation or vaginal insertion?” I’m more interested in evaporating into nothing, you thought, but out loud you said in a voice barely above a whisper, “Um…both. I think.” You opened your eyes again just in time to see Jihoon-Woozi bite his lip in deep focus. Your stomach definitely did not churn at the sight.

     “Ah, here it is,” Woozi finally said, and got on his tip toes to slide a simple black box off of a higher shelf. When he looked back to you and handed it over, his face was blank. He didn’t rattle off the details this time, and you took a moment to read them for yourself: over a plastic see-through top, gold letters read L’Amourose Prism VII, and beyond them was the vibrator itself, delicately curved and pastel pink, with a wide round tip and a short arm at its halfway point. The handle had diamond-shaped embellishments, and Woozi had definitely nailed the “pretty” part of your request. You could put this up in your living room and no one would guess that it was a sex toy and not some miniature abstract sculpture. The back of the box told you that it was made out of 100% silicone, had four insertable inches, and featured nine vibrating speeds with five different modes. 

     Without much knowledge on vibrators, you decided that all sounded good enough to you. You’d only had to look at it for half a second before you knew it was the one; it already had you squeezing your thighs together in anticipation.

     “What do you think?” Woozi asked. You’d almost forgotten he was there. When you looked up at him and saw that he had his bottom lip caught between his teeth again, a wave of arousal rolled over you. You had to get home right now. You answered him with a hard swallow and frantic nodding, sure he’d know what you meant. 

     “Don’t you...want to know more details?” He tried, to you violently shaking your head “no.” One corner of his lip quirked up in another semi-smirk, and this time you didn’t even want to smack it off of him, it just made you squirm.

     “Well I wouldn’t be a very good Pleasure Specialist if I didn’t let you know what you were in for,” he said, and in your haze of need it sounded more like a purr. Woozi took a step closer to you, reaching out and touching the underside of your hand with his own. If you hadn’t been too worried about dropping this precious gift he’d given you, you would have jerked away. That simple touch electrified you. 

     I’m disgusting, you thought, desperate and disgusting. I’d fuck him right here and now. Of course, on Woozi’s end the touch was not sensual, he was simply guiding you to turn the box back over.

     “It’s 100% silicone, it feels like a soft velvet,” he told you, pulling off the lid. You lifted your other hand to take the vibrator out of it’s mold, but Woozi beat you to it. It was impossible to hide your wide eyes zeroed in on it in his hands—he was holding something you’d have in you for hours later tonight, while he was right across the hall. He can’t stand you, Y/N, you reminded yourself, he’s just acting like this to embarrass you. 

     But you really didn’t care anymore. You knew this image of him watching you with that roguish half smirk on his face, with his delicate and slim fingers wrapped around your vibrator would be imprinted on the inside of your eyelids whenever you fucked yourself with it.

    “A USB charger plugs in here,” he slid a small plastic piece off the base to show you exactly where “here” was, “an hour of charge gives you three hours of use, if you can last that long.” Remembering this moment would help you last twice as long.

     “There are four inches to fill yourself up with,” he took another step closer, “and once you’re stuffed with it, this little arm will be pressed snug against your clit.” You squeezed your thighs together again, noticing a distinct squish between them. If you hadn’t been so fucking delirious with want, you’d have thought that Woozi definitely wasn’t supposed to be speaking to customers this way.

     “It has nine vibrating speeds, so you can start slow, and keep turning it up to push yourself closer and closer to the edge,” it had gotten so, so much warmer in this shop since you’d stepped over here, you felt a light sheen of sweat settling over your brow, “but once you’re almost there, you’ll turn it back down, slide off the ledge before you can throw yourself over. Because you’re such a little tease you can’t help but tease even yourself, right?” You couldn’t think straight, could barely comprehend the words he was saying, but you nodded. The smirk that was making your knees weak dropped off of his face, replaced with his lips pulled into a tight line and his dark eyes glaring hard into yours.

     “Here, feel it,” Woozi said, his voice soft but demanding, and for a second you really thought he might rip your jeans off and shove it in between your legs in the middle of his shift, in the middle of this store, in front of the old man and young woman who were still looking at condoms and lube. 

     Still looking at condoms and lube? It felt like painfully, deliciously long hours had passed as the sexual tension smothered you back here, and it surprised you to realize Woozi had turned you on so much in such a short time by doing so little. You’d always had a bit of a schoolgirl crush on him, no matter how rude and unpleasant he was, but you never could have imagined he’d have this kind of effect on you.

     You didn’t notice Woozi’s hand raising, didn’t notice the soft snort he gave as he realized how spaced out you were, but you were shocked back into the moment by the feeling of soft vibrations on the tip of your nose. You gasped, going cross eyed to see the bulbous tip of the vibrator pressed there.

     “The clitoris and the tip of your nose have similar sensitivity levels,” you couldn’t believe Woozi could still sound so sexy saying something so ridiculous, “Well? Would that feel good on your clit?” Fuck, yes, it would. He didn’t have to wait for an affirmative cue from you, he could tell by the look in your eyes and the way your neck moved. You were gulping, trying to wet your dry throat.

     “I know it would,” he said, “just like I know you’ll be a good girl and try not to wake me with your screaming tonight, right? I work early tomorrow, I know you don’t wanna keep me up?” He waited for your nod, so sure you’d be obedient and agree with him.

     “I can’t make any promises,” you whispered. What you didn’t say was that even though earlier you’d been ready to get as far away from as you could as quickly as possible, now you wanted him to be achingly aware of you getting off every night with the toy he had so graciously suggested to you. Woozi didn’t say anything back, and his face didn’t reveal much to you, just his narrowed eyes that seemed to imply he wasn’t exactly pleased with you. He never is, your pesky meddling brain reminded you, this is the only way he ever looks at me.

     And just like that, the suffocating sexual tension of the past five minutes came to an abrupt end. It had been easy for awhile there to just focus on how good-looking Jihoon-Woozi was, and on the nasty inappropriate words coming out of his mouth, but there was nothing like remembering how much he’d always disliked you to kill the mood. You took a wide side step, letting the vibrator hang in thin air where it had once been pressed against your nose, and coughed to clear your throat. 

     “Well, I’ll take it,” you announced, refusing to look over at him. You held the box out and felt the slight weight difference of the vibrator being gently placed back into it, then slid the top back on and held the box tight to your chest. Beneath it, you could just barely feel your rapid heartbeat.

     Your walk back to the counter was more like a sprint, like the further away from the Vibration Station you were, the less you’d have to endure this sudden empty feeling. It was a physical emptiness, of course, as you felt the ooze coating the inside of your underwear. But there was a distinctly emotional emptiness as well, that you successfully, immediately ignored after detecting it. Yeah, I’m definitely gonna pass on that today. Now was not the time or the place to try and unpack repressed emotional baggage that you’d been carrying for possible years.

     “Did any of our Pleasure Specialists help you find what you needed today?” It was a different voice this time, and you found that the person at the cash register now was a middle-aged woman, just beginning to sprout gray hairs, smiling warmly at you. You were too fucked up to give her a real answer, so you shook your head and hoped she hadn’t seen you talking to Jihoon-Woozi a mere two yards away from her. Luckily, even if she had, she wasn’t in a position to point out your obvious lie. She just gave a nod and proceeded with ringing up the vibrator.

     “Alright, that’ll be one hundred twenty seven dollars and twenty cents.” Your hand that had been instinctively handing over your card already dropped. The lady behind the counter, who you now noticed was fake-named Scarlet according to her name tag, seemed unfazed by your gaping at her. It was obvious that you were surprised by the price, and she must have been wondering what kind of idiot you were to not have looked at it beforehand, but she kept those thoughts off of her face, only watching you expectantly.

     Maybe he gets some bonus for selling their most expensive products, you thought bitterly. That would definitely explain why he’d randomly turned on Sexy Woozi for you��he was just trying to squeeze as much cash out of you as he could. The idea that he’d play you like that hurt, but you had to remind yourself that you weren’t special to him. In his eyes, you might as well have been any other customer on any other day, minus the sparse-and-somewhat-complicated history you two had. 

     Against your better judgment, you looked back to where you’d last left Jihoon-Woozi, wanting to give him a good glare, but he wasn’t standing there anymore. Where the shelves of vibrators ended, you saw a door with a handwritten “Employees Only” sign and figured he must have disappeared through it.

     “Ma’am? I don’t want to rush you, but there are other customers waiting,” this so-called “Scarlet” spoke up. If common sense and knowing they were the only other people in the store wasn’t enough of an indication that it was the old man and young woman, the murmurs of her asking if he wanted to use the fuzzy handcuffs tonight were. Overwhelmed by anger, some hurt, a light disgust, and mostly a roaring from your vagina insisting that an orgasm is worth $127!, you pressed your card into “Scarlet”’s hand with a huff. You reasoned that you’d make Wendy buy you a decent dinner once a week for the next month to make up for the bullshit you’d been through over the past few weeks because of her, and that combined with the dish washing might begin to make up for all of it, financially and otherwise.

     “Scarlet” rang up your purchase and placed the L’Amourose into a nondescript plain black plastic bag. It was so undistinguished that it was almost even more obvious what was inside of it, at least that’s what your anxious mind had you convinced of. You took the bag and your card into your hands and turned away, in the opposite direction of where the odd couple was standing so you wouldn’t have to see whatever touching and cooing at each other they were doing. You didn’t even tell “Scarlet” to have a nice day, and you didn’t feel guilty about it as you walked away, either. Of course, from behind you, she shouted in a cheery voice, “Please come again!” 

     You didn’t miss the emphasis on the word come and promised in your head that you’d never drive down this road again, you’d never come within five miles of this place again, you’d never even step foot on this side of town again, if you could help it.

     Moving at the fastest pace you could manage without running, you exited the shop and took what felt like your first breath in hours as soon as you had traveled halfway down the alley. The exotic cheese store seemed like it was mocking you, want to come inside? Too bad you’re carrying a fake vibrating dick in that bag and have just been completely traumatized by your satanic neighbor. But you’d been completely traumatized and completely turned on, to the point of feeling like anyone who happened to pass you on your way to your car would be able to hear the squelch of the arousal pooled between your legs. 

     At the end of the alley, you looked both ways to see if there were any other people strolling down the sidewalk. You were relieved that there weren’t, since you definitely didn’t want to hide behind the dumpster against the opposite wall (but you would have if you had to). Then made a break for your car.

     “Dear Wendy,” you read out loud as you typed out a text, comfortably hidden back behind the wheel with your bag of dick tucked securely into the seat beside you, “I’m probably gonna kill you the next time I see you. But I got it, so please do me a favor and stay away from my apartment for the next 24 hours.” Sent.

     It had been two years since you moved into your apartment. At the time, you’d still been with your ex, Seungri. Nowadays you knew it wasn’t really okay for a 23-year-old to date an 18-year-old, fresh out of high school and living on their own for the first time, still impressionable and easily manipulated. But back then, you’ just liked the attention from an older guy.

     On that fateful day, you were age 19 and had been with him for a little over a year. That seemed like a good amount of time to warrant him helping you move out of your dorm and into this place, but he told you he’d made plans already and couldn’t get out of them. Wendy would have helped, but she was visiting her parents, and you weren’t close enough with anybody else to ask them to suffer through this for you.

     So you were alone when you walked up to your door for the first time to find an unaddressed envelope taped below your peephole. Inside you found a less-than-friendly note, “To 203A.” The plate above your peephole displayed that 203A was, indeed, you. A few messily scrawled lines explained that should you fail to keep your music down, or should so much as a yip from a dog be heard, or should you leave any mess outside of your front door, etc. you’d be immediately reported to your landlord. 

     It was signed off, “Thanks, 203B.” This was your first (informal) introduction to the man you would later come to know as Lee Jihoon.

     It was only days later that you got home from class one afternoon to find exactly twenty four shoes piled up on his welcome mat, and a chorus of male voices inside loudly singing along to Girl’s Generation. You hurried into your apartment, throwing your bag down on your kitchen counter and digging through it until you found exactly what you needed. Five minutes later, a bright pink sticky note was stuck over his peephole, with your insistence that he was not only rude but a hypocrite scratched onto it in glittery purple pen. Love, 203A. All the shoes and noise were gone within a couple of hours, but the note stayed on his door taunting you for a week until you ripped it off and threw it away yourself.

     A month or so passed before you finally met the ever elusive 203B face-to-face. It was 2 A.M. and Seungri was laughing as you stumbled down your hall, completely wasted. He would grab you if you were going to fall flat on your face, but otherwise let you slip on the stairs and run into walls simply for his entertainment. When you finally found yourself at your door, you squatted down in front of it and start to rummage through your bag for your keys. 

     “What’s taking so long?” Seungri whined. He wasn’t really drunk, just had a buzz going. If you hadn’t been so far gone, you would have known that he still shouldn’t have been driving like that. But you had failed an exam in one of your classes, and when you called him crying about it, Seungri’s best idea was to fill you up with drinks so you could just forget. Many beers, a few mixed drinks, and two or three shots later, here you were, unable to find your key.

     “Can I…jusssst stay overatyerplace tonight?” A good boyfriend wouldn’t have needed any convincing, but you shot him your best puppy dog eyes, for good measure. In the morning, you could have Wendy bring over the spare key you’d given her in case of emergencies to let you in, but you did need somewhere to sleep. Seungri scrunched his nose, kicked his feet. Clearly the idea of you staying over was not very appealing to him. 

     “Does that mean I’ll get lucky?” He asked. Even Drunk You had enough wits about her to be unimpressed.

     “Nooo, I’m not…I’m not gonna sex with you right now,” you slurred at him, putting on an angry face, eyebrows knitted together and all. Seungri laughed, leaning down and pushing the wrinkles out of your forehead. “Well I can’t bring you over to my place, Daesung has some girls over,” he told you, like that meant shit in this situation. What you didn’t know at the time was that Seungri had every intention of hooking up with at least one of them since he wasn’t getting any out of you. He rose back up to his feet and took a cautious step backwards.

     “You can call Wendy and have her come pick you up, right?” Tomorrow you’d be making up excuses for why he couldn’t just take you over to Wendy’s himself, but at the time, you just nodded dumbly. He gave you two thumbs-up, and threw a “love you, bye,” over his shoulder before he hopped back down the stairs. 

     You tried calling Wendy a dozen times, but of course she was asleep in the dead of the night. Then you were knocking on your door, asking your cat to open it. “Twinkie? Twinkieee, canyouhearme? It’s easy, just…jusss’ reach up and turn the knob with…with yer paws?” Twinkie, a fat cream colored beast, did meow at you through the crack under the door, but obviously couldn’t do much else.

     It took about an hour and a half for you to start crying. You had called Seungri to essentially beg him to come pick you up and take you somewhere instead of having you sleep on your welcome mat, but he didn’t answer. And the crying didn’t go on for long before you heard a long whine of a creak from behind you. You flipped over as quickly as your body would allow you to, and your hand slipped, so you fell backwards and hit your head on the tiled floor of the hallway. 

     “Shit, what are you doing?” It was a voice you’d never heard before. You’d thought the creak could only be either of the nice old lady a few doors down coming out to your rescue, or a ghost. Since it definitely wasn’t an old lady’s voice, you determined it had to be the latter. It was just as you felt someone grabbing your shoulders and trying to hoist you up that you started screaming.

     “Don’t touch me! I’m alive, you can’t…you can’t take m’ body! Don’t possesh me, pleeasssse…..” And a hand was slapping itself down over your mouth. You managed to get your eyes open enough to see that cold brown gaze for the first time, and you looked this person up and down to see a short, slight body wrapped up in a worn out old pink sweater, grey sweatpants, and socks with holes in the toes.

     “Wow, I knew I was avoiding you for a good reason,” that voice said again, and obviously it was his, and he obviously wasn’t a ghost. You immediately felt more relaxed. Underneath his hand, he must have felt your lips shift into a dopey smile, so he let go of your face. Instead both of his hands moved around your shoulders again, and then he was moving you towards the door across the hall.

     “203B! You’re 203B!” You squealed, and he shot you a dark look that you immediately understood, giggling as you made an exaggerated hush motion with your finger over your lips. “But you are…you’re 203B. I was…I was wondering if…if I’devermeetyouuu…” you trailed off. He opened the door and led you into his living room. 

     You could just barely make out that the layout was a mirror image of yours. “I have to pee so bad!” You announced, and tried to rush towards what you knew to be the bathroom door, but stumbled and banged your knee into the coffee table. “Fuck, that hurrrrt!” You spun on your heel and pointed an accusing finger at 203B, although it was actually pointing a little above him, to the left. “Why’d you do that?!” You demanded to know, and got a snort as an answer.

     “Sit,” he said, and he sounded like an Angry Dad, so you did as told. There was a raggedy brown couch beside you that you flopped down onto, and you sunk into the cushions happily. The couple of hours you’d spent lying down in the hallway had been really uncomfortable, and your back was sore. You kicked off your heels one by one, not paying any attention to where they went. One of them safely rolled away, while the other flew into the air and was about to land in a fish bowl on the table behind you, but 203B caught it just in time. He threw it down next to the other one before stomping into his bedroom. 

     You didn’t think much of where he’d gone, you didn’t think much of anything, really. He could have been a violent, sex-crazed deviant but you weren’t in the right state of mind to care. You were just drunk, sad, and really, really tired.

     The next thing you knew, you were woken up by the smell of coffee. You peeked an eye open, wondering where you’d ended up last night, panicking. You saw your shoes on the floor and smoothed a hand down your torso to make sure you were fully clothed, relieved to find that your dress and tights were still on. 

     Ok, now, where the fuck am I? Music theory textbooks were scattered across the coffee table (you definitely didn’t know anybody in the School of Music), an acoustic guitar was propped up in a chair opposite you (you definitely didn’t know anybody who played guitar), and there were many pictures of the same large group of dudes framed on the wall (who the fuck are those people?) The easiest conclusion you could come to was that some stranger had abducted you and you were going to die.

     “Thirsty?” On same wild instinct, you shot up and threw the blanket that had been laid over you in the direction the voice had come from. You looked and it was draped over a figure that could barely be your height, standing stock still. 

     “Uh? Who are you?” Why did I do that? There was no vocal answer from the other person, they just stuck an arm out and pulled the blanket off of themselves, tossing it over the back of the couch. And when you saw their face, it all came rushing back to you. Seungri leaving you on your doorstep, nobody answering your calls, begging your cat to let you inside, and 203B, himself, coming to your rescue. 

     He stared at you blankly, and you opened and closed your mouth a few times, struggling with what to say. You didn’t know if you should apologize or thank him first, and there was another part of you that wanted to tell him off for daring to leave that note on your door about being too loud when he had weekly karaoke parties, seemingly with every single person he knew.

     “I’m Jihoon,” he said, before you could decide which of the things on your mind was the first priority, “203B,” he clarified, “I made coffee. You can have some and then you can leave.” With nothing more to say, he marched back into his kitchen. You stood up to follow him, and the change in altitude made your mouth water with a desperate need to empty out the contents of your stomach. You rushed into the bathroom and heaved into the toilet for a good ten minutes, making a (false) promise to yourself that you’d never drink tequila again. 

     When you emerged, a plain white mug with steam rising from the top was sitting on the table, and Jihoon was sitting in the chair with the guitar in his lap, leaned over and scribbling some notes in on a piece of sheet music. You cleared your throat to get his attention, and when he didn’t give any indication that he’d heard, you did it again, louder. This time, when he didn’t look at you or say anything, you knew he was purposely ignoring you.

     “Thank you for letting me sleep here,” you started, “and sorry for…everything? Probably waking you up, and throwing the blanket at you, and throwing up in your bathroom.” The clock on the wall read 1 o’clock, and the sun was high in the sky, sending streams of light through the blinds. You saw your phone plugged in on the other side of the couch and picked it up, sure that Seungri would have finally called or texted you back to see if you’d made it to Wendy’s safely. But he hadn’t, you just had thirty missed calls from her and many texts demanding you answer her immediately to let her know you were alive. You swallowed the disappointment down. He must be busy, you thought, something you’d told yourself a thousand times.

     You sat down and read through each text from Wendy, the last being that she was coming over with the key and you’d better be there when she arrived. You replied that you were fine, and that you were at your neighbors. She sent back many question marks and exclamation points, but you let those go unanswered.

     “So you’re a songwriter?” 203B—Jihoon—nodded tersely. You picked up the mug of coffee and took a sip, just to instantly let it dribble back out of your mouth because it tasted like tar.

     “Wow, I never would’ve guessed that a college girl only likes pumpkin spice lattes or some shit,” Jihoon mocked you, earning a frown. But you didn’t say anything back because he’d been nice enough to give you a place to stay overnight, so he was allowed a few jabs. 

     You put the mug back down and asked, “Do you have any creamer?” He didn’t reward you with a response, just another snort. Your phone pinged with a new text, 203B? The guy who left you the note? Wait so he isn’t an asshole? And you hastily answered, No, he is, just not enough of an asshole to leave a drunk girl outside to fend for herself.

     “I know you probably think I’m some saint now for letting you in, but,” you looked up at Jihoon, “do you think you could go? Is someone coming with your key?” You nodded, brushing off his attitude. You’d probably be rude to someone who woke you up at 3:30 A.M. with their blubbering and indirectly forced you to let them sleep over, too. After pulling your shoes back on and unplugging your phone, you walked over to the door. You waited to see if Jihoon would say goodbye, say anything, even a “fuck off” would suffice, but he didn’t so much as spare you another glance. 

     “I’ll have to make this up to you, somehow,” you said, trying to sound lighthearted. Jihoon finally looked over at you again, his stare deadly, before asserting, “No, you don’t. We don’t have to talk again.”

     That stung, not knowing what you’d done to upset him so much, but you knew as much as you wanted to it wasn’t your place to snap back at him. You just bowed your head before disappearing out the door. Wendy arrived ten minutes later and let you into your apartment, where you found your key on your kitchen counter. 

     “Why didn’t you go home with Seungri?” She wanted to know, but you just shrugged. “Well how was your neighbor?” Another shrug. You didn’t feel like venting to her like you’d planned on doing anymore, you were just tired again. Speaking with someone as cold as Jihoon was exhausting.

     You never did divulge the details of that first meeting with Jihoon, not to Wendy and definitely not to Seungri. He did ask what you ended up doing that night, and you told him that your neighbor had let you stay over, and he just got pissed at you for staying in another man’s apartment. It didn’t matter that you’d had nowhere else to go or that you’d slept on the couch, it didn’t matter that if he hadn’t gotten you wasted because he didn’t know how else to deal with you when you were sad than it wouldn’t have happened, and it didn’t matter that he should have taken you back home with him. Logic and sense never did matter much to Seungri.

     Your relationship with him was in full meltdown mode by time you had your next encounter with Jihoon, months later. Wendy asked you to go to a party with her; a guy she liked was one of the hosts. With no reason not to go, you agreed. Seungri was “out of town,” which by now you were sure meant he was with another girl, so he couldn’t stop you. 

     The house was packed, and a wide circle cleared in the middle of the living room for two guys to have a dance battle didn’t help with the space issue. You still stopped to watch, and you were rooting for the one with noodley dark blonde hair who was spinning on his shoulders. People were chanting for him as he went, “Ming-hao! Ming-hao! Ming-hao!”

     “Y/N! Come with me to meet Seungcheol!” Wendy insisted, dragging you into the kitchen where some guy with broad shoulders and a thousand watt smile immediately passed you both a red plastic cup full of whatever toxic waste the hosts had to offer for the night. “I call it the DKoncoction,” he told you while Wendy looked over the crowd of people stuffed in there to see if any of them were this mystery man of hers, “no, see, it’s really clever, it’s spelled with my nickname, DK,” he continued, pointing to where he had written the name of the drink on the cup. You gave him a small smile, “It is clever,” you agreed.

     “There he is!” And then you were being dragged away again, this time out onto the back porch. There were less people out here, most of them passing a joint around. One of them took a long drag and then started sputtering, tears coming to his eyes, and the others slapped him on the back, laughing. “This is why we can’t let the baby come to the college parties,” a long-haired guy said, “c’mon, Chan, I’m taking you home. Your parents would kill me if they found out I brought you here and let you get high, fuck.”

     Finally, there were a few of them sitting on the steps leading down into the backyard, facing away from you. The one in the middle had inky black hair, the one on his left had his hair bleached blonde, and the last of them had a shock of pink on his head. “No, dude, it looks fine, go inside and get your own drink! No one’s gonna say anything to you!” The blonde was trying to reassure the pink-haired one as you and Wendy approached them.

     “Uh, Cheolie?” All three heads whipped around when Wendy spoke up, and you took them in one-by-one, left to right. The blonde smiled so wide his eyes practically disappeared from his face, cheekbones pushing them into tiny slits. The black-haired one looked up at Wendy with wide doe eyes, his very pink lips in an “o” as he took in her dress and the nice way she’d done her hair, just for him. Obviously, he was Seungcheol, and you had to admit Wendy hadn’t been lying when she spent hours waxing poetic to you about how cute he was.

     Then you turned to the pink-haired one and had to resist the urge to throw your drink in his face. Jihoon rolled his eyes when he noticed it was you, too. “You should lay off the alcohol,” he chided you, “wouldn’t want you getting hammered and not being able to make it back into your own apartment again. I won’t be so generous with my couch this time.”

     “But if I get drunk enough, I won’t have to remember how someone threw up cotton candy all over your head,” you sneered back at him, lip curled and all. The other three stared wide-eyed at the two of you, and Seungcheol violently elbowed Jihoon in the side. “What the fuck,” Jihoon snapped at him, and Seungcheol smacked him upside the head. “Don’t be rude to my guests, or you’ll have to go,” he snarled.

     “Y/N, you know him? Oh, my god, wait—that’s 203B?” Wendy put two-and-two together, then sent her own glare at Jihoon. In the months since that night, the appreciation for him letting you in had worn off, and resentment for how much of an asshole he’d been had settled in. Wendy shared your feelings. You’d almost baked him a cake or something to “repay him” out of spite, and then realized how stupid it’d be to waste your money on it. 

     Instead you started leaving more passive aggressive notes, and he responded in kind. You’d stick a note on his door thanking him for the smell of garlic that drifted from his apartment to yours and wouldn’t leave for days, he’d stick a note on your door about how much he loved hearing your cat meow for an hour after you left every day; he’d find a rant about how you never thought you’d love being kept up until 4 a.m. by the sound of his acoustic guitar so much, you’d find his thoughts on how refreshing it was to have to park at the other end of the lot because you had someone over and they parked in “his spot”; then you walked all the way over to his car to tuck a note under his windshield wiper complimenting his cleverness in changing the name of his WiFi to “Faster, Seungri, HARDER” after a night in with your boyfriend, and he slipped one under your door to applaud you on your choice in holiday decor, a pumpkin on the floor that started singing when he walked past it at 5 A.M. and made him spill his coffee all over himself.

     “Good point, I’ll need a drink of my own so I can forget the fucked up way you painted your face,” Jihoon pressed on, despite Seungcheol’s threats. He stood up and started making his way back into the house, but stopped as he passed you to add, “That shade of red looks particularly slutty on you,” before he disappeared back into the kitchen. The blonde jumped to his feet and rushed to your side, looking at you with devastatingly sincere eyes, before he said, “I am so sorry, I’ve never seen him act like that towards a stranger?” You laughed and reached up to pat his hair, which seemed a little fried.

     “We’re not strangers, and he’s always like that. Don’t worry.” He grinned and finally introduced himself (“My name is Soonyoung, but you can call me Soon,”), and then he took his seat beside Seungcheol again and they both scooted over to make room for you and Wendy.  

     The lovebirds were cuddled up to each other in no time, whispering and giggling, and you and Soonyoung had to lean forward to talk around them. You told him you lived next door to Jihoon, and he apologized again, this time for an incident in which Jihoon had asked his friends to bring over all their shoes and dirty socks and pile them up in front of your door. He insisted he never would have gotten involved if he knew the neighbor was just “an innocent young lady,” which got him a scoff. That had been in retaliation to the time your bag of garbage ripped open at his doorstep while you were taking it out and you just…kind of…left it there. So the shoes and socks stunt had been more than earned, you had to admit.

     “203B didn’t tell you why you were doing that to me?” You double checked, and Soonyoung shook his head no before explaining that he’d never told them why they did any of the shit they did to you, which included: late night musical choruses in the hall, drawing graffiti in the dust on your car, having all twelve of them knock on your door when they passed by, and so, so much more. “If he asked you guys to jump off a bridge, would you?” You mocked him with the cliche line, and Soonyoung shrugged, “Maybe?”

     Most of your night was spent with you trading stories of all the ways you’d set out to annoy Jihoon for behind-the-scenes information on all of his actions against you. Soonyoung told you that he had been particularly irritated that night he could hear you and Seungri going at it, which certainly piqued your interest, and then said he figured it was because Jihoon wasn’t getting any. “You’d think he would with his job,” Soonyoung had mumbled to himself, but he moved on to another topic too fast for you to ask what he meant by that.

     Wendy and Seungcheol wandered back into the house around 1:30, and she easily talked you into being okay with her bailing on you to stay with him instead of taking you home. “I found someone to give you a ride,” she’d promised, and you trusted her enough to not send you away with an ax murderer. What you weren’t expecting was to walk outside and see Jihoon leaning against the porch railing, straightening up when he saw you and jerking his head towards the cars lining the street as if you should follow him to one of them.   

     “Wait, what? Are you serious? Wendy was this desperate?” You whined, and Jihoon stopped in his trot down the steps to ask you, “Who else would be taking you back? We live in the same building, should someone go out of their way to get you there?” He had a point, and you didn’t really have the money to be blowing on a cab, so you sucked it up and found yourself crawling into the beat-up old sedan you’d frowned and stuck your tongue out at many times before. 

     Seungcheol’s place was on the other side of town from your apartment, a good half hour drive, and you felt your soul leave your body at the idea of having to be in such close proximity with Jihoon for so long. Should I say something to him? Small talk? How about this weather and all that shit? You’d opened your mouth to say just about anything to disturb the awkward silence between you, and it was at that exact moment that he leaned forward and turned his radio on. Your ride home was spent listening to Super Junior at max volume, having your seat vibrate along with the bass line in “Sorry Sorry” and every other song on that album. Jihoon softly sang along to every word.

     It was just as “Shining Star” was fading out that Jihoon pulled his car into a spot, and you were clambering to get out of it as quickly as possible. In the spot beside his was another car that you’d recognize anywhere—it was Seungri’s. You dug through your purse for your phone just to see that it was completely dead and feel a wave of dread pass through you. 

     For the last several weeks, any time you were with Seungri, all you’d done was fight. You were so sure that he was seeing other girls, but if you dared to confront him about it, he’d just insist you were being crazy and overbearing. Of course, if he knew you’d gone to a party without his knowledge and then came home with Jihoon, he’d have pitched a fit.

     “What are you mumbling about over there?” Jihoon asked, lazily scooting out of the driver’s seat. You hadn’t even realized you’d been anxiously ranting to yourself as you desperately tried to get your phone to turn back on, no matter how dead the screen kept flashing to try to tell you it was. 

     “You can just…just go in without me, okay?” You tossed at him, admitting defeat and stuffing your phone back into your bag. What am I gonna tell him? You thought, I don’t wanna start another stupid fight. You leaned back against Jihoon’s car and felt exhaustion settle into your bones. It had been a long day, yes, but it was more of an emotional exhaustion. You were so tired of fighting with Seungri, not trusting him, feeling insecure because of him; any smart girl would have broken up with him a long time ago, but he was your first serious boyfriend and there was a small but very stubborn part of you that didn’t want to give up on him.

     “Isn’t that your boyfriend’s car?” Jihoon piped up from beside you, sending you flying a few feet away from him and stumbling against the curb. “What the hell! I thought you went inside!” You reached over to shove his shoulder in frustration. He shrugged your hand off and said, “I thought you were gonna start having a panic attack over here, I didn’t want that hanging over my head.” 

     A hand over your heart confirmed that it was indeed beating quite fast, and you had been breathing heavily as anxiety wormed it’s way into your mind. You looked down at your feet, no intentions of telling Jihoon about your problems.

     “Yes, that’s his car,” you answered his earlier question, “and I’m fine, I just. I just wanted a minute to myself.” Despite that, Jihoon didn’t walk away, but leaned against the car beside you instead. He kept watching you and it was making you thoroughly uncomfortable.

     “Well I’d rather make sure you get into your apartment alright, like I said, I don’t need anything happening to you and having it weigh on my conscience. Also Wendy would kill me,” he laughed. That much was true, the guilty conscience thing you weren’t so sure about. He did hate you, after all. 

     You sighed and looked up at your window, seeing the light shining from inside your bedroom, regretting giving Seungri his own key. It was something you’d done in recent months, a gesture of good will, trying to express to him that you wanted to make your relationship work. If you hadn’t given him that damn key, he probably wouldn’t be here right now. Jihoon followed your line of sight and huffed.

     “Why are you making your boyfriend wait? Trouble in paradise?” You figured if Jihoon had heard you guys having sex, he had to have heard all of Seungri’s screaming and your crying that had been happening lately, so you ignored that question. He was just rubbing salt in your wounds. You pouted and pointedly looked away, not wanting him to see the hurt on your face.

    Unfortunately the only other thing you could really look at was Seungri’s car, and that only reminded you of the fight you’d had inside of it just a few days ago. He didn’t think you were spending enough time with him, but you had classes and a job you needed to go to, and your grades were suffering since you’d often skip studying to see him. That wasn’t enough for him, but nothing ever was.

     “Y/N, come on, it’s cold,” Jihoon grouched. You’d almost forgotten he was there. He was right, though, it was too chilly to keep standing in the parking lot in your tiny shorts with no jacket. Better bite the bullet and get this over with, you conceded to yourself. Jihoon was already halfway to the stairwell door, and you jogged over to catch up with him. He held the door open and let you through first, and stayed behind you no matter how slowly you trudged up the stairs.

     “Seriously, why aren’t you more excited to see your boyfriend?” Jihoon asked again, the same question with different words. You had to remind yourself that under no circumstances could you disclose personal details about your life to Jihoon. He’d find some way to use them against you next time you did something that aggravated him.

     “Why do you keep saying it like that, ‘your boyfriend’? Like they’re dirty words?” You asked, instead of telling him the truth. You figured he’d say something rude and nasty, like he just had a hard time understanding how any guy could want to date you or something like that. But he was silent. You were surprised he wouldn’t jump at the chance to insult you for the thousandth time. You stopped at the landing that exited to your hall and turned to look at him a few steps below you—saw him gnawing at his bottom lip, wringing his hands together, eyes cast to the side. You were about to ask him what was wrong, when he spoke up quietly,

     “I’m just wondering what kind of guy he has to be to be dating you.” You could have pulled out a snappy comeback, but you weren’t really up to it. It relieved you that he didn’t have anything more serious to say. You had enough on your plate right now, you didn’t need Jihoon fucking up the rival dynamic that you two had going on; it was probably the most consistent relationship you had in your life at the moment. You just nodded down at him, then pushed the door open that continued the path to your doom.

     It was almost 2 A.M. On any other night, your hall should have been empty. But there stood Seungri, leaned against your door and tapping violently at his phone screen. His head shot up when the door slammed closed behind you and Jihoon, and his hard gaze settled on the pair of you watching him. Your eyes were wide and you weren’t proud of your hands shaking a little bit; you weren’t scared of Seungri. He’d never given you any reason to be. You just knew how this must have looked to him, and you’d never convince him that it was anything other than his first assumption. 

     “Y/N, move,” Jihoon groaned, stuck between your back and the door, and put a hand on your arm to nudge you out of the way. You allowed yourself to be pushed to the side some, but didn’t take any steps forward. If looks could kill, you and Jihoon would be long gone.

     “What the hell is going on?” Seungri spat as Jihoon approached him, and from where you were with the soles of your shoes stuck to the floor, you only saw Jihoon shake his head. He’d probably rolled his eyes at Seungri, which would just piss him off more. But your boyfriend was more interested in what you were doing and what you had to say, so he stormed towards you, shoulder checking Jihoon as they passed each other and he finally got to his door. 

     “I called you like fifty times! I sent you a hundred texts! Where have you been?!” Seungri demanded to know, coming up close to you and wrapping his hand tight around your elbow. You just gulped and kept staring up at him. I’m not scared of him, you tried to convince yourself. Seungri had never hit you, and he never would, but he could be an intimidating presence. Just his hand on your elbow was imposing, dominating, making you feel small beneath him.

     “I went to a party with Wendy,” you said meekly, hoping to avoid a real blowout, but Seungri just barked out a laugh. 

     “Right, you went to a party with her but ended up coming home with another guy? That makes a lot of sense, Y/N,” he growled. You thought you knew your boyfriend pretty well, but you’d really never figured out how to diffuse these situations and calm him down. No methods that you’d use on any other person ever seemed to work with him; begging him to believe you, trying to convince him with the truth, trying to convince him with lies when that didn’t work. All you could ever really do was let him go off on you until he wore himself out. You were about to let him drag you into your apartment to do just that when you suddenly heard,

     “I’m her neighbor. I was just taking her home.” You really thought Jihoon had disappeared into his place already, but he was just standing there with his key hanging out of the door, watching the scene unfold in front of him. He was too far away for you to see the expression on his face, but you were sure he was judging you for letting Seungri walk all over you. You didn’t need his pity, really didn’t want to have him trying to stand up for you, but if it worked you’d be grateful. You looked away from Jihoon to see if it did, and you weren’t surprised to see Seungri only looked angrier.

     “Are you kidding me? I fucking knew it, I know you’ve wanted to fuck him ever since you moved in here, haven’t you? Always playing your stupid games with him?” Seungri dropped your arm and turned away, setting his sights back on Jihoon, “And you can’t stay away from another man’s girlfriend, fucking prick.”

     “Trust me, I try to stay away from her as much as possible,” Jihoon corrected him, and your temper flared at the audacity he had to say something like that right now, “She’s pretty annoying to have next door, but the worst part is having a guy like you around.” The hall went dead silent, there wasn’t so much as a breath to be heard. It had been tense already, but now it felt like you and Jihoon had pressed as much as you could, and the wire that was Seungri’s patience was about to snap. 

     “What did you just fucking say?” Jihoon moved to face Seungri fully, shoulders back and jaw locked. Your boyfriend’s slow steps in his direction almost seemed like he was stalking prey, but someone who had themselves opened up to a fight could not be hunted. 

    Jihoon didn’t seem worried, despite the good four inches and several pounds the other guy had on him. You didn’t know if he could hold his own in a fight, but you weren’t interested in waiting to find out. You’d seen Seungri knock a couple of guys out at a club before and didn’t want to see that happen to your neighbor, no matter how many irritating things he’d done to you.

     “Seungri, let’s just go inside and talk, please,” you tried, “Jihoon didn’t do anything wrong, he was just giving me a ride!” Seungri laughed, and the sound made your skin crawl. It was so different from when you’d first met, when you’d tell a dumb joke and he’d laugh and it was like music to your ears. He wasn’t the same person you’d fallen for, he hadn’t been for a long time…or maybe that had never been the real him to begin with.

     “Baby, of course we can go inside and talk,” Seungri said, and you felt a split second of relief, “right after I finish beating this piece of shit bloody.” He stopped within a foot of Jihoon, looking down at him over his nose, challenging him to make the first move. It shocked you to see how comfortable Seungri was playing such an antagonistic role, immediately resorting to violence. 

     Why am I with him? You didn’t have any answers left to that question. Jihoon hummed out a, “Well?” That was the only cue Seungri needed.

     One second you saw him rearing back, fist ready and swinging right towards Jihoon’s face; the next you were grabbing Seungri’s arm and spinning him in your direction, ducking to miss his punch before straightening to give him one of your own. He instantly fell to his knees, cradling his jaw. Holy shit, what did I just do—you hadn’t even realized you’d rushed down the hall to stop him until it had already happened. Seungri was still holding his face as if you’d done any real damage; you were sure it didn’t feel too good, but you weren’t that strong. If his wide eyes and complete silence were any indication, his reaction was out of shock more than anything else. It had the same effect on Jihoon, who didn’t move or say a word.

     You could have felt any number of emotions at that moment, between fear and anger and confusion and uncertainty, but instead you just felt…you just felt better. After almost two years together, you’d finally found the one way to make him shut up. It felt like the weight of Seungri and this entire toxic relationship had been shed from your shoulders. There was only one thing left for you to do.

     You shook out your fist deliberately; it didn’t really hurt, but it was worth it for show. Jihoon pressed himself back against the door to let you saunter up to where Seungri remained kneeling on the ground. You bent down to his level and cocked your head to the side, examining him, reaching out to gently move his hand away from his face. There would definitely be a touch of a bruise there, and you couldn’t bury the swell of pride in your chest or hide the way your lips tilted into a satisfied grin.

     “What the fuck, Y/N, why’d you do that?” He finally spoke, shuffling backwards and out of your reach. You wouldn’t be rewarding him with an answer, just moved closer to him again and shoved your hand into the pocket of his hoodie before he could stop you. It only took a second to feel the metal, and then you were pulling out the key you’d given him not that long ago.

     “I’ll be taking this back,” you affirmed, “and you can leave now. Don’t come back, please.” You hopped back onto your feet and reached out to your door, smiling to hear Twinkie meow from the other side of it. Glancing at Jihoon, you only got the sight of his back as he pushed his door open, ready to get away from this drama. You couldn’t blame him, but wished he’d thank you for stopping his face from being beaten in.

     Seungri scrambled to his feet and hurried to your side, but he continued to have nothing worthwhile to say, only able to stutter out halfhearted apologies in between sudden manic rants about how Jihoon had it coming, how could you do this to him, who did you think you were, blah blah blah. None of it could touch you. You were high off of this freedom from him.

      “Will you fucking stop and just listen to me for once!” Seungri snapped as you were opening your door, and he grabbed the side of it to keep it from opening just that little bit further it had to go before you could slip inside. You felt the brush of your cat’s tail as she ran out the door and into the hall, but you were focused on Seungri. This is my only chance to speak my peace.

     “Listen to you for once? Listen to you for once?! I’m done listening to you Seungri, all I ever fucking do is listen to you! Listen to you tell me how paranoid I am, listen to you tell me you’re just busy with work, listen to you tell me you love me before you go fuck some other girl. I can smell someone else’s perfume on you right now, asshole! I’ve known for a long time, I’m just someone you like to keep around, someone who’d always be there if you couldn’t find anyone else to hook up with, right? Well I’m fucking done being that, I’m done with you, you can go fuck yourself.” You’d never seen your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—run away from a fight so fast before. He was already slamming the door to the stairwell shut behind him before you had even caught your breath from that tirade. Maybe that’s why he’d always shut you down when you tried to be honest or reason with him—he just couldn’t handle the truth.

     You relaxed against your door frame, eyes shut and letting out the deep breath you’d been holding since you first pulled into the parking lot and saw Seungri’s car. God, it was creeping on 3 a.m. now, and there was a heavy blanket of fatigue draped over you. Just as you were about to roll into your entryway and shut your door on this long night, you heard a cough from across the hall. Jihoon was still standing there in his doorway, but now had an armful of cat rubbing underneath his chin and leaving gifts of fur stuck to his jacket.

     “It tried to run in here,” he informed you, and you could only say, “Her name is Twinkie.” He shrugged as he came forward and moved her into your arms, handling her more lightly than you’d have thought he would. Instead of immediately retreating into his apartment like you expected, Jihoon stood there in your space for a beat longer, looking you straight in the eye. Then he took one small step back before he asked, “Why did you do that?” 

     “Do what?” You honestly didn’t know what he meant—why did you break up with a guy who he knew was a piece of shit? There were a million reasons why you’d done that. 

     Jihoon groaned and looked away from you before he said, “You should have let him hit me. I could have taken him.” To say you were surprised would be an understatement; you couldn’t believe that Jihoon could slip so easily into this testosterone-fueled neanderthal act after everything that had just happened. He’d been witness to you being a total badass, and all he cared about was that he hadn’t gotten a punch in himself.

     “Is that a joke? Sorry, how dare I stand up for myself instead of letting the big strong men duke it out for me,” you mocked him, “Wow, Jihoon, is your masculinity really that fragile?” He bristled at that, puffing out his chest and trying to make himself seem larger than he was. You gave him a dismissive laugh.

     “Why are you acting like I’m an asshole for wanting to defend you,” he tried, and you shifted Twinkie in your arms to get a better hold on her before facing Jihoon to say, “You weren’t defending me, that was all about you, how could you call that defending me when you couldn’t even do it without getting an insult in? ‘She’s pretty annoying to have next door’? It’s not the worst thing you’ve said, but it definitely wasn’t you defending me.” Jihoon sputtered, arms flailing, trying to wrap his head around what you were saying. It was so typical man of him to try and reframe his own shit as him trying to “defend your honor.”

     “Thank you for the ride home, and you’re welcome for not letting him punch a hole through your head,” you said, tone final, “I’m going to sleep. Don’t worry, as always, I know this doesn’t make us friends now or anything. Good night, Jihoon.” You stepped inside and promptly shut your door in your neighbor’s face. If he had anything else to say, you didn’t care to hear it. 

     You were shocked you made it to your room with how tired you were, and you immediately flicked off the light that Seungri had left on before collapsing onto your bed. Trying to process everything that had happened that night was impossible—your head was swarmed by a thousand different thoughts. You wondered how you’d start removing all evidence of your ex from your life in the morning, and you wondered if Wendy finally hooked up with Seungcheol, and you wondered if Seungri even cared that you’d broken up with him, and you wondered what the hell was in that DKoncoction, and you wondered why Seungri had even been waiting at your apartment in the first place, and you wondered if Minghao had won that dance battle.

     But the last thought you had before you fell asleep was that you were done with this silly battle you had going on with 203B. You were 20 years old, had just ended your first serious relationship of almost two years, had a horrible job and schoolwork that you needed to focus on. You figured it was time you did some growing up, and not hanging a banner over his door that read “LOSER” like you’d been planning to do for a few days was how you were going to start. You didn’t need that relationship with Jihoon any more than you needed your relationship with Seungri—you only needed yourself.

     So much for only needing myself, you thought as you turned the L’Amourose over and over in your hands. You’d been home for a couple of hours, the sun was setting, your pants had been flung over to the other side of the room, but you’d yet to turn the vibrator on and get to business. Your body was still buzzing with an inexplicable need, but you couldn’t get Jihoon’s face out of your head.

     The long drive home had given you time to rethink his behavior at the shop, but you were still convinced he’d just been playing you for his own gain, so you decided you’d rather not get off to thoughts of all the dirty nasty hot…hot hot hot stuff he’d said. Too bad you didn’t have any other material stocked in your brain to tap into and get yourself going.

     With a huff, you placed the L’Amourose upright on your bedstand and wandered out of your room, to your kitchen where you’d deposited your purse on the counter. Twinkie was laying beside it, and you gracelessly shoved her onto the floor before grabbing your bag and moving over to your couch. She rejoined you there, curling up beside you as you found your phone inside it and checked your texts. Wendy had replied to you telling her to stay away with a simple ;) that you’d have to give her a good smack for whenever you next saw her. 

     That was the only new message you had, which didn’t surprise you. A lot of your friendships had ended with the end of your relationship. You hadn’t realized until most of the people you socialized with stopped talking to you that you’d centered your whole life around Seungri. 

     Your life now had less people in it, but you knew you were better off. You had Wendy, and by extension you had Seungcheol, and a few of his friends from that dumb party way back when that you talked to every now and again. Sure, it was a little awkward when they were all at Jihoon’s place for their usual get-togethers and you had to pretend all but one of your friends was not a mere thirty seconds away from you, but you were used to it now. If you just so happened to be coming out or going into your apartment as they were leaving his, you knew not to acknowledge them until he had his door shut. He knew you were friends with them, but ignoring it made the nature of your relationship with him that much easier to swallow.

     And your relationship with him was—well, it was nonexistent. You’d kept your vow to yourself to stop your rivalry, lining your door so that he wouldn’t hear Twinkie meowing and making sure none of your visitors parked in his spot, and the one other time your trash had busted open in front of his door, you gagged through the cleanup instead of leaving it there for him to deal with. For his part, there were no smells coming from his place to yours and he was rarely up playing guitar at 4 a.m. anymore, usually he’d stop around 1, at least. His friends still knocked on your door when they passed, but that was usually because they wanted to say hi and get some Twinkie pets in, or they just felt like annoying you for their own amusement.

     You and Jihoon very, very rarely spoke. If you ran into each other in the parking lot or the staircase or the hall, some nods and brief hello’s were all that passed between you both. At times like those it was like your war with him, the night you stayed over, and that night with Seungri had never happened. Of course, you still thought about it all sometimes, on your lonelier, more pensive nights. Maybe if you had never left that note about him being a hypocrite on his door, you two would be friends and you’d never have to go more than a few steps across the hall to find someone to keep you company. It was too bad you’d fucked it up like that.

     You found yourself scrolling through Twitter, shamelessly checking up on fansites of the groups you liked, hoping you’d find a good picture to shape a fantasy around so you could finally start masturbating. Usually you could think up an elaborate scene with one of the guys from BTS or Got7 or EXO, but every time you blinked, all you saw was Jihoon with his lip tucked between his teeth, watching you with those eyes like he’d already imagined getting you naked and panting for him a dozen times over. Thinking of all the times he must have given that look to other women to wring as much money out of them as possible made you cringe, but you also found yourself imagining him flushed, panting, squeezing his eyes shut together from above you as he came…

     “Fuck it,” you blurted out at nobody, at yourself, at Twinkie, maybe. Back in your room, you slipped your underwear off and crawled under the covers. You swiped a fingertip between your folds, pleased that you were still soaking down there, then grabbed the L’Amourose and placed the tip of it against your clit. 

     Ok, this is happening, this is happening, this is happening, you teased it up and down your slit, then held it so it’s entire length was pressed against you, rolling to get a thorough coating of your juices on it. When you were finally satisfied with that, you pushed the tip against your opening, and poised one finger over the button to start the vibrations. 

     Because you’re such a little tease you can’t help but tease even yourself, right? His words echoed in your mind. Those dirty nasty hot, hot hot hot words.  

     You pressed the button.

     And nothing happened. No soft buzz filled the air, no tingles erupted across every inch of your cunt, your hand wrapped around the toy didn’t vibrate along with it. You were frozen, all of the tightly wound anticipation suddenly unraveling, leaving you grasping at straws, unsure of what to do. This can’t be happening, you thought, I need to have an orgasm, I’m actually going to die if I don’t have an orgasm tonight. You pressed the button again and again and again, each time letting your hopes up for just a second only for them to come down crashing and burning over and over. Eventually you kicked your comforter off and brought the L’Amourose up to your face to inspect it more closely, and with it at eye level kept pressing the button, desperate for the toy to come to life. It just sat quietly in your hands, completely dead.

     You didn’t know exactly what your plan was when you hopped out of bed and frantically pulled on a loose pair of sweatpants that had been laying on the floor, when you found yourself jogging into your living room and to your front door, when you were suddenly pounding your knuckles on the door marked with the characters 2-0-3-B. You were so desperate. It was only when the door was swinging open that you realized you still had your left hand wrapped tight around the sticky L’Amourose.

     Jihoon looked tired, but as each second passed and he continued to process the scene before him, the exhaustion on his face was replaced by sheer panic and bewilderment. He opened his mouth to say god knows what, but before he could get any words out you were pressing your empty palm to his chest to push him back into his entryway, following close to him and kicking his door shut behind you. 

     You hadn’t been in this apartment in almost two years, and a quick glance around proved that little had changed. The fish bowl was gone and there weren’t any textbooks on the coffee table, but there were more pictures hung up on the wall and now a row of guitars hanging up opposite of them. You shook yourself out of that line of thought, none of that mattered right now—right now all that mattered was getting off.

     “Ok, Woozi,” you sneered, “I bought this fucking hundred dollar dick because of you, but it’s not fucking working and I’m a little bit pissed off and worked up over it, if you can’t tell.” There was no way he couldn’t tell, with your panting and burning cheeks and all. You slapped the L’Amourose down onto the coffee table.

     “Well? You can either make it work or we have to figure something else out right now,” you hissed, not even thinking about the implication of your words. Jihoon took a cautious step forward, and you watched his mouth open and close and open and close and open and close like there weren’t any words left in his head for speaking, no matter how much he wanted to. He reached a hand out to pick the toy up, but stopped halfway and let it fall back to his side.

     “It’s…It’s…” He started, and he was biting his fucking lip again, and you felt yourself ache at how red and swollen they looked. “Were you already using it?” He asked instead of continuing whatever he’d begun saying before, and the question confused you for a moment before you followed his laser focused gaze back down to the toy, and took in just how wet and gleaming it looked, coated with your arousal.

     Your jaw dropped open, and you…you should have been embarrassed. I should be grabbing that thing and running away, you agreed with yourself. But instead, the sight of Jihoon looking down at the vibrator that you’d been rubbing up and down your pussy lips, that was literally shining from your wetness, made a fire roar to life in the pit of your stomach.

     “Jihoon,” you sighed, and felt your fingers tremble with a need to touch him—to get wrapped up in his hair, to trace his sharp jawline, to drift down his abdomen and into his pants so they could curl around his…you shook your head to dislodge those thoughts from your brain. You’d only come here so that he could get this toy working again, then you’d be back in bed with it in no time, definitely not thinking about him. He was still staring down at it when you grabbed the vibrator and hurried to his kitchen, ripping a dozen paper towels off the roll on his counter and beginning to wipe it down.

     “It won’t turn on, and I don’t know why, I mean, it was working at the shop? I haven’t done anything to it since then, I had just taken it out of the box and was ready to use it, and no matter how many times I pressed the button nothing fucking happened, so I decided to—” You were abruptly stopped by the feeling of a hand grabbing your shoulder from behind, and you froze. 

     Jihoon hadn’t touched you since that night you were drunk and he had to get you into his place. You felt a chip of the wall you’d built up around your heart ages ago slowly, gently drift away as a long and jagged crack emerged.

     “Shh, Y/N,” he cooed, “don’t be so nervous, it’s just me. Relax,” and then he had his hands cupping both your shoulders, deliberately pressing the heel of them into your tightly wound muscles. You couldn’t help the groan that escaped your lips and echoed through his living space.

     “You want to get off so badly, don’t you,” Jihoon said, his voice soft while his touch was anything but, “you know, these are thin walls. I can hear everything—I hear you singing off-key in the shower, I hear you screaming at scary movies, I hear you laughing when someone tells a stupid joke, I hear you talking to your cat when you’re lonely…and I used to hear those pretty sighs and moans when you’d come. I’ve really missed that sound. I was looking forward to hearing it again tonight, I was kind of relieved when I realized that was you at work.” 

     Somehow, even though you’d always complained about hearing things from Jihoon’s apartment, the implications of him hearing everything from yours had never really crossed your mind. Though you couldn’t say you were surprised, maybe you’d have felt more humiliated about it if Jihoon’s massage didn’t feel so good, didn’t have you almost on your knees in pleasure.

     “I don’t think the vibrator is gonna work,” he said off-handedly, a throwaway comment, “it has an 18-month warranty, don’t worry about that, but…if you still want to get off…obviously the real thing would get the job done better, don’t you think?” You were too far gone to protest, to think of all the hundreds of ways this could go wrong, to care that all the hard work you’d been doing avoiding him and keeping your guard up for the past couple of years was for naught. 

     Jihoon’s touch slipped from your shoulders, his fingers grazing your spine through your thin t-shirt and making your back arch, before each hand took a firm hold of either side of your hips and was spinning you around to face him. The vibrator fell to the tiled floor with a dull thud, but as you finally felt those plush, swollen lips of Jihoon’s press urgently against yours, that was the furthest thing from your mind.

     You grabbed the collar of his sweater and tried to pull him closer, longing to feel every inch of him against you. He had the same idea, shifting to wrap his arms tight around your waist. It was unclear where your body ended and his began, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way. Jihoon pulled his face away from yours for just a moment before he was diving back in to latch his teeth onto your bottom lip, and you opened your eyes wide to see him watching you intently, gaze dark and hooded. You gasped at the intensity of his stare, giving him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

     Your eyelids gently drifted shut again at the sensation of his tongue brushing against yours, and you lightly pressed back before he retreated to tilt his head a different way, then dive back in. This time your tongue reached in first, slowly and gently pressing against his, and when you withdrew you felt his lips chase after yours. You let a soft giggle pass between you, and felt him shiver as your breath fanned out across his face.

     “Let me take you to my room,” Jihoon purred, his fingers rubbing small circles into your sides, his eyes never once leaving yours as you peered up at from beneath your lashes, “please, let me make you feel good.” 

     How could you say no to him? All it took was the slightest incline of your head before Jihoon was unwrapping himself from around you, grabbing your wrist and dragging you out of the kitchen, past the living room, through his wide open bedroom door and into what was new territory for you. You didn’t have the time or interest to look around and inspect the interior, as Jihoon was already leading you on to his bed and pressing you back against his dark sheets.

     When he crawled over you, he had already discarded his sweater. Of course, Jihoon was on the shorter side, but you could see now that his body was sturdy and firm despite that. You reached up to press your palms against his chest, and then let the fingertips of one of your hands drift gently downward, across his abdominal muscles that twitched beneath them. 

     “What do you think?” He asked, and if the crooked smirk on his face was any indicator, he already knew the answer to that question. Still, you told him, “I like what I see.” Inflating his ego was worth it to see the proud light flash in his eyes.

     Your hand stopped at his waistline, and Jihoon took the next step, dipping back in to press more kisses to your jaw and neck as his own hands fiddled with the hem of your t-shirt. It was just as his tongue dipped in to taste the skin stretched across your collar bone that his fingers finally danced up underneath your clothes, teasing touches on your stomach until one of his hands cupped a breast at last. You thanked god that you never wore a bra at home. 

     “Let’s get this off,” Jihoon hummed against your skin before he sat back on his heels, giving you space to tear your shirt up over your head and fling it onto his floor. He didn’t waste a second, diving in and wrapping his lips around one of your nipples as he pinched the other between his fingers. You were breathless—it had been so fucking long since a man touched you like this, you’d almost forgotten how good it felt to let someone else get their hands and mouth on you.

     As Jihoon gave your nipple a hard suck, you pressed both of your fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp with your nails in gratitude. He immediately rutted against your thigh, letting you feel his erection for the first time. The hard heat of it through his jeans made your mouth water. You could have laid there for hours with his tongue and fingers worshiping your chest, but you were overwhelmed by the need to get your eyes and hands on his cock. When he parted from your chest with a dramatic, wet pop! you grabbed his shoulders to push him away, only far enough so you could move onto your knees. 

     “What is it, baby?” Jihoon asked carefully, noticing the frantic look in your eye, instantly worrying that he’d done something wrong, pushed you too far. The idea of making you uncomfortable and upsetting you physically hurt him.

     But you quelled his concerns with your hands on his waist, undoing his belt and slipping the leather from it’s loops so you could toss it aside and get to his button and zipper. Jihoon laughed as your hands fumbled with them, shaking hard with desire and rust since it’d been so long since they’d done this, and even some stifled nerves. You’d be an idiot to not be nervous right now—you’d just discovered that Jihoon was some sort of hot sex god and didn’t want to leave him disappointed in what you could do. 

     Jihoon did his best to ease your apprehension by reaching down and undoing the button and zipper himself with his steady hands over your own, keeping his eyes locked with yours. There was something so intimate about it, more intimate than making out and him slobbering all over your boobs, more intimate than everything you were getting ready to do. This is what made you blush, and your blush is what made Jihoon’s heart lurch in his chest.

     “Are you sure you want to do this with me, Y/N?” He asked you. He wanted the answer to be “yes” so badly, but if it was no, he’d have to let you leave, and he’d have to be enough of a gentleman to leave you alone after that, for good this time. You deserved that much from him. But you couldn’t imagine saying anything but “yes.” God, you’d wanted this for so long. 

     You’d wanted him for so long.

     “I wouldn’t leave this bed and stop doing this with you even if this building caught on fire right now,” you offered, before giving his jeans and briefs a sharp tug down to his knees. You’d never felt so empty between your legs as you did when you first laid your eyes on Jihoon’s cock; for such a compact man, that part of him was anything but. The length was decent, but it was the girth that made a whine bubble up from your throat. You wrapped your middle finger and thumb around him, and as he bucked into your hand, you considered the inch that kept them from touching each other.

     “Please, please fucking move your hand,” Jihoon gasped, and you realized you’d been been just staring at him for several moments now. You didn’t need to be told twice, letting the rest of your fingers take hold and giving his cock a single dry jerk. You noticed him wince, and removed yourself from him so that you could grab his hands that were pressed tightly to his thighs. 

     “Jihoonie,” you sighed, “take my pants off, will you?” He did as asked, slipping your sweatpants off and then watching in awe as your spread yourself out for him. You could have sworn you saw a little drool dribbling out from his dropped jaw.

     “Silly Jihoonie,” you purred, and slid one of your hands up your thigh before settling it against your folds, scooping up a generous amount of your juices, “later we’ll have to put your mouth to better use than that.” He slowly shut it, a touch embarrassed, but that was washed away the moment you wrapped your hand back around his cock, stroking it up and back down again to coat it with your wetness. A moan ripped out of him and made the heat at your core flare. 

     You gave him a few more jerks, then rolled your palm across his tip. He immediately fell forward, bracing himself with his hands on either side of your waist, mouth wide open in a silent gasp. Your other handed drifted down without him noticing and he whimpered when you suddenly grabbed his balls, squeezing them gently. 

     “Oh, fuck, fuck, Y/N, fuck,” he chanted, and you were sure you could feel yourself leaking onto his sheets. His cock felt so smooth and heavy in your hands, and as much as that was a feeling you had missed, there was a different feeling you’d been craving so, so much more. You tugged once with both of your hands, and he reached down to stop you right before you could stop yourself.

     “Wait, wait, I want to fuck you, I need to cum with my cock buried inside of you,” he hummed the magic words. You let go of him and watched with bated breath as he scooted forward on his knees, letting yourself be manhandled so he could place the back of your thighs over the top of his, then wrapped your legs around him, heels pressing against his back, pressing him closer. 

     Jihoon leaned over to grab a tiny foil packet from his nightstand, and god, you were going to fucking melt all over his bed if he didn’t get inside of you already. When he finally had the condom on, Jihoon wrapped his own hand around the base of his cock and tentatively swiped it through your slit; just the brush of his tip on your clit made your whole body twitch, made you mewl. 

     “Mmm, that’s what I like to hear,” he whispered, and did it again, but this time deliberately pressed the head of his cock hard against your clit.

     “Oh, god, Jihoon! Just put it in me, please, please please please, fill me up, I need to come, baby, I need you to make me come,” you begged him, eyes screwed shut, fingers clenching and unclenching against thin air. He snickered, and you thought he’d do as you asked when you felt him move again, but then he was slapping his length against your clit like a fucking tease. God, you could have cum right then and there, from that alone. It would have been the most unsatisfying orgasm of your life, and you were so, so fucking close to it, tears were already forming at the corners of your eyes.

     “You really want it, Y/N? You want my cock that bad?” Jihoon growled, and just as you were screaming out a ‘yes!’ he took mercy on you and shoved himself balls deep into your pussy. Only half of the word got out before your breath was sucked out of your body, and you choked on thin air. Your eyes felt like they’d fall right of your head with how wide they opened, and you took in the beautiful sight of Jihoon on top of you. 

     Your imagination could never come up with something half as good as the real thing—a flush had spread from his face, down his neck, across his shoulders and chest; a layer of sweat had built up on his brow, and he had his eyelids screwed tight together from all his effort not to instantly cum.

     You had been soaking for hours, but it had been so long since anything was inside of you and Jihoon was so wide that the light sting was inevitable. You hissed as he slowly drug his cock out of you, then slammed it back in. Your breasts shook with the force of it, and he took it upon himself to grab and squeeze one of them as he started a slow, steady rhythm of thrusts. You put your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself.

     “I’ve been hard ever since I saw that was you at the shop,” Jihoon spoke up through gritted teeth, “I’d been ignoring how bad I’ve wanted you for years, and there you were, looking so naive and innocent trying to buy a fucking sex toy,” his statement came with a particularly hard thrust that made you cry out and clench tightly around him, “it was my every wet fucking dream come true.” 

     Jihoon opened his eyes to stare down at you, and you felt like you might dissolve from the pressure of the raw want they poured into yours. You’d never been able to read him very well, but now he was completely open to you, and you could see through his cold exterior to the simple, untainted affection he must have been harboring for you for awhile now. You felt a whole chunk of that wall around your heart ripped away.

     You felt Jihoon’s touch on the outside of one of your knees, and then his hand was skimming up your thigh and around your hip until it dipped down to press a thumb to your clit. You ground down against it, inadvertently pressing more of his cock into you, and his tip scraped lightly against your g-spot. “Oh, fuck,” you wailed, and when he thrust back into you, you did it again, and this time he slanted his hips just so to stab at it again, but he didn’t pull out. 

     Now he stilled to let you rotate your hips, lips trembling around broken gasps as his cock brushed against your g-spot over and over and his thumb smoothed measured circles into your clit. You felt the pressure in the pit of your stomach bubbling up, past your belly button, dancing through your ribs, until it pressed desperately against your lungs. Just before you could burst, you wrapped your hands around the back of Jihoon’s neck and pulled him down with all the force you could muster—you slotted your lips over his and screamed into his mouth as you came. Jihoon started moving his hips again, and your orgasm faded only some before roaring back to life when his pace became frantic, his thrusts wicked and brutish, making his balls smack against your ass.

     “C-Come for me, come for…come for me, Jihoonie,” you sighed against him, barely able to keep your eyes open, stars dancing behind their lids and beckoning you to drift into the most perfect of post-orgasmic naps, but you couldn’t do so until Jihoon had gotten his own release. You focused enough to suck that sinful bottom lip between yours, and clenched around him once, twice, a hard third time before Jihoon’s body went rigid on top of you. An animalistic groan erupted from him and bounced off the walls, the last thing you heard before you slipped into unconsciousness.

     “’Cause tonight I’m making deals with the devil, and I know it’s gonna get me in trouble, just as long as you know you got me,” and Ariana Grande was the first thing you heard when you came back to the land of the living. Well, not exactly Ariana Grande, but Jihoon softly singing the song of hers that had been playing when you first set foot in Bits & Pieces Boutique. That felt like years ago after everything you’d just been through. 

     A soft touch on your thigh shocked you, but you controlled your body and didn’t jump away from what you could immediately tell was Jihoon’s hand rubbing up and down. You peeked an eye open and, god help you, you’d never seen anything more beautiful than Jihoon sat up against his headboard, scrolling through whatever on his phone with one hand while keeping the other protectively on you, the late evening sun spilling through his window and casting the most beautiful light against his soft, pale skin. His hair was going in a thousand different directions, his lips bruised, and he couldn’t have looked any better if he tried.

     “I’ve been there all night, I’ve been there all day, and boy, got me walkin’ side to side,” he continued. You didn’t want him to stop, so you laid there silently, afraid to breathe lest he be alerted that you were awake, until he finished the song. And when he did he locked his phone and looked right down at you before he said, “You must have liked my singing, then.” 

     You gave him a girlish giggle, not physically capable of hiding the silly smile that stretched across your face. You went to sit up, but your arms were wobbly beneath your weight and you couldn’t manage it. Jihoon shook his head at you, turning and pressing your shoulders so you’d lay back back down, then petting your hair as you rested against one of his pillows. You noticed he’d put his briefs back on and you were a little disappointed.

     “Just rest, that took a lot out of you,” Jihoon bragged, with a comically cocky grin, but instead of irritating you, it filled you with fondness. “I have to clean myself up,” you insisted, but Jihoon reached down and grabbed a wet washcloth off the floor before he reassured you, “I took care of you.” 

     He chose his words carefully, and you knew they were deliberate. You gulped down the rush of emotions that threatened to spill over. I took care of you. You’d never allowed yourself to think about it before, but he’d taken care of you so many times already.

     “Thank you,” you whispered, and you meant it for everything. For putting that letter up on your door before you’d even met, for letting you into his apartment that night you were drunk, for plotting all those stupid ways to get back at you for all the stupid ways you were always getting back at him, for being at that party and taking you home and standing up for you against Seungri, for backing off and leaving you alone when he knew you needed it. For suggesting that stupid, beautiful vibrator that didn’t even work and brought you right to him. You didn’t say that it was for all of those things, but Jihoon knew, you were sure of it.

     He shifted to lay beside you, and you rolled over to rest your head against his bicep and throw your arm across his chest. “You’re welcome,” he finally replied, “and thank you, too.” You didn’t ask for what—you knew what he meant, as well. The pair of you laid in silence for a few minutes, and Jihoon lifted the arm you weren’t laying on to reach his hand out to yours. 

     As you stared at your fingers and the way they fit so comfortably in between his, you suddenly remembered something that Seungri had said the night that you broke up with him: he believed you had wanted to fuck Jihoon all along. And maybe that was true, he was a good looking guy, after all…but ever since that first letter, you’d always wanted just a little more from him. At first, it was some respect. Then it was friendship, and a little over an hour ago, it had been sex. 

     You could feel the wall around your heart imploding and Jihoon was forcing his way inside, by way of squeezing your hand to break you out of your reverie and sending you a shy smile when you looked up at him. Yes, this was the man you’d wanted for a long time.

     And as the dust settled, you hoped that maybe now,      you could finally have him.

[yandere-society]

Scream

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Synopsis: It’s been a year since your mother was slaughtered, with no leads pointing to any possible suspects. It’s been an up-hill battle for you to accept what happened— especially with no answers or closure— and the citizens of your hometown have been sleeping with one eye open ever since. But now, the mystery killer has decided to make an anniversary visit, and is making it known that they not only have a dire love for infamous horror films... but they also have their targets set on you and all of your closest friends.

Word count: 8k

Headline: Small Town Woodsbroro Is Waking Up Screaming Once Again!

Warnings: dark themes; Gore; Smut; Crackhead humor (only because I promised my bff I’d give her an honorable death scene); Foul language; Jungkook is psychotic; Graphic depictions of him killing your mom/friends; we’re also going to pretend that it’s outrageously easy to get away with murder; dont fact check me on anything you read here; rough sex; mask kink. 

Admin: @tatertotthethot​

Baley was high as a fucking kite.

 So high, that she didn’t care about it being 1am as she blasted the Cha-Cha slide at full volume. 

  So high, that she was completely disregarding her lactose intolerance whilst making herself a triple layered, sharp cheddar grilled cheese that was bound to have her ass blasting right back off by 3am. 

  So, outrageously stoned, that she was totally unaware of the masked killer standing just outside the glass doors in her kitchen, watching her every move.. With her beat up, hogtied boyfriend laying out next to him. 

  “Now it’s time to fawnky! To the right now—“ 

  She crab walked along with the instructions, spatula in hand. 

  “To the left!”

  “Take it back now, y’all.” 

  Ghostface grimaced beneath his mask, eyes stalking the stoned woman with disdain. She was  the epitome of “crackhead energy” and it pissed him off how much she resembles you. It only makes sense, being as you two have been best friends since kindergarten— probably soulmates in a past life— but it is within that fact that Ghostface has grown to absolutely fucking loath her. 

  She’s too much like you. She keeps up with your humor and probably has more of your heart than he, himself, has earned a place in yet. He knows good and well that if it ever came down to you having to pick between him and her, you’ll pick her. 

  That simply will not do. That’s exactly why he is about to rid you of that option— or, as he sees it, the dilemma. 

He growled and  swung at the air, wishing he could just bust in and end her already.

  “How could you be in love with that creature?” He hissed at Taehyung, the built-in voice box beneath his mask altering it enough to remain anonymous. The question was quite hypocritical, being as he was in love with a girl that most would consider Baley’s second-half, but only you were an exception to being so.. abnormal.

  “Mmmph—“ Taehyung drearily gurgled out from beneath the strip of tape over his mouth, tears breaching his eyes as he watched Baley’s precious, uncoordinated ass do the “Charlie brown”. It looked more like a fucked up gallop.

  “What is the sex like, dude?” Ghostface ripped the duck tape off Taehyung’s split lips. “That’s a serious question.”

 “Boo bear..” was all Taehyung could muster up, more scared for her than himself.

  Ghostface gagged and slapped the tape right back on with a little too much force, having to take a second to regain his composure before pressing the call button on Taehyung’s phone. The Spotify music thankfully cut off as her phone rang out from the counter.

  Baley was only upset for a split before she spotted the name on her phone screen, and was quick to answer it with a sickening amount of glee.

  “Angel muffin!” She cooed. Gross

  “Hi, boo bear..” Ghostface flipped his middle finger up at Taehyung before clutching his Bowie knife back down to his side. 

  “Oh my God, What was that? You sound like Corpse, mixed with the bear from Five Nights At Freddy’s.” 

  “The bears name is Freddy, dumbass.” 

  Baley neck rolled back in offense.

  “Are you trying to get pegged or prolapsed? Might wanna remember who the fuck you’re talking to, the next time you call this cellular.” She snapped, hanging the phone up with a viscous pout. She still somehow managed to pick back up on the beat and cha-cha’d real smooth as she took the pot off the eye and turned the stove off, visibly upset.

  Ghostface stood there for a moment, processing what she just said, before turning towards Taehyung. 

“She claps your cheeks?” 

  Taehyung glared back at the screaming-ghost mask, bracing himself when a gloved hand reached out to once again rip the ductape off his lips. 

  “It’s not sus!” He immediately defended. “I have a gspot up there for a reason. I am not ashamed to use it.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about that!” The killer snapped out. “why would you let that.. unstable individual insert something into your rectum—“ 

  “You’ve got a whole lotta nerve calling somebody else unstable,” Taehyung deadpanned, and with that, his mouth was once again resealed shut. 

  He called Baley’s phone again, just as she was about to take a bite of the sandwhich that she’ll, unfortunately, never get to eat. 

  “What, fucker?” She scorned.

  “I can see you.” 

  “Oh, yeah?” She sarcastically spat. “Then what am I doing?” 

  She clenched her buttcheeks in and hunched her back out, her body resembling a question mark, before vigorously gyrating her body- mostly just her spine. Jungkook knows from the various tiktoks you’ve shown him that he was witnessing the inverted-twerk. 

  “Hm? Tell me, fuckboy. What am I doing?”

  ”Something a fucking cockroach does after I spray Raid on it. How the fuck do you clench your buttcheeks like that?” 

  Baley halted in mid thrust, surprised but not exactly fearful (yet) as she whizzed around to face the sliding glass doors that led into her back yard. It was pitch black outside, and all she could see was her own reflection starring back at her. She was also too high to care about the fact that she had the hood of her sweatshirt over her head and the strings pulled all the way out, which  only exposed the center of her face in a squished circle. 

  “I use my glutes. You know that. Why haven’t you come in?” She asked, not superstitious but a lil-stitious. 

  “This isn’t Taehyung.”

  “Okay, Isn’t Taehyung. Why haven’t you come in?” 

  “Because I want you to come out here.” The killer responded, grinning at the visible unease finally creeping into the girls stance.

  “Okay, babe— I hate to be a bummer here, but considering that today is the one-year anniversary of Ms. (L/N)’s murder, this isn’t very Cash Money of you. Can you please just come in and.. stop?”

  He let out a chuckle, a dark one. 

  “Boo bear?”

  “What, Isn’t Taehyung?”

  “Turn on the outside lights.“

Ghostface put the speaker on the phone and sat it on the ground as he crouched over Taehyung, pulling him to sit up straight. He watched as Baley apprehensively padded over to the light switch by the door. He could practically feel her heart beating in-sync with Taehyung’s racing one as he placed the knife to his neck, smiling beneath his disguise.

  The lights flickered on, and she screamed, terror finally bringing the seriousness out in the situation. 

  “HANG UP OR MOVE A MUSCLE AND HE DIES!” The killer roared, knowing she was still too high for her survival instincts to kick in. Any sober, sane individual would’ve probably caught on to the fact that they were gonna die no matter what she did. What was just making it easier for himself, knowing her dumbass was gonna comply.

  “W-What do you want me to do?” 

  See?

  “Be a good girl, and come here.” 

  “Quit trying to seduce me, you sick son of a bitch. My boyfriend’s literally right there!” She croaked out, voice shrill with exasperation. 

  The killer plunged the knife into Taehyung’s arm, making him jolt to life with a pain-filled howl. Baley began sobbing out, apologizing profusely. 

  “Your boyfriends going to get gutted like a fish if I have to repeat myself. Drop the phone and come here.” Ghostface seethed, wrenching the knife back out on the last word.

   Baley reluctantly— and stupidly—  did as told. She let the phone fall from her hand, then jumped out of her skin as the Bluetooth reconnected in the house and started playing WAP. She tried not to sing along despite the situation as she padded over, shaky hands rising to cover her mouth.

“N-Now what?” She asked. 

  “I just figured your last words should be said face-to-face. Is there anything you two would like to say to each other?” He asked, that being the only generosity he’d be willing to spare as he ripped the tape away from Tae’s mouth, one last time. 

Baley dropped to her knees, so much despair in her eyes. So many things she wanted to say. She recollected herself and caught her breath in just enough time to utter final goodbye: “I-I-I said certified freak..” 

  Tae’s eyes closed as a single tear escaped, nodding his head in understanding. “Seven days a week...” 

  “GAH!” The killer roared out, wrenching  Taehyung’s head back to slice his throat before shoving him away and lunging  at Baley. 

  She landed on her back with him on top, and he wasted no time as he began slashing her apart, in any way he possibly could. He let all the pent up rage and annoyance he felt towards her, out on her body. It was worse than the brutality he inflicted on to your mother this time last year. He’d only stabbed her a total of 19 times— one for every year she failed you as a mother. With Baley, he didn’t stop tearing into her until WAP ended. And damn, did it feel good. He finally felt like he’d purged his soul clean.

  This may all seem reckless, but Jungkook was actually just lucky. In order to mask his true motive behind all this, he had to find another one to cover it with. It was simply convenient that Baley’s father is the town mayor, and after a little digging, he made the grand discovery that he was also having a secret affair with (Y/N)’s mother. In fact, the mayor had several mistresses throughout the town. 

  Jungk—er, Ghostface.. chopped off one of Baley’s fingers and slid the glass door shut, writing the same words on it that he wrote on your mother’s bathroom mirror.

  CHEATING PIG!!

  Yes. When he did this last year, the police had to dissect through your mother’s long line of past sexual partners, and had to track down the father you never met for an interview. No leads came about, because it was all time wasted, anyways. Now, with this new addition, the mayor will not only have to set the scandals ablaze again by having to publicly confess his infidelity to the town and police, but they’ll have to lead on another pointless investigation for every woman he’s cheated with— over a dozen of them. They’ll have to also charge him with withholding crucial information from the investigation as well, but what’s so fucking comical about it all is that.. NONE of it has anything to do with any of this. It’ll just be another cold case with no leads. 

  And maybe, just MAYBE you’ll be smart enough to ditch this place and come with him. That’s all he wanted. You have nothing left and nothing to come back to now, and as long as you give in to him and leave, there won’t have to be anymore lives taken. You could start a new life and never experience another hell like the one he’s creating here. If only you’d say yes.

  “May you both continue to clap each other’s cheeks in the deepest depths of hell,” he told the mauled corpses as he walked off, so happy to have Baley gone that he almost wanted to skip to his car. 

  Now, he will go home and clap your cheeks to complete the cycle.

  —

“Damnit, bitch, pick up,” you huffed in frustration as Baley’s FaceTime continued to roll over, telling you that she’s unavailable. You thought you could power through today with your newly adapted ability to suppress shit, but it was hard when you’re left alone to reminisce. You just couldn’t shake the fact that the date on today’s calendar marked the same day that your heart, soul, and peace of mind was so horribly torn apart. 

  It didn’t help that you also missed your mother terribly. She wasn’t always the best, but she still loved you, and you loved her. Oh, God. Mom—

No. No. Don’t think about her.

You tried calling Baley one more time and couldn’t fight off the tremble in your hands, nor the tears at your water ducts as it rung through till the end. Damnit. 

  You couldn’t be angry. She doesn’t owe you the company— especially since you two have already been FaceTiming all day. But she was good at distractions, always able to drag you out of your shell of deprecation with her chaotic sense of humor. She is one of the only two people you have in your life that are capable of doing such, but you knew you’d get scolded if you blew up the others phone. Jungkook hates being hounded and rushed, having already told you that he’ll be there any minute. But he’s taking way too fucking long it seems, and you just hate sitting here, waiting.

  You can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. The feeling first crept up on you this time last year and never left. You felt so venerable to the cruel world when you’re alone, especially since the maniac is still out there.

  You still resent the police department  for practically giving up on your mother’s case after 9 months. “Cheating pig” was the only lead they got and yet, it pointed them no where. She wasn’t in a relationship. She didn’t even like relationships. And still, they deemed it a randomized attack— no leads, no motives. Nothing. Just a local woman stabbed in the chest 19 times while taking a shower. Like some Psycho remake. No signs of forced entry. No evidence of sexual assault. Just a very passionate, yet unexplainable massacre with a useless message left behind. 

  It doesn’t make sense. And even though you wish to never have the attacker come back, you can feel it in your bones that they will wish to clarify it one day. 

  “Fuck it.” You breathed out, heart slamming against your chest and paranoia gnawing at your insides as you quickly scrolled to Jungkook contact. But then, just as your thumb twitched to press the call button, your door bell rung and you sprung up to your feet, making a mad dash to the door. You checked the peep hole first, just knowing it was gonna be him, but was disappointed when it wasn’t. That still didn’t keep a rush of relief from washing over you when you did see who it really was, though. You forced a welcoming smile on to your face as you unlocked all 7 bolts from the door, and opened it to greet Namjoon and Hobi with a hug. 

  They were cops, currently in their uniforms, also old friends from highschool. They’ve been looking out for you ever since last year, always making sure you knew you were safe beneath their watch. They use to take turns guarding your house until they were told to stop, but you were extremely happy to see them both here at the same time tonight.

  “Everything okay?” Hobi asked, having noticed the shake in your limbs during the brief embrace. He leaned back and observed the tension in your eyes, even though you were hoping to hide it. 

  “Yes, just— today,” was all you could say, and didn’t have to clarify for them to understand. 

  “That’s why we’re here. We got permission to guard your house tonight,” Namjoon explained, eyes drifting over your shoulder and into your house. “Are you alone?”

  “Yes, but Jungkook should be here any minute now. He had to go to South Korea for a week for his fathers birthday and just flew back in tonight, but apparently there’s been some huge wreck on the main highway and everyone has been stuck.”

  That bit of information was actually true. However, Jungkook was lucky enough to have just miss it.. because he’s the one that actually caused it. It was honestly dumb-luck as to how he did it, but kind of amazing when given details.

  He was in the express lane, him and the car behind him hitting 80mph. He recognized the car as the one that was parked beside his back at the airport, because he had stopped and took a moment to judge the driver for how worn down and raggedy the tires were. One bad pot hole or nail in the road would strip that sucker straight from the rim. 

  And that’s exactly what inspired him as he recognized the car, an idea sparking that could soon serve as an alibi in the future. He already had a hand out the window, smoking a cigarette. He still has those iron steak-nails he used at his construction sight. They’re 5 inches in length, subtle enough to casually drop out of a car window along with the cigarette. If they hit just right... 

  He gave it a try, honestly thinking it wasn’t going to work.

  But holy fucking hell, did it.  Not even a second after he dropped it, did the car suddenly swerve out as it’s tires screeched and sparks flew. Rubber scattered out amongst the road as the car continued to spin out, getting struck by a the car in all 6 lanes of traffic, ultimately causing a huge pile up in just under 10 seconds. It was the most destruction he’s ever witnessed and it happened so fucking fast he almost ran himself off the road just watching from the rear view mirror.

  “NO FUCKING WAY!” Jungkook had squawked out as his head rapidly whipped back and forth to witness the massive mess he just created behind him. He was smiling like the maniac he is, undoubtably impressed with himself. He did it so lazily, too. But it only pumped him up even more for what he needed to do- the whole reason he even thought to do that. He only wanted something major enough to buy himself maybe an hour’s worth of time, so that when/if he gets interrogated in the future, they can check the traffic reports for a registered wreck to fit his alibi. But considering that he just shut the whole damn highway down, it’ll not only register but definitely make tonight’s news. 

  “Ah, yeah. We heard about that. 36 cars piled up. Can’t believe nobody was killed.” Namjoon said.

  “How the fuck did that even happen?” You wondered, baffled.

  “Some dickhead was going 80 an hour on an old tire and it wiped out after hitting a nail on the road. Thankfully, he only has a broken nose and whip flash, but with all the cars that got totaled— I don’t even want to know how much the cost of damage would be. But it caused 5 miles worth of traffic back-up.” 

  “Mm..” you grimaced, shaking your head. “Well.. would you guys like some dinner? Maybe some Coffee?”

  “Ah, thanks, but there’s no need. We’ve got all the energy drinks and McDonald’s we need. You just chill out for the night, we’re right out here if you need anything,” Hobi assured, making you genuinely smile for the first time in the past two days. 

 But that was just before a familiar car pulled up that had your mood skyrocketing.

  “FINALLY!” You broke out, sprinting down the steps and over the driver side of it right as the man of the hour stepped out. He welcomed you with open arms and easily lifted your feet up of the ground.

  He looked just as good as he smelt. You’ve missed him more than words could describe in this past week— and Jungkook knew it. Of course, he had offered to take you with him so that you could finally meet his parents. But as predicted, you declined, saying that it’d be too much to meet his mother when the anniversary of your own’s death was approaching. 

  You continued to squeeze your arms around his neck for the next several seconds, and it wasn’t until he heard you sniffling and felt your shoulders shake that he realized you were crying. He couldn’t help but like that type of reaction. He was hoping the distance would torment you, maybe teach your ass a lesson.

  “Don’t cry,” he rumbled in your ear as he pressed you hard against his lower half,  making sure to up the intimacy of the embrace as he felt the eyes of the onlookers in the yard. 

He waited for a second before peering over at the officers, who were awkwardly standing beside their cars. He gave a wave, pretending as if he were sheepish about them having to witness this. 

  “How’s it goin, guys?” 

  “Fine, fine,” Hobi responded. “Don’t mind us. We’re just here to watch out for you guys.”

  “I appreciate that. Really.” He said in his best acting voice, even flashing a dimpled grin that gave off nothing but innocence as the two got into a patrol car, nodding to him in welcome. It actually makes things more convenient for him. They’ll be able to backup his whereabouts later on.

  He pondered this while returning his attention to you, coaxing you out of your emotional outburst.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just been so hard not having you here. Fuck, I’m so glad you’re back.” You breathed in and sighed out, and he could tell by the end of the last sentence that you were more-so talking to yourself, clinging to him one last time just to greedily soak in the physical presence of his body. He felt something ache in his heart, as well as his jeans. 

  “Well, I’m here now. Maybe next time, you’ll just go with me,” he lightly chided, hand coming up to pet your head as he kissed the top of it. 

  “Yeah.. I started regretting it after the first hour you left.” You whispered out, meeting his lips. You kissed each other a couple times, probably more than necessary. But it calmed you down and made you feel steady again. “Come on, I made you something to eat.” 

  He got his duffel bag out from the back seat and slung it over his shoulder before taking your hand,  following you inside. It boosted his ego knowing that the two men watching from the tinted windows of the car were secretly jealous of him. They had a thing for you. Almost every straight guy in highschool did. That’s why he never minded what you wore, and was more than happy to let you flaunt yourself to their eyes. He liked teasing others, knowing they’ll never have such a prize as you.

  Once inside, you were quick to relock your bolts. You were very strict about that now, taking extra precautions to prevent a potential attack. It kind of humored him knowing that it was him, a resident inside this very home itself, that those locks were meant to keep out. You’re literally locking yourself in with the killer.

  “Damn, you cleaned the hell out of this place.” He ogled, not only taking in the immaculacy but smelling the pinesol and bleach amongst the floors and counter tops. All the laundry was folded, not a speck of dust in sight. You even cleaned the grout amongst the kitchen flooring, it seemed. Nothing looked out of place. 

   “I had to do something to keep from wigging out,” you shrugged, walking over to start the microwave for him to heat up his dinner plate. He left his duffel bag by the door and grabbed himself a beer before sitting at the table, noticing it’s prestigious shine. 

  “Did you polish it?”

  “Yeah...” you said as you scratched the back of your neck, somehow embarrassed. 

  “It’s looks amazing in here, kitten. Really. I know you did it to cope but still, you did a damn good job.” He praised, feeling a little bad. He knows this took a lot of work, and it sucks that you opted to do all this just to keep the anxiety of his absence away.

  “Thank you,” you sighed, taking his plate out and sitting in down in front him, then handing him some utensils. 

“Where’s your plate?”

  “I already ate, silly. I’ll munch with you, though.” You began making yourself a salad as he began to eat, complimenting you on how good it was. He doesn’t know that you’ve been awake for two days straight, and that you’re still battling off an anxiety attack. You were expecting it to vanish now that he’s here, but the sleep deprivation was getting to you. 

  So, you decided to reminisce on better memories. The old days; back when you first met him.

  It was senior year of highschool, and he was the new transfer student from South Korea. He was the punk-emo guy that stood out amongst the crowd. All black clothing, more band shirts than anything. He had that messy mop-hair going on, and approximately 6 piercings on each ear, along with a studded labret to boot. 

  From day one, he was the most attractive guy you’ve ever laid eyes on.  Much to his exterior trope, he was anti-social and didn’t seem friendly at all. The only time you personally heard him speak for the first few months of school was when he’d answer the teacher for roll call. 

You only had one class together, chemistry. He’d always sit at the back of the classroom, and you’d remember the giddiness you’d feel just before walking into class and making eye contact with him, even for just a split second. You heart always skipped a beat and would threaten to seize up whenever Baley would lean over and tell you that he was looking at you again. Of course, that would be all the interaction you could get, being as you refused to engage any further. But life seemed to play out like a Wattpad fic back then. 

  Around the middle of first semester, your teacher was fed up with all the chatter amongst friends, so she decided to assign seats. Jungkook’s was still at his designated one, but you had to sit directly in front of him so that Taehyung could sit closer up, next to Baley. It’s also thanks to that class that the two of them fell for each other. It was also the same day she issued a partner-assignment that had to be done with the peer behind you. 

 You remembered having to play it cool, turning your desk and chair around to face him head-on for the first time ever. You anticipated that he’d still be sporting that ice-cold, disinterested glare, but he actually seemed pleased. He wasn’t actually smiling but he had a friendly glint in his eyes, like he welcomed you.

  “Hello,” he started off, naturally confident in himself.

  “Howdy,” you responded, immediately hating yourself. You’ve never uttered such a word in your life and you don’t know why the fuck you decided that that was the perfect moment to try it out. 

  He only snorted back at you, though, amusement swirling in his colorless eyes. You were intimidated by that as well. They were jett black. No distinction between his pupils and his irises. Just solid, black orbs boring into you.

  You then continued to battle with basic communication.  

“So, uhm.. wh—..” 

English, motherfucker! Do you speak it?!

“What parts do you wanna do?” You rushed out.

  “I’ll get the information together and answer the questions, as long as you create the PowerPoint and present it to the class,” he said without missing a beat, as if he’d already decided on that for the both of you. 

  “What criteria, though?” You asked, still waiting on that part. 

  “All of it...” He reiterated in a “duh” tone. 

  “That’s not fair to you, though...” you continued. 

  He arched an impressively sharp brow. “How?” 

  “You’re literally doing all the hard work.”

He shrugged, and you tried not to drool when you saw all his rings and the veins on his hands and fingers as he took his phone out. “I learned this shit back when I was freshman in South Korea. We’re way ahead of y’all there.” 

  “Oh.. well.. I can at least do the images and label them.” 

  Stop starring at his fingers.

  “Mm,” he hummed with a lack of conviction, still looking at his phone. “No offense, but no.”

  “Uhm.. okay..” you frowned in dejection, not sure how to respond to that. 

  “I said no offense,” he grinned up at you apologetically. “I just know you’re bad with visualizations.” 

  “What? I have an A in here. How do you even know that?”

  “The teacher got onto you for messing up the labels on the last test. You got all the functions right but failed to match them to their description.” He said without any hesitation, and you were just as stunned as you were embarrassed. But he didn’t seem to be insulting you, and even reassured you of it. “Again, no offense. I just think it’s best for the both of us if I do it.” 

  “Okay. Cool,” You agreed, deciding to let him have it. Your face still burned, though. 

  “You still have an important role, don’t worry. Presentation is worth 40%, so you’re still gonna have to put in work and present it accordingly.” 

  “I can do that.” You nodded, suddenly feeling like you were sitting before a full grown man rather than a teenage boy. You couldn’t help but ask: “How old are you?” 

  “19,” he mused, as if he knew what you were thinking. He didn’t even ask you why you asked, and instead returned his attention back to his phone screen. “You?”

  “18,” you muttered, your eyes reconnecting to his hands like magnets.

    You really wanted to compliment them but decided against it, being as you were no longer as confident with this situation. Sure, he deserves to know how beautiful his hands are but you’re weren’t going to be the one to say it. You were expecting a cheeky personality at most, just because it fits the mischievous bad boy bullshit you read about in teen fiction, but you were instead met with a blunt and mature persona that made you intimidated in a way that you’ve never experienced before. He almost seemed.. authoritative to you. 

  “I see you like my rings.” He smirked, eyes not even looking back up at you. You had spaced out whilst tracing the path of his veins again, and immediately cut your eyes down to your own phone, feigning innocence.

  “Whatchu mean?”

  “Everyone like my hands, for some reason. I see you’re no different.” 

  “I ain’t even looking at your hands. Maybe you’re just too conceded,” you shot back, leg nervously pouncing as he lifted his head up to peer at you. 

  “Really?” He sarcastically challenged, making your insides stir. He sat up straight and pulled his hands back under his desk. “So the gold rings didn’t even catch your eye?” 

  “Your rings are silver.” You said without even thinking, then straight up face-palmed when you caught yourself.

  “Thought so.” He openly grinned, and the little notion caused butterflies to erupt in your tummy. He pulled his phone back out and still wore that playful grin of his as you bashfully held his gaze. “Now, if you think you can manage to tell the truth, what’s your phone number?” 

    It’s amazing looking back at those memories, because you’re now starting to think that maybe Jungkook just knew back then that you two were going to hit it off. He’s always seemed so sure of himself when it came to you, always knew what the next move was gonna be and never once sent mixed signals or struggled to express how he felt towards you. He’s the most straightforward person you know, so much that it’s almost unnatural at times. If he was ever bluffing about anything outside of being playful, you’ve never been able to call it. 

  But damn, are you madly in love with him. You guess his ability to always remain focused and blunt is perfect for a person like you. He keeps you moving... well, for the most part. He wants you to move back to South Korea with him, and although you know you’ll eventually give in, you’ve been trying to hold off on it for as long as you can. 

 It won’t be as easy for you as it was for him. Jungkook was already fluent in English when he came here, thanks to his mother’s bilingualism. He hardly even had an accent from how well adjusted he was to your language. You, however, don’t know a bit of Korean. For you to go there, it would impair you in almost every single way. You won’t be able to go anywhere without him. You won’t be able to read directions or road signs. You won’t be able to go out and eat or order off the menu if there isn’t any pictures. You won’t be able to work. You’ll have to adapt to a whole new culture and way of communication, just to properly function outside of your home without him at your side. 

  Which, brings along another point, you’ll be without any friends. You don’t want to live in a world where you can’t go out with Taehyung and Baley whenever you wanted. You’ll be lonely as hell and home sick, he’ll be your only source of humanly contact until you learn.

  You’ve told yourself that if the two of you remain stable for one more year, then you’ll go. You are ready for a change, but if you could just get one more year of preparation, you’ll be ready to go. You’ll take that leap of faith with him. 

  “What is it, kitten?” He finally asked, the prolonged silence getting to him.

  “Nothing,” you lied, but didn’t want to divulge. “How was your trip?” 

  “Nice, but I was bummed out the whole time.” He shot you a look that made you pout in apology, but continued. “I talked all about you to them, showed them pictures. Almost fucked up and showed my cousin your vagina.” 

  You choked on your salad, which made him laugh. “I told you to put those in your hidden folder.”

  “There’s so many, I just haven’t taken the time to pick them all out. It’s okay though, they only saw your face. They all think very beautiful— especially my mom.”

  Your smile grew at that, “Yeah?” 

  “Yeah. So does my grandmother and my aunts. They were passing my phone around more than the dishes.” He snorted to himself, “They were even more surprised to see how much I smiled in our selfies. Which... I should warn you, when you do finally see my parents house, don’t be surprised when you spot our photo booth pictures framed in the hall. My mom went feral when she saw how much of a simp I was being in those.” 

  “She printed those out?!” You almost cried.

  “Yes, she did. She printed each one individually and framed them side-by-side.” 

  “Aw, Kookie. I should’ve just went. I’m so sorry.” You pouted, guilt causing your heart to sink.

“You weren’t ready, angel. They understood,” He assured you, leaning forward to take your hand in his. You suddenly wanted to cry again. 

  “But I promise to go next time. Or whenever you wanna take me. I swear, I’ll go.” You said in determination, and was a little thrown off by his reaction.

  His face went blank for a moment c like his brain needed a second to buffer. 

  “You will?” He inquired, that being the first time you’ve actually agreed or expressed any type of want. “Why now?”

  “Because it sounds like they really want to meet me, too? What’s wrong?” 

  “Nothing. That’s great. I just figured you wouldn’t be moved by that. You really wanna go now?”

  “Yeah. Your family sounds so nice.” 

  “Was that what kept you from coming?” He interrogated, and it’s clear that he genuinely had no faith in you ever entertaining the idea.. which was a little disheartening. You’ve never said you’d never want to go, you’ve always kept a window open for later. You not sure why he’s so surprised. 

  “No, not necessarily. I wasn’t ready to meet them but if they’re that excited to meet me, then.. of course it’ll make me want to meet them, too. And get a little taste of South Korea.” 

  “Alright, I’ll plan a trip,” he had to say with forced enthusiasm, which you bought as you kissed his lips. Inwardly, though, he was screaming. If all it fucking took was a little conviction by saying his family was nice, just to make you consider.. them maybe he wouldn’t have had to do what he just did. 

  Whatever. Extra insurance. He had to tell himself, and decided to retrain his thoughts back on you as he remembered something.

  “I have a special surprise for you.” 

  “Yeah?” 

  “Mhm,” he stood up and walked over to his duffel, fishing around before pulling something out. “Close your eyes.”

 You did as told, and waited about 10 seconds. 

“Open.”

You almost shit yourself upon hearing the voice, then came closer to shitting yourself when you took in the familiar Ghostface mask that you seen in the movie Scream.

  “WHUZZZUUHHH!” He drawled out while doing the cowabunga fingers, and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

  “Where the hell did you get that?”

  “Halloween store. I got it in Korea.”

   That was a lie. He’s had two of these masks for over two years, both of which he got from Party City here in America. He bought one to kill your mother in— the same one he just wore to kill your friends in— and the other one was meant for what he wanted to do now. He wanted to fuck you with it on. He’s not sure why, but why not? You might  discover you have a mask kink. 

  “What the fuck is up with the voice?” 

  “Sexy, ain’t it?” He animatronically purred out, and it wasn’t until he fully stepped forward and began undoing his belt that you realized he was already shirtless. 

  Your eyes grew wide as you landed back in your chair, unable to decipher if this was a joke or not. You soon realized it wasn’t as he was now popping his button loose and unzipping his pants— his hardening dick print becoming more prominent. 

  “You’re not fucking me with that mask on,” you blurted out, sticking your foot out to stop him from advancing any closer.

  “I’m fucking you with this mask on,” he argued, grabbing your ankle. “Consider it pay back for the time you refused to give me head unless I let you wear your Burger King crown.” 

  “No, Darth Vader.” You tried pulling your leg back but soon wound up almost getting drug out of your chair and onto the floor. Your unease soon turned into giggles and screams as wound up besting your play fight, his mask only coming off long enough to go down on you at the kitchen table. 

  And that’s what set the night off. You went from getting your pussy eaten at the dinner table to getting your throat wrecked on the living room couch. Then you were forced to watch yourself get rammed up against your body mirror in the bedroom, and now you’re bent up like a pretzel amongst your bed.

  “Ah— GAH!” You grunted in struggle, finding it hard to cuss like you wanted being as a hand was firmly constricting your air supply. You watched the masked man above you as he heatedly fucked into you, his chain dangling above your face. Your ankles helplessly swayed around his shoulders with each brutal slap of his pelvis. Your face still stung from the actual slaps of his palms, causing you to flinch any time his hands moved. You noticed done time throughout all this that he was hellbent on making you look at that damn mask. You weren’t complaining, though. Just more-so concerned about how hot it must be under there. 

  But then he slowed down for a moment, trying not to cum again as he lowered his face to yours, and finally decided it was time it come off, being as you were ready for a kiss.

  “T-Take that damn mask off—“ 

  Wrong move.

  He growled and ripped your hand away as you tried removing it yourself, and you were stunned by how much aggressive he became— more aggressive than he was already being, as if truly lashing out. He man-handled you, flipping you over and plunging back into you with way too much force. You yelped at the intrusion but could do nothing else as he pinned your hands behind your back, picking his speed right back up. He kept your hands locked in place with a single one of his own before clapping the other around your mouth, darkly chuckling at the fright on your face. 

  “I meant it when I said it’s staying on,” he rasped, pushing into you so deep that veins protruded from your neck in strain. 

  He couldn’t explain it— or maybe he could. But he felt extremely powerful when he wore this mask. It took him all of two rounds to finally admit to himself that it turned him on, knowing you were getting off to the very same face that your loved ones last looked at in sheer terror. He didn’t realize up until then that he somehow considered Ghostface as a different alternative to himself, one he was growing to like a little too much. It even made his dick more sensitive to the feel of you, making you seem tighter. And warmer. And sluttier.

  He’s sure he began speaking Latin somewhere in the midst, but it wasn’t until he saw tears surfacing in your eyes that it dawned on him that his hand had somehow traveled up to cover your nose, as well as your mouth. A moment of panic shot through him when he dropped it and allowed you to breathe, thinking you were gonna make him stop. But much to his pleasant surprise, you only coughed out and mewled, head collapsing on the pillow as you pushed against him, a silent demand keep going. So he did. He made sure to keep the punishing pace up and running. Your body violently jolted with each slam, ass bone aching at the brutal impact. Each thrust was felt like a punch to your cervix and someway or another, you were okay with it. 

 Little did he know, it was actually because you didn’t want any type of deja vu happening. He fucked you in all the ways you liked the night before you found out that your mother was slaughtered inside your childhood home. You didn’t want tonight to be anything like it. So you let him hurt you. 

  If only you knew history was going to repeat itself, no matter what the two of you did.

  It didn’t take but a few more strokes before he lost his ability to hold off, and emptied himself inside for the third time since he’s arrived back. 

  Once he did that, the blinds were illuminated in a dim grey, hinting at a sunrise. After a quick shower and clean up, the two of laid there, the mask finally gone. 

  “What are you thinking, baby?” Jungkook wondered, starring up at the ceiling. You haven’t said much of anything since that last bit. “Did I hurt you? Scare you?” 

  “No. I could take it.” You said, and it sounded genuine. But he still wanted to know what was on your mind. “I just don’t know what the hell I would do if I didn’t have you. You’re the only person I know that’s never even accidentally done wrong by me. You’ve been nothing but good.” 

  A void clouded his mind, emotional absence taking place of everything else. It’s a defense mechanism that he’s certain only comes up to block out any sense of guilt or remorse. He kept his gaze up at the ceiling, even as he felt you crane your neck back to look up at him. 

  “I love you, Kookie. Thank you for being here.” 

  “I love you too, baby,” he said numbly, those words being true... but his next words were not. “I could never imagine myself doing anything to hurt you.” 

  Being as he wasn’t planning on looking down, you crawled up for a moment just to kiss him, unbothered by the distant stare in his gaze. You then laid back down and got comfortable, readying yourself for a good days sleep.

  “I think it’s finally time I start seeking happiness again, instead of contentment.” 

  That’s when it hit him. You didn’t notice how his heart cleaned beneath your head, nor was there any way you could feel the tension in his gut. He can’t say he feels full remorseful for what he did, because that would require him sympathizing for the innocent lives he’s taken away, with no rational reason. He simply didn’t feel anything for them. He was only concerned your pain, especially knowing it was unnecessary now. His trip to Korea was enough to motivate you to move on and consider a change of scenery. You didn’t need any fear to drive you out, you just needed time. God only knows how far of a set back this will be now. The fact that you’re laying here, currently thinking that life will only go up from here, when he knows damn good and well it’ll be in shambles again before the day ends.. 

  He really needs to work on his impulses. Maybe homocide shouldn’t always be the first option he leans towards. It was just more fun that way.

  But moments like this weren’t fun at all. He remembers how grueling it was last year, waking up with you at the sound of the doorbell going off. He remembers the grim look on the sheriffs face as he told them that they found your mother, dead. It was his arms that had to pick you up off the floor as you crumbled down and screamed, his ears that rung as he held you, not knowing how to console you. For the last year, it’s been his shoulder you’ve cried on, his company keeping you sane, his reassurance telling you that everything was going to be okay.... When it was his hands that caused every single bit of grieve all along.. and was about to cause even more.

  So, he did the only thing he could do in that moment. He held you and mentally apologized, hoping that there was some way to telepathically tell you that you mean more to him than life itself, and that’s he’s so sorry for letting it drive him crazy at times. He’s still clinging to the original intention that you’ll say fuck it and flee with him, but he regrets going about it so recklessly. 

  You were fast asleep now, snoring even. He only hoped the discovery of the bodies would hold off long enough for you to get some much needed sleep. But it seems the universe was done working in his favor. 

  Those same, familiar knocks sounded off at the door, and he immediately ordered you to stay put as it woke you up.

  “Probably just them checking up. Go back to sleep.” He whispered, assertively pushing your head back down and pulling on some sweats before going to the door. 

  It was the sheriff, same look on his face as last year.

  “Sir?” Jungkook frowned, posing cluelessly. 

  The sheriff looked ghostly pale, like he was nauseated and on the verge of tears. Jungkook knew why but he had to act like it was a throw off. 

  “Sir..?” He repeated.

  “Y’all’s friends.. Baley and Taehyung were found this morning.” 

  He had to stall and blink, as if he wasn’t catching on to the implications. The sheriff reluctantly continued.

“Baley was found, dead on arrival. Looks like the killer has returned.” 

  “Wh-What?” Jungkook stuttered, acting like he was bewildered. The sheriff’s next words, however, would spark a more genuine reaction.

“And Taehyung was found unconscious, but still alive.”

  Jungkook’s veins ran colder than ever before, all mimicked emotions becoming sincere in that moment.

  “Someone attempted to cut his throat, but aimed too high and cut his under jaw instead.” 

Jungkook could only stare at the sheriff, probably just as pale in the face now. 

“He’s in critical condition. Doctors don’t know if he’ll make it just yet, but there’s a fighting chance that he might.”

[alkaysani-archived]

The Old Guard Fanfic Master List

*updated* 15 Oct 2020

MAIN SERIES

AS OUR LOVE SHAPES OUR UNIVERSE  (Nicky x Joe - Princess Diaries AU)

to love is to sacrifice, to sacrifice is to love 

“Prince Yusuf Al-Kaysani,” Charlotte says, and she’s sighing dreamily again and Yusuf definitely has that effect on people. “That young man gets my vote,” Joseph says from behind him. “He goes by Joe sometimes, so he’s definitely of good stock,” he says, and Nicky snorts. “A brilliant one, amazing artist, charismatic. He’s dedicated himself as the right-hand and advisor to his queen mother, and has fully supported his younger sister taking the throne instead of him. He’s friends with Nicolo,” he says, and Nicky blinks, shrugging a little, and his heart starts to go wild in his chest in a way he doesn’t want to understand. “We spent two years of secondary together,” he whispers, glancing at Mia. “Uh…just before they passed, he had to move back home, and I…” he trails off, sighing. --- or the Princess Diaries II AU where Prince Nicolo will do anything for Genovia. And if that means introducing his cousin Princess Mia to Prince Yusuf Al-Kaysani to be her future king, then his heart just has to deal with it. He just wished that it didn’t hurt so much.

i will hold your heart together in mine 

“You love me now, right?” “Forever more, my darling,” Joe chokes out, and it takes on a whole new meaning that makes his own ache. “Then my heart will heal,” Nicolo says, and his voice is firm, and fierce, under the exhaustion. “The symptoms will fade, in time. They will,” he adds, his voice muffled against his shoulder. He pulls away and looks up at Joe with wide, glassy eyes. “The universe won’t be so cruel to me to take me away now, when I am finally happy, right?” he says, and Joe burst into tears then, shaking his head, grabbing Nicolo’s face and kissing him, deeply. No. No. He won’t think of it. He won’t think of losing Nicolo. Not again. Not like this. *** or where Prince Yusuf learns the physical extents of Nicolo’s heartbreak, months after they were meant to be fine. But regardless of how much it ails him, his beloved Nicolo continues to have faith that he will be alright. So he must brave through his fears and his worries, as they grow, and build a life and a family, together. Even if it breaks their hearts again. And again. And again.

black cats and lopsided hearts (Joe x Nicky) - 30 Oct 2020

“Permission to keep killing your fiancé with cuteness due to Halloween costumes, please?” Mia asks, and she’s giving Nicolo those eyes again, and this time, Nicolo bites his lip, glancing at Joe. “It might be fun, beloved. It’ll only be for a night,” he reasons, and Nicolo sighs then, nodding his head. “For you, heart.” *** or The Old Guard Princess Diaries AU – Halloween Special where Mia convinces Nicolo and Yusuf to let her dress up one and a half-year old twins Elio and Ayla for this very American holiday.

ONE-SHOTS & STAND-ALONES

JOE x NICKY

not that i need reminding 

“You look in love.” Joe blinks, looking up at the voice. There’s a woman, a little younger than Nile, or maybe just her age, sitting beside him on the bench now. She’s smiling at him, and he gives her what he hopes is an equal one, before nodding softly, gently tapping his pencil on his sketchbook. He knows the answer, of course he does. Yes. He is in love. Truly, madly, deeply, or however they say it. He knows all of this already. But he’s willing to play. “And how does that look?” --- or joe gets a vibe check from the universe.

to know those among us 

“Mommy, angel! Angel, mommy!” Nicky blinks, putting down the produce he had in his hand. He zeros in on the voice and a little boy staring up at him, jaw dropped and staring, his eyes wide and curious. Then he looks up to find a woman, blushing red, looking absolutely mortified. Even with her darker tone, the flush is clear, making her glow. She looks ready to run, so Nicky just gives her a smile, and then crouches in front of the child, before looking around, humming curiously. “Where, little one?” he asks, putting his hands over his eyes as he continues his search. “Where is the angel?” he asks, and the little boy giggles. It’s a beautiful sound amongst the low bustle of the early farmer’s market. --- or nicky gets mistaken for an angel by a child, so he tells them about real ones

in parts, i fall, i love

Joe needs to finish this portfolio if he wants something to propose to the showcase. And he does. He really does. But someone just sat at his table because the coffee shop is so busy, and their profile is gorgeous, and yep, he’s definitely trashed the outline again because this man is definitely going to be a part of it. “Is there something on my face?” he hears, and Joe pauses. Shit. Joe breathes out so heavily that his glasses fog up, and he looks up to find the man giving him a hint of a smile, tilting his head slightly to the side. “You’re staring,” the man states and honestly, yeah, Joe is. “I’m not.” Idiot. --- or joe is an artist, and he falls in love. and nicky is along for the ride.

with your hands, your whispers 

Come on love, that’s it.” “I can’t, Yusuf, please.” He’s gasping, breathless. His Yusuf always leaves him so breathless. It’s too much. And of course, Yusuf knows that it’s too much. He knows exactly what Nicky needs, and what makes him overflow, and it seems like his adoring heart wants him to spill over, again and again in every sense of the word. *** or a take on what nicolo and yusuf were doing before booker and andy got to the hotel in marrakesh

let’s right, these wrongs, together (see accompanying edit here)

If he concentrates hard enough, he can still smell Yusuf on the scarf, and it brings immediate tears to his eyes. Because it’s only been nearly a year, and he’s yearned for the man for longer, way before they got together. And even with all the odds, with all the numbers combined, Nicky doesn’t believe that there’ll be enough time that can pass to heal the pain that’s clawing on his chest at that moment. That has been since Yusuf said it was over.   Nile’s legs move from his lap, and suddenly there are arms around him, pulling him close and Nicky closes his eyes, pressing his face on Nile’s neck. “You’re allowed to hurt as long as you have to, Nicky,” Nile says to him, and it’s so, so kind. “You can tell me as much or as little as you can. I didn’t mean to push.” Nicky sniffles. “I still love him,” he croaks out, like it needed to be heard, like his desperation is a call out for his heart. His heart that let him go, that told him that it’s over. *** or the one where Nicky is housemates with Nile after Yusuf breaks up with him. And when he finally opens up about it, Nicky realizes that his current predicament was brought on by misunderstandings and good intentions with ill results. But it’s too late. It’s been nearly a year; it doesn’t matter now. Right? Not if your housemate is Nile Freeman.

hand-shaped bruise (see accompanying edit here)

Prince Nicolò spends most of his days alone. He lives with no one, after all, ever since his parents died. Ever since he was killed by Sr. Merrick and Lady Kozak, his screams ringing out throughout the night until his final breath, only to show up the next day at the farmer’s market. *** or my halloween take on our beloved characters.

BOOKER x COPLEY

when time dictates love 

"So not ugly,” Sebastien says, and Aidan looks at Mr. Copley, who just shrugs, smiling. “He is insufferable. Does he know this?” he says, and the man just smiles, both of them ignoring how Sebastien says ‘hey!’. “He does,” Mr. Copley whispers, and he says, and Sebastien’s fingers intertwine with his atop his knee, and Aidan looks away. “But you like him anyway,” he says instead. Mr. Copley chuckles, and he leans to press a kiss on Sebastien’s forehead, who’s no longer laughing. “Yes, but I like him anyway.” --- or a home-care worker witnesses Booker and Copley’s last year together, as time catches up on them

MULTIPLE RELATIONSHIPS

there is no timeline when it comes to this (Booker x Copley; Joe x Nicky - also featuring Joe & Booker bffs and Nicky really giving a damn about Booker)

“I’m happy for you, Yusuf,” Booker says, because he means it despite the ache, and Joe smiles, nodding, and he’s smiling in a way that makes his heart hurt even more. “We love you, Booker,” Joe says because he’s just that person, before driving off as Booker makes his way up to his apartment, steps feeling like lead. He makes the point to check the mail, and he’s not even sure why. He’s never checked mail before, Joe usually did. Booker pauses then, looking at the different ads he pulled out of the box after twisting the key. So many changes already. When he finally gets to his unit, he finds someone standing at the door. They turn when he pauses, and greets him with a smile. “Hello Booker,” James Copley says, giving him a two-finger salute. “You haven’t aged a day.” *** or where Booker’s best friend Yusuf moves out to be with his Nicolo, and he makes the choice to live alone for the first time in years. Booker tells himself he’ll be fine, tells everyone that he’ll be fine, even though the weight in his chest tells him otherwise. but he really has no choice. this is his life now. then James Copley comes home.

OTHER SHIPS & FRIENDSHIPS & NO SHIPS

little things, for the heart (Nile and Joe)

“Are you…baking bread?” Joe looks up at her then, and Nile snorts, walking over to the counter and reaching up to tug on the man’s stray curls, dark tight ringlets dusted with white flour. “Maybe,” Joe says, in a sing-song tone. *** or Nile takes a lesson she learned from her mother and applies it to her new life.

OTHER SERIES

THE NILE FREEMAN COLLECTION (Written for Nile Freeman Week 2020)

nile + love or where Nile meets another queen 

nile + sadness or where Nile keeps it real with Booker

nile + alone time or where Nile gets of ice cream and thinks of dying

nile + comfort or where Nile makes Joe feel better, the best way she knows how

MY LOVE, WE STILL HAVE MUCH TO LEARN (Post-Canon Take)

do not let me awake alone (Nicky x Joe)

After Booker’s betrayal, Joe is angry and Nicky suffers through the fallout. And for the the first time in a long time, Nicky understands what it's like to be alone in his grief.And something inside him breaks.

my love for him kills any anger (Nicky x Joe; Joe & Andy)

A month later, Andy finds out that Nicky is talking to Booker.But it doesn’t mean that Joe forgives him. Far from it. They've been through so much for him to just let it go.

a blessing from above (Nile & Nicky; Nile & Joe; Nicky x Joe) 

Nile gets used to a few things, three months into her new life. But the one thing that wracks her brain the most is how they deal with loss and suffering.Thankfully, she has a lifetime to figure it out. Because they’re family, and she wants to help them. At least, start them on the right path. They are grown people, after all. Because her Mama raised her right.

[moondustaeil]

If your moots (or blogs you want to be mutuals with) were fanfics, what would they be? I personally think you'd be a 'royalty au, protective brother king!Kun × princess/prince!reader × suitor!Sangyeon' fanfic! 📚

You just seem very mature and put-together to me.

hihi, my love!! This was so nice to do even if it took a long time, I loved it so thank you. Also thank you for saying what fic I would be, I wish I could live in that fic 🥺💙

If you’re not in here, I’m so sorry, I’ll still add you if you want or next time someone asks me this, I’ll add you!

you can find the fics and moots under the cut! I didn’t go in any particular order, just who popped in my mind at what moment and émi last bc she’s my world yes. This is way longer than expected

@sunhyuck

Au: soulmates 

Pairing: wanderer!Haechan x Kei 

Backstory: ever since Donghyuck accidentally met eyes with a stranger on the street, he is greeted with sunflowers scattered along his path. Young sunflowers dance under the sun, turning to the source of warmth and light. Just like the sun is all you've been gazing at ever since you walked on the same path as your soulmate. 

Why: because I truly think of Kei as one of the people I'll always go to and when thinking about soulmates, I think of people who find each other and accept each other despite different lives. That I will connect to the weird variety of subjects we talked about. I love you, my angel (if you're reading this). 

⠀

@neo-cult-ure 

Au: demonic entities , haunted house , roommates 

Pairing: composer!Taeyong x journalist!Ley 

Backstory: Taeyong has been shouting over his music to you for over half a year, almost begging you to dedicate a column to him and his music. When his equipment starts picking up the strange noises coming from the house, it becomes clear that the clock hasn't been stopping at 3:19am for nothing. With Taeyong discovering the entity living among you, you decide to dedicate the article to Taeyong and your invisible roommate. 

Why: do I even need to explain, this queen owns horror and the horror concept. She's the one I'll bow to because I owe her a lot and she's freaking talented.

  ⠀

@ceruleanskies 

Au: secret relationship 

Pairing: soloist!Yuta x stylist!Kai 

Backstory: ever since Yuta appeared on the red carpet with a short haircut, fans hunt for the person that made the decision to get rid of his mullet. All fingers point towards you, stylist of Nakamoto Yuta, from each finger a new opinion flows into your ears: too short, not the right colour, better looking with the mullet. Though one finger shoots the arrow right in the heart "they're dating." 

Why: because I truly adore Kai even though I'm way too scared to actually tell, I don't want to mess up and make her think that I'm some kind of weird person. In my eyes, she sparkles through my screen. 

⠀

@neonun-au 

Au: dating app 

Pairing: photographer!Johnny x Mads 

Backstory: just like he with a button alters between the different pictures on his camera, Johnny alters between the different profiles, swiping them in his desired direction. That's how you strand in his life and mostly his camera roll: the pictures he takes, one by one, capture you. 

Why: because even though we don't know each other well, I truly want to capture her in my memory and think about the smiles I had on my face when reading her messages. 

⠀

@flowerhyucky 

Au: arranged by fate (you can call this soulmates but I'm calling this arranged by fate)  

Pairing: Hendery x Ana 

Backstory: one day, the flowering plant amaranthus caudatus settles itself in the middle of an empty field. Another day, someone else's birth flower is planted next to the amaranthus caudatus. The young miracles of nature grow just as their owners do, however, they don't bloom until the love between you and Hendery starts to bloom. 

Why: I really like Ana and her URL actually inspired the story, I could write so many adorable aus to fit her but nothing would compare. I truly like her vibes and her personality is so beautiful, like wow. 

⠀

@smileyjaeminies 

Au: university , writer 

Pairing: writing student!Jaemin x student!Alex 

Backstory: exam season is closer than expected for you, with only a few days to go until you scribble your knowledge down on the exam sheet and a week to go until you need to hand in your paper. However, someone is willing you help you with that paper. Na Jaemin, student and writer who seems to have more control over his life than the earth has over global warming. As the word document increases in pages, so does your liking towards the young writer. 

Why: I met Alex thanks to thesunnyshow that we're both co-admins of, and it immediately felt as if we were friends. Alex helped me through the screen when I fell off my bike (yes haha, a 21-year-old one took the wrong brake) and I try to make it work when she's busy with uni but we have a shift. So I think we're a great team and that's why I picked this au. 

⠀

@fruityutas 

Au: broken relationship 

Pairing: Taeil x Emily 

Backstory: "Can I go on?" Taeil asks himself every morning, gazing upon your sheet-covering body as you drown in the world of sleep. The wind howls outside the window, and Taeil wishes the wind would push you towards him, but the soft blowing only pulls you further away from him. You feel a soft breath against your neck, the soft lips murmuring "without you, there's no way." 

Why: I don't know why I chose this particular plot, maybe it was because I was listening to a song and based it on that. Initially, I wanted to go for a cheerful and happy plot that reminded me of her URL, but I ended up with angst. I remember we had this talk about angst and went from that. Also, I adore her so much, I probably expressed that once in a gc already but I'm saying it again. 

⠀

@afishcalledfatin 

Au: friends to lovers

Pairing: Jungwoo x Fatin 

Backstory: for as long as you can remember, you've been friends with Kim Jungwoo. In your childhood and teenage years, the term BFFs would be engraved in each object you gave to each other, but now that you two are adults, life is different. You want to give him the world because he deserves everything, he wants to give you love because his heart is longing for yours. 

Why: because she feels like a friend that I've had for years, we don't always talk but when we do, it just feels like we've been friends since forever. I love that a lot about her and I love how easy she is to approach and talk to, she's a true darling. 

⠀

@heartyyjeno 

Au: strangers to lovers 

Pairing: Sungchan x Alesha 

Backstory: trainee life is tough for Sungchan, even thinking about having to walk for over half an hour to get to the dance studio is something Sungchan stopped looking forward to. However, he meets you on his way, walking along the same path to get to a different location. One step a day with you along his side is all it takes for him to look forward to it again, to walking with you and getting to know you better. 

Why: because Alesha is a great friend and we, unfortunately, don't talk as much as we used to, but that doesn't take away I'm always there for her and she's always there for me. Sungchan's walk resembles the many different talks that we had together and not all of them were fun, but we walked the path together.

⠀

@jimjamjaemin 

Au: youtuber , vlogger 

Pairing: vlogger!Mark x vlogger!Mona 

Backstory: Mark and you have been a couple for over a year, with the growing interest in your relationship, you and Mark start a YouTube channel. From a look in the life to fun challenges, you and Mark take over the crown of cute YouTube couples. 

Why: Mona and i didn't meet in the best situation, we started to talk when there was quite some drama in the fandom. But I love Mona and the thing she made me for my birthday reminded me of an editor which led me to a youtuber au!

⠀

@chaoticdeobi 

Au: bakery/coffee shop (bc how can I not, she kicked me out of the coffee queue) 

Pairing: soft-spoken!New x coffee shop owner!Bea 

Backstory: the coffee quote that hangs inside your coffee shop, is something that Chanhee cites every day. With a soft voice, he orders his coffee and then flashes you his smile when you proceed to tell him that the cookie is on the house. As you bring the coffee to his table, the last minute of your shift ticks by, and when you sit with him, you start your shift as girlfriend. 

Why: I literally love love love Bea, sometimes she reminds me of a soft-spoken person and other times she reminds me of a chaotic deobi. I still laugh to myself thinking about our talks, thinking about having fun together. We don't get to talk as much as I'd like, but when we do, I wish we could talk forever. 

⠀

@juyeonzz

Au: criminal , badass , something chique  

Pairing: criminal!Jacob x partner in crime!Qiu

Backstory: pointing the gun at his future victim, Jacob awaits your return. You explore the house: tugging at knobs of money-filled drawers, opening jewellery-clad treasures. But you are looking for the key to Jacob's heart, a golden key dusted with scratches, poisoned with old blood from when someone else locked his heart and pulled the key out harshly. 

Why: because Qiu really gives me chique and sad vibes, when I think about her, I think about a longing feeling described with poetic words. Qiu wasn't my first mutual but if I need to mention my first mutuals, there's a big chance I'll include her because it feels like she was one of the first people I got close to. 

⠀

@atbzkingdom

Au: dream 

Pairing: Haknyeon x Dee

Backstory: if Haknyeon were to have one more day on this earth, how would be spend it? He would make a timetable of which you are the only returning factor, because he would like to drown himself in time with you. Twenty-four hours in which he is the sun that illuminates each part of the world, the world that is you, rotating until the sun is replaced by the moon. 

Why: I don't know Dee that well because we haven't talked overly much, but whenever I think about her, I think about references with the earth, sun and moon or natural things. She's just a sweet person, and it seems really natural to talk to her! 

⠀

@127-mile

Au: muse , painting 

Pairings: Ten x Émi (but there's also Renjun in here)

Backstory: from the brush that Renjun manoeuvres, droplets of paint colour the blank canvas in a self-made story. Ten, the master that learned Renjun how to portray his muse, is now standing next to Émi, the young woman returning in each painting of Ten. Never had they stood next to each other: artist and muse. Never had they consciously smiled at each other. Never had they been real. Until now. Immortalised on the canvas, Ten hugs his Émi, they might both be droplets of paint with a shadow, but behind the canvas Renjun bids farewell to his last painting. His tear streaks the painting, blurring the line between reverie and reality 

Why: because Émi and Renjun are both my muses in life and writing, creatively but also in daily things. I proclaim my love for Émi a lot but that never takes away how genuine it is, because I genuinely love her and sometimes it seems so surreal that she's in my life. Sometimes I'm afraid that she's a dot, a droplet of paint that will fade by time until I have no more remains of her. But however long we have left, I will cherish and love her each day just like she loves Ten (isn't that a sad love story, I literally cried for like five minutes after this 😂)

[freebooter4ever]

Ice Cream And An Apology

Eugene drags his bff Snafu on a vacation to Los Angeles six years after Snafu left him on that train. They end up on Santa Monica beach where they finally admit they might be in love, and it might've been brewing for a long while, and wow are they clueless sometimes. Ace Eugene and Snaf, written for @skelesocks​ who makes the best Ace Eugene content around, thank you! And who was sad that I made Eugene cry, so here is me making him feel better through Snafu. (their vacation date includes a tiki hut, ice cream, swing dancing, secret cliffside hotels)(I took all the parts I do like about living in LA and put them here)(the ballroom existed but it's torn down now, the hotel is a real place I stumbled on while hiking way too far down the beach but it's actually a 1930's pool building called Palos Verdes Athletic Club)(with bonus historical photos cause I'm a fucking nerd)

Two years into grad school Eugene decides he needs a proper vacation. The only reason Snafu knows this is because Eugene also decides Snafu is the person he's gonna vacation with. And apparently Snafu has no say in this decision.

A very curt letter arrives one spring afternoon with a time, a date, and the address of the New Orleans railroad station, as if Snafu needed to be told where that is. Granted, Snafu's track record in being responsive and easy to reach is perhaps not the best, but Gene's known that for years. Snafu doesn't know what's changed with this particular meet up.

He's also a little resentful of the fact that Eugene thinks he can snap his fingers and Snafu will drop everything on a dime and come running. Mostly Snafu resents this on account of how true it is. Six years after the war and Snafu still can't let go.

So Snafu shows up at the train station, right on time, with his duffel packed tight, and his hat a little jaunty.

Eugene steps off the train with his ticket book in hand. He looks right and left, like he can't see Snafu standing a mere three feet in front of him. It must be the hat.

"You lost, Sledgehammer?" Snafu asks.

Eugene's eyes finally find his. Snafu's heart drops out of his chest, and he suddenly remembers why he made his original vow years ago to walk away and never see anybody again.

"Shelton?" Eugene asks, like he can't quite believe his eyes, and the formality stings.

"Miss me?" Snafu smirks.

Eugene doesn't answer. He simply walks up to Snafu, shoulder's Snafu's bag, and climbs back onto the train.

Snafu follows - like fucking always.

Eugene shoves Snafu's duffel into the luggage racks already almost stacked full, and guides Snafu to a private compartment.

Snafu glances admiringly at the plush seats and curtained windows, and whistles, "Adjunct professors must make quite a bit of money these days."

"I'm paying both your way and my way on this trip, so...yes," Eugene says, and Snafu knows it's non negotiable. No matter how many times Snafu offers, Eugene never accepts repayment.

"The truth is…" Eugene says that night after they've converted their plush seats into a bed, "...not making much money doesn't matter so much when you don't use it. I don't go out, I don't do anything, my parents pay my rent. What else am I going to spend it on?"

Snafu shrugs. A lot of things pop into his mind, but it's true Eugene never goes out so Snafu doesn't want to discourage this change. Eugene is the most boring college student ever. Snafu knows because he makes the drive from New Orleans to Auburn every weekend. And every weekend is the same, they spend most of the time lying around Sledge's dorm - Eugene studying and Snafu reading his latest murder mystery novel.

He supposes the sacrifice of Eugene's social life might have been worth it, though, if it meant being able to pay for the sleeper car. Because that night on the train when Eugene wakes Snafu with a yell, there are no prying eyes to judge them. Snafu wraps his arms around Eugene's shoulders in the privacy of their bunk and holds him till he calms down.

Sometimes Snafu wonders who does this for Eugene during the week, on the nights Snafu's not there.

"I just don't sleep those nights," Eugene whispers in the dark, his voice barely audible over the clacking of the train tracks.

Snafu squeezes him tighter. Eugene's back is pressed against Snafu's chest, and Snafu's nose is in Eugene's hair. And sometimes Snafu worries he might be crazy, but he also swears that the smell of Eugene's neck is the only thing capable of stopping Snafu's own nerves from jumping out of his skin. He'll never admit to Eugene how selfish he is. That Snafu doesn't keep dropping everything to run to his side out of some altruistic need to please. No.

Snafu's fucking addicted to the boy in his arms and he can't let go. No matter how much it hurts.

Plus they aren't boys anymore. Eugene is twenty eight, and Snafu is thirty, and he keeps waiting and waiting for Eugene to grow up and leave him behind but it hasn't happened yet.

It takes four days for the train to reach Los Angeles. It's hot - so fucking hot, Snafu wonders why Eugene picked summer of all times to vacation here, but the dry wind and brilliant blue sky is still a relief compared to the sticky humidity of home. He can kinda see why people come out here, even if the baking sun also makes him feel a little like a raisin.

Eugene rents a car. An unnecessary expense in Snafu's mind. The car even has a swamp cooler, which at first Snafu decries as the most absurd waste of cash. But then he presses his face to the passenger window to watch the rocket-like thing work. And sure, he can't feel the wind on his face anymore, but damn if the air in the car doesn't become more bearable faster.

Eugene watches Snafu and just smiles.

The outside heat cools off the closer they get to the coast. Snafu has no idea where Eugene is taking them. Perhaps that's why Eugene invites him everywhere, because he never asks questions. Honestly Eugene could take him anywhere in the world and it'd still be something, simply because it's with Eugene. Except caves. Snafu doesn't mess with caves.

They park in a giant lot, and when Snafu opens the car door he hears the familiar sound of gulls and the ocean. All around his head, though, are two story buildings - not a horizon line in sight. They must still be in the city. But then they turn a corner, walk two blocks down the street, and there it is: the Santa Monica pier.

The hippodrome catches the eye first. Then Snafu sees the long line stretching down a checkerboard walkway. The crowd of people ends at the mirrored doors and box office of the Aragon Ballroom. Something must be happening for it to be so busy in the middle of a random saturday. The crowd is young too, mostly teenagers. Snafu feels old, looking at them.

Snafu stares at the ballroom for a minute and then leers at Eugene. "You taking me dancing?" He asks.

"No," Eugene says, "I don't dance." He turns away from the gigantic world famous dancehall hanging over the ocean on spindly legs, and starts walking down the boardwalk.

Snafu hurries to catch up.

They clamber down tall wooden steps to get to the beach. Snafu touches one and ends up with a splinter in his hand, naturally. He's too busy trying to pick the damn thing out of his finger to notice when Eugene stops. Snafu collides with his back.

Eugene balances precariously at the edge of the bottom step, leaving only a little room for Snafu to squish in behind him. Snafu leans his chin on Eugene's shoulder and tries to figure out what is on the ground that Eugene's so intently marveling at.

"Gene?" Snafu slips his arm underneath Eugene's elbow and wiggles his hand in front of Eugene's face, "Your pa's the doctor."

"What?" Eugene asks in confusion as if brought out of a trance.

"Splinter," Snafu explains.

Eugene very carefully pries the long skinny splinter out of Snafu's finger. And then he goes back to staring down at his feet.

"What are we waiting for?" Snafu asks. He places his hands on either side of Eugene's hips and tries to remain patient.

"An engraved invitation," Eugene intones. He bends over to untie his Chuck Taylors and pull them off.

"That's just asking for splinters," Snafu points out when Eugene's socks come off next.

Eugene leaves his socks neatly tucked into his shoes on the wooden plank and steps into the sand.

Snafu, being more familiar with thievery, hastily threads the shoelaces through his own belt loop and then ties Eugene's two shoes together to hang off his hip. His own shoes stay on as he traipses after Eugene. Snafu's had enough sand between his toes to last him a lifetime.

It doesn't take long to catch up to Eugene. When Snafu reaches him, Eugene is breathing shallowly and clenching his fists, staring at the rolling ocean waves and the handful of beachgoers. To the casual observer, Eugene would appear to be enjoying the view, but Snafu sees the tension. Snafu sidles up to Eugene and leans against his shoulder.

"I thought it would feel different," Eugene says. His voice is calm, he looks calm, but he's anything but. Snafu knows the feeling all too well.

"C'mon," Snafu slips his hand into Eugene's and tugs him away from the shore, "Let's get off the sand."

They make it back to the boardwalk and Snafu gives Eugene back his shoes.

Eugene smiles at him gratefully, and that grin with those eyes is precisely the reason Snafu's always here. And in this case 'here' means 'by Eugene's side come hell or high water.'

Eugene smiles, and Snafu shrugs it off, and lets Eugene use his shoulder to steady himself while he puts his shoes back on one-handed. Those smiles make Snafu want to kiss them off Eugene's face to get rid of them. They're altogether too kind, altogether too caring, and it just worsens the already deep hole Snafu's dug himself.

They walk down the boardwalk for a short distance, eyeing the push carts, and the souvenir stalls, and the hot dog stands that look suspiciously crusty.

"Those aren't for you," Snafu says, pushing Eugene along by the small of his back when the boy lingers a little too long in front of a cheesy sign with a cartoon corn dog dancing on a stick. The dog has eyes, and looks way too happy about being eaten.

"What, why not?" Eugene asks.

"They're un-hi-Gene-ic," Snafu drawls.

"Oh god," Eugene casts his eyes to the sky.

"It's in the name, no Gene's allowed," Snafu adds.

"I got the joke, Snafu," Eugene says.

The next food stand they come to is a tiki hut. There's no other way to describe it. It's the tackiest thing Snafu's ever seen. Snafu  hears about the 'tiki' craze sweeping the nation after all the boys came home from the south pacific. He sees advertisements using the motifs in the magazines at the mechanic shop he works for.

The tiki design is always heavily stylized, and completely fake, and so fucking ugly it makes Snafu's eyes hurt.

He turns to Eugene, and their eyes meet. There's a rush of shared knowing between them, it sends Snafu tingling down to his toes, and a genuine smile breaks out onto his face, and before he knows it they're both laughing. They lean against each other, giggling helplessly at this silly simulacrum of the islands they were trapped on for so long.

"Four nights on a train for this, Gene?" Snafu teases.

Eugene slings an arm around Snafu's waist to steady him and, still laughing, they wobble over to peer at the menu tacked against the entrance to the hut.

"Coconut ice cream," Snafu reads with exaggerated admiration.

Eugene shudders violently, and Snafu can feel it through his body. "I can't stand the smell of coconut," Eugene whines, "All those coconuts on Pavuvu, buried in the sand, rotting with that inescapable stench."

Snafu shakes his head, "You're missing out."

"Nope," Eugene insists and breaks away from Snafu, "We're not eating here. I would rather eat the No-Gene's-Allowed dancing corn dog."

"I bet by the end of this trip I'll get you eating coconut ice cream," Snafu calls.

"Not happening," Eugene calls back, making his point by already walking away.

Snafu eyes the coconut tiki shack, eyes Gene, and starts plotting.

Blissfully ignorant, and completely confident in his ability to talk Snafu into or out of anything, Eugene continues down the boardwalk.

Meanwhile, Snafu's attention is captured next by the neat row of bicycles at the very end of the small line of makeshift booths. The bicycles are clean, and shiny, with pastel baskets and sparkling handlebar bells, and colorful seats with clean, bright stitching. The kind of bicycles Snafu dreamed of when he was a kid. He slows to a crawl as they pass by and eventually stops, unable to resist going over and putting his hands on one.

Snafu rings the bell and chuckles.

He glances up and Eugene is smiling at him again in that overly fond way that says Snafu could probably get away with practically anything right now.

So, they end up renting two bikes. Snafu's is a mint blue with a grey basket. He pulls his shoes off and drops them into said basket to ride barefoot. The spikey plastic pedals feel hot and firm underneath Snafu's feet. Eugene's bike is a reddish salmon color with a burnt orange basket that when combined with the sun glinting off Eugene's red hair, makes him strike a truly imposing figure.

Snafu laughs about this for at least five minutes straight before they get on their way. He wishes he brought a camera. There's one slung around Eugene's neck, but Eugene blushes and refuses Snafu's request to use it.

"If I can't take embarrassing photos of you with it, what's the point of even having it?" Snafu demands.

Eugene still refuses.

Snafu sticks his tongue out at Eugene and takes the lead on the bicycles. It's incredibly easy to ride along the flat beach. The path isn't paved, and is a little rough, but half the time Snafu is standing on his pedals as he rides, so he hardly notices. Occasionally he looks back to make sure Gene is keeping up.

The only time he loses track of Eugene is when they're pedaling through a dilapidated old pier. Snafu banks a slight curve and notices Eugene isn't appearing around the shops and buildings behind him. He circles back around to find Eugene stopped and straddling his bicycle, looking towards the ocean.

Snafu pulls up alongside him and eyes him quizzically.

"It's two men…" Eugene nods at a couple making out on a beach blanket in the distance, "I saw them walking out there. The one with long hair isn't a girl, he's a guy."

Snafu looks at the couple passionately embracing, and then at Eugene's expression. "Shocking," Snafu says sarcastically, "Scandalous."

"You don't seem surprised," Eugene says.

"I live in New Orleans," Snafu replies, "Not all of us spent most our lives in hicktown Alabama."

"Mobile is not a hicktown," Eugene scowls.

"Stop staring at them, Gene," Snafu warns and nods at the couple, "They might give you a show." He rides off, this time determined to leave Eugene in the dust.

Snafu keeps going on his bicycle for a few hours. They're forced to make a brief detour around a marina, but they end up back on an oceanfront path, and continue on pedaling until suddenly the beach abruptly ends. The sand narrows off into rocks, and rising high above them are towering cliffs.

Eugene coasts to a stop next to Snafu and puts his foot down to rest. He's breathing hard. All that studying and not enough manual labor.

"Guess we're continuing on foot from here," Snafu suggests casually.

Eugene huffs in disbelief, "You're joking."

"Four nights on a train…" Snafu smirks, "I ain't stopping yet."

They bring the bikes back to the nearest beach facilities and lock them up in a rack, then set off across the rocks. At first it's fairly easy, there is a dirt path running directly beneath the cliff face but slightly above the worst of the jagged rocky beach. They've climbed over much worse during the war.

Eugene is an unenthusiastic hiking partner, however. They pass by a beautiful stucco building nestled into the cliffs with a high wall and flanked by old fashioned lamps. Eugene stares longingly at the NCAA sized swimming pool behind the wall.

"Later," Snafu promises him, and leads him on.

The rocks turn a little more treacherous past the wall, and eventually it gets to the point that even Snafu is carefully picking his way across rock by rock. He climbs hand and foot up to the base of the cliff and expertly assesses the narrow ledge leading across a plunging chut to the next rocky beach. The chute is roughly four feet long and ends in churning water. The waves are coming in, crashing against the rocks and zipping up the chute to lap at the ledge. Snafu puts one shoe on the ledge and wiggles it around to test his grip.

"Snaf," Eugene pleads from the rocks below, "I can't…"

Snafu stares down at him unblinkingly. And then turns and starts to walk carefully across the ledge. He makes it to the other side and leaps over the rocky outcrop.

"Merriell!" Eugene cries.

Snafu can no longer see him. After vaulting the end of the ledge he lands on another rocky beach, and in the distance he sees another point where the rocks give way to cliffs. Snafu clambers on tirelessly, but the path soon becomes all but impassable. He's reached the farthest point he can go. Eventually he gives up and turns around.

He climbs back onto the taller rock sticking out from the ledge and sits down on the top to watch the waves break against the rock's front edge. Below him and across the chasm, Eugene sits huddled on his own rock, intently watching the waves. Eugene ignores Snafu's return.

"Eugene?" Snafu calls softly.

Eugene's head jerks up and he looks at Snafu with a painful mixture of worry and anger. "What the hell, Snafu?" Eugene yells, "You jump over the other side and don't answer me for a half hour? I had no way of knowing if you slipped, or fell, or hit your head, or drowned…" Eugene's voice wavers.

"You could'a followed," Snafu argues.

"I cannot cross that ledge," Eugene snaps back, "Not all of us have your super human climbing abilities. You shouldn't go on alone...what if you ended up in the water?"

"Gene, I'm a good swimmer," Snafu says dismissively.

Eugene shakes his head at him in exasperation. "Fuck you, Shelton," he says, and he clearly means it. He turns back to the waves splashing at his feet and rubs his hand into his eye.

Which is when Snafu notices something odd.

He toes back across the ledge and hops down to the rock next to Eugene's to confirm his suspicions. Snafu tilts his head and scoots as close as Eugene will let him.

"Gene?" Snafu prompts gently, "Are you crying?"

Eugene screws his face up and presses his chin against his knees. He's clearly about to start crying in the way anyone starts to cry when they're feeling on the verge and someone asks them about it.

Snafu hastily stands and closes the last few inches between them. He crouches next to Eugene and puts his arm around Gene's shoulders.

"This was a mistake," Eugene breathes.

"I'm sorry," Snafu says. He leans his head in close to Eugene's and leans his weight against him in hopefully a comforting manner.

Eugene shakes his head and a brief sob chokes his next words, "I can't…." he pauses to catch his breath, "I can't do this anymore."

"Then we'll leave," Snafu suggests, "You've got a car. We'll drive out to the desert. You can draw some cacti."

"No, Snaf," Eugene says quietly, his voice goes almost calm, "I mean I can't do this anymore with you."

Snafu stands when he hears those words.

Eugene shivers and starts crying anew.

"You're gonna leave me stuck here without even a train ticket home?" Snafu's mind immediately jumps to how much bus fare will cost, and whether he's got enough cash on him or if he'll have to pick up some odd jobs before he catches the first train back.

"No!" Eugene exclaims, angry again, "I would never do that to you."

"Then what, Gene?" Snafu asks, his own voice rising.

"You can't keep leaving me like this," Eugene insists.

"I just jumped over a goddamn ledge…"

"You left!" Eugene tilts his face up to Snafu and hurtles the accusation at him, "You left without a goodbye and…"

"I came back!" Snafu interrupts.

"Not for my wedding," Eugene says sullenly.

"Nor for Burgie's," Snafu waves it away with a gesture.

"I'm not Burgie!" Eugene declares.

"I came back for your divorce!" Snafu counters.

Eugene drops his head onto his arms.

"For fuck's sake, Eugene haven't you cried over her enough?" Snafu sighs. He climbs back onto the ledge and scoots across over to the jutting rock to put some space between him and Eugene, "It's been four years. You barely knew each other."

"I'm not crying over Edna," Eugene protests sourly and sniffles snot back into his nose.

"Can't imagine why you two didn't work out," Snafu rolls his eyes and swings his legs over the edge of the rock to dangle above the crashing waves, "With names like Edna and Eugene."

A very slight smile tugs at the corner of Eugene's mouth. "E squared," he says.

"She's probably better off," Snafu offers, "No longer saddled with the terrible mouthful 'Edna Sledge'."

"You're one to talk, Merriell," Eugene points out.

"Merriell Sledge has a nice ring to it," Snafu goads him.

"I like Eugene Shelton better," Eugene jokes back.

"Thought you said you were done with me," Snafu says, unable to prevent his big mouth from opening.

Eugene looks up at him with the meanest glare he's ever seen.

It slowly, slowly starts to dawn on Snafu that he might be the reason Eugene Sledge is crying.

That comes as a shock. Snafu takes a moment to think back on his life and all the times he might've made someone cry. And not because he shoved some bully or asshole into the dirt. It's a very short list. One of his earliest memories is visiting his grandma as a child. She cried when he left, and hugged him for longer than he's ever been hugged in his life. His parents died, but they weren't the crying type anyway. His baby sister stopped crying after their parents' deaths. Even when Snafu enlisted, she didn't shed a tear.

And absolutely none of the men Snafu formed attachments to were the crying type either. Till Eugene, till now.

But Snafu can't imagine why Eugene is crying over him. He answered the extremely self-pitying letter Eugene penned in the weeks after Eugene's divorce, he's spent every weekend with Eugene since to keep him company, he tries to be there for whatever Eugene needs. Eugene's got no fucking reason to cry because of him.

Eugene's crying like Snafu broke his heart, except there's no possible way Eugene could care about him that deeply. This love Snafu's got going is a one way street, and he's careful to keep it that way.

Snafu digs into his pocket and pulls out a rather beat up carton of cigarettes. He calmly lights one and tosses the rest to Eugene. Eugene holds the carton like it's something precious.

"Sledgehammer," Snafu says, "Just tell me what you want."

Eugene takes a deep breath to steady himself. He grips the paper cigarette carton hard till it crinkles. "I think I want what those two guys on the beach have…" Eugene tells the waves. And then looks to Snafu for some sort of validation, "...but with you."

Snafu smokes his cigarette and tries to remember there's a ten foot gulf with choppy waves between them and launching himself across it is not physically possible.

"And this is why I can't keep doing this anymore, Snaf," Eugene says when Snafu doesn't answer his request. Eugene turns back to the rocks below his feet and says with great frustration, "Our friendship means everything to me, but it's killing me."

Those last words weigh heavy on Snafu's conscience. "Okay, Gene," he says, "We'll finish out this vacation, and then I promise you'll never have to see me again."

Eugene swallows hard. He squeezes his eyes shut and buries his head in his arms once more, so he doesn't have to see Snafu right now.

Snafu makes his way over the ledge for the last time and carefully places a hand on Eugene's trembling shoulder. "C'mon," he says kindly, "Let's get back to the bikes."

Eugene twines his hand with Snafu's. Snafu bends down, braces Eugene's arm with his own, and helps him stand. Eugene sways into Snafu's chest and for a minute their faces are too close together for comfort. But neither of them are looking at each other. And Eugene isn't smiling, so it makes it easy for Snafu to deny the kiss and pull away.

Eugene's horribly quiet as they make their way back over the rocky beach. He pauses before they pass the wall with the swimming pool.

Snafu looks back questioningly.

"I'm hungry," Eugene announces, "You made me ride my bike for three hours, then scramble over rocks for two. This place looks nice, it's hygienic, there's no palm fronds or fake tiki statues. We're stopping here."

Snafu eyes the iron gate skeptically. The lock is hanging loose and the gate is ajar, but only because a few people from the private pool are swimming in the ocean nearby.

"You object?" Eugene asks stubbornly, ready and looking for a fight.

"It's too fancy," Snafu says and jerks his chin in the direction of the three story building stacked in layers on the cliff like a cake, "I see white lace curtains in those windows. Fucking clean lace curtains."

"The hot dogs were too poor, this place is too rich," Eugene says, "Make up your mind, Snafu."

Snafu sighs, but concedes Eugene may have a point. He gestures for Eugene to go through the gate first.

Sometimes Eugene's ability to take all of his generational wealth and privilege and put it to use comes in handy. After hours of physical exercise they look bedraggled. Both of them are dusty, the armpits of their shirts are damp, Eugene's collar is creased, Snafu never had a collar to begin with, they have sand pouring out of their shoes, and yet when Eugene walks through that gate he owns the place.

Snafu slinks in on his coat tails and settles in to watch the show from a distance. Some pool boy comes up to stop Gene from going any further, and the set of Eugene's shoulders takes on a stubborn slant. Eugene isn't pretentious. But he knows how to be. Snafu's never seen Eugene use his status, or his upbringing to deliberately belittle anyone beneath him. When he does draw out this intangible skill to demand the kind of respect money offers, it's always in defense of someone who doesn't have it.

And Snafu kinda likes being the beneficiary of that benevolent righteousness. It's entertaining to watch people's attitudes change toward Eugene in the blink of an eye when they realize he's someone of means.

All it takes is a few quick sentences, and the attendant who initially stopped Eugene is suddenly apologizing and taking Eugene's ID. Before the attendant reverently carries the ID back towards the main house, he glances nervously at Snafu.

Snafu tilts his head back against the pool wall and lazily smiles. Snafu knows where he belongs but he doesn't give a shit.

The attendant turns tail and runs.

Snafu watches him go with a bit of hypocritical glee till Eugene quietly returns to Snafu's side. 

"We're staying here tonight, huh?" Snafu smirks.

"Yeah," Eugene nods confidently, his hands in his pockets, "It looks comfortable."

Snafu hums and grins at Eugene admiringly.

"You might have to put up with clean lace curtains for longer than expected," Eugene warns.

"Think I can handle that," Snafu replies.

"Swell," Eugene says, only half sarcastic and immediately satisfied with Snafu's agreement. Eugene's eyes start roaming around the pool deck till he spots what he's looking for, "Now that's settled, I see a burger bar with my name on it."

"I believe the name on that sign says 'Hanna's'," Snafu points out drolly.

"Grab that table overlooking the ocean," Eugene says, "I'll bring you a menu."

Snafu climbs a narrow stone staircase built into the cliff face and sits down at one of the three tables hidden in a nook behind a trellis of lavender. He adjusts the tables a little, shoves one closer to the wall at the edge of the cliff, and then sits down.

Eugene comes up a few minutes later and offers Snafu an embossed menu featuring a long list of items and no prices. "I see you removed the lace tablecloth," Eugene notes with a grin.

Snafu briefly glances at the discarded pile of table linens he made on the table next to theirs and scoffs, "Don't need that shit for hamburgers."

Eugene bites his lip and concentrates on reading his own menu.

They both order hamburgers, and Eugene deliberates between a milkshake or a soda before eventually settling on the house rootbeer. Snafu additionally orders three extra sides of french fries. The hamburgers are as large as Snafu's hands and the french fry portions are generous enough that Snafu still has a large stack at the end of the meal. He leans back in his chair, props his feet up on the ocean wall, and snacks on fries while surveying the waves.

Meanwhile Snafu can feel Eugene's eyes on him.

Snafu finishes his fries, and lights a cigarette.

Eugene is still watching him. 

Snafu can't bring himself to meet Eugene's gaze. Eugene's eyes are everything good - kindness, vulnerability, trust, smarts...when Snafu looks into them he feels this rush of uncontainable emotion, that drug that makes his nerves calm. And the persistent need in the back of his head to be somewhere doing something quiets down till it goes silent entirely, because he's here, sharing this with Eugene, and somehow that's more than enough.

They're not even doing anything, they're relaxing on the side of a bluff looking out at the ocean and sharing a cigarette. It should be boring as hell, and yet when Snafu does finally get the guts to flick his eyes towards Gene, he's utterly satisfied.

He's going fucking insane, is what it is. All cause of Eugene's eyes. He tries to clumsily explain this to Gene. Snafu feels he owes him that much. It doesn't come out right. None of Snafu's words ever come out right, not like Gene's with his studied elocution and tendency to think long and hard before he speaks.

Except this time, as Snafu speaks, Eugene's face loses his sour expression entirely, and Snafu sees hope there - maybe a little bit of joy.

Eugene places the cigarette back in Snafu's hands and leans his elbows on the table intently. "Snaf," he says very seriously, "how do I explain to you that I feel the exact same way every time I look at you?"

"Not possible," Snafu counters stubbornly.

"Snaf!" Eugene laughs.

"I can't be for you what those guys on the beach are for each other," Snafu says.

"Why not?"

"Just can't."

"Just like I can't fall in love with my asshole gunner during the middle of a war?" Eugene's still grinning like he can't stop now that he's started.

"I'm not enough, Gene."

Eugene sighs. He studies Snafu's profile quietly for a minute, and then switches tactics. "Do you know why mine and Edna's divorce was okay by my parents?"

Snafu shakes his head. He hadn't even given it a thought. Just assumed Eugene's parents knew their son deserved the best, and anyone named Edna was clearly not that.

"We, uh," Eugene coughs, "We never consummated the marriage. I kept putting it off. Easy to do under strict christian values. Till Edna got fed up, realized I wasn't about to give her kids anytime soon or ever. And demanded we split."

"You're still a virgin?" Snafu stares at him in surprise.

"I am," Eugene blushes angrily, "And I'm kinda tired of people shaming me for that."

"No shame," Snafu says fairly, "I remember how you were during the China occupation years. Always thought that was just cause your fear of VD, though."

"Yeah, that was my excuse at the time," Eugene says, "Snaf, you know I love you. Passionately. I want to be able to say that, whenever I feel it, instead of choking it down and trying to hide it. I'd like to kiss you. I very much enjoy holding you. I think we could live together very happily. That's what I want from you, nothing more." Eugene reaches over the table and takes Snafu's hand resting beside the crystal water goblets. "I'll beg you, if that's what it takes to get it through your thick skull." 

Snafu smiles a little despite himself.

"Also, we're both gonna have to work on quitting smoking," Eugene concludes his list, "cause I'm going to need you to grow old with me."

Snafu plucks at the bar menu on the table beside his elbow. He casually picks it up and scans the dessert section. "You know...," he says casually, "...they've got coconut ice cream." He flips the menu around so Eugene can read the list.

Eugene reaches with his free hand and grabs the menu to examine it. "If I buy you coconut ice cream will you finally admit you love me back?"

Snafu looks at him and Eugene is smiling so hard his cheeks must hurt.

Snafu uses their twined hands to pull Eugene closer over the table and press his lips to Eugene's in answer. He looks deep into Eugene's eyes, his gaze as unwavering and cliche as his devotion, and says, "I love you, Gene. Heart and soul."

Eugene threads his free hand into the back of Snafu's curls and touches their foreheads together. There's a knowing between them that's existed in some form since that first day on Pavuvu. Eugene doesn't need to say a word, Snafu can read it all in his eyes. He leans in and kisses Eugene one final time before pulling away and standing up.

"Now that that's settled," Snafu says with a devil grin, "Let's go see about that coconut ice cream."

Eugene groans, but when Snafu wraps his hand tighter around Gene's to help him stand and leads him back down the cliffside stairs to the pool deck, Eugene willingly follows.

Snafu stands on his tiptoes at the poolside bar to order a double scoop ice cream cone with chocolate drizzle. Eugene stands to the side and fiddles with the condiments while he waits. Snafu tilts his head to bat his eyes saccharinely at Eugene while the bartender is in the back with the scoops. And Eugene's reflexive smile in return is bashful and more than a little endearing.

They take Snafu's prodigious two scoop chocolate drizzle coconut ice cream cone outside the gate and onto the ocean rocks. The evening air is finally cooling, but the setting sun melts the ice cream fast. Snafu keeps having to lick at his hands where the milky cream runs down his fingers. Snafu sucks at the edge where cone meets ice cream, and notices Eugene watching him.

He waggles the cone in front of Eugene's face invitingly.

Eugene hastily grabs Snafu's hand so his wiggling doesn't make the double scoop fall off into Eugene's lap. "Fine," Eugene sighs, as if tasting ice cream is a true hardship. He holds Snafu's hand still and takes a tentative lick.

Snafu grins when he sees Gene's eyes light up. "It's only called 'coconut ice cream'," Snafu announces, "Never said it tasted like coconut."

"How…?" Eugene asks.

"They just make it out of coconut milk, it's flavored with vanilla," Snafu says, proud to have won an argument.

Eugene eases the cone out of Snafu's hand in order to better take another bite  of ice cream.

Eugene's hair is blowing wildly in the ocean breeze. Snafu watches strands of hair fall across Eugene's face and Eugene desperately tries to shake it out of his mouth so he can eat. Snafu chuckles and brushes Eugene's hair off his forehead and holds it there to give him easier access. 

Eugene crinkles his eyes at Snafu in amusement and mumbles his thanks in between bites of ice cream.

"I think you've had enough," Snafu comments and draws the cone away from Eugene's grasp after two thirds of the ice cream has magically disappeared. But instead of eating more himself, Snafu kisses Gene and sucks on his bottom lip to get the last drops of ice cream. Eugene tastes sweet, and his lips are refreshingly cold. And when Snafu opens his eyes, he can see that Gene is silently laughing at him - or with him, because Snafu is laughing too.

Snafu grins, kisses the tip of Eugene's long nose because there's some ice cream there, and then turns back to his cone. He barely gets his mouth around it before Eugene is tugging the cone out of his hand a second time.

"Hey, you could'a got your own!" Snafu exclaims, trying to keep the ice cream away.

Gene wins. Because of course he does. "I'll buy you a second one," Eugene promises.

Snafu threads his fingers through Eugene's bangs again to hold them back, and chooses to watch Eugene instead of the sunset. Gene's tinted round sunglasses are brilliantly rosy, casting colored shadows on his cheeks and making them even rosier.

"Gene," Snafu says, just to be able to savor his name.

"Mm?" Eugene cuts his eyes to the side and raises an eyebrow at Snafu even as he licks melted ice cream off his hand.

Snafu tilts his chin up and scoots closer till their sides are pressed tight together. "I think this is gonna be the best vacation I ever have," he confesses.

Eugene turns back to his ice cream and comments, "Thought this was the only vacation you've ever had."

"Yeah, but I mean in the future too," Snafu swipes at his collar and unbuttons it a little to give himself more breathing room.

"Naw," Eugene scoffs, "Don't worry, we'll top it." He licks his lips and hands the almost empty ice cream cone back to Snafu, "That's pretty darn good."

Snafu breaks into a wide grin. "I told you. I told you so, Sledgehammer!" he says proudly, "Next time I suggest new food, you better listen!"

Eugene laughs and agrees, "I will." He maneuvers around on the rock till he can lay his head in Snafu's lap. "If you drip any ice cream on me, try to aim for my mouth," he advises.

"Sure thing, Sledgehammer," Snafu says and bites into the last of the cone with a crunch. It's a bit messy and he does end up dripping some on Eugene, but it lands on Eugene's forehead . It's okay though because Snafu bends over to kiss him clean, and Eugene laughs and complains that it tickles.

When the ice cream disappears, and the sun is set, and the last bit of twilight is slowly fading, Eugene and Snafu make their way back across the rocky beach to their bikes. Nothing's changed, yet everything feels different. This time when Eugene miraculously spots a tiny crab species scuttering over a rock, and stops to admire it, Snafu can openly admire Eugene and Eugene's goofy fascination. And when they're chatting as they walk, and Eugene retorts with something particularly sarcastic, instead of just laughing it off, Snafu gets to tug Eugene back by his hand, spin him around, and lay a kiss on him. Just because he wants to.

Of course, when they do finally reach the bikes and rejoin civilization, Snafu has to reign in his urges somewhat, but from time to time he still manages to smile at Eugene in that way that makes Eugene blush, and usually trip over his own feet if he's not being careful.

They drop the bikes off at the booth, and Eugene pays a rather hefty late fee. They're walking back to their car when Snafu grabs onto Eugene's elbow and stops them both.

He draws Eugene in close and whispers, "Look at the pier, all lit up at night. Like fireflies." 

The hippodrome is dotted with popcorn lights, it's turrets and arches glamorous behind shadow in a way they aren't during the day.

Eugene stands straight, takes a deep breath, locks Snafu's arm under his elbow, and takes off down the street towards the pier.

"Gene, where are we going?" Snafu asks worriedly, slightly alarmed and keeping a sharp eye out for anyone looking at them askance because of being arm-in-arm.

"I want to dance," Eugene decides. He marches them straight up to box office window of the ballroom and slaps a ten dollar bill on the counter. "Can he and I enter the ballroom as a couple?" Eugene asks challengingly.

Snafu nearly chokes. It's late enough there's not many people around outside. Most everyone is in the ballroom where the band is in full swing. Whenever one of the front doors opens and people exit, a cacophony of talking and loud music escapes with them.

The bored and exhausted woman behind the desk takes in Eugene, lingering on Eugene's Marine Corps ring, and then Snafu, and shrugs, "Sure, whatever."

Eugene nods enthusiastically in relief, "Thank you," and slides the money over. Being pressed up against Eugene's side, Snafu can feel him sweating.

The girl behind the counter gives them two tickets and their change. Eugene gratefully pushes five dollars of it back to her, nods once more, and drags a still-in-shock Snafu over to the doors.

Eugene falters once inside the doorway, suddenly shy. He holds his head up high, but there's tension in his neck when Eugene swallows nervously. 

It's up to Snafu to pry his hand out from underneath Eugene's sweaty armpit, and walk them both onto the dance floor.

The first few dances are easy as pie. The songs are familiar, big band numbers both of them recognize from their days during and immediately after the war. Eugene is a horrible dancer, but Snafu more than makes up for it. And with how lively everything is, no one notices two boys in a crowded corner doing the jitterbug with themselves.

Plus Snafu secretly enjoys having to grab Eugene's hips and turn him in the proper direction or place. Even if it also means he nearly trips over Eugene's feet every five minutes. There's a freedom in being able to be naturally affectionate with each other in public.

The only person that bothers them is a short but very handsome man who comes up to compliment Snafu on his dancing.

"How'd you get stuck with this dancing ginger elephant," the guy says to Snafu and sticks his thumb at Eugene, "Why, you're so light on your feet, I bet you could get any girl on the wall in here."

"I'm teaching him how to dance," Snafu says curtly. He shifts his grip on Eugene's hand and swings Gene close into his side protectively.

Meanwhile Eugene is glaring at the newcomer.

"Hey, you're teaching skills must be pretty swell," the guy says admirably, "Can I get a lesson?"

Snafu skids their dance to a stop. There's no way this asshole is going to go away without some kind of placation. Snafu turns around and grins, fully prepared to give this guy a verbal vertical buttstroke to the chin. But Eugene intervenes first.

"You're out of luck, mister," Eugene says. He pushes his way in between the guy and Snafu, "I'm afraid he's all booked up tonight."

"Oh," the guy says affably, completely clueless to Eugene's souring mood, "Well, how about tomorrow?"

"He's busy tomorrow too," Eugene replies.

"But not tomorrow night," Snafu interjects, slipping around Eugene, "Give me your name and number and I'll call you with my lesson schedule."

Once Snafu jots down the guy's information, the man finally goes away satisfied.

"You're not really going to call him?" Eugene asks.

Snafu tries to coax him back into a dance, but Eugene's limbs turn very floppy when he's unenthused. "Of course not," Snafu answers, "But he's gonna leave us alone now. And he won't go complain to someone about the two guys dancing together on the floor."

"True," Eugene sighs.

Snafu spins them around and launches into one of the dance moves Eugene picked up the fastest in order to give Gene something to feel confident about. They link hands and hook opposing arms behind their heads. In one swoop their grips slide down each other's arms till they catch their hands again.

Eugene grins.

Snafu uses their momentum to snap them close together again and they playfully push each other to rotate clockwise.

"Feeling better?" Snafu asks.

"He was smarmy," Eugene states. He switches direction on the beat and touches Snafu's shoulder to follow.

"He was," Snafu agrees, amused.

"He's not your type," Eugene says, turning a second time.

"Definitely not," Snafu agrees again.

"What is your type?" Eugene asks. He sounds slightly worried, as if the thought just occurred to him that Snafu might have a 'type'. And he might not be it.

"I like guys who are smarter than me," Snafu reassures him smarmily.

"Well shit, that rules out at least ninety percent of the population," Eugene declares.

"Yeah," Snafu grins, "Good thing I found you."

"Good thing," Eugene agrees.

Snafu swings out and twists back in till he's tucked neatly under Eugene's arm, and pauses to wink at his dance partner. "Plus, you're no elephant," he reassures him.

Eugene snorts, "Actually he might have been right on that front…"

"No way!" Snafu insists, stepping out and holding their hands at length, "You'll be a great dancer. I think you might be ready for a few aerials."

Eugene furrows his brow and looks concerned, "Please tell me you're joking."

"Nope. Don't worry about it, I'm light, you'll toss me around like I'm nothing," he says.

"Snaf," Eugene exclaims, "I'll end up dropping you is what I'll do."

"You won't," Snafu insists. He shim shams into Eugene's space and tilts his head up till they're a breath away from kissing, and smiles disarmingly, "I trust you."

Which, of course, Eugene can never resist so here they are on the dance floor, Snafu explaining the simple physics of launching one body off another to an expert in biology. Hooking their arms together and him rolling over Eugene's back is the easiest so they start there.

For all his nerves, Eugene proves to be a very solid dance partner. He never shies away from a hold, and his feet might be slightly off but they never stumble. The first time Eugene effortlessly swings Snafu over his leg and into a side dip, Snafu's heart is fluttering in his chest and he's gazing up at Eugene in exuberant delight. Eugene sets Snafu down, swings him out, and when they come back together they almost collapse against one another in relieved laughter over their success. Snafu's arms lope around Eugene's neck and they giggle terribly.

Snafu didn't expect this.

He probably should have, Eugene never does anything by half and he always is a quick learner. Eugene picks up the steps so fast, in fact, that by the end of the second hour Snafu has to start shooing wallflower girls away who keep wanting to take Snafu's place.

Eugene, being Eugene, completely fails to notice the girls' interest, which is almost as entertaining as him refusing to take his attention off Snafu all night. A few times Snafu offers to give Eugene a break, and maybe find his own girl to take for a spin in the middle of the dance floor. But Eugene insists he needs no breaks.

When the music finally switches to something slow, Snafu slides to a stop and leans heavily against Eugene's shoulder panting.

"Let's get some water," Eugene suggests, and pats Snafu on the back. He starts off in the direction of the bar but Snafu hangs behind.

"What," Snafu taunts when Eugene glances back at him, "You won't slow dance with me?"

Eugene's eyebrows shoot up, his eyes go wide.

Snafu doesn't give him a chance to overthink things. He takes Eugene's hands, positions them properly for a waltz, and leads him into the dance. At first Eugene is stiff, and he refuses to make eye contact with Snafu, too busy scanning the room.

But after a few steps, after the world doesn't end, Eugene folds in closer to Snafu's body. Their cheeks brush. And Eugene's ear is suddenly right there, in front of Snafu's mouth. So Snafu tightens his embrace, and sings along to the song's romantic lyrics in a whisper meant for Eugene alone.

Snafu can understand Eugene's initial hesitation. After all the years Snafu spent sharing dances with various partners he didn't give a shit about, this feels especially vulnerable, despite the fact that they are one couple among thousands on the floor. There's a part of him that didn't think he'd ever have this moment. That for all the people jumping at the chance to dance with him, Snafu'd never feel the same way about someone else.

Eugene is so fucking gentle, it's easy to mistake him as soft. His hand is light against the small of Snafu's back. It's a little hard to believe not two minutes ago that same hand was gripping Snafu's thigh hard as Eugene spun him into an aerial. But as always, Eugene only uses his strength when necessary.

"When I graduate this year, I'm going to do my PHD in Florida," Eugene says as they slowly sway to the music, "I know I'm asking a lot but...Merriell...would you come with me?"

Snafu remains silent. He hadn't fully considered what loving Eugene might actually mean. That with him came Alabama, the Sledge family, the universities...

"I'll have a stipend, to take the financial pressure off," Eugene hastily elaborates, because Eugene always feels that if he adds more facts into the conversation he'll be more likely to win, "If you can find a job locally, that'd be great, but you wouldn't need to work. I've been budgeting this past year and I've calculated a way for the two of us to live off what I make. Maybe not comfortably, but it wouldn't be for long. When I get my diploma we can go back to New Orleans, or anywhere you want really. There are colleges and universities in almost any city. Snafu, I want you with me. No more pining after you every week and only feeling whole on the weekends…"

"How long've you been thinking about this?" Snafu asks.

Eugene is quiet for a while. "Do you mean how long have I been planning for it, or how long have I wanted it?"

"The second one?" Snafu asks, slightly uncertain.

"That day on the train…" Eugene begins.

"A few days??" Snafu interrupts incredulously, "That's all the thought you've given this, for fucks sake Gene!"

"On the train in 1946!" Eugene corrects sternly.

Which just about shuts Snafu up.

"Why the hell didn't you say anything sooner?" Snafu asks.

"Snaf, if you would just let me finish," Eugene complains, "That day on the train Burgie was talking about marriage, you were asking about jobs, everybody seemed to be thinking about commitments and when you turned to me the only damn certainty I had in my head was you. But then you didn't say goodbye. I thought...I figured…you were done with us in your life...with me."

"If I follow you to Florida will that make up for it?" Snafu asks.

Eugene grins, real slow, like he knows the past four years of Snafu being at Eugene's beck and call is partially Snafu's way of atoning for his abrupt departure. "It just might," Eugene says confidently, "It just might."

One thing about the timeline of everything doesn't add up in Snafu's mind. "So," he says, "I don't say goodbye and six months later you go and get yourself married?"

"I assumed leaving was your hint to me to try to fall back into civilian life. To forget about the war, and war buddies, live normally. And according to everyone, that meant marriage," Eugene sighs.

"Who's everybody?" Snafu smirks.

"Not you, obviously, Mr. Confirmed Bachelor," Eugene smiles back at him slyly, "But my mother, and Sid. Hell, even my brother got on me for still being a virgin."

Snafu laughs and dips his head closer to Eugene as they dance. He rests his cheek on Eugene's shoulder along with most of his weight, relying on Eugene to hold them both upright. "Did you love Edna?" he asks.

"I did, but not in the way she wanted," Eugene says quietly, "She's a lovely person, sometimes I wish I could love her like she deserves, like how I love you. Might've made life easier. But not better, I don't think."

"You saying me walking back into your life after your divorce made things better?" Snafu laughs at the absurdity.

"Yes," Eugene says seriously, "Infinitely better."

Snafu lifts his head from Eugene's shoulder in order to pull away and look into his eyes, to see if he's telling the truth. "Okay," Snafu agrees, "We'll go to Florida together. Till then, I'll see if my boss knows anyone in Auburn who can find me some work up there, and I'll move to Alabama."

Eugene gives Snafu a blank stare, so akin to the ones Snafu usually gives him, that it throws Snafu off and makes him question everything (including the efficacy of his own blank stares, maybe he should try to learn to communicate better).

The song the band is playing comes to an end, and the swing starts up again. The couples around them whirl into motion. But nobody pays attention to the two men standing in the middle of it all with their arms locked around each other.

Till Eugene surges forward and kisses Snafu.

The kiss catches Snafu off guard. Eugene's hand is flat on the small of Snafu's back and is holding Snafu flush against Eugene's body. Good thing too, cause Snafu's knees almost buckle in surprise. Eugene bends him over backwards in his enthusiasm to kiss Snafu harder, and Snafu wraps his arms tight around Eugene's neck and smiles into the kiss.

This is it, this is the 'war-is-over-we-are-going-home-together-in-triumph' kiss Snafu has been waiting for. Not triumph in the form of parades and adulation. But triumph in that against all odds, they survived, they found each other, Eugene fucking loves him, and they're gonna actually, finally...live.

They're about six years late, but Snafu figures that's forgivable when taking into account insecurities and the lingering numbness and fear hanging round their necks.

Eugene breaks the kiss and stares into Snafu's eyes, and Eugene is so pretty - he's so fucking pretty it hurts. Snafu wants to kiss him till all traces of that war weary blankness are gone from his eyes. There's moments - when Eugene comes to life with his sarcasm or sly wit or intellectual curiosity, and Snafu likes to pride himself on being able to bring those moments out. But is it enough?

After a bit Snafu begins to notice that it's not just them gone completely still. The couples around them are stopping and staring, and whispering.

"Shit," Snafu says under his breath to Eugene. He ducks his head and takes his arms off Eugene's shoulders.

"Yeah, we should probably get out of here," Eugene agrees. His hands still grip Snafu's hips.

Snafu laughs, giddy and reckless, and bumps his shoulder playfully into Gene's. If anyone nearby had any doubts after that kiss, all they'd have to do is take one look at Eugene's face and see how damn in love he is.

"Hey!" someone in the crowd calls out and Snafu can see the guy coming at them in the peripheral of his vision.

Snafu grabs Eugene's elbow. "Walk fast, but try to not draw more attention," he whispers and leads Eugene off the dance floor. They make it to the entrance and out the doors. As soon as they get outside, Snafu twines his hand with Eugene's and breaks into a run, their feet hitting the wooden boardwalk with loud hollow thumps. They can hear agitated voices and footsteps behind them, and they don't stop running till they reach the car.

Snafu slams the passenger door shut and turns to Eugene as soon as he gets inside. They're laughing from adrenaline and Snafu's heart is racing. He cups Eugene's cheek and tilts his head for another quick kiss before Eugene starts the engine.

Somehow Eugene knows the drive back to the hotel on the oceanside cliffs. Snafu doesn't pay any attention. He kicks his feet up on the dash and is too busy admiring Gene's long nose and the curve of his jaw backlit by the passing neon lights to give any thought to the car's direction.

The parking lot for the hotel is at the top of the cliff. There's a locked iron gate, nestled between eight foot tall hedges, with the name of the place welded onto it in an arc. The gate is small, and barely noticeable at the edge of the lot. Eugene has a key - it's antique and very decorative - and lets them in. The stairway beyond the gate switchbacks down the cliff, with thick walls protecting people from falling off the path. The air is thick and heavy with the smell of flowers growing abundantly around them.

Snafu pauses under one of the lamps. He folds his elbows over the wall, rests his chin on top, and looks out across the hotel and gardens below, and the ocean beyond. "We stepped into a goddamn fairytale," Snafu says.

Eugene comes up behind him with an embrace and rests his chin on Snafu's head, "Does that make you my prince?"

"No way," Snafu emphatically denies, "If anyone is a prince in this scenario, it's you Gene."

"Impossible," Eugene says with a smile, "Prince Eugene sounds like a pompous ass. Prince Merriell, on the other hand…."

Snafu laughs. "Maybe that's what my ma had in mind when she made up my name."

"Definitely," Eugene agrees, "She knew you'd grow up regal."

"Fuck regal," Snafu rolls his eyes, "Fuck propriety. You willing to give up all that shit for me, Gene? We ain't gonna be accepted into those circles anymore."

"Yes," Eugene says readily.

And Snafu believes him.

Their hotel suite, as expected, has white lace curtains covering each window, holding back the ocean breeze. Snafu's mother hung lace curtains in their home too, but those were already yellowed with age, patched in places, and quickly turned grey with dust. These hotel curtains reach to the floor and yet remain pristine.

Snafu stands on the balcony and smokes before bed. Eugene sits inside and reads. Or at least Snafu thinks Eugene is reading. Snafu turns his gaze away from the ocean only to catch Eugene guiltily ducking his head behind his journal.

"What?" Snafu asks, with a wry smile.

"Nothing," Eugene says, which almost definitely means it's something he's embarrassed about.

Snafu snubs out his cigarette and leans over Eugene's shoulder to investigate.

"Thought you just drew plants?" Snafu asks.

"I'm expanding my range," Eugene says dryly.

"You made me look skinny," Snafu comments.

"You are skinny," Eugene counters. He hooks an arm around Snafu's waist and walks him over to the bed. He sweeps Snafu off his feet in one of the lindy hop holds, and tosses Snafu onto the bed.

"Never should have taught you those aerials," Snafu teases. He stretches out across the pillows and dares Eugene with his eyes to join him.

Eugene says nothing, just grins widely as he climbs onto the bed next to Snafu.

Snafu kisses that self satisfied smile on Eugene's face.

They lie next to each other, their legs entwined, and their noses so close they're almost touching. There's a lightness in Snafu's chest he's never felt before. Happiness he knows, elation he knows - as rare as those things are. But this is new. He knows it can't last. Nightmares will come, they won't just go away, but for now he can lie here and soak up Gene's presence.

"I already knew you loved me," Snafu confesses.

"What do you mean?" Eugene asks.

"Even before you said it today. I think I've known since Okinawa," Snafu says.

"I figured," Eugene replies.

"Were a couple of fucking cowards," Snafu laughs.

"No, the world is cowardly," Eugene counters, "We were just trying too hard to adapt to it."

Snafu bites his bottom lip in consideration. He lifts his chin, thinks about saying something, and then decides words aren't necessary. Gene knows. Gene's always known. Snafu reaches over and gently takes Eugene's hand. Snafu twists around and pulls Eugene's arm across his body till his back is tucked against Eugene's chest.

Eugene folds around him. He's warm, and he's so much in love.

"Snaf," Eugene whispers in his ear before they fall asleep, "Let's get it right this time. Just you and me." 

tagging requests: @xmxisxforxmaybe​ @diasimar (btw i think you have tagging turned off) (also if I am missing anybody on this list I apologize, pls tell me <3)

[alj4890]

RCD Appreciation Week Day 7 Prompt

(Thomas Hunt x oc*Amanda) with the day's prompt of anything goes and with the prompt of a marriage proposal as requested by @krsnlove

(Thomas Hunt x oc*Amanda) A Choices: Red Carpet Diaries Fan Fiction

A/N My bff requested another type of proposal between these two. Not a part of my AU's but seemed appropriate to end this week of co-hosting RCD prompts with the lovely @hopelessromantic1352 @lilyofchoices and @moodyvalentinestories

@lxaah11​ @alleksa16​ @penguininapinktuxedo​ @blackcoffee85​ @stopforamoment​ @hopefulmoonobject​   @krsnlove​   @annekebbphotography  @cora-nova @hopelessromantic1352 . @sunflowergirl05 @desiree-0816 @greywitchyshots @lilyofchoices @moodyvalentinestories @emceesynonymroll @dr-nancy-house @aworldoffandoms @ab1901 @pixieferry @lolablackwrites @flyawayboo @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @trappedinfandoms @rcd-appreciation

Masterlist

Rumor Has It

In other entertainment news, look who was caught leaving a very well known jeweler's in Los Angeles! Could it be that the famous director has finally decided to take the marital plunge? Sources close to Thomas Hunt claim that the duchess from Cordonia that is more often than not by his side has somehow caused that cold heart of his to melt. Will we soon see something special on her left hand?

Amanda stared at the screen with jaw dropped. Could it be true? Was Thomas planning on proposing? She fumbled with the remote control and quickly turned the channel when she heard his shower shut off. She finished applying her makeup then tried to zip her dress.

Warm hands brushed hers aside and took over the task. She smiled at Thomas over her shoulder.

"Thank you." She leaned back against him when he placed a kiss along the curve of her neck. Tingling sensations shot through her veins from his touch and imagining him proposing. Good thing sources close to her had not shared how crazy in love she was with him.

"My pleasure." He murmured, lifting his eyes to the mirror. He smiled softly at their reflection.

She kissed his cheek then wiped the lipstick mark off. She couldn't stop the slight blush nor her laughter when he teased her about marking him for her own.

She turned in his arms to kiss his lips tenderly. "I do love you being mine." Amanda admitted.

Thomas gripped her to him and continued the kiss. "Not nearly as much as I do." He stepped back to admire her in her cocktail dress. The green satin had turned her hazel eyes a deep forest green with flecks of gold. He glanced down at her hand. "I believe this is missing something."

Her eyes widened as he held up her left hand. "You do?"

He walked over to his nightstand and picked up a box out of top drawer.

She wondered if he could hear her pounding heartbeat from over there. It looked a little bigger than a ring box but perhaps--

He pulled out her watch. "I found this shortly after you left the last time you visited. The clasp was broken and I took it in to be repaired." He placed it on her wrist and snapped it closed. "There. I know how much you hate not knowing what time it is."

She swallowed down her disappointment. This was what she got for watching all that gossip news show. "Thank you. That was very sweet of you to take it in. How much do I owe you?"

Thomas placed his arms around her once more. "I think I can afford to have your watch fixed." He pressed a kiss to her palm. "Ready to go?"

"Hmm? Yes. Of course." She walked out of his arms and grabbed her purse. Amanda looked at her watch and felt her heart plummet that it seemed to not be the time for Thomas to admit his feelings for her. She decided to not dwell on the rumor being untrue and to enjoy their time together.

He followed her downstairs while putting his blazer on. His eyes remained on her and held a bit of heat as they traveled her curves. "I appreciate you agreeing to attend this dinner with me that the university is hosting."

"Well, I am hungry." Amanda teased.

"So that's the reason you agreed, is it?" He asked, lips curving as he pulled her flush to him. "And here I thought it might have something to do with me."

"It might." She replied, trying her hardest to breathe normally. After all these months dating, his touch combined with the way he looked at her still managed to her heart race.

"I hope so." He softly kissed her.

_____________

A short time later...

Amanda listened with a pleasant expression on her face to the conversation Thomas was having with a few other professors. As the trio debated Ingmar Bergman's films and their influence on today’s cinema, she started daydreaming of this being her possible future. Could I be happy being the wife of a Hollywood director?

She did share his love of movies. She found this particular art of storytelling fascinating. She loved listening to him talk with such passion about it. His dedication to this art form made her excited to see more of the creative process. Thomas might possibly be the most interesting person she knew.

His personality intrigued her. He was a somewhat quiet, serious minded person; yet with her a sweet tenderness and dry sense of humor appeared. He never ceased to amaze her with his thoughtfulness nor his ability to make her smile.

He was completely different from the other men she had dated in the past. Being a member of Cordonia's nobility had put her in the path of a number powerful, confident men in the diplomatic and business professions. A chance encounter with Thomas had been a breath of fresh air. His confidence had come from his accomplishments rather than those of his ancestors or in some form of nepotism.

His deep voice drew her attention back to the conversation. Her eyes traced his handsome features, causing her senses to ruffle with thoughts of past intimate conversations. His eyes met hers, as if reading her thoughts, and he slipped his arm around her waist.

The other two professors walked off to mingle, leaving the couple to a moment of privacy.

"I hope you aren't too bored." Thomas set his empty glass down and gently caressed her cheek.

"Not at all." Amanda quickly assured him.

Thomas lifted an eyebrow in disbelief. "You've been very quiet this evening. Is something wrong?"

"No. Nothing's wrong." She softly kissed his cheek.

He slipped his other arm around her. "Do you think you will enjoy your visit? It will be fairly uneventful while I finish up these next few weeks of lectures."

"Thomas, I prefer the non event days." She linked her arms around him. "I love it when we can just relax and be together, just the two of us."

His concerned frown eased with her reassurance. He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead and then addressed the next person to call his name.

_____________

Middle of the night...

"There you are." He came up behind her and leaned against the railing of his balcony. "Can't sleep?"

Amanda shook her head while looking out over his backyard. "I didn't mean to disturb you. I usually stand out on my balcony at night when I can't sleep back home."

Thomas settled his hand over hers. "What's on your mind?"

She looked down while a rueful grin formed. "Life in general I suppose."

"Much too complicated to figure out at four in the morning." He pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Come back inside." He tugged her back into his room.

She climbed back into bed and let out a deep, contented sigh when he scooted closer behind her. His hands caressed her back and shoulders while his lips touched the back of her neck. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment. His hands moved around to her front and pulled her back against his chest.

She turned over and smiled sleepily. "I thought you wanted me to go back to sleep."

"I don't recall saying that." He replied. The way he looked at her made body tingle.

"I see." Humor lurked in her eyes as she met his steady gaze. "So your concern for my being outside had an ulterior motive."

"Not completely ulterior." He argued, while kissing up to her lips. "I believe I have never hid this from you."

She laughed while kissing him. "You are very lucky I adore you."

He paused before giving her a thought stealing kiss. "Yes, I am."

______________

A few days later...

While Thomas lectured, Amanda quietly slipped into one of the empty chairs. She looked around at the class hurriedly writing notes to what he was saying. She propped her chin on her hand and observed him for the first time in professor mode.

She had been curious after hearing Addison's description of his teaching methods. Since he planned on taking her to an early dinner and movie, they had decided to meet at the university. It had been her idea to come a little earlier than planned to sneak into the auditorium and watch him in action.

As he spoke of Leo McCarey's method of mostly improvisation instead of script for the 1937 movie, The Awful Truth; Amanda felt herself fall for this side of his persona. His fierce frown at some of the more asinine questions posed by his students made her lips tremble with suppressed laughter. Though he was harsh in his impatience, he still made the effort to answer each student's query.

His dark eyes swept the class, checking to make certain there were no other misconceptions when he doublebacked on Amanda. Her smile brought his own out. His students stared at him in shock before searching for the source of this strange phenomenon. Thomas realized what he had done and quickly dismissed the class early.

Amanda gathered her jacket and purse.

"A word, Ms. Bridgerton." He called out in a stern tone.

She coughed on a laugh as she approached. "Yes, professor?"

He stepped down with his satchel and stopped before her. He cupped her face and kissed her tenderly. "If I had known you would be observing the class, I would have attempted to make it more interesting."

She smiled and straightened his tie. "I found it very interesting. Most of what you discussed has some of my favorite moments with Cary Grant." Her eyes met his. "Plus it helped that the professor is so handsome. Very difficult to ignore."

He smiled before urging her out of the classroom.

_______________

Amanda's eyes widened at the table set with candles and roses. "I thought this was supposed to be a more casual dinner." She tugged at her short black knit dress with whimsical stars on it.

Thomas's warm hand moved up and down her back in a soothing caress. "Just because it's casual doesn't mean it can't be romantic." He pulled her chair out for her.

She sat down and thanked the waiter once their wine was poured. "Are we celebrating something?"

"No." He took her left hand in between his hands. "Can I not occassionaly try and make you feel special?"

Amanda gently squeezed his hand. "I think I could live with that."

His expression remained serious. "Could you live happily with that?"

She chuckled. "I can't think of anyone who doesn't enjoy being made to feel special."

He looked down at her hand. "Do you ever think of the future?"

She picked up her glass and nodded. "Of course. Doesn't everyone?"

He frowned for a moment. "Have you thought about a future with me?"

She coughed in her wine glass. She set it down while she strangled on the sip and tears came to her eyes. Oh Lord. Why did I have to have something like this happen at such a moment? She avoided all the curious looks cast her way from the other patrons.

Thomas rubbed her back while she tried to breathe. She wiped her tears and spoke in a raspy voice. "In case that was misunderstood, I have thought of a future with you."

His lips curved briefly. "And what do you see?"

Her cheeks flared with color. "I...I see us having a life together, one with a home and a family." She squirmed under his unwavering stare. "It is difficult not thinking of the possibility when you make each time we are together so lovely."

"And here I thought it was your fault for such thoughts." He teased.

Her entire face was red. She looked out the window their table was near and tried to get her thoughts together. "I can't see that I have done much of anything."

"Only made me fall for you more and more each and every time we are together." Thomas looked down at her hand. "I did not expect nor look for it to happen. Then meeting you threw out my eternal bachelor plans."

Amanda's lips parted in surprise. She sat there silently while he raised her hand to his lips. "I do not admit to such lightly. I am not one to succumb to love as easily as others. I'm also certain I'm not expressing this as one would typically...but I do love you with all my heart."

Amanda gripped his hand. "I love you too."

He studied her eyes as if to make certain it was true before pulling out a ring box. "Then perhaps you would be willing to marry me." He opened it and lifted a diamond ring from the velvet interior. He gently slid it over her finger.

He waited for her to respond. She seemed incapable of both words and looking at the ring. Right when he was about to take back his proposal, she leaned forward and kissed him. Her hands gripped his blue dress shirt while her lips moved over his again and again. He held her close and ignored the surprised gasps and whispers of the restaurant's patrons.

She slowly ended the kiss. "I would love to marry you." She whispered against his lips. "I can't think of a single thing on this earth that would make me happier than spending my life with you."

He slammed his lips down on hers. Their waiter cleared his throat and nervously asked if they were ready to order

"Can we go home?" Amanda whispered in Thomas's ear.

He stood up so quickly the waiter jumped. "Here. Keep whatever is left over for a tip." Thomas quickly handed the waiter a couple of hundred dollar bills while yanking Amanda along with him out the door.

He gently pushed her into the car and followed in after her the moment paparazzi appeared. As the driver pulled away, Amanda rested her head against his shoulder and looked down at her hand. Her engagement ring sparkled in the passing streetlights.

"When did you know?" She asked.

Thomas looked down at her. "Knew what?"

"That you loved me?" She swallowed nervously. "I knew I was falling in love with you shortly after we started spending time together."

Thomas's expression softened. "I believe I knew fairly early on that I was losing my heart to you."

"Why didn't you ever say something?"

He smoothed her hair behind her ear. "You were not exactly as forthcoming with how you felt about me."

He could see her blush in the darkness.

"I wasn't certain you would want me to admitting to being in love with you." She confessed. "You do have a reputation for ending relationships quickly."

He softly groaned before cuddling her closer to his side. "I supppse I do." Thomas nuzzled her neck. "And yet you came along and changed all that. I actually wanted to prolong every visit. Planning for the next time I could see you was the only aspect that made saying goodbye each time easier."

Amamda turned her head and met his lips in a kiss. "I believe this ring is a promise that one day we won't have to say goodbye."

Thomas looked into her eyes. Her hand softly caressed his cheek. He pressed his lips there and held still for an extra beat. "I am going to need that day to be soon."

"Good." She replied. Her lips curved with all the happiness she was feeling. "I was hoping I wasn't the only one who needed that too."

_______________

Three weeks later....

Breaking entertainment news tonight: Thomas Hunt ended his dating relationship with Lady Amanda Bridgerton this past weekend. In what was believed to be an invite to a Christmas party, ended up being a secret wedding ceremony for the couple. Those nearest to the couple were surprised not only to find out the two were engaged but that they were marrying right then.

Our own Ana de Luca was one of the guests invited. She reports that the touching ceremony was held in front of a beautifully decorated Christmas tree in Hunt's living room. Friends and loved ones from both Cordonia and Hollywood celebrated late into the night with the bride and groom. The newlyweds are rumored to be postponing their honeymoon until after the holidays. When asked by Ana what their plans are until then, they are reported to have smiled at one another and said, "Nothing, except spend time together."

[imagine-loki]

Insomnia Calling

TITLE: Insomnia Calling  CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One Shot AUTHOR: BlackIrisPosts ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine it is the middle of the night and you can’t fall asleep due to insomnia…  RATING: PG / Teen NOTES/WARNINGS: Fluff, Swearing. Like with the Praying to the God of Mischief Prompt, I saw this prompt and just could not let it pass without writing something for it.

10 PM

“Alright. I’m going to bed early. I’m relaxed, calm. I’ve got my book, tea, soothing spa music. Let’s do this.”

You hunker down in a plethora of pillows and blankets – your very own nest of comfort—ready for a sleep filled night.

11 PM

Tea’s gone. Though you reach for it often, craving one more sip of the calming chamomile.

12 AM

Relaxed? Check.

New book? Fully enjoying it.

Actually about to sleep? Absolutely not.

1 AM

New cuppa in hand, you settle back in bed and resume reading. If you couldn’t sleep then at least you’re going to thoroughly enjoy this dark fantasy novel. Tobias, the hunky and annoyed main character had won your heart. And dammit all when, for the love of all things good in this world, when is he going to finally kiss Leila? BUT WHEN? You had to know.

2 AM

Okay. Book temporarily abandoned in hopes of finding the elusive thing called sleep. Maybe meditating and essential oils will help. Lavender is relaxing, and you like lavender.

3:30 AM

The witching hour. As you’ve taken to calling it on nights like these when your mind wanders through fields of nothing and no matter how many sheep you count sleep seems impossible.

Scrolling through your phone aimlessly you switch from social media to your photo gallery. One, in particular, catches your eye, stalling you. A picture of you and Loki from last week’s luncheon. Her arms wrapped around your waist, her chin on your shoulder, smile beaming brightly. You shouldn’t be in love with your best friend. That’s so cliché, right? But, honestly, how could you not? Killer smile, dark sense of humor, great laugh; tip of the iceberg of awesome that was your BFF.

Fuck. You have it bad. But. Loki might be up. She’s been known to have a shitty sleeping schedule too. You could no longer count the nights you’ve texted and chatted away both unable to sleep.

Y/N—Can’t sleep. You up?

Your thumb hovers over the touch screen, internally debating if you should or shouldn’t send it.

Fuck it. You can keep it chill. She’s your friend first. No matter how much you want to tell her that you wish she could be so much more to you.

You push the nonexistent ‘send’ button on the touch screen and let out a deep breath.

“Well, that’s done.” You toss your phone onto the plush purple duvet and sigh.

Your phone vibrates once. Twice.

Shrugging to yourself you grab it and open your messages.

L.L.—Not a fucking wink.

L.L.—You try meditating?

You chuckle, it was her idea to begin with. She swore it always worked.

Y/N—Yep.

L.L.—And?

Y/N—Big fat zero.

L.L.—You try whacking it?  

Y/N—Girl.

Y/N—No. Not in the mood.

Three dots light up over and over again.

L.L.—Can I come over?

L.L.—I’ll bring cookies? Or vodka? Or both?

L.L.—Whatever you want, it’s yours.

Y/N—Just you

L.L.—Sold! To the highest bidder!

L.L.—See ya soon, cutie

Y/N—Yeah, yeah, love you 2

You grumble into your pillow. Equally happy and weary of her coming over. At least you changed the sheets earlier that day.

Moments go by and a soft knock sounds at your door before it opens and Loki lets herself in; a beautiful contrast to her strong personality.

“I brought cookies anyways.”

“Hello, to you too, Lok.”

“Sorry. Hey, bitch.” She points to your bed, overflowing with pillows and blankets. “Any room in there for me?”

“Make yourself at home.” You laugh in response as she climbs in.

Loki nods, holding a cookie to your lips.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Take it.”

“Lok.”

“Come on. They’re your fav. Made ‘em just for you.”

“Made? Or conjured?” You eye her skeptically and take a bite out of half the cookie.

“Okay, fine. But they’re good right?”

You moan around a mouth full, grabbing her wrist as she tries to pull it away from you.

“Nuh-huh, that’s mine.”

She smirks at your childish antics and feeds you the rest of it.

“I don’t think cookies are the elixir to sleep, but I’m willing to O.D. to find out.”

“Glad you like ‘em.”

A moment passes in quiet bliss as the pair of you eat cookies.

“You know what you need?” Loki starts staring blankly at your unadorned ceiling. 

“Sleeps?”

“We need that. You need fairy lights.”

“I know I was gonna put some up, but I can’t really reach the ceiling and—”

Loki smirks flicking a wrist, swirling green magic edges around the room, leaving dozens of strands of twinkling miniature fairy lights woven across your walls and ceiling.

“Shit.” You look deep into Loki’s eyes, dozens of lights reflecting in gorgeous brown eyes. “Thank you!”

“Don’t mention it,” Loki grunts out as you roll onto her hugging her tightly to you.

“You’re the best.”

“Maybe.” She laughs lightly, cuddling into you, draping an arm over your stomach.

Loki grabs the cookies and tosses them onto your nightstand.

“I’m never leaving this room now,” You said, only half joking.

“Because of the lights?”

“Because of the lights.”

You sigh and run a hand through her hair.

“Feels nice.” She hums and you finally feel your body start to relax as your fingers idly continue to play with her curls. “If only we could sleep.”

“What is this sleep you talk of?”

“No fucking clue.” Loki chortles.

“Sing me a story?”

“Sing? No.”

“But your voice is so pretty.” You plead in a whisper.

“Maybe.”

A calm silence stretched between you, both entranced by the lights and comfort of the bed.

As some point, Loki starts humming a song you’ve heard her sing thousands of times. You know the words by heart and a soft smile crosses your lips. She continues to half hum half sing various songs in tongues you’ve never heard.

You sigh happily, fingers slowing their ministrations in your near sleeping state. Feeling the groggy pull of rest, you nuzzle into Loki’s side, tucking your head in the crook of her neck.

Loki smiles and continues to hum. She pulls a soft fluffy blanket over you. The fuzzy fabric is the last thing you remember as you drift off finally lulled to sleep by her angelic voice.

She kisses the top of your head, squeezing you gently.

“Sweet dreams, my little dove.” 

[winchesterprincessbride]

The Contest-Part 32

To celebrate Supernatural’s 15th season, the producers have decided to hold a contest to cast an unknown in a recurring role as Sam’s rumored love interest.  They are doing open casting calls all over the country.  Your best friend Nikki wants to go and she drags you along.

A/N: My inspiration for Nikki is the one and only Red, AKA @oriona75.  So I am actually telling two stories here, Jared and Readers, and Sam and Gemini’s.  It flips back and forth, so try and keep up! : *Note: My vision for the show is different from what has actually happened, and some characters and plotlines may differ.

Characters: Jared Padalecki, Reader, Best friend Nikki(OC) Jensen Ackles, Misha Collins, Mark Sheppard, Mark Pellegrino, Rory Montgomery (OC), PA Emily (OC) Cliff, Other Supernatural cast and crew, Readers sister Karen (OC)

Master List

Part 1 (all parts are linked)

Reader’s POV

“No! I can’t be. I can’t.  We were careful.”  I whispered, shaking my head in denial. Then I remembered the night Jared and Rory got into their fight. Okay, so we were mostly careful.

“You never answered my question, Y/N. How late are you?” Nikki asked softly.

With a sigh of defeat, I pulled up my calendar on my phone and counted, and counted again. “Two weeks.” I finally admitted. “I thought it was from stress.”

“Maybe we should just go to the drugstore and get a test. That way we can be sure.” Nikki said in that no-nonsense way of hers.

“What if I am? What will I do? I’m not married like you are. This wasn’t planned. And what about the show? How do I drop that little bombshell? And how do I tell Jared? He has three kids already, I have no idea if he even wants any more.” I dropped my head into my hands. “I’m really freaking out here, Nik.”

She sat down next to me and rubbed my back gently. “Well let’s find out if you are first before we panic. And as for everything else, we’ll figure it out. How about you finish packing us up for our flight and I’ll go buy the test? It will take your mind off of things for the moment.”

I nodded.  “Okay, let’s do that.  Thanks, Nikki. I don’t know what I would do without you!”

She grinned at me,  “You’d still be a nurse back in Philly, Sister.”

Gemini’s POV

They all sat around the table in the war room looking at me. 

“Can you tell us what happened back there, Gem?” Sam asked me gently.

“I don’t know,” I said softly. I really didn’t. 

“How do we know it wasn’t Rowena doing her witch mojo thing?” Dean asked.

“It didn’t feel like last time.  It felt different.” I admitted.

“I think I have an idea about what might be going on.” Cas finally said.  

“Well don’t keep us in suspense, Cas. Tell us already!” Dean snapped.

Cas shot Dean his usual look of irritation.  He continued as though Dean hadn’t spoken.  “The baby shares Sam’s blood, including the demon blood. I think the baby may also share Sam’s powers, and they are manifesting themselves through Gemini.”

The room was silent as we all processed this.  Everyone looked from Sam to me and back again.  I stared at him in confusion.   “What is he talking about?  Demon blood?  Powers?  What haven’t you told me?”

Dean coughed awkwardly before glaring at his brother.  “You didn’t tell her?”

“No, I didn’t tell her, Dean.  It happened a long time ago, and it’s not a time in my life that I like to revisit, okay?” Sam snapped.

“Would someone tell me what the hell is going on!” I demanded, smacking my palms on the table for emphasis.

A muscle in Sam’s jaw twitched, and he jumped from his chair and grabbed my wrist, pulling me with him.  “Let’s talk in our room, Gem.”

We sat down next to each other on the bed, Sam still holding my hand tightly in his much-larger one.  I opened my mouth to speak, but Sam put his finger to my lips to silence me. 

“I have a lot I need to tell you, Gem.  Some of this is pretty hard for me to talk about.  I wasn’t keeping this from you, I just never dreamed any of this would come up again.” His hazel eyes looked so troubled.

“Whatever it is, we will figure it out, together,” I told him as I gently caressed his cheek, and he closed his eyes for a minute, leaning into my touch.  Then as though steeling himself for battle, he took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and looked at me.

“It all started when I was six months old……” He began.

Reader’s POV

Nikki was gone for a long time.  So long that I fell asleep waiting for her to come back.  The long nights sitting up with my mother had taken their toll, and my body just finally shut down. When I woke, it was getting dark outside and I panicked.  “Crap, how long was I asleep?”

“At least three hours.  You’ve barely stopped since we got here, and it’s gonna be full-speed ahead when we get home, so I decided to let you sleep.” She pointed to a bag on the table. “The tests are in there.  I got a few different kinds, I wasn’t sure what you wanted.  Just so you know, we need to leave for the airport in about an hour.”

“Great, no pressure or anything,” I muttered. 

“So, are you gonna do it or what? I need to know if my kid is gonna have a BFF or a future spouse.”  Nikki said with a grin.

“I’m glad that you find this all so entertaining.  I’m about to lose my shit and you’re cracking jokes.  Some friend you are!” I sucked my tongue out at her childishly.

“Would you shut up and go pee on the stick already?” Nikki yelled after me as I stomped off to the bathroom to do the test.

“Die you cherry popsicle eating cow!” I screeched as I slammed the door as hard as I could. 

“Love you too, you stupid giraffe!” I heard Nikki swear at the closed door, completely unperturbed. We had been friends too long for any name calling to hurt each other’s feelings.  She knew I didn’t mean it.

I didn’t need to read the instructions, I had been doing pregnancy tests since nursing school.  I peed on the stick, capped it, and waited five of the longest minutes of my life.

Nikki was sitting on the couch quietly when I walked out.  She wasn’t on her phone texting Misha or reading emails, she was just waiting.  I sat down and immediately burst into tears.  She gathered me into her arms and rocked me as I cried.  “It’s gonna be okay, Y/N.  Jared loves you.  He will love this baby too.”

“I’m scared, Nik. I’m not ready to be anyone’s m-m-mother! I gave up everything for this stupid show. My job, my life, my friends. What if they fire me? What if Jared doesn’t want this baby?” I sobbed harder. “I should have been more careful!”

Nikki brushed my hair out of my eyes and handed me a tissue.  “It takes two to tango, girlfriend. Padaleski is a big boy.  This isn’t all on you.  The car will be here any minute to take us to the airport.  Why don’t you go wash your face and freshen up? Jared and Misha are picking us up at the airport, and you don’t want him to see you looking like a hag, do you?” 

She grinned when I cracked a smile. “Your lucky we are both pregnant, Collins, or I would bitch-slap you right now,” I said with a watery chuckle as I hugged her tightly.

Gemini’s POV

It took a long time for Sam to tell me the whole story.  I only interrupted him a few times to ask questions when I was confused about something, and he clarified for me and continued on.  His voice never wavered as he recounted the terrible story that began with the deal Mary made with Azazel to save his father’s life.  He had experienced so much pain, endured so much loss.  My heart just broke for him.  

He finally finished speaking and the silence stretched between us.  “Say something, Gem.” He demanded desperately.

“This just gets stranger and stranger,” I said quietly.

Sam’s shoulder’s slumped in defeat and he looked at the floor.  I put my hand on his cheek and whispered, “Sam, look at me.”  His eyes met mine, and they were shiny with unshed tears. I realized just what it had cost him to relive all of that again.  “I love you.  That isn’t going to change.  And we will figure all this crazy shit out together as long as we are honest with each other, okay?”

“Okay.” He agreed.

I yawned hugely. “Lay with me?” I asked him. “That demon-mojo thing really wiped me out.”

Sam put his arm around my shoulder, and I snuggled in close, burying my face into the warmth of his neck as we talked quietly.  “How are we gonna be able to do this?” He asked me suddenly.

I peeked up at him.  “Do what, exactly?”

“Parent a special kid like this.  You were raised by a witch and me by a hunter.  Not exactly the best role models.” He absently twirled a strand of my hair around his finger.  “We are way out of our league here.”

“My Gram loved Leo and me, and she gave us everything she had until the day she died.  Dean practically raised you and would move heaven and earth for you.  So we’ll make it up as we go and hopefully learn from our mistakes just like regular parents do,” I whispered, my voice fading as my eyes drifted closed and I fell into a deep sleep. 

I woke with a start, still in our bed, but Sam was gone.  There was a strange woman standing at the foot of the bed staring at me.  Blind instinct had me reaching out for my gun which I usually kept on the nightstand, but it wasn’t there.  “You won’t be needing that,” she said with a soft smile.

She was dressed is a long white gown, and her feet were bare.  “Are you an angel? Does Cas know your here?” I snapped. “How were you able to get past the wards?”

She smiled sort of sadly at the mention of Cas’ name. “I’m not an angel. I had to come to you in your dreams.  It’s the only safe place I could reach out to you without him knowing. We need to talk.”

“Who the hell are you?”

She sat down on the edge of the bed.  “My name was Kelly Kline.” She said simply.

Kelly Kline? Why did I know that name? I sat up straighter.  “Wait a minute…. you said “was”.

“Can’t get anything past you, can I? That’s right, I’m dead.” She said softly.

And then it hit me. “Wait a minute.  I know who you are.  You are Lucifer’s son’s mother.  Sam told me about you.”

She nodded. “Yes, I am Jack’s mother.  I died giving birth to him.  That’s why I am here. I know you are pregnant, and I know what your son is destined to do.  I am here to beg you, from one mother to another, to please save my son.”

Reader’s POV

I swore Nikki to secrecy on the plane, making her swear she wouldn’t tell Misha until I’d had a chance to tell Jared.  She rolled her eyes at me.  “Are you serious? Misha can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

“Neither can you, so the two of you are perfect for each other,” I said with a snort.

“Bite me, giraffe,” Nikki said out the side of her mouth.

Jared and Misha were waiting for us when we got off the plane. They must have come directly from the set because Jared was dressed in one of Sam’s flannels and jeans and Misha in Cas’ suit minus the trenchcoat.  

Jared enveloped me in his arms.  “God I missed you. How’s your Mom?”

“Better, thanks. I missed you too.” I leaned into his chest and sighed.  “How’s work been?”

Jared gave a tired sigh.  “Crazy.  We had to juggle some things to shoot around your absence.  Everyone will be happy to see you. Come on, babe.  Let’s get your bag and go home.”

I looked over at Misha. “Hey Mish. I bought your wife back in one piece. Philly is all out of red popsicles, so I had no choice.”

He chuckled as he gave me a hug.  “I hope Nikki behaved herself.  Any run-ins with Mindy while you were home?” He asked.

“Are you kidding? After the smackdown Y/N gave her at our party? Mindy didn’t come within a hundred miles of us.”  Nikki said with a smirk.  “You know your girl’s a badass, right Padaleski?”

“I’d be stupid to argue with you, Nik.” Jared agreed.

After the driver dropped the four of us off at home, we said our goodbyes to Nikki and Misha and headed up to our apartment.  Jared and I didn’t have to be on set until later tomorrow, so we had some time together.

We’d decided we were both too tired to go anywhere, so we ordered food from our favorite Italian place that delivered.  I changed into leggings and a pink Eagles sweatshirt I’d picked up at the airport just to piss Jensen off.

“Nice shirt.  Wonder how fast I can get it off you?” Jared said with a wicked grin.

“Isn’t it great? I thought I’d wear it to work tomorrow.”

Jared laughed that wonderful laugh of his. “Jensen will LOVE that.”

When our dinner came we sat on the couch eating and talking.  He offered me some wine, which I declined. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. I asked him to tell me about the wedding in an effort to change the subject.

“Gen looked beautiful and really happy.  I mostly spent my time corralling the kids.  It felt weird without you there.  I was glad I got to spend time with the kids and see everybody, but I was glad when it was over.” He looked pensive for a moment.

“Did it make you think about your wedding?” I asked quietly.

He shrugged. “Not really.  It made me realize how much I missed being married.  And how much I wished you were with me.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Jared. I know how important it was, but my Mom needed me.” 

He put his hand on my arm.  “Yes, she did. I completely understand. In fact, I’m glad you weren’t there because it helped me figure some stuff out. I need to talk to you about something.”

I put my plate down. “I have something to tell you too,” I whispered. “You go first.”

“So, seeing Gen get married made me realize that I want that again.  With you.  I know this seems sudden, but I’ve been thinking about this from practically the minute we started dating.”

He pulled a black box out of his pocket and my heart skipped a beat.  When he opened it, inside was the most beautiful diamond ring I had ever seen. “ I love you, Y/N. I think you are my soulmate as much Gemini is Sam’s.  Will you marry me?”

“Yes, definitely,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face. I held out my hand and he slipped on the ring.  It fit perfectly.  “It’s so big!” I said in awe.  He leaned in and kissed me, his lips warm and soft on mine.  “I love you, Jared.”

“Well, I’m a big guy.  I couldn’t give you a tiny ring, now could I? So, that was my big news.  What did you want to talk to me about?” He asked curiously.

I took a deep breath.  “ So when I was home…….Nikki figured out that I…….I’m pregnant, Jared.”

(Part 33)

@skybinx-blog  @percywinchester27 @a-sea-of-fandoms @dorky-and-i-know-it @growningupgeek @waiting-4-the-doctor @ladylachesis @chelseypaigeake @tiffanycaruso @allinhishands @theoriginalvicki @elliewinchesterr @nothin-after-79 @oriona75 @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian @faegal04 @padackles2010 @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @imweirdandobsessed @mannagryn1 @munlis @moonlitskinwalker  @phoenixiax @pinknerdpanda @vh1015 @jotink78  @ally-miller16  @hellokittenface  @traceyaudette @theartofbeingmilla  @jaleeniexweenie   @magpiegirl80   @silver-and-green  @atc74 @sams-little-toy @pretty-fortune @luciisthebest @tmccarney @jayankles @bookshido @supersecretspnfanfiction @notnaturalanahi @midnightjazzmine@multifandomlove2002 @ivebeenwinchesterd @kreborn17@dekahg @mariahoedt @mizzezm @frickfracklesackles @jazzzybee @scrumptiousarcadebear @winchestergirl-love @moonstar86 @magickal-angel @duckieburns @imaginesofdreams @gecko9596 @joyfulinfluencermoon @everlastingcas@ronnie248-blog @gemini75eeyore @hartman1967 @the-supernatural-yogi @essie1876 @squirrellover1967 @multifandom-slytherin@beachy2014@dixonsvixon2017 @cloudyaries @smoothdogsgirl@m00sesquirre1 @idratherhaveyou-cursed-ornot@captainradicalpassion@keelzythe2nd @disneymarina@mrswhozeewhatsis@deniewinkle @scrumptiouswinnie @nikkilafox @sammy-salamander @internationalmusicteacher @ellen-reincarnated1967 @i-like-it-heavy-so-i-can-panic @daughterleftbehind @iamnotsaneatall @crispycurly @tjforston @shamelesslydean @goldenolaf25 @my-squirrel-and-moose 

@midnightjazzmine @we-are-band-sexuals-@bohowitch@just-another-busy-fangirl @disneymarina  @frankiea1998 @akshi8278@stylinson531@valynsia @dr-dean@theoutlinez     @luciisthebest  @laurenisnot @maddieburcham1  @canadianjelly@muliermalefici @brewsthespirit-blog @ilsawasanacrobat @nanie5@weasleywinchester-blog @samisimportant @fatalcrossbow @kittenofdoomage @soab1967 @bagiabe @spnbaby67 @plaid-lover-bay25 @feelmyroarrrr @nessy-bearxb @mandylove1000 @kay18115 @carryonmyswansong @nessiebearxb @spn-ficfanatic

[thesassybooskter]

ROOM TO BREATHE by Liz Talley: Feature, Excerpt & Giveaway

NOW AVAILABLE / MONTLAKE ROMANCE

For a good part of Daphne Witt’s life, she was a supportive wife and dutiful mother. Now that she’s divorced and her daughter, Ellery, is all grown up, Daphne’s celebrating the best part of her life, a successful career, and a flirtation with an attentive hunk fifteen years her junior . . . who happens to be her daughter’s ex-boyfriend.

Ellery is starting over, too. She’s fresh out of college. Her job prospects are dim. And to support her fiancé in med school, she’s returned home as her mother’s new assistant. Ellery never expected her own life plan to take such a detour. With no outlet for her frustration, she lets an online flirtation go a little too far, especially considering her pen pal thinks he’s corresponding with her mother.

As love lives tangle, secrets spill, and indiscretions are betrayed, mother and daughter will have a lot to learn—not only about the mistakes they’ve made but also about the men in their lives and the women they are each hoping to become.

Buy Online: Amazon | Add to Goodreads

    From the Author: Starting and Starting Over in Room To Breathe by Liz Talley

Room to Breathe is a story of two southern women at very different stages in their lives who are experiencing the same sense of “starting over.” Daphne Witt is weeks from turning forty, in a career that she never expected, and ready to start dating after a divorce. Her daughter Ellery is essentially untested in the world. Young, beautiful, accustomed to everything going her way, Ellery finds herself with a less than dazzling job, a distracted fiancé and, for the first time ever, doubts about who she is and where she’s going. When the novel begins, we find Daphne dealing with an awakened libido she thought long dead, and Ellery struggling to accept working for her mother and living with a fiancé who has little time for her. Both women redirect their dissatisfaction toward secret desires – Daphne for a much younger contractor, and Ellery for a secret email pal who thinks she’s her mother. Like the vines of a vineyard, things get tangled quickly by decisions that not only threaten the fragile mother-daughter relationship, but each woman’s future.

One thing I really like about Daphne is her self-awareness. She’s been content to stand in the wings while everyone else in her life commandeered the spotlight, but now she’s ready to take her turn on the stage. She’s bumbled into a dream she never knew existed as a children’s author, and she’s really good at what she does and becomes an overnight success. But her family, even her ex-husband, can’t seem to let go of the woman she once was. They want the old Daphne, the one who put everyone else before herself. I intentionally gave Daphne a secret crush on a younger man and had her pay attention to her sexuality. Women of a certain age are often set aside, as if their “ sexiness” has a shelf life. I wanted Daphne awakened to the fact that as a woman entering her forties, she still needed intimacy and affection. I wanted her to struggle with the guilt, be tempted, and have a little fun with someone…young enough to date her daughter.

Ellery is the girl I once was. I remember being invincible, tossing my curls over my shoulder as a flounced around in my cheerleading skirt. The world was about me and what I wanted, what I thought I deserved. I wasn’t a bad person, but I do remember my brother once bringing my requested shoes on a throw pillow, bowing, and saying “your slippers, my lady.” I led a charmed life…until life punched me in the face. It has a tendency to do that in your mid-twenties when you find out (gasp!) the world doesn’t revolve around you. So I wanted to take a princess, toss her in the mud, and see what happened. Ellery isn’t always likable, but she’s authentic. And by the end of the book, she sees her mother as a person and not just her mother. Both Ellery and Daphne have a big growth arc in this book.

Room to Breathe has secrets, twists, bad decisions, surprises, and angst, yet it also has humor, heat, and heart tugs. I love the guys in the book – Clay (the hot contractor), Gage (Ellery’s surprise crush) and Evan (the vineyard owner) and I really like the interactions between Ellery and Daphne. I think readers will recognize themselves most in Daphne, but they’ll also remember how hard it is standing on one’s own two feet as Ellery must do. I’m proud of this book about letting go and taking the lemons that life hands you, tossing them, and pouring a glass of wine. Cheers to all the women who aren’t afraid to start over and create their own new paths!

    Excerpt

“What are you trying to say?” Daphne asked. Ellery always tried to get her to go to exercise classes, but Daphne preferred running most days. Organized classes had never appealed to her. Exercise was her escape, a time she could jab in her earbuds and listen to podcasts or a book that didn’t feature poodles and tea parties.

“That you isolate yourself out here. Hanging out with Pop Pop and Tippy Lou isn’t exactly being social. You can make friends in these classes, plus use muscles you never knew you had.” Ellery rose and smoothed the T-shirt swing top she wore over a pair of ripped boyfriend jeans. Several strands of delicate gold chain were layered around her neck. Her daughter somehow managed to look stylish and trendy in sloppy clothes. Daphne always looked . . . well, sloppy in sloppy clothes.

“Maybe,” she conceded, only because her daughter was unfortunately correct. She enjoyed visiting her father and playing dominoes with his friends, even if they were out of her age range. And her neighbor Tippy Lou Carmichael, while delightfully droll and enigmatic to the point of oddness, wasn’t going to go shopping with her or out to drinks. Tippy Lou preferred herbal tea on her front porch while she watched the feral cats she fed every morning chase lizards and laze about in her garden.

Daphne had always been the type of person to have only a few close friends. Though she’d cultivated friendships with many of the other teachers at Saint Peter’s Day School, where she’d worked as a teacher’s aide for fifteen years before staying home to write, she’d never been good at being social. She had church friends, a book club, and knew a few local writers who wrote professionally, but her best friend, Karyn Little, had moved to Idaho with her new husband over a year ago.

In a few short years, she’d lost her husband to self-centeredness and her BFF to the land of potatoes.

“Not maybe. Definitely,” Ellery said, looking over at her.

“Maybe I’ll try it.” Going to the class with Ellery might help their relationship, something that Daphne couldn’t seem to get back on track. She didn’t know what was wrong, how she should act, whether she should have given Ellery a job or not. Daphne had only wanted to make things better for Ellery. That’s what every mother did, right?

But Ellery had grown more and more distant over the past few months. Daphne suspected that it had something to do with something Rex had said, but Ellery wouldn’t open up. Any time Daphne asked her what was bothering her or if she wanted to talk, her daughter would tell her everything was “fine.” She’d begun to hate that word.

“I’m pretty much done for the day. I have to mail these packages. These are a few of the winners from your online party.” Ellery picked up a bag full of colorful pink envelopes, walked out the door and right into Clay.

“Whoa, hey, Elle,” he said, grabbing her elbow and steadying her. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“I saw you last week at Elmo’s,” Ellery said, shrugging off Clay’s hand. “But I guess you were too trashed to remember?”

“Hey, I was celebrating a new contract, but, yeah, I guess I had a few too many.”

“Honestly, Clay, it’s time you grew up,” Ellery said, pushing past him before spinning back. The Tom Ford scent she wore tickled Daphne’s nose.

“Guys never grow up, do we?” Clay joked.

“Some don’t.” Ellery gave him a flat look.

Her daughter had dated several guys in high school but had been tight-lipped when it came to information on what had happened between her and Clay. Daphne vaguely remembered a dustup with the head cheerleader for a rival school. Ellery had been only a sophomore, and Daphne remembered Clay being her daughter’s first heartbreak. Ellery had rebounded quickly with the quarterback for the Riverton Falcons. She had an uncanny ability to hook a new, even cuter guy after each successive breakup through high school and college.

Point in case—Josh was so pretty angels sang when he walked by.

Daphne still didn’t know her soon-to-be son-in-law very well because he was always studying, but he seemed to truly care about her daughter. And that was what mattered most.

“I’m out, y’all.” Ellery disappeared.

Clay turned his pretty blue eyes on Daphne. “Sorry to interrupt. I wanted to get your opinion on the marble. They sent two different samples in your color range. One has a lot of movement, the other is pretty simple.”

“Sure, I’ll take a look,” Daphne said, following him outside her office and into the heat of late morning.

Ellery tossed the bag of packages into the narrow back seat of her sleek new Lexus and gave them an absentminded wave.

“She’s a firecracker,” Clay said with a smile before jogging down the front porch steps. Today he wore a T-shirt. Thank God. The jeans fit him like a second skin, though. So now she had to contend with the butt thing.

Not only had she practically drooled over a shirtless Clay yesterday, but she’d actually rated the bag boy’s backside that morning at the grocery store. Thankfully Steve the bag boy was older than Clay, but she was now convinced her libido had written a memo titled “Take Care of Your Sexuality before You Mount the Bag Boy.” She wondered if something was wrong with her hormones. Or maybe she was ovulating. Something other than going middle-aged crazy.

Wait, was turning forty years old hitting middle age?

Nah. And technically she was still thirty-nine for the next two months.

***

   a Rafflecopter giveaway

  About Liz Talley

A finalist for both the Romance Writers of America’s prestigious Golden Heart and RITA Awards, Liz Talley has found a home writing heartwarming contemporary romance. Her stories are set in the South, where the tea is sweet, the summers are hot, and the porches are welcoming. She lives in North Louisiana with her childhood sweetheart, two handsome children, three dogs, and a naughty kitty. Readers can visit Liz at www.liztalleybooks.com.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

ROOM TO BREATHE by Liz Talley: Feature, Excerpt & Giveaway was originally published on The Sassy Bookster

[nickireadstfc]

The Foxhole Court, Chapter 5 – Fun Moving Time, Fun Drama Time

In which we meet Matt, Neil’s torso makes me break out in Deadpool quotes, super-secret safes are bought to contain super-secret journals, and Kevin has a choking kink.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Foxhole Court.

With all the shit that went down last time, we are getting a bit of a break with this chapter, meaning: Not much happens.

(I’m not complaining, though. I needed a breather.)

It’s moving time! So long, Wymack’s apartment, you and the regular motivational speeches that came with your owner being Neil’s landlord will be sorely missed.

           Neil took his [keys] and the paperwork regarding appropriate dormitory behaviour. He skimmed over it before signing all the dotted lines.

Remind me to make an extra post detailing those Appropriate Dormitory Behaviour Rules at some point when we know all the characters, their quirks etc. I am dying to write that.

           He [had] to register with the rest of the freshmen class in August. Neil wasn’t in any rush, he still didn’t know what he was supposed to declare his major as.

Oh, right. Considering they’re a college team, there’s probably actual education happening at some point. I forgot that over all the ORANGE SPORTSBALL that’s been happening.

Don’t worry though, guys, sportsball is immediately back again in form of Abby, who wants to sports-nurse it up with Neil.

However, Neil isn’t having it:

           “Shirt off.”

           Neil stared at her. “Why?”

           “I can’t check track marks through cotton, Neil.”

           “I don’t do drugs.”

           “Good on you,” Abby said. “Keep it that way. Now take it off.”

A sassy angel, what did we do to deserve her.

When Neil does take off his shirt, though, both her and I are momentarily stunned into silence, as Neil’s torso looks like actual living hell. We’re talking scars all over the place, scars in place you didn’t even know could have scars.

He looks like actual roadkill. Shit, he looks like roadkill that somehow managed to survive being roadkill, got up to walk a few steps, and then got roadkill-ed again.

Actually, not to be tactless, but just imagine I’m describing him the way Weasel is describing Deadpool’s face here, mostly because T. J. Miller is funnier than I could ever hope to be.

(Why am I worried about being tactless towards a book character. They’re fictional, Nicki.)

(Also, please tell me there’s fanart of this.)

Enough with the sad times: Matt is here!

           Nicky was almost six feet and Kevin was an inch or two taller, but this man looked halfway to seven. Part of the illusion Neil blamed on his black hair, which he’d gelled up in short spikes around his skull.

Based on that alone, please know that I’m picturing him as a taller version of American Idiot era Billie Joe Armstrong.

What a babe.

Matt seems nice enough. Glad to hear Neil is at least rooming with halfway sane people. Nothing interesting to report here. Let’s move on.

           The hill might have been a nice spot for students to picnic between classes, except someone thought to build the athletes’ dormitory on the peak. It stood four stories tall and had its own computer lab and parking lot.

Honestly, the recurring “privileged athletes getting in the way of poor regular students’ lives” trope is probably the most realistic thing about this book so far. My high school had thousands to spend on trips and equipment for the rowing and basketball teams, but our school play couldn’t get funding to print some fucking posters.

If you’re wondering whether I’m still mad about that despite having graduated over a year ago: I am.

Today’s Casually Mentioned, Yet Heart-Breakingly Sad Neil Fact is this:

           Neil hadn’t slept in a real bed since he left Seattle. He’d broken into cars to borrow backseats in California, slept on the bus to Nevada, and dozed in passenger seats while hitchhiking with truckers to Arizona. His house in Millport had been unfurnished, so he’d slept on the floor with shirts as his pillow. Wymack’s couch was the nicest thing he’d had in over a year, but now he had a bed.

I’m not crying, there’s just Angst™ in my eye.

The Angst™ continues as Neil is forced to leave his beloved duffel bag unattended as he goes to the store to pick up something to protect said beloved duffel bag, or specifically his Precious Binder, More Valuable Than Anything Else, Ever.

And just as I am about to ask what the fuck might be in that binder – The latest runaway fashion fads? Offers for special sales on hair dye? Kevin Day’s nudes? – Neil answers me ahead of time:

A full-on Runaway 101 Journal, Winchester-style. Complete with stalker details on Riko and Kevin, emergency contact numbers, money, contact lenses, money, all sorts of faked IDs and certificates, and did I mention fucktons of money.

Neil’s mum had not been fucking around, you guys.

However, Neil soon has to discover that someone (read: Kevin) has been in his things, to which of course the next logical action is to go scream at him – in French.

           “Stay out of my things,” he snapped. He wished he could take some satisfaction in the shell-shocked looks the language and his furious tone earned, but he felt nothing. “The next time one of you goes where you don’t belong I swear I’ll make you regret it.”

Mon dieu, mon cher, calme tes nichons. #faitesneilcalmersesnichons2k17

But it only gets better from here:

           “Put a leash on your pet monster or I will.”

           “A frightened child like you?”

          “Fuck you, cripple.”

          Across the room, Kevin’s face went white. “What did you call me?”

          “I called you a deadweight has-been,” Neil said.

YOU GO, JOSTEN.

           Kevin got his hands on Neil’s neck in an instant and slammed Neil up against the opposite wall. Neil dug his fingers into Kevin’s wrists, trying to loosen Kevin’s grip enough that he could breathe. He tried to knee Kevin, but Kevin crushed him against the wall with his own body.

Someone has got to have made that into a sexy fanart by now.

Choke me, da- I mean, what.

Thankfully, the other Foxes come to his rescue. Ahead of all: Dan Wilds! Much anticipated, finally here and instantly reprimanding them to leave the choking for the bedroom.

           “What do you think you’re doing? It’s our first day back. Why are we fighting already?”

           “Technically we never left,” Andrew said, “and Neil’s been here a couple weeks, so it’s your first day back, not ours.” He leaned to one side, looking past her to her roommate. “Hello, Renee. About time!“

Please please tell me Renee and Andrew are sweet goalie BFFs please.

I’m intrigued to find out more about Renee and Dan anyways, and Allison as well. This book is sorely lacking in the female characters department so far. Give me some girls in the next chapter, and give them to me now.

That’s all I have to say to that.

[jessicabenson]

Fighting On.

On September 3, 2016, USC lost to Alabama by 46 points.

By no means should they have made it to the Rose Bowl 4 months later.

On January 2, 2017, I embarked on the day trip from hell to Los Angeles.

By no means should I have made it to the Rose Bowl 14 hours later.

About two and a half weeks ago I asked my boss for a personal day on January 2nd.  I’d come down with a case of the “I’m 24 and On The Verge Of A Quarter Life Crisis” blues and was fortunate enough for Santa Claus to FedEx me a pair of Rose Bowl tickets.  OK FINE, Santa Claus is my dad. Karl came up clutch.

Chris and I were both given the day off. In our industry this is like a pot of flippin’ gold, so bottom line, it better be worth it.

My mom was going, too.  She’d planned to go from the moment USC made it in even though she was recovering from extensive surgery that she’d had the week after Thanksgiving. But, if you’ve met Sharon, God forbid you tell her she can’t go to a college sporting event she’s planning to attend. I hadn’t seen her since the surgery, and suddenly seeing USC in the Rose Bowl with my mom became the most important thing to me in the whole wide world.

She had two tickets and no one to go with. I sent a text to two of my friends asking if either needed a ticket.

My friend Janet responded yes instantly; that she’d been on StubHub that very minute looking for a ticket. She won the lottery. Sorry, Paige.

Janet and I have had some great memories at the Rose Bowl. We had worked the 100th Rose Bowl and final BCS National Championship Game (RIP, BCS) together when we were students at USC.  Then there was the time she got us kicked out of the Beyonce/Jay-Z concert. Ask her about it! It’s her favorite story to tell!

Alright, back to business.

With this trip on the horizon, I had my groove back. It was the kick in the pants I needed to head into 2017 with some pep in my step. 

So, on January 2nd, I trotted into the Memphis airport humming “Tusk” and holding up a “Fight On!” while Sia’s “The Greatest” blared from the airport speakers.

“Don't give up, I won't give up

Don't give up, no no no….”

Chris brought his GoPro and said, “Oh this song will be perfect for the video I will put together of the trip!”

Ha…haha….hahahaha….

Our flight was scheduled to leave Memphis at 6 a.m. I had chosen for us to fly through Houston instead of Denver because I’m a genius and didn’t want snow to cripple my great day.

I’m a moron. The apocalypse hit Houston.

“Hi folks…”

Why do all pilots use the word ‘folks….’

“…the Houston airport has closed off all incoming and outgoing flights because of thunderstorms.  It should only be a 30 minute delay or so. We’ll keep you posted.”

We only had an hour to make our connection so my nerves started pumpin’ real hard.

Chris assured me we’d be alright.  The flight attendant assured me we’d be alright.  We finally took off, and I got a text from my dad saying our flight from Houston to LAX was delayed, too, and that we should have no problem making our connection.

I breathed. I slept. I smiled.

“Hey there folks!”

I jolted from a deep, neck-scrunched-against-the-window sleep.

Folks…the word of death….

“I’ve got some more bad news. We are in a holding pattern as the Houston airport is closed again. We’re circling around Louisiana but we’re going to run out of fuel in about 45 minutes, so if it’s not open by then we’ll have to divert.”

The clock said 8:25. Our flight to LAX had been rescheduled to take off at 9:15.

I ate not one, but two, waffle cookies the flight attendant gave me. No New Year’s resolution diet could exist in a time like this.

At 9:22 we were diverted to San Antonio, TX. It was 60 degrees and sunny.

There was a single flight from San Antonio to LAX.

It was overbooked.

With the help of Karl, we were rescheduled onto another flight out of Houston, this one leaving at 10:45 and getting us to LAX at 12:30 p.m.

I looked out the plane window.  We were surrounded by eight other airplanes, all waiting for fuel.

“It should only take about 20 minutes!” The words of our pilot.  No “folks” included. I should’ve seen this as a sign that he was a Lying-Mc-Liar-Pants.

We waited in line for fuel, which turned into waiting in line for an open runway to take off to Houston which was now perfectly sunny and beautiful and wtf weather why you gotta be like that.

The clock ticked 10:25 as the wheels went up.

Travel agent Karl informed us we could get on the standby list for an 11:45 flight that landed at 1:30 p.m. PST.  At this point, I didn’t care if we made kickoff, I just wanted to get there by half time.

In what should be investigated as the longest flight ever between San Antonio and Houston, we landed at George Bush Intercontinental Airport at 11:30 a.m.

We were at Gate C8. The mystical 11:45 flight (which was - shocking! - rumored to be delayed) was at C46.

Chris took off in a sprint.

I ran like the gazelle I’ve always aspired to be.

Just kidding, I huffed and I puffed and my Uggs started to give me blisters and at some point I took my sweater off and tied it around my waste like a 90’s mom at Disneyland and somehow those two waffle cookies didn’t end up on the ground in front of me. Saying “Diet starts back up, Monday!” for the last four weeks was really biting me in the ass.

Let’ go back to Sia’s “The Greatest”:

“Uh-oh, runnin' out of breath, but I

Oh, I, I got stamina

Uh-oh, running now, I close my eyes

Well, oh, I got stamina…”

We reached the gate. The plane had already been closed. No delay, no magic.

We just laughed.

At this point the only chance we had was to reroute to Orange County and then drive to Pasadena.  The flight would land at 2:35.

This is the part where I remind everyone that kickoff was at 2:00.

Well, we can make the second half!

I calculated that if we landed at 2:35 we could be in a car by 2:40 and at the Rose Bowl by 3:40. We could make it by the 3rd quarter.

“Well we can hope for the world’s longest game and a USC 4th quarter comeback! Maybe some overtimes, too!” I joked.

Boarding was set to begin at 12:08.  At 12:20 we were still waiting.

“Just an update everyone, the flight attendants for this flight were coming from an international flight and they’re now stuck in Customs, so we can’t do anything until they make it through.”

You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me.

I still didn’t lose it! I still didn’t cry!

When we were still sitting on the runway at 1:35, nearly an hour after our scheduled departure, that’s when I cried.

But, what can you do?

The only thing that went right at that point was that this flight had DirectTV which meant I was going to watch kickoff from the sky. So technically, I had the coolest seat of all. THE SKY!!!!

(Literally trying to keep that whole return of “Look On The Bright Side Jess!” at the forefront here).

The flight attendant gave me a free Heineken.

USC and Penn State decided to throw me a bone in the form of a bajillion pass plays followed by: Touchdown. Review. Touchdown. Review. The clock ticked slowly.

We made up some time in the air and landed in the OC at 3:04 on the dot. The 1st quarter had just ended.

Oh my lord, we have a chance.

This is where you meet our new bff, Moe. Moe was the driver of the car picking us up. He waited at baggage claim with one of those signs that said “J. Benson” and had a luggage cart waiting.

Chris and I sprinted towards him.

“Hello, are you Jessica? I’m driver, M...”

“LET’S GO MOE!”

“Where is your luggage?”

“WE DON’T HAVE ANY!”

We traveled with a single backpack filled with our toothbrushes, toiletries, a pair of yoga pants if I decided to take a 6 a.m. SoulCycle class before our flight out the next day (spoiler alert: this was not happening), my small purse, Chris’s wallet and a brush.  We’d planned to drop it off at the hotel when we landed at, oh I don’t know, 10:45 a.m. like we were supposed to, but now it was totally expendable. We had every intention of transporting our things into one of those game-friendly plastic bags (backpacks not allowed in the stadium) and ditching the backpack in the Rose Bowl parking lot.

Moe hustled with us to the car. Moe is a baller.

What if I told you…there was a day where there was zero traffic between Orange County and Pasadena?  We seemed to fly down the 405 to the 605 to the 5 to the 110. We made it in 53 minutes. I just looked at how long it would be estimated to take right now.  The answer is 1 hour and 47 minutes.

But like, you still didn’t think we were in the clear right? Because if you did you have not been paying attention.

The Rowl Bowl didn’t allow passenger drop off.  The closest we could get was about a mile out.

I gave Moe a giant hug.

And again, we ran.

And again…why had I taken a 4-week hiatus from the Kayla Itsines workout plan?

We got to the gate closest to our seats, Gate G.

“Do you have any plastic bags?” we managed to choke out between coughs.

“No, try Gate A.”

So we ran again.

“Do you have any plastic bags?”

“No, we’re out. You’ll have to check your bag at Gate C.”

At that point, we’d be running around almost half the stadium.

“Don’t be a quitter!” Chris yelled at me.

“But I’m going to throw up!” I screamed back.

This is love.

We checked our bag. Lost in this moment was my happiness to not have to part with my backpack. We entered at Gate C. We had to walk all the way back to the Gate G area to get to our entrance tunnel.

We walked up the stairs right after Penn State scored in the opening minutes of the 3rd quarter.

I saw my mom. I saw Janet. Instant happiness washed over me.  They greeted us with hugs and at that point more importantly, beers. The girl in the seats next to us had gone to one of the high schools in my hometown of Highlands Ranch, CO. Everything seemed to be falling into place perfectly.

We proceeded to watch Penn State score 28 points in the 3rd quarter.

And then we proceeded to watch a damn miracle.

I can’t describe the happiness I felt as Ronald Jones II ran it into the end zone wearing Joe McKnight’s No. 4 jersey to get USC back within a touchdown.

I can’t put into words what it was like to watch a freshman quarterback, Sam Darnold, throw his 5th touchdown pass to tie the game with 1 minute and 20 seconds left on the clock.

People joke that I went to USC during the worst four years of football.  But everything - from the sanctions to Kiffin being left on an LAX tarmac to Sark- all became so worth it when Matt Boermeester nailed a 46-yard field goal to win the Rose Bowl.

As I stood watching USC win the Rose Bowl with my mom, my boyfriend and two of my best friends all I could think was, “Holy hell this day went from being one of the absolute worst to the absolute best.”

And couldn’t we all use that reminder as we enter the New Year?  Pick a cliche, any cliche, but often times the best things come just after we think things can’t get any worse.

From USC football fighting its way back into the national spotlight; to 14 hours of travel that included 3 flights, 6 potential missed connections, 2 diversions, an hour car ride and a 2 mile run that landed me in the Penn State section at the Rose Bowl...you just cannot ever give up.

Because if you do, you might miss the part where the impossible transforms into one of life’s greatest moments.

After all, is that not what it means to “Fight On”?

As we walked down the steps of the Rose Bowl, no joke, Sia’s “The Greatest” played in the background.  

“I'm free to be the greatest, I'm alive

I'm free to be the greatest here tonight, the greatest

The greatest, the greatest alive

The greatest, the greatest alive…”

The day was perfect.

The next day our flight to Denver was delayed 4 hours, we missed all connecting flights to Memphis and got stuck at the airport for the night.  It was 18 degrees, we had no extra clothes and didn’t make it home until 2 p.m. on Wednesday, January 4th.

Again, it was perfect. And most of all, it was so worth it.

[alj4890]

Love Prompt

(Thomas x Amanda) in a continuation of their reconciliation after a break up as requested by @krsnlove

(Thomas Hunt x oc*Amanda) A Choices: Red Carpet Diaries Fan Fiction

A/N Okay, clearly I have been on a Mad Men binge, which explains the many Jon Hamm/Don Draper gifs recently. *clears throat* After being tempted with my bff's questions and suggestions, this second part came about. Breakups aren't the easiest thing to get over, even with a heartfelt reconciliation. Often it is harder on the ones that care about the two individuals that decide to try once again....

Part 1

Masterlist

@lxaah11 @alleksa16 @penguininapinktuxedo @blackcoffee85 @stopforamoment @krsnlove   @annekebbphotography @cora-nova @bella-ca  @hopelessromantic1352 . @sunflowergirl05 @desiree-0816 @greywitchyshots @lilyofchoices @emceesynonymroll @dr-nancy-house @aworldoffandoms @pixieferry @lolablackwrites @i-bloody-love-drake-walker

Once Again, Please. Part 2

Los Angeles California...

"Have you heard from Thomas?" Addison asked.

"No. I only received a text from him that he wasn't returning to the office after lunch Thursday." Holly handed her phone to Shannon. The three friends were sitting together at an outdoor cafe.

"Did he come to work Friday?" Addison asked, worried that seeing Amanda might have sent him into a depression.

"No. He sent a text that he would be working indefinitely from home." Holly replied.

Shannon frowned at Holly's phone. "This doesn't make sense. Thomas hates to text yet that is all he has done the past few days."

"Maybe he can't talk about how heartbroken he is." Addison mumbled.

"We should go over to his house and check on him." Shannon decided.

"We can't just ambush him." Holly argued. "We have to have a reason for stopping by."

"I found some new material to make the night club singer's costume. I could say I wanted his opinion." Addison offered.

"Perfect!" Shannon exclaimed. "He hates reviewing things through pictures sent over the phone so we will all go over and see how he is."

_______________

Thomas Hunt's home...

Amanda wrapped her arms around Thomas's neck as he pulled her closer. The water in the pool did little to cool their heated skin. Her breath caught when he moved one of her swimsuit straps to continue kissing along her shoulder and neck.

He paused and whispered how much he loved her before capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. She felt her body respond to every touch and tried to remain upright. "Thomas, I love--did you hear something?"

He frowned and looked over his shoulder. "Whatever it was, I don't hear it now." His irritation at a possible interruption disappeared when she finished saying how much she loved him. His hands moved over her body as their lips met again.

"His cars are in the garage. He must be out here some--" the three ladies halted and stared with mouths open at catching Amanda and Thomas kissing in his pool.

The couple broke apart and looked up at them. Thomas snapped out of his surprise first. "What are you doing in my home?"

"We...I...needed an opinion on this material for the nightclub scene." Addison quickly held a swatch up.

Amanda blushed at their attention going from Thomas to her. She cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows when he looked over at her. He sighed and pulled her close to him. "In regards to the actual reason for being here, which I assume is to check up on me since I did not return to work, Amanda and I are back together."

"That's wonderful!" Shannon exclaimed.

"I knew it! I knew that's why you were texting!" Addison squealed.

"Oh thank goodness. I was not looking forward to working with a mopey Thomas Hunt." Holly plopped down on a lounge chair.

Thomas glared at her before turning his attention to Amanda's visible happiness as she answered the questions posed to her. He couldn't help but smile when she wrapped her arms around his waist.

After a few minutes of conversation, the three friends noticed the longing looks between the couple and decided to leave. With their happiness at seeing the two back together said once more, they left.

Two weeks later in Cordonia...

"I HATE THEM TOGETHER!" Olivia stormed into Liam's study with Drake and Maxwell following closely behind her.

Hana and Riley looked up in surprise. Liam dropped his paper while his brow furrowed. "Hate who together?" He asked.

"Thomas Hunt convinced Amanda to give him a second chance!" Olivia spat the words out like they were of the worst curse words ever spoken.

Hana clasped her hands together. "Oh how sweet! I knew he had to have loved her like she does him."

"I don't know. We all saw how hurt she was when they broke up." Maxwell's blue eyes clouded with worry. "Can he be trusted to do things right this time?"

"See! Maxwell gets it!" Olivia addressed the room. "He used trickery to get her back!"

"What?" Liam rose up, his anger beginning to boil.

Riley placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "What do you mean?"

Drake rolled his eyes at the unnecessary drama. "The secret meeting was with Thomas. Her agent never told her who it was that would discuss the screenplay."

"He had to have set this up, the snake!" Olivia exclaimed. "Demand she come back home!" She ordered Liam.

His frown eased somewhat. "Maybe Thomas realized he made a mistake."

"You are too sweet, Liam." Olivia muttered. "You see the good in everyone whether they deserve it or not. Now is not the time! Make her come home and get away from him. I refuse to see her heart crushed again."

Maxwell nodded in agreement. "Do it, Liam. Amanda always listens to you. Come up with something that demands her attention."

"I'm not going to lie to her!" Liam narrowed his eyes at them. "I--"

"The Children's Hospital!" Maxwell exclaimed.

Olivia slowly smiled at him. "I am impressed Maxwell. That is the perfect thing to make her come back. Liam, tell her it is time for another fundraiser."

Liam griamced. "I will do so, only because it is true." He checked the time and decided he would do so tomorrow.

"That gives me time to get the man here who I think would be perfect for her." Olivia's smirk held a hint of triumph.

_________________

The next evening in California...

Thomas pressed Amanda against the door to her suite as their kiss began to get out of control. "I hate saying goodnight and walking away." He whispered against her skin. "The long drive home." His lips brushed behind her ear. "The empty house." He gently sucked on her neck. "The lonely bed."

Amanda closed her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart. She moaned softly when his lips returned to hers. Her hands pulled him completely flush to her as she returned his kiss. "I--" she looked over where her phone was vibrating. She slipped away and quickly answered.

Thomas walked over to her when he noticed her brow pucker with worry.

"Of course. It's my charity. I will take care of everything. See you soon." She ended the call and pushed her hair out of her face. "That was Liam. I need to return home."

He frowned and tilted her face up. "Nothing's wrong, is there?"

"A budget discrepancy was found in our children's hospital. If research is to continue without pause, then there needs to be a fund raiser held as soon as possible." She hugged him and pressed a kiss to his lips. "Hopefully, I will be back in California soon."

"I could come with you, if you wish." He offered. Thomas held her close. "I would be more than happy to be your date for the event and help with whatever you need."

"Really?" Her smile made his own form.

"Yes." He softly kissed her. "I told you how I feel about you. I'm not going to remain behind if you need or want me there." His lips captured hers again. "It could also be our way of announcing our being together before the press."

Her eyes widened. "You want to tell the press? You used to hate dealing with them."

"I still do." He replied. "But I love you and I want them to see how important you are to me."

"Thomas." Amanda her arms tightened around his waist. "How do you always know what to say?"

He gently caressed her cheek. "With you, the words come easily."

_____________

A few weeks later in St Orella, Cordonia...

"Why didn't you call me? I would have helped with all this." Olivia waved her hand towards the crowd.

"And pull you away from a certain grumpy commoner? I think not." Amanda teased. "Besides, Thomas has been here helping me whenever I needed an opinion."

"He has?" Olivia asked, her voice laced with doubt. "And how is dear Mr. Hunt?"

"Very well, thank you."

Olivia spun around when she heard him answer.

"Good evening." He nodded his head to her as he placed an arm around Amanda's waist. "How have you been?"

Olivia grit her teeth. "Fine." Her narrowed eyes zeroed in on their blatant happiness. "May I have a word with you?" She asked Amanda. "In private."

"Of course." Amanda excused herself, her smile glowing when he pressed a tender kiss to her cheek, and followed the red head into her study.

Olivia placed her hands on her hips when the door was shut. "How long has he been here?"

"Who?" Amanda asked. "Thomas? We came home together." Her friend's irritation finally registered. "Liv, I told you. Thomas and I have worked everything out. We want to be together."

"But can he be trusted?" Olivia persisted. "I know you said it was a mutual breakup, yet you were the one heartbroken. I don't want to see you be even more hurt when things don't work out again."

Amanda sighed and sat down on the arm of the sofa. "I know. I'm sorry if I drove you all crazy with my moping. I love him, Olivia. He loves me. We aren't going to let the past ruin this second chance. We learned from our mistakes and--"

"So he says." Olivia stressed each word. "Forgive me for not jumping for joy over his worming his way back into your life." When she noticed the familiar stubborn glint in Amanda's eyes, she groaned and folded her arms. "I'm sorry for wanting one of my closest friends to only have the best."

A laugh escaped Amanda's lips. "You are forgiven." She said.

Olivia glared at her before her smirk reappeared. "Now that that's over with," she linked her arm with Amanda's, "let's see how much money we can drain from these people."

Thomas had been talking to Hana and Rashad when Amanda paused in the entrance of the ballroom. He excused himself and walked over to her. He noticed a familiar face also making his way over. The exceptionally attractive man stopped before the two duchesses and kissed Amanda's hand.

"Lady Olivia was worried you would not have an escort. I knew I couldn't allow that to happen and came not only to offer my services but also my checkbook." Alasdair Morgan held onto her hand as he spoke.

Thomas eyed the multimillionaire business mogul warily. He knew that with Olivia's loyalty there would be some bitterness with his past actions. He had not considered though that she would resort in finding a man that could so easily take his place.

Amanda smiled warmly at the new guest and managed to remove her hand. "That is very kind of you." Her gaze landed on Thomas and softened. "Your checkbook I will greatly take advantage of. As for your escort, I already have a date for the evening."

Thomas shook the rival's hand and felt a burst of smug satisfaction come over him when Amanda moved to his side and took his arm. She then smoothly excused them to greet some late arriving guests.

"Seems I wasn't needed after all." Alasdair said.

"On the contrary," Olivia replied. "You are needed more than ever." A sly smile formed on her lips. "Here is what you should do next."

_______________

Thomas stood beside Amanda as she watched her guests dance. The checks had been collected earlier and were being tallied by her man of business. "I hope we met our needed goal." She whispered.

He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer to his body. His hand caressed her skin revealed by the open back of her dress. She rested her head against his shoulder and allowed his touch to comfort her.

Thomas spoke against her temple. "I've yet to give my donation. I will do what I can to make up the difference if one is needed. If none is, then my donation will hopefully be an added bonus."

His generous nature when it came to her touched her heart. She lifted her head and kissed him. He was stunned at first at her doing so in front of everyone and then sank into her embrace. Her tender kiss quickly turned ravenous as he turned toward her. Her hands slipped inside his tuxeudo jacket and ran over the muscles of his back. His lips took over the kiss while keeping her close.

A throat cleared beside them "Not to interrupt..."

They broke apart and realized they were still in the ballroom. Amanda's cheeks flared with color at having been so easily swept away with passion. She brushed the loose strands of hair back behind her ear. "Yes, Mr. Morgan? How may I be of service?"

He held his check up. "I'm afraid this is late, but I had hoped to add it to the others."

She nodded. "I can take it to Sir Francis." She reached for it and quirked an eyebrow when he pulled it out of reach.

His handsome face held mischief. "I heard that you have a variety of first additions in your study. Is there a chance my check could sway you into giving me a tour?"

She chuckled. "I suppose that depends on how much you donated." Her eyes widened when she saw the amount. "Mr. Morgan! This is incredibly generous. I don't have adequate words to express my gratitude."

He smiled and shrugged bashfully. "It is a worthy cause." He ignored the suspicion radiating off of Thomas. "Does it warrant a tour?"

"How could I refuse?" She squeezed Thomas's hand. "If you will excuse me."

He reluctantly let her go. He observed how perfect Amanda looked on Alasdair's arm. Her laughter floated back to him at whatever the man said. Thomas turned his attention back to the ballroom and noticed Olivia watching him. Her smile was evil as she lifted her glass in a smug, silent toast.

He realized why Alasdair was here. It seemed that Amanda's friends were not thrilled with her taking him back. Thomas shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped outside. He needed air while he contemplated how he should react to this.

__________________

"My great-great-great grandfather loved to read." Amanda explained. "He also loved history. He wrote in his journal that his goal in life was to begin a library that could one day rival the ancient one destroyed in Alexandria."

Alasdair nodded in appreciation. He leaned closer to the shelves as he silently read some of the first edition titles. "Incredible."

She smiled and led him up to the third story. She waved toward some books in protective glass cases. He examined a few that were hand written by monks. "Your ancestor's collection is extraordinary."

"It is one of my favorite contributions a relative made to the duchy." She began to descend the stairs to return to the party when he stopped her.

"May I ask you something before we join the others?" He asked.

"Of course." She replied.

Alasdair stepped down the steps until he was eye level with her. "Would you have dinner with me one night before I return to London?"

Amanda looked away. "That is very kind of you, but I am unable to do so." Her smile was apologetic. "I am in a serious relationship with Thomas."

Alasdair seemed to not be too surprised. "That must have happened recently. I recall reading an interview not too long ago about his plans to remain...what was the word he used...untethered."

Amanda hesistated. "I...things have changed within the last month."

The handsome businessman leaned closer to her. "It takes a lot of understanding and forgiveness for relationships to work the second time around." He placed his hand over hers that rested on the banister. "Sometimes it ends up that you are having to work even harder than before to hold onto something that isn't worth the effort."

A throat cleared close by.

Amanda and Alasdair saw Thomas casually leaning against the banister. The business man thanked the duchess for the tour and asked her to save a dance for him. He nodded to Thomas and left them alone.

Thomas watched him leave before approaching Amanda. He had heard enough to understand the game the man was playing. He stopped on the steps below hers and felt a deep, settling happiness within when she automatically moved into his arms with little urging on his part.

He placed a soft kiss on her lips. She took his arm and left the library. "Another hour or so and I will be free of my hostess duties."

"Is there anything you need me to do?"

She kissed his cheek. "I can't think of anything." She stopped him before they came to the ballroom. "In case I didn't tell you, I am very happy you came back to Cordonia with me."

Thomas wrapped his arms around her. "Good, because I meant what I said before. I am in this for the long haul, Amanda. There is no end game. The only result of us being back together I will accept is the two of us standing before an altar." His dark eyes searched hers for understanding.

She met his steady gaze with one of her own. "That is all I will accept too."

He relaxed his stance and placed a heated kiss on her lips.

______________

"So the snake interrupted your time with her?" Olivia glared at Thomas. He was across the room chuckling with Liam over some story or another.

Alasdair shrugged. "I asked her to dinner and she turned me down. I think I planted a few seeds of doubt in her mind. I need time to cultivate them."

Olivia rolled her eyes. She hated idioms. She also wasn't too fond of those who used them. "Why don't you go plant your seeds in his ear." She gestured toward the one she wanted thrown out of their lives.

He nodded and went to do her bidding. She sipped her champagne and smiled when Amanda came up. "How much did you bring in."

Amanda's eyes were bright with excitement. "We nearly tripled our goal! Your Mr. Morgan's generosity along with Thomas's pushed us on over. We might be able to add that new wing we discussed a few months ago."

Olivia's nose wrinkled at Thomas once again being a hero. "Well done." She looked over at the bar and noticed Alasdair had managed to get Thomas by himself. "Very well done." She murmured.

____________

Thomas leaned against the bar while listening to Alasdair try and convince him he didn't want to be tied down to any woman. He took a sip of his scotch and remained silent as the fool continued to show his hand at this ridiculous game Olivia was playing.

"You work with the most beautiful women in the world." Alasdair pointed out. "You are old enough to know that time is fleeting yet young enough to enjoy the fruits of your labor." He took a gulp of his whiskey sour. "Why a man in your position would want to be in a committed relationship is beyond my comprehension."

Thomas set his glass down. "I imagine a great many things are beyond your understanding."

Alasdair narrowed his eyes. "I didn't mean to insult you. I am curious as to why a man such as yourself would choose not only to get back with his ex, but with one who lives so far away." He chuckled as he motioned to the bartender for a refill. "Seems crazy to me."

"I suppose it would if one didn't know the details." Thomas countered. "Being a successful businessman, you should be the first to understand that concept. The devil is always in the details."

Alasdair slowly nodded. "So humor me. What details caused this to come about?"

Thomas leveled his steely gaze on him as his words held a hint of a deeper than suspected anger "Though it is none of your business, I happened to realize that I am in love with Amanda. Being surrounded by the so called beautiful women of the world helped me see that none could hold a candle to her. She is the only one I think of when contemplating my future."

He straightened his cuffs and leaned closer to the man, his anger coming fully to the surface. "Knowing how important she is to me, I would stop trying to interfere with us if I were you. I am a man that learned a hard lesson and will not hesitate from fighting for her. I won't lose her again." He walked away from him without another glance.

____________

"I don't think we should have done this." Maxwell muttered. "If Amanda finds out we--"

"Don't turn coward on me now." Olivia hissed.

"Liv, maybe he has ch--" Maxwell's eyes widened when Thomas approached them.

He looked like a man enjoying the party, save for the murderous look in his eyes. He managed to keep his voice down as he spoke.

"I know what you are doing and it is time I made something clear. Your childish games are going to end tonight." Thomas began.

Olivia narrowed her eyes. "Why you--"

He cut her off. "Amanda and I are both adults that made a decision regarding our lives. I understand that you only want what is best for her and your loyalty is to be commended." His gaze turned hard. "But if you persist in trying to sabotage her happiness, I will not idly stand by."

Olivia arched an eyebrow. "And by her happiness, you mean yourself?" She snorted in disgust. "Your ego knows no bounds."

"I am what she wants." He said softly. "I am going to do everything within my power to remain what she wants."

Maxwell studied him quietly. "Meaning?"

Thomas glared at him. "Meaning you two better get used to seeing me around. I'm not going anywhere. I love her and intend on spending the rest of my life with her." His voice held a note of barely restrained rage. "Understand?"

Maxwell slowly smiled. "Sounds good to me. Liv?"

She narrowed her eyes to mere slits. "If I remotely see her frown because of you...don't be surprised to wake up to body parts missing. Understand?"

Thomas's lips curved in approval. "I do and I expect nothing less."

Olivia held his gaze a second heart beat before nodding in acquiesce. She jumped in surprise when Amanda appeared beside her.

"The ball is about to end." Amanda announced while slipping an arm around her friend's waist. She squeezed Olivia in a side hug. "I think we have more than earned a respite from all the hard work." She smiled at the three. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Olivia eyed her before returning her hug. "I agree." She took Maxwell's arm. "Come on, Beaumont. Let's see where Drake disappeared to."

Maxwell grinned in relief and said goodnight to Thomas and Amanda.

The couple watched them swoop in on Drake and drag him with them as they searched for the others. Thomas laced his fingers with Amanda's, smiling when she tugged him along with her. Having him by her side as she bid goodnight to her guests sent the message to all that he was no mere date.

Once everyone had left, she took him upstairs. He paused outside his bedroom door and pulled her close for a kiss. She giggled when he teased her in between kisses for shrinking when she stepped out of her shoes. She bent down to retrieve them before taking his hand.

His eyebrows lifted in question when she led him to her bedroom door. Her cheeks were slightly pink as she met his eyes.

"Amanda? What--"

"I love you." She said simply. "You're what I want, what I have always wanted."

Thomas cupped her face between his palms and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. "I love you more than anything. Anyone."

She smiled and opened the door. They walked inside together and quietly closed the door.