#prissy i got from a friend's professor giving her away

[thechildisgone]

my family had 16 cats omg

[kpforpresident]

Can I have “graded exams get handed back to the wrong person and they have to swap” for 100 please. Bonus points for unrequited pining from a distance.

We all know I am a hoe for bonus point(s). 

In my brain this is how NY AU Clexa met. Love a good gen elective, amirite?

///

Clarke slumps forward in her tiny plastic seat, balancing her forehead on a stubby number two pencil. Around her other first year students mill around the large lecture hall, their laughter echoing off the vaulted ceilings. Despite the early hour of the day everyone was awake and bright-eyed, the tantalizing excitement of a long weekend well within grasp. While the intro level Ethics class wasn’t Clarke’s favorite subject, as a mandatory requisition for any first year she was just happy to be in a class with her friends with a professor who wasn’t a stick in the mud, like Pike was. 

Clarke groans slightly, twirling the writing utensil through her fingers as she glances around the large lecture hall. She mimes sticking it into her jugular, laughing when her best friend swatted away her hand with a disgruntled hiss. To her right Raven is hunched over, cradling a large coffee in between her hands, sleek dark ponytail falling carelessly around her shoulders as she takes a delicate sip from the steaming takeaway cup. 

“Why the fuck do we have an eight am Friday lecture?” Raven hisses to no one in particular, pulling her hoodie tighter around her face in an effort to block out a larger amount of the fluorescent light that buzzed overhead. On her other side Octavia grunts in agreement, unscrewing the metallic lid of her water bottle to chug more ice water, looking vaguely green as she did so. 

Clarke eyes them both, crooking an unamused eyebrow as she did. The professor burst through a side door, shoving an extremely disorganized stack of papers at a harried teacher’s assistant as she bustled towards the front of the room. The long suffering TA– Sarah- stood with a sigh, moving to start handing back their midterms as everyone slowly took their seats, the chatter dying down slightly. Clarke angles herself in her tiny desk to better look at her two best friends, who look like that had been murdered and reanimated shortly prior to the start of class. Clarke licks her finger and swipes amusedly at a smudge of mascara under Raven’s eye with her thumb, giving up when Raven swatts at her with a snarl. 

“If you two delinquents hadn’t decided to go shot for shot with the football team last night with a death wish and a mickey of tequila, you might’ve not been feeling so rough this morning,” Clarke says primly, tapping her pencil on the table smartly with a flourish. Raven leans over, picking up the pencil without breaking eye contact. Still staring directly into Clarke’s eyes, she snaps it in two before dropping the pieces in Clarke’s lap and facing forward again. 

“Lincoln’s hot as hell, Clarke,” Octavia snaps, holding her water bottle to her forehead as if she could ease her hangover through pure iron will alone. “I refuse to let those prissy cheerleaders out-drink me- I could snap those bitches in two.”

Clarke rolls her eyes as Sarah trudges by tiredly, shoving a stack of papers at them before moving on towards the next row. Clarke passes Octavia's and Raven’s exam down, ribbing Raven good naturedly on the 98% emblazoned in bed on her paper. She grimaces sympathetically at the 78% on Octavia’s as she flips her own copy, to be met with a perfect score. Her eyebrows draw together in confusion as she gapes at the score on top. 

Raven rips the paper out of her hand, eyes the size of dinner plates, hangover forgotten. 

“No fucking way Griffin got a perfect test score,” she hoots, flourishing the paper in the air. Clarke leaps to grab the paper before Raven jabs someone’s eye out, and sticks her tongue out at her friend before smoothing out the now-crumpled sheet of paper. 

“It’s not even my paper, guys- whose last name in this section is Woods?” Clarke whispers, disappointed as Profesor Indra dimmed the lights to boot up her old fashioned overhead projector- she claimed that it was superior to powerpoint slides. She was simply too terrifying to argue with. 

Raven quirks an eyebrow at her before she tilts her head towards the other end of the aisle, at the girl who sat alone at the end. Clarke leans over, curious, before slamming back in her seat, paper clutched in now-sweaty hands. 

“Lexa- Lexa’s last name is Woods?” Clarke stammers in a low voice, feeling a blush break over her face. Thankfully, in the now-darkened room Raven just tips a glance her way before she turns around to listen to Indra, who had launched into an impassioned tirade about gender equality in proportion to social race construct and did not seem to be in danger of derailment. 

Lexa.

The object of the secret crush that Clarke had harbored for the past two months sits in a far end seat, a curtain of dark hair obscuring her face as she leans over a piece of lined paper, painstakingly writing notes as Indra talked. A cream coloured knit sweater slouches around her slim frame, the sleeves pushed up over her elbows so she could write without fear of smearing lead. 

Clarke lets loose a little sigh as she stares at Lexa. How she angled towards her paper to write, glasses perched precariously on a freckled nose. Clarke had had a huge crush on her since the second day of class, when Clarke had tripped over a ripple in the decades-old carpet and had fallen face first into Lexa’s lap. Lexa had caught her, smiling softly, and Clarke had fallen head over heels. 

Clarke’s daydream was interrupted as a wad of paper bounces off of her face and falls softly into her lap. She blinks rapidly as Octavia’s unimpressed face swims into her field of vision. Clarke flips her off with both hands as Octavia rolls her eyes. 

“Clarke, stop drooling over that girl like the worthless bisexual you are, grow a pair, and talk to her,” Octavia hisses as she jerks a subtle thumb in Lexa’s direction. “I’m sick of hearing you moon over her with those big dopey eyes- go do something about it, Griffin!”

Clarke’s eyes widen in panic as she slaps Octavia’s hand down, ducking her head as Indra pauses mid sentence to sweep a disproving eye over the auditorium. Phones everywhere drop onto desks as dutiful faces turn back to the front of the room. Indra resumes lecturing as she flips transparent sheets on the projector screen, disruption quelled. 

Clarke traces her finger’s over the loop of Lexa’s name, thinking. She ducks Octavia’s glower, nodding her head decisively as she did so. 

“Yeah ok, I will,” Clarke mutters as she kicks a petulant leg against the desk in front of her. A redheaded guy turns around, shooting her a heavy glower as she did so. She throws up an apologetic hand as the boy turns back around, smoothing a thoughtful hand across her hair as Indra’s voice fades into the background.

Fifty agonizing minutes later, Indra flips the light back on, students blinking into the bright light as the door flies open, chatter creeping in from the hallway. Clarked sucks in a fortifying breath as she shoots up from her seat, promptly ignoring Raven and Octavia’s protests as she blows by them, test clutched in a sweaty hand. She pushes down the nerves churning in her gut as she shoves her way out of the throng of students waiting to exit the classroom. 

“Hey! Lexa!” Clarke cringes at the volume of her voice, moving forward to dodge her classmates as the object of her admiration pauses just outside the door, bright green eyes questioning as she trains her gaze on an obviously frazzled Clarke. She shoulders her backpack over a single shoulder, moving to the side as Lexa steps outside of the doorway to let her pass. 

“Sorry, just- they accidentally gave me your test,” Clarke manages to get out, practically feeling her heartbeat in her throat as it beats a tattoo against her ribcage. 

“Nice job, by the way,” she adds, handing over the perfect test with Indra’s impressed marks emblazoned on the top of the front page. Lexa smiles slightly as she extends a dainty hand to take the test back, tucking it into a side pocket as she shifts a heavy looking textbook to her other hand. 

 “Thanks, Clarke,” Lexa says quietly as she tucks a lock of hair behind a petite ear. Clarke smiles involuntarily at hearing this beautiful girl say her name, leaning against the brick wall and angling in to better catch Lexa’s soft speech. “Here, I got yours accidentally as well–”

Lexa pulls a neatly folded test from her back pocket and gives it to Clarke, Clarke taking it with a nod of thanks as she winces at the grade on top of her exam. A bold 76% stares back at her as she moves her hand to cover the offensive grade, in front of this beautiful girl who just single handedly destroyed the curve on this exam. 

Lexa shifts her weight as she stares at Clarke unsurely, worrying a dusky pink lip between perfectly straight teeth as she stares at Clarke. Clarke is trying very hard to communicate nonverbally with the floor that she’d like to be taken alive as a gentle cool hand touches her wrist. 

“Hey, Clarke- if you want to study together before the next exam, I usually study in the Wilson library on the corner of campus. I’m happy to go over things with you, if you’d like.” Clarke flicks her gaze down to that hesitant hand as her face warms slightly, the knot in her chest unclenching. 

“I’d love that, Lexa,” Clarke manages to stammer out as she meets Lexa’s kind gaze. Clarke jams her sweaty hands into her jeans pockets as they slowly start walking down the hallway together, towards what Clarke knows is Lexa’s politics class. Not that she knew her Monday schedule or anything. 

That would be weird. 

Lexa nods once as a gentle smile touches her mouth, slipping a scrap of paper into Clarke’s hand as she reaches for the doorknob of her next class. 

“That’s my number,” -she jerks her chin at the tiny slip of paper Clarke is now clutching as if it contains the coordinates to the lost Dead Sea Scrolls. “I accept payment in coffees from pretty girls- I take it black with honey in it.” 

Clarke stammers out some sort of an acceptance as she stands frozen outside of the door for a long moment. Snapping out of her daze as Lexa shoots her a small smile from the other side of the class. She does an exhilarated little wiggle as she skips off, practically floating as she heads to the arts building. 

Ethics was her new favorite class.

[whumperooni]

You asked for touya thirst. How about a brother touya where he sees his sister in cat keyhole underwear that was hidden under a virgin killing sweater!!!

Also I don’t know if you write for stain, but can I request him eating out his sister after she complains to a friend (over a phone call which he hears) about how her boyfriend sucked at it?

I’m gonna have to very gently deny the Stain- I like his character, but he’s just not someone I personally lewd!

But I absolutely will write something for the Touya thirst!

tags/warnings: tw incest, voyeurism, masturbation, some misogyny, uhhh idk what to call it but reader’s friend feeling her up,

“Oh, that looks so cute on you!”

“Really? I wasn’t sure about it- I don’t usually wear this sort of thing...”

“No, it looks great- really! Your boyfriend will love that!”

Touya rolls his eyes at the chattering going on next door and stretches his arms over his head, yawns and scratches at his stomach.

He needs a smoke and a beer and a break from all the giggling going on in his little sister’s room- you and your pain in the ass friend have been chatting non-fucking-stop since coming home from shopping and he’s starting to get fucking annoyed with it.

This house is always too goddamn loud.

Touya huffs as another round of gentle giggling sounds and rolls his eyes, pushes himself up from his computer chair. There’s more giggling whenever he opens his bedroom door and Touya clicks his tongue at it, pulls out a cigarette and lights it up.

That’s a little better.

Your door is open just a crack whenever he passes by and Touya’s eyes flick to it on instinct.

Well, well- what’s this?

Usually, Touya would just head on and ignore you- he doesn’t really give a shit about his little sister and he definitely doesn’t give a shit about your friends. But getting a glimpse of soft hands running up your waist has him pausing and Touya’s brow raises as he watches your friend nuzzle into your neck, as he watches soft breasts push against your bared back.

Well...that’s kinda hot.

And what you’re wearing is kinda hot too. Usually you’re dressed kinda frumpy- sweaters and long skirts, woolen tights- a real Fuyumi 2.0. But the little number you’re wearing is far from the usual- it’s a sweater, kinda, but it’s backless and cut so the soft swell of your breasts are teased, cut so the littlest bit of ruffled lace peeks above the hem and flaunts a glance of your panties.

Touya has never seen you wear something like that before.

Shit- when did his little sis get such a hot bod?

Touya takes a drag of his cigarette as he spies on you- eyes half-shut as he takes in the way your friend runs her fingers up your side and makes you squirm against her, laugh.

Well, that’s fuckin’ hot too- he didn’t know your little friend was so handy with you. He didn’t know you like having another girl feel you up like that.

What about your boyfriend? Does he know that you let the little slut press herself against you like that? Does he get to watch that? Do you let her do even more?

Touya’s half-hard before he even knows it and he licks his lips as he realizes what a whore his frump of a sister is.

He would have never guessed it.

But, then again, he’s never really paid attention to you either.

“Come on, let’s see what that dress you bought looks like on you!”

Touya’s lips quirk in disappointment when your friend pulls away, but he doesn’t move an inch as he watches you nod, as he watches your hands grip the hem of your sweater thing. You pull it off without any thought and Touya’s teeth chomp down hard on his cigarette as your body is revealed, as your tits drop into view and he gets an eyefull of his little sister’s chest.

Fuck, your tits are sweet- they look so soft and nice, just how he likes ‘em.

Touya swallows as he looks you over- cock growing harder and his hand twitching at his side.

What the fuck have you been doing hiding those away? You should be flaunting those sweet tits instead of covering them up like a prissy little cunt.

“Hey- have you gone up a cup? I swear they were smaller before!”

If Touya was a lesser man, he’d groan as your friend’s hands latch onto your tits and gives them a squeeze. He does breathe in deep at the sight, though, and he does reach down to squeeze his cock through his sweats whenever you squeal and laugh- head tilting back with a giggle and your cheeks flaring with a cute little flush.

Fuck, your nips are getting hard- you must be real sensitive.

“I think so! My bras are a little tight these days.”

“Aw, I’m so jealous! Give me some!”

Another laugh and more squirming from you, more giggling as your friend pouts and hooks her chin over your shoulder. There’s some more banter, but Touya doesn’t hear it- he’s much too busy wrapping his hand around his cock and eyeing your tits hungrily, much too busy watching the way the soft flesh spills between the gaps of your friend’s fingers when she gives them another squeeze.

Fuck, that’s hot.

You’re both such little sluts. He bets you’ve made out before. He bets if he got a drink or two in you both you’d end up tangled up in bed together- lips locked and cunts rocking against each other.

God, he wants to see that.

Touya grits his teeth and the filter of his cigarette gets ground down, ashes fall to the floor as he pumps his cock.

A little giggle slips from you and you turn around only to flash your panties at him.

God, those are hot too- they’re all ruffle trimmed and cute with little ears poking up on the backside. He’s seen them before on e-sluts and kittenplay whores and, fuck, he almost wishes you had the top to match and some ears too.

Yeah, you’d look real cute done up like that- he bets you’d be a good little kitten; all obedient and soft with a tight little cunt and an eager mouth. He bets you’d whine like a whore if he put a collar around your neck, if he popped a fat tail plug up your cute ass.

Shit. Shit he’d like to see that.

You disappear from view and Touya scowls when you reappear in a modest dress- the calf reaching thing hiding all the sweet assets he’s just been made privy to.

You and your friend chatter and Touya loses interest in that, turns right around and heads back to his room.

He doesn’t give a shit about you and that little slut talking about your college professors and upcoming dates- he’d rather see you stripped naked again.

Touya huffs as he enters his room and tosses his cigarette into a half-empty bottle of gatorade. When he throws himself on the bed, he stuffs his hand back down his pants and groans as he fists his cock, gives it a stroke.

Fuck, now he’s gonna have you on his mind all night- now he’s gonna be jackin’ off to you until his cock is too sensitive to do anymore. He’s gonna be thinkin’ about your soft tits and cute ass, how you’d look all fucked out underneath him.

Touya grunts and his hips fuck against his fist as another round of giggles sound next door, his mind dances with the image of your half-naked body.

God, fuck, maybe he should have been paying attention to you after all.

Touya jerks himself off to the thought of his little sister and he groans as schemes of getting you into his bed runs through him, as he gets off to his little sister without any shame or hesitation.

[infinitegalahad]

Idk I’ve been feeling pretty down lately. Something cute, angsty, and smutty with a jealous Merriell Shelton and fem reader ?? You can have fun with it

Doux Comme Des Bonbons

Pairing: Snafu x Gender Netural! Reader

Summary: Snafu has a tendency to always wound up into trouble. Regardless, you still manage to put up with him.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Implied sexual harrasment, jeleous! snafu, cursing, fighting, but very minor! 

A/N: Of course I can! I feel you, hope this cheers you up! ❣️✨ I’m sorry this came so late. I’ve been studying for a few tests. I promise to work on a few requests this weekend though! I love the requests though, keep them coming in! This one was a little longer than expected. Snafu is my favourite himbo. The title translates to “as sweet as candy” bc this is fluffy-is. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

“Snafu, he’s just a classmate!”

Snafu slammed the door to your apartment building. If school and work weren’t hard enough, this had been your breaking point. As much as you loved your Cajun boyfriend, he was an absolute handful. It was like taking care of a manchild who you loved one minute, the next you wanted to scream in his face. Whenever things were peaceful between you, it was bliss. Endless worship, cuddles, cute french nicknames, romantic and steamy nights. It was anything a partner could ask for.

But when all hell would break loose between you two, it would be full-on discord.

“Classmate ma’ ass. Prissy lil’ fucker. I’ve seen ‘da way ‘dat preppy boy looks at you.” Snafu annoyingly badgered. He followed you around your apartment. Stopping at the kitchen counter, you spin on your heel to look at him straight in the face, a hand on your waist and an angry pout proudly displayed on your face. “ ‘Dat Chris or whatever his n-”

“Chad. His name is Chad.” You corrected.

The Cajun groaned as his calloused hands grasped onto the counter. He was extremely aggravated with hell in his eyes. “Whatever. I don’t like ‘yah hangin’ ‘round him. Chad kept starin’ at you like you were a piece of meat. Tried to fuckin’ steal ma’ seat next to you! ‘Dat lil’ sunva gun tryin’ to sit next ‘ta ‘ma Cher!”

Chad wasn’t someone you considered a friend or acquaintance. He was someone who was in your lecture who happened to be one of your friend’s inner friends. Whenever you would go to study, Chad would always tag along. He mainly wouldn’t study and would pester the hell out of you. He had even followed you to Snafu’s jeep, which proceeded to Snafu almost running him over. Thankfully you had convinced Chad not to press charges.

There was no denying he was a total asshole. He wore the brighetst polos, cheated on every test, and did whatever he pleased. Snafu was convinced that his parents paid his way into college. It baffled you how you’re best friend could even consider someone such as Chad a friend. His whole purpose of being alive was to annoy you. Snafu surely didn’t care for him. But you only had the class for another two months, and then you would be rid of Chad.

Two months had gone by and Chad’s advances had begun to slowly die down. He was aware that you were dating Snafu, who he deemed a man out of your league. It was true, but you loved Snafu with every part of your soul. Snafu was not your everyday boyfriend. It was like dating a man child off of his ADHD medication. He was a somewhat (but still young) man who worked in lumber, a little rough around the edge with a thick Cajun accent. You were a teacher’s pet with a kind heart and gentle presence. When your friend Eugene had set you up, you’d never thought it would work. But date after date, the two of you only grew closer. Within three months, you had moved into Snafu’s apartment since you could barely afford to live in a shitty dorm. When Snafu had offered his home to become your home, you knew you had fallen in love with him. As much as Snafu was the occasional pain in the neck, he was yours and you were his.

Also in those two months, your professor had invited you to a semester party after you had finished up exams. The university you attended was celebrating his retirement and had invited the whole school. Not wanting you to be alone, Snafu tagged along. He looked amazing that night; his wild curls tamed with copious amounts of gel, a white collared shirt, and dress shoes that were crisp. It would have been a lovely night if Snafu had simply kept his mouth shut, which he struggled with.

-----

Walking arm and arm with your Cajun boyfriend, you were literally the belle of the ball. The amount of compliments you had received on your outfit was impressive. You had to thank your friend for the simple, yet elegant outfit.

One of your classmates had stopped to compliment your outfit. After a short discussion, you and Snafu continued your way to your assigned seating. Smiling at one of your classmates, Snafu pulled you in closer to his body.

“Relax Snaf,” You smiled as you leaned your head onto his shoulder. “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“Whaddya talkin’ ‘bout? I’m fine. Justa’ lotta guys comin’ up ta you-I don’t blame them ‘doe. But if the-”

“Y/n!”

Snafu was cut off by your friend Hana. Best friends since birth, the two of you were inseparable. Same neighborhood, same high school, and same world-renowned university. Hana knew you better than your own parents at times. You left Snafu’s link to go give her a hug. Hana walked over and gave Snafu a pat on the back, knowing him quite well. You could tell she was a little standoffish with him since she thought he was way out of your league, but was glad to finally see you happy.

“Someone's looking dapper tonight!” Hana commented, patting Snafu’s shoulder. Snafu chuckled and nodded back, complimenting Hana’s (hideous) pink coral slacks. You saw Snafu’s confusion at how bright the pants were. Hana, even if she was your best friend, was a drastically different person from you. “Glad you brought him along, y/n. You guys look so cute together!”

Snafu stood right beside you. Feeling a firm hand on your waist, he looked over and gave you a devilish smirk. “Hana, my cher right here is ‘da real belle of the ball? They don’t even have to try-they just always look flawless.”

While being flirty, Snafu’s sweet side was starting to break through. The three of you chuckled as you gave Snafu a peck on the cheek. Cooing into his ear, “Merriell Shelton, you’re one heck of a kiss up.”

“What? I’m only speakin’ the truth.” He defended.

Hana smiled along at that, giving you a small wink. “Snafu is only speaking the truth. You guys are looking for your table?”

You nodded in response. The banquet hall was small and full of people. It was also dark which made it near impossible to find your assigned seating.

“We’re actually at the same table! Allow me to lead the way.” Hana stated. Snafu and you followed here through the crowd to the table. It mainly contained your classmates and a few of their families and friends. Everything was at peace until you saw a flash of a preppy patchwork suitjacket. It took a minute to process before it hit you and Snafu.

It was the one and only Chad.

Chad had been conversing with his friends.Upon seeing you, he let out a bostieorus laugh with his other preppy friends. Snafu felt immeidntly threatened in his presence, his hold tigenthing at your waist. He was trying to act tough but came off more as a child who’s favoruite toy was going to be taken away. As Chad stood up to come greet himself, you leaned over with your teeth gritted into a smile.

“Don’t say a damn thing. I can handle this.”

The tension between Chad and Snafu was evident. Here Chad was a young and egotistical frat boy who thousands of girls would squirm after. Here Snafu was, a bug-eyed Cajun with a heavy accent and one hell of an attitude. Chad still seemingly wasn’t over the fact that he was almost run over one time by Snafu. He even lightly joked about it, which didn’t sit well with any of you. This only caused Snafu’s burning hatred for Chad to grow even more. Chad was the gasoline and Snafu was the flame. Unfortunately, you and Snafu were placed right next to Chad and his friends. Hana was right next to you and knew that this wasn’t going to end well with the prepster and Cajun. Snafu would swing around the cheap whiskey in his cup and glare down Chad whenever he would even dare look at you. You hated the fact that Snafu was acting like this just because of Chad. The inner immature child in Snafu was beginning to show when Chad began to talk politics. It led to a passive aggressive agreement before you became the mediator before someone got a black eye.

Chad was busy talking to his goons when Snafu turned to you, a hand on your thigh. You placed your hand, squeezing it as you leaned in. “Bab-”

“I don’t like him. Prissy little bitc-”

“Merriell!” You scolded. “Langug-” Snafu smirked as he leaned in to whisper into your ear. “I ain’t a Proctologist, but I know an asshole when I see one. Do people think he’s straight? With those pink tight pants, it’s sendin’ another message.”

A snort escaped your mouth as you leaned into the Cajun’s shoulder. He did have a point though. What did people see in Chad that was so attractive?

Snafu noticed that you were amused by his humor. That devilish smirk you knew all too well was plastered on his face. “We should bust outta here, ditch the party and go back home. Watch a ninety day fiance. I like what’s on ‘da outside, but i wanna see what’s on ‘da inside…”

Snafu’s fingers crawled closer to your stomach. You bit your lip in response, your cheeks burning. It was so hard to resist him all dressed up and neat. Two could play this game.

“What the hell am I ever gonna do with you, Merriell Shelton?”

“Beats me, (Y/p) (Y/l/n).” He purred into your ear. It was definitely starting to become harder to resist him, especially when he called you by your professional name. But you had to contain yourself and watch over Snafu for another hour.

Your professor had walked over, interrupting your intimate moment. It was mostly for the better. Snafu had a chance to talk to your professor and learn more about the class you had been taking. He chatted up a storm with Snafu, who seemed integrued. Snafu wasn’t one for learning whatsoever. But anything that his partner would do was of interest. Your professor had even complimented Snafu saying that he had found a lovely partner. As he walked away, Snafu stood by and grabbed your drink to go get a refill. You attempted to get up but Snafu put a hand on your shoulder, holding you down.

“Sit down, darlin’.” He stated, saying a hard d in his creamy Cajun voice. “I’m takin’ care of my smart lil’ student.”

The next few events happened too quickly for you to process. Once Snafu had left, Chad had scooted into his seat. You could smell the vodka on his lips. He began to be his typical self, but got much more invasive of your space. You mostly ignored him as he talked about how rich his family was and his summer house on Nantucket. Hana wasn’t there, so you were stuck until Snafu came back.

Chad began to insulet your boyfriend. It started out as nothing more than a drunken rant, but things slowly came to tug at your heart. He began to make fun of his appearance, calling him “bug-eyed” and “dirty looking skin”. He made fun of his work occupation, outfit, almost anything and everything about him. It was definitely an uncomfortable situation. Where the hell was Snafu?

The breaking point was when Chad had wrapped his arm around you, asking you “What the hell do you see in that loser?”

The next events were full of discord. Snafu had come over, furious. He had yanked Chad out of his chair, yelling in his face. Chad began to cry, threatening to sue you and Snafu. He had also thrown pathetic insults at Snafu, which only made Snafu’s burning hatred brighter. Everybody had their eyes on Snafu, you, and Chad. Embarrassed, you grabbed Snafu and dragged him out of the venue. It was best for the both of you to leave before the police were called. The last words you heard before leaving were Chad’s drunken cry.

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer next day! Hope you both get evicted from your shitty little apartment! You people are so evil!”

------

“You could have just ignored him!”

“Like hell! He had yah’ hand ‘round you, tryin’ to s-”

“Oh for the love of god!” You cursed. “I could’ve handled that on my own. You didn’t have to yank him out of his chair!”

“I did have ‘ta! He was assaultin’ you! You’re my c-”

“Merriell, do not cher me. This is serious,” You hissed. All you wanted to do was go to bed and escape this horrible nightmare. “He could charge you for assault. Even if it was minor, you did try to run him over with your car. There’s no way you could stand a chance against that. If you had let me handle it, it wou-”

Snafu raised his voice, “Y/N! HE WAS HARRASIN’ YOU! TRIED TO PULL DOWN ‘YER PANTS! WHAT ‘DA HELL DID YOU THINK I WAS GONNA LET HIM DO? YOU JUST NEED TO FUCKIN’ LISTEN SOMETIMES!”

His sour tone definitely made your whole body go numb. When Snafu raised his voice, you knew he was mad. He was usually pissed off at the world, but it was chilling to hear him scream. His eyes widened as the gel in his hair began to wear off; his unruly curls began to show. You stepped back, feeling tears sting at your eyes. Snafu, upon seeing this, freaked out. He had been irritated the whole night. The last thing he wanted was to see you all upset. Your lip began to quiver as warm tears streamed down your cheeks. The Cajun’s face softened, walking over to apologize. He had fear all over his face. You were the person he loved the most yet at times he had no idea how to comfort you. Emotions weren’t his speciality. He grew up greedy and selfish since it was all he knew. When he had met you, Snafu had truly changed. He didn’t know how to describe it, but you had made him a better person. You gave him hope that the world wasn’t such a shitty place.

Turning around, you walk upstairs and block out everything. Your eyes are full of tears, blinding your vision. Snafu followed after you, begging for forgiveness. He was like a lost, heartbroken puppy. Instead of heading towards your shared bedroom, you decided to hide away in the bathroom. Slamming the door, you back into the wall and slowly slide down. All you wanted to do was just let your emotions loose and not have to think about absolutely anything. You just wanted to be alone with your tears and nothing more.

-----

The tears eventually stopped with your vision cleared. You could feel the dry makeup under your eyes. Your arms and legs felt numb as you were backed to a wall, staring into the shower. What did your professor think? It was horribly embarrassing for you. There was no way you and Snafu could win a lawsuit against Chad. He knew the power he had over the both of you. It was going to be an absolute nightmare. Hana was most likely blowing up your phone with notifications. What di-

Your thoughts went away when you heard the bathroom door open. It was the one and only Snafu who had the look of a sad puppy. He normally wasn’t this soft, but his face was ridden with guilt. You didn’t even react when he walked over and sat right next to you, his thigh right next to yours. Staring at the wall, he let out a sigh. His big blue eyes were right on you.

“Cher,” His fingers trailed onto your chin as he gently turned your head. Your face was destroyed with ruined makeup. It looked like he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Guilt was all over his face. But there was no time to be whining, all he could do was attempt to make things right.

“Come on,” Snafu cooed. Grabbing your hand, he gently led you up to look in the mirror. This was the second time you saw yourself in the mirror that night. You looked like you had been hit with a tornado. The once neat outfit had been wrinkled, your neatly gelled hair wispy and falling apart, and your face covered with runny makeup. Snafu had gone through the cabinet to grab some makeup wipes. His fingers titled your head to him as he ran it gently over your face. Instead of fighting back, you let him remove the makeup from your face. He made sure to clean off every little bit from your foundation to your lipstick. As he reached your eyes, he peeled off one of your fake leashes and jumped back.

“Sacre bleu!” He cursed, throwing the eyelash into the sink. Snafu was a man who was scared by nothing, except for a fake eyelash. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a chuckle.

“ ‘Da fuck is dat thing? Fuckin’ spiderweb lookin’ bitch. Looks like it has a damn life of its own...” Snafu ranted as his words slowly turned into french. He turned over to you, biting your lip as you held back a laugh.

A smirk appeared on his face as he placed his hands on his hips, “You’d wear this shit?”

“Hana gave them to me.” You shook your head, smiling. He did have a point; they looked like spiderwebs. “I know, they're ridiculous.”

You felt Snafu’s calloused hands grab your waist and halt you on top of the bathroom counter. “Well atleast you make them look hot. Speakin’ of hot, you looked amazing tonight…” He looked down before looking right back into your eyes. “Listen, I’m sorry darlin’. Just seein’ him bother you made me livid. Ain’t no one gotta treat my cher like ‘dat. Especially ‘dat vineyard vines lookin’ prissy.”

You let out a sigh, leaning into his shoulder. “God, his suit was awful…”

“Fuckin’ blindin’. Like, pick a struggle with ‘dat middle part and layerin polo shit…”

A snort escaped your mouth. Snafu wasn’t wrong; Chad looked even worse than he usually did. It was always bright, blinding colors matched with even brighter, more hideous clothes. Snafu’s hand gently caressed your hair as you leaned onto him.

“By the way…” You cooed into his ear, “I’m not condoning what you did, but hearin’ you rip Chad to pieces was kinda hot...”

“Want me ta’ do it again? I’d love to see his little face all scrunched uppa’ ‘gain.”

“God no,” Shaking your head, your hands fiddled with his unruly curls. “If you do, i’m gonna take away all your cigarettes. We can’t handle the lawsuit that’s coming.”

“Y/n, hate to break it ‘ta yah, but I’m not a rule follower. Can I atleast run him over with ‘ma car? Or steal his trump sign?”

“Snafu Shelton, what the hell am I going to do with you?”

Snafu wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. He held on tight, like a child holding a teddy bear. “Stay with me. Right here, right now.”

You smiled into his shoulder as the two of you were wrapped in each other's arms. Snafu was certainly a handful, but you loved him more than anything in the world. He was truly willing to do anything to protect your honor and make you happy. That was a true man, not a boy.

“Ok, your chokin’ me Snaf.” You stated. Moving his arms, Snafu looks at your eyes as you rubbed them. “What time is it?”

“Ten? Darcey and Stacey are on.” He said, grabbing your hand as he led you out of the bathroom into your bedroom. “We can poppa’ few beers and order from Shanghai.”

An relieved sigh escaped from your mouth. Alcohol and chinese food were the perfect cure to a horrible night. “Thank freakin’ god. Anythin’ to forget this god awful night.”

You walked away to throw on your sweatpants and one of Snafu’s flannels on. Suddenly, his hand grabbed yours as he pulled you back to whisper into your ear. “Can’t wait ta’ see you outta’ dat pretty lil’ number ‘ya got on.”

An over exaggerated gasp escaped your mouth as you playfully (gently) slapped his face. A snarky laugh escaped his mouth. You rolled your eyes as you walked over to change. “Keep it in ‘ya pants, soldier.”

“Sorry. Whenever I see yah, I lose control darlin’.” Snafu smirked devilishly. “Can’t help it that you're smart n’ sweet. Just like candy.”

“Seriously, what the hell am I going to do with you?” You repeat yourself as you finish changing. It baffled you how you could handle Snafu. He was a manchild at times.

The Cajun grabbed your waist and began to tickle you. You fought back as you held back your giggles. Carrying you to the bed, he laid you down as the two of you held each other. His hand drew careless figures into your back as you nestled your face into his neck. He placed a kiss into your face, gently sighing into it.

“I love you, y/n.”

“Love you too, you dirty bastard.”

[maxbradley]

After Today (Prelude)

It's been a couple of weeks since my dad left to spend the rest of his happy life with the librarian, Ms. Mar-pole-ey. Er, I mean Marpole. Wasn't her name "Sylvia" or something? Whatever. I'm glad that he found the right one after so long. I really am! It's been a while since I had a mother. Heh heh. Man, the sun's making me kinda tired. I shuffle to the blinds and mess with the drawstrings until the orange light disappears from the room. The cotton feels good on my nose, cushioning my fall to the bed, "You did good, Max. You did good." I wrap arms around my pillow and bury my face in there for a minute, trying to get a wink of sleep… "Hey Max!" I let out a tiny groan as the wheat field disappears from my view again. Thrown back into nothing but a black hole, my hands reach for the edge of the mattress before I push my hand out of the cushion. My muzzle made a funny looking imprint, from what my half-shut eyes could see, "Yeah Bobby,”—I yawn, "What is it?" My aching neck won't support my skull; my head fell into the pillow again. Another groan. I really didn't want to get up this time. "What are you lying around for?? Come on Max the night is young”—He's shaking my shoulders again. Okay. So you may be asking, have I been plain lazy since we beat the Gammas at the X-Games? "Fine! I'll get up on my own thanks!" The blood rush to my brain knocks me out of balance. Well, no. I'm having a good summer so far. The rigorous practice cut itself down to a casual joyride. The same adrenaline drives me to greater heights, literally! And that look on his face—A laugh wakes me from my dry spell. Popularity soaring since we won. The trophy that my dad can show off to everyone— I'm feeling good right now! Oh wait. The feeling's gone. Dammit. "Aw. Look at the little champion. He's studying." The book is knocked out of my hands. I whirl my head up to glare straight into dark blue pools. His Gamma Geeks start laughing. All I want to do is punch 'Bradley Uppercrust the Third' in the face. My teeth grit and I stand up, keeping my eyes level to his. "Max. Ignore them. Sit down." PJ's tugging at my shirt. The ex-X Games King kept that smug little smirk, chuckling at his oh-so-clever stunt. I know he hates me for beating him, fair and square.

"Is there a problem, Baby Goof?" "Yeah, Brad. I think there is." Peej stood up and gripped my shoulder. I turn my head as he's shaking his own side to side. "Dog Boy needs his biscotti friend to calm down? What a loose cannon!" Tank looked at me differently from the others. He knows that we saved him. But even as we let bygones be bygones, I can't forget that he's on the other team. The Gamma House became, and still is, the sole target for hate, rancor. We could never be friends, even if we tried. "I think we've had our daily fix. Let's pack it up!" Much less with their retard of a leader… I thought they kicked him out? I growl and settle down on the stone bench. Apparently not. "Are you all right, Max?" I forgot to mention my ravings and rants throughout the preparation of the X-Games. Every other day I'd have something to complain about; usually the subject revolved around Uppercrust. Bobby, at some point, got himself entertained with other aspects of the college life. He's more interested in checking out girls than hear my bitching. It's embarrassing really. So now the only one that puts up with my frustration is my buddy Peej. Since we were kids in Spoonerville, we'd have the best of times—the worst of times and everything in between. Both of us put up with our overbearing fathers until we graduated from high school. Ha ha! And my dad decided to spend a year here to finish his education. I should have noticed a lack of a diploma when I was 11. But to be honest, if it wasn't for him, we would have been disqualified. I'm glad he got through my "get your own life" phase. That was the lowest point I ever had with him since that camping trip… Back when, I was in… ***** I'm a guy like every other. I got hormones. And when you look at a pretty girl you can't help but stare at them as they walk by. It's their fault for wearing shorts and skirts. I know what the ideal woman is from knowing PJ's mother. Debbie was a crazy, ugly looking cousin, but turned out to be a bombshell from what I could remember. Getting all cleaned up for her and everything. Heh heh heh. And then there was her. Roxanne. She was beautiful, inside and out. The wheat field in my dreams under that light blue sky remind me of her… That summer at the end of my sophomore year marked the beginning of our relationship. "Puppy Love", my dad would say as a joke. My feelings for Roxanne were strong even as we spent our last days together in senior year. Like any couple we had some fights, usually because there was something on her mind that she would never tell me, no matter how many times I asked. But then I would see it in her eyes, something was wrong. Eventually people were noticing my growing talent in skateboarding and other athletics, and they told me, "Max you're so good! Have you ever checked out the College X-Games?" "No!" I'd tell them. Then they told me to watch ESPN. So I did. I was floored by all the cool stunts they were doing. The Gammas were the best. I admired the X-Games King at first. He was everything I ever wanted to be: A superior athlete with decent looks, above everything and everyone, admired by all. Popular! I found out too late that he was a jerk. A complete jackass. Back to Roxanne before I crack. "I got a scholarship for college! Can you believe it?!" The tightest hug I ever gave her before spinning her around; I was just getting taller than her, and I think I almost choked her from the enthusiasm ~~~ "Max! Put me down!" "Oh Roxanne this is what I've always dreamed about!" "It's all you've been dreaming about?" "Yeah, what . . . ?" ~~~ I didn't know what to say after that. Her head stayed on her chest. The only thing I could do was kneel under her and give her a kiss on the lips. Hers were shaking, and I felt a tear on my cheek… ***** "Mmmph.—Ha… haa." It's happening again. The excitement was too much—I had to wake up. It began to throb again; l locked my knees together to get it to stop. There are some nights when I love my hormones. And then there are others when I hate them. Dreaming about your first love, now at a time when you get the basics of "that", is kinda disturbing. It seemed, back then, we were too good for that. And even now, I respect women. I swore not to let my primal instincts take over before marriage. And then have kids of our own. I'll make sure not to overprotect them like my dad did… But, maybe, even that… "Nggh!" What the hell was that?! I shot up in my bed before wringing my hands at the warm cloth. I kept on throbbing and throbbing. It wouldn't stop! It won't stop! I fell off the bed and I hear Bobby snort in his sleep. I clamber up to my feet and nearly stumble into the bathroom. I'm careful to click the door shut and turn on the fan before I curse at myself and see my red cheeks in the mirror, "Calm down!" Please calm down! Was it because I kept on obsessing over—?! "Max you're so stupid—I hate this!" I didn't care what hell time it was. I took off everything I had and delved into a cold shower to get rid of all the sweat— Just perfect! ***** "Just fuckin' perfect." I don't think they heard me with my head buried in my crossed arms. "Cheer up buddy. You're not the only one with freaky dreams." I never told them exactly what I dreamed about. "Yeah Max don't let it ruin your day!" I sit up, "But what if it is?!" Our professor glared at us three before clearing his throat. Lucky me to have Brad in the same class this summer session. I can see him from the corner of my eye, smiling at our interrupting of the class. I can't wait when he graduates next year. Good riddance. I groan and bury my head in my arms again, not even paying attention to our lecture on Freudian Theology—or whatever the hell that old man was blabbing on about. He's not the same guy as last year, but man his voice is so boring! God! It took forever until I heard the shuffling of papers and the shutting of notebooks. The zipping of backpacks and the click of tote bags. The light shone through the windows on the chalkboard, orange and a muddy green. I'm all ready for bed, "Max." Peej tapped on my shoulder, "Time to go." I let out a sigh before reaching down to get my pack, "I'll catch up with you later." I'm dead tired. My friend gives me a strange look and shrugs his shoulders, "If you catch up, I'll be at the Bean Scene. Bobby said he'd be at some free rock concert around campus." "I think, I'll just go back to the dorm and sleep." "But that's all you've been doing lately!" "I don't sleep very well." I push myself off of the desk and sway around for a bit before regaining balance on my sore feet. "Suit yourself. Um, do you think that we should, I dunno, go out on a road trip during the weekend or something, get some fresh air?" I sigh deeply and look away from him, "It's fine, Peej." We were the only people in the room. And now I was the only one. The sun was setting even lower, but I kept on staring at nothing. The screech of a nearby car outside snaps me out of my trance. I trudge up the steps and push the door open. I must have tripped on the bottom of a post because the next thing I knew I was on the ground, chin hitting the concrete, "Ouch!" I can see a shoe in front of my face and it threatened to kick me— I roll out of the way quickly and jump off the ground to see an all-too-familiar silhouette, red-orange shining the side of his prissy sweater— "What the hell do you want?!" I wasn't so tired anymore. "What I always wanted to do since we met— The collar of my shirt's pulled up to his giant chin, "beat you." I push him off me and block a blow to my jaw. I came under and punched him in the stomach—It was almost satisfying until I felt my back rammed up against the wall, the back of my head was about to go numb— "Make this easy for the two of us, freshman. Get the fuck out of here. Transfer out of this campus so that I never see your mug again." My eyes widen. I never heard him swear before. "Because, the next time I see it—the next time when we're all alone—I'll break it in!" The grip is suddenly released and he whirls around and leaves, but not down the stone steps. Like a thief he disappears 'round the corner of the building. My shallow breathing made my heart pound violently, for more reasons than one. I shake my head and wrench onto my pack's strap and practically run down the steps, grating my teeth together and only wanting to see Brad in a pool of his own blood— "oof!" The flutter of papers and a couple of books— "Watch it!" I growl. I'm about to push this guy to the ground—this guy with red hair… Dammit, it's a girl. Despite my sudden poisonous fantasies I kneel down begrudgingly to help pick up after her. Our hands touch, and through my glove I feel a wonderful warmth . . . A warmth. "I'm sorry." "It's okay." Our eyes peer up at one another. They lock. Her face is in shock. I recognize that beauty mark anywhere. "Roxanne." I breathe—my heart beat even faster than before. Something caught in my throat, but I didn't care— "Roxanne! Oh!" I knock her down on the bare sidewalk with a big hug, careful not to hit her head. All the feelings from the past washed over me in an older body—a taller body—she felt like a child in my arms, "Max?!”—I let her go so that she could catch her breath. I stand up and take her hand in mine lifting her off the ground and giving her a more civil embrace, "It's so good to see you again I can't believe it!" A finger comes in between our lips. " . . . Is it really you?" more sad than happy. "Yeah, Roxanne! It's me—Max—don't you remember me?" I broke into a humored smile. "I do." Didn't she used to be more bubbly and excited when we saw each other? "What are you doing here I thought you had gone to another campus??" I can't even pause between my words; I felt elated. Her hair got shorter. She's covering more of her skin too. Her shorts became loose jeans. "I did, Max. Stacey moved up here with her family and decided to transfer over. I came with her to visit for a couple of days. This is my last night." "Well how is she? Why are you walking around here by yourself? You were trying to find me, weren'tcha?" A playful nudge on her shoulder, like old times. She finally smiled, "I didn't think I would find you. At all." Then she slowly hung her head, again. A lump caught in my throat again; I had to swallow it down. "Roxanne." My fingers cup her chin and raise her brown eyes to mine. I want nothing more than to kiss her again, "I'll take you to the dorm. Come on." I pick up her stuff and offer her my arm to wrap herself around. "I'm fine, thanks." She's walking ahead of me. "You're walking the wrong way!" I laugh. "Oh. Sorry." "Don't be!" ***** Cappuccino's almost ready. I tell the machine to work faster under my breath. From the corner of my eye I can see Roxanne prodding at the scone I got her, "Did I catch you at a bad time? Period maybe??" I chuckle at my own joke. It seemed easier to be myself around her, not having to carry around my façade of the goody-two-shoe kid on campus. I was more mischievous towards her as we reached our senior year together. But I'd always draw the line wherever hands were concerned. I wouldn't dare touch her inappropriately, even now . . . Coffee's done. Damn she's silent tonight. Like before we had an argument. I'd always ask her, "What's wrong?" "Nothing." "Are you sure?" "I'm sure." "Roxanne…" I forget about that endless cycle, "So how's your dad? College done you in yet?" "He's fine. College is good. I'm getting good grades…" "Higher GPA than mine, I bet!" Then she grins. I wish it could stay. I feel like reminiscing, "Did you miss me?" . . . "Did you, miss me??" I never noticed the bags under her eyes, like we suffered from the same spell of insomnia. The way she asked me the question made me nervous. "Of course! Wh- What makes you think otherwise?" The hand holding the mug begins to shake, "ow!" The hot water went into my gloves. "Are you all right, Max?" Roxanne's holding my hand in hers. I'm about to melt, "I've always missed you.. I still dream of the field." "What field are you talking about?" I bite my tongue down; I had let my sophomoric fantasies slip out of my big mouth. Her brows come together. I'm not liking her expression right now. "Look Max. I'm not surprised if you've gone and seen other girls. I don't care if you still see them after I'm gone." What? "Roxanne”—The chair scrapes the floor as I find myself kneeling before her—"Don't go. Not yet." "But I'm not leaving yet. Max, what are you doing??" My lips were pressed against her knuckles, palm, wrist. In a blur my eyes look up to her face before making contact with her own. As I stood up I took her by the waist and held her close, letting myself get lost in her scent. "Max! Stop it!" She's wiping her mouth, her pupils shrunken down. Roxanne's trying to get away. "Please don't go. But what do you mean I can't see you again?" "A lot's been going on and I can't take you with me!" "Roxanne, please—I'll even transfer out of this campus— A sharp slap—"Come back to your senses, Goof!" I let go, shaking. She's petrified in fear… of me. "Roxanne. What have I done wrong now??" "It's not what you did! It never was!" I choke on a gasp. Why am I crying? I wipe my tears before she sees them— "I know I did something wrong Roxanne! If you would just tell me!" You never tell me! The umber flared into lava under the iridescent lights, "Max!" I see her leaning on the kitchen counter for support, lips shaking and face pale as if she were about to throw up, "I was raped!" . . . . . "No. No, you weren't." I couldn't understand why a chuckle was coming from my own throat. "Max! Listen to me!" I'm lounging around on the couch and stifling my laughs. All of a sudden Roxanne's right next to me, "Max—mmph!— "No. You're too good. You're an angel." My right hand runs forever through her hair, dark and tight. I hear a sob within my chest, I feel the tears. Lying on top of me, my angel wrapped her arms around my neck and spoke, "Max . . . Do you remember? When everyone told you how good you were, in skateboarding." I can only give her a kiss on the head, "Yeah." "I got jealous." Of who? "Of your passion." "Why didn't you tell me? If I ignored you because I got caught up in sports, you could have told me." I turn over so that our eyes are the same height from the ground. We're pressed against the couch, holding onto each other for dear life. "I got depressed for a while… and then… he— ~~~ "Hey Roxanne. How 'bout Stacey's party?" ~~~ "We were juniors, Max, when it happened. I was so stupid to let him comfort me, hold me. Because, at that point, I wasn't getting any of that from you. You kept on obsessing over some 'Bradley Uppercrust'— In a pool of his own blood. "Roxanne. Don't mention that name again. I don't want to hear it." Her eyelids raise a bit and she nods her head, "Okay." I finally got a kiss from her dry lips, covered with salt. I didn't want to hear the rest. Good thing, because she was never going to tell me. It was her turn to comfort me when I burst into tears when the truth sank in… "I want you—I want to be with you forever… Marry me." My eyes blur over and fog out as I held on tighter . . . Marry me. "Please don't go." My arms are wrapped around my pillow. The sun shone yellow on my bedroom wall. Lazy eyes scanned the nightstand. The analog clock reads 7:20AM. I could hear the snoring of my roommates. I stare at the ceiling for the longest time before stretching out my arms and legs—one of them got a severe cramp, "ff—- owow ow—" I let the blood circulate so the pain would go away. All that was just a dream. I groan and sit myself up on the bed. After standing I stretch out even more and breathe in as much oxygen as I can. I exhale and shuffle to the bathroom, turn on the faucet and rinse my damp face. The cold water burned my cheek. It stung, "What?" Face wet, dripping of all the sweat and tears I shed, I spot a red mark in the mirror right where her hand had struck. Was I still in a dream, or in a living nightmare?

[ezra-blue]

Worst Version - Moonrise over Suburbia

I started writing a fic for Saiyuki AU August, and then I started hating it. So I gave up and wrote a 393 instead. Here’s the first twelve pages of a 353 fake dating AU, unedited.

Moonrise Over Suburbia

It was too damn early. That was what Gojyo hated most about the long hauls; crossing time zones there and back fucked him up something fierce. It was ass-o'fucking-clock, a little past four AM, but his brain said it was seven and time for the morning piss and the first cigarette of the day before he was supposed to be getting back into the cab of his eighteen-wheeler and setting off towards the rising sun. Still, being willing to make the drive from Maine to Oregon, Portland to Portland, kept money in his pockets, kept the lights on and kept the landlord off his ass. Steady pay, not bored during the day, the occasional pretty young thing from the bars that dotted the highway to keep him busy at nights? Pretty ideal, really. He and his best friend-slash-hetero-life-mate had managed on his UPS job and his friend's adjunct professor's salary for this long, so he had nothing to complain about that way.

Really, the only thing he had to worry about tonight was where his next meal was coming from, since Hakkai wasn't home and Gojyo was the kind of chef who could burn stove-top ramen. He didn't even want to think about how terrible he'd be at cooking on two hours of sleep.

Even so, as much as it sucked to be up way earlier than he had to be on his day off, there was something kinda surreal and dreamy about being out on his balcony and watching the pre-dawn August sky, those pale blues and pinks and that hint of orange. It was quiet, damn quiet, not a car on the road and only the rare jogger or dog-walker breaking the abandoned streets of the suburbs at the foot of his apartment building; the neighborhood felt unreal without anyone in it, but it wasn't a bad kind of unreal. The moon was setting in the distance, in the space between the houses and mid-rises across the street, her swollen face, waxing, pale against the misty sky and half-faded, as if she'd never been there at all. Gojyo lit his cigarette against the mirage of the moon and sucked down the first rush of nicotine, easing the crave and relaxing into the way-too-damn-early serenity of a world that hadn't woken up yet.

Life was good.

Then, the door to the neighboring balcony slid open, and Gojyo felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, readying himself like a referee at the edge of a boxing ring had picked up the hammer next to the bell. Gojyo's neighbor stepped outside with a sigh already on his lips, languid eyes and heavy gaze running over Gojyo in his singlet and boxer shorts as he, already dressed for the day, took his Marlboros from his back pocket.

“You're up early.” He held his smoke out. “Give me a light.”

“What, your lighter out again?” Gojyo held out his Zippo and flicked the wheel. “You think you'd've remembered to keep spares on hand by now, old man.”

He sneered, and if he didn't do that so much, Gojyo thought, he might've been good-looking, but instead Gojyo just found himself having a lot of trouble liking him. “Fuck off, I've been buried under work for the past week while you were fuck-knows-where, running through every damn disposable I had.”

Sanzo was kind of weird like that. He smoked like a car factory, but he insisted on disposable lighters. He claimed to be a Buddhist and meditated in the laundry room (though Gojyo was this side of sure he was just napping), but he was anything but peaceful, swearing at anyone who got on his nerves and cussing out his roommate through the walls. He kept weirder hours than Gojyo, because Gojyo couldn't name a single hour he hadn't heard the guy awake through the walls, though Gojyo, with his broken sleep schedule, had no room to criticize. He was also basically kind of an asshole to everyone for no obvious reason. Gojyo couldn't hate him – even had a grudging respect for someone who lived the way he wanted and unapologetically gave zero fucks – but he made himself hard to like.

“Get a fucking Zippo and a jumbo bottle of lighter fluid, you'll damn near never run out.” Gojyo waited for Sanzo to touch his cigarette to the flame and catch, then tucked it away and returned his attention to his own cigarette as the embers smoldered against his fingers. Sanzo grunted noncommittally.

“Whatever. It'd be less of a pain than talking to you every time I run out, anyway.” Sanzo leaned over the railing of his balcony as he took a drag, looking tired and a little tragic as his focus turned to the sky and the setting moon. “Hell of a time to be up.”

“I just got done with a gig driving all the way East along the Canadian border and back. Five days out of the right time zone kinda fucks a guy up, y'know?”

“You do it to yourself.” Sanzo sneered a bit. “Just turn your alarm off and roll over.”

“Can't do that, princess.” Gojyo wagged his cigarette between his fingers. “Even if the old alarm didn't ring, the internal 'cig time' clock runs smoother than a fake titty in a compression tank top.”

Sanzo gave him a sickly glower. “Every time you make a metaphor like that, I doubt further you've ever seen a breast, let alone touched one.” He snorted and dragged deep on his cigarette, pulling the flame down to the filter fast. Gojyo admired that lung capacity for a second, until Sanzo coughed deep and hard.

“Jeez, you're in a mood this morning. That time of the month already?” Gojyo stubbed the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray Hakkai had put out next to his potted plants (in an effort to keep Gojyo from flicking his butts into the plants, of course), as Sanzo scoffed again, then rubbed at the deep bags under his eyes.

“Fuck you.” He groaned and shook his head, rubbing his fingers against his temples. “Just... I fucking hate summer.”

“The heat get you down?” Gojyo leaned his back against the railing, watching as Sanzo seemed to slump further. He definitely seemed a little more worn-out than usual. “Work a bitch this time of year?” Gojyo wasn't sure what Sanzo did – his roommate, a friendly college student that Gojyo palled around with when he wasn't buried under homework, had mentioned something about stock trading – but he seemed to hate it. Then again, Sanzo seemed to hate damn near everything.

“The fuck do you care for?�� The smoke billowing off Sanzo's teeth seemed to come a little fiercer. Gojyo just shrugged.

“I dunno, I can usually hear you bitching through the walls when you're in a shit mood, so maybe I don't need your bleep-box nightmare mouth waking me up when I'm trying to catch up on my Z's. So, spill, maybe wise ol' Gojyo can help.” He turned, wagging an eyebrow at Sanzo with just a little bit of a lascivious grin. Sanzo scoffed again, but then he was quiet, that kind of quiet that said he was thinking. Then, he muttered:

“Is your roommate home? I haven't seen him.”

Gojyo rolled his eyes. “Check your calendar, dipshit. It's the end of August, Professor Hakkai's in the pre-semester crunch doing syllabuses and making up assignments. He left a note to apologize for the empty fridge, so he's probably been living in the teacher's lounge at the university since after I left.”

“Shit.” Sanzo threw his cigarette down and scrubbed his hand down his face. Gojyo raised an eyebrow and tucked his cigarette between his lips as he crossed his arms.

“Okay, what the fuck is up?”

Sanzo grimaced, then slid his fingers open to make a gap over his face and eye contact with Gojyo. “I need a date.”

Gojyo damn near swallowed his cigarette. “What?”

“I. Need. A. Date. You heard me.” Sanzo made a face as he pivoted to face Gojyo. “It's... look, do you have any family?”

Gojyo pulled a face at this. “None worth talking about.”

“Most of the time, me neither. My old man travels the damn world most of the year, but he comes back home for a little bit in the summer, and he always wants to see me when he's home.” Sanzo huffed in disgust. “Even when he's globetrotting, he calls me from wherever the fuck he is, forgetting that time zones are a fucking thing--” Gojyo snorted at the irony, but Sanzo missed it-- “And pisses me off whining about wondering how I'm doing. I decided to get him off my ass by telling him I'd gotten a boyfriend.” Sanzo didn't even give Gojyo a chance to question him, ranting right on, “That way, I could mute my phone and if he asked why I didn't pick up, I could tell him I'd been busy with my boyfriend and he'd be happy for me and maybe fucking call less.”

Gojyo managed to push his jaw shut. “Wait, you're gay?”

“No.” Sanzo glared at Gojyo. “And even if I were, why do you care?”

“Curious, dude. I mean, it's not my thing, but I say live and let live. So, you're not gay but you told your old man--

“If I had to date someone,” Sanzo interrupted, emphasizing the 'if' like it had a two ton weight swinging behind it, “I'd prefer a man. Women annoy me more.”

“Got it.” Gojyo shrugged again. “So, I'm guessing that lie's made its way back around the world to bite you in the ass.”

Sanzo grunted and pinched his temples again. “My dad has invited me to a dinner party. He wants me to introduce him to my boyfriend. The one who doesn't exist.”

Gojyo whistled. “Your mouth wrote you a check your ass can't cash, huh?” He smirked at Sanzo. “Took a withdrawal from the bank of lies and found that interest a little steep?”

“Fuck you, I didn't think you'd be much help anyway.” Sanzo sneered and turned for the door, but Gojyo whistled again to get his attention.

“Hold up, prissy-britches, wait a second. What is it you need?” He paused, putting the pieces together as his brain woke up enough to puzzle out what Sanzo had said. “Wait, were you gonna ask the Prof to be your boyfriend or something?”

Sanzo grumbled something indistinct, but in the pink dawn light, Gojyo realized his ears had gone bright red. “Oh-ho. Oh, Sanzo. That wouldn't'a worked anyway. Prof Hakkai's got this long distance girl – her name's Yaone, she's this medical researcher working in N'Orleans right now, something about frogs – and he Skypes with her every night for like an hour. He wouldn't be caught dead with someone else, since he's got big plans for her when she's done with her assignment.” Sanzo swore softly. “What about Goku?”

“What about Goku? My dad knows him, he'd never believe he and I had gotten together. Plus, I would've just said, 'Goku and I are an item' instead of being as vague as I have.”

“Any reason you couldn't'a just faked it with the kid?” Gojyo wagged his cigarette a little. “Hell, I hear about folks our age just getting married to our buddies for the tax benefits and getting a no-fault divorce when the real deal comes along.” Sanzo huffed with annoyance, shoulders sinking, but he waved his cigarette hand around as if to wipe away the very notion.

“It's complicated. I'm not getting into that with him. Either way, my dad wouldn't buy it.”

“Fine.” Gojyo knew how loaded a word like 'complicated' was when it came to love stuff, family stuff, stuff he usually tried not to fuck with. “And I'm guessing, given your glowing personality and natural charm, you've got plenty of friends who'd be willing to play the role for a night.”

“Fuck you.”

Sanzo blinked a few times as if someone had snapped a flash photo and he had to clear away the fuzz. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, you need a fake boyfriend, I got spare time and a dick, I could play the part."

"Not a chance." Sanzo sneered, lip curling. "I'm not your type."

"You sure about that?" Gojyo grinned coyly and swaggered up to the railing, keeping the bars between him and Sanzo but leaning over them to smirk at him. "That might even work better for ya. Your old man'll be able to tell we're not a good couple, so if you do find someone you actually wanna hook up with, he'll totally understand when you break up with me."

The fact that Sanzo just raised an eyebrow rather than throwing back a nasty retort told Gojyo that he might have just said the magic words. "And what do you get out of it?"

"Dinner, duh." Gojyo thumbed over his shoulder. "Told ya, the Prof's out, and I probably won't see him 'til the crunch is over and the semester starts. You said this was a dinner, that means free food and you can filch me some leftovers, and I don't have to live on Mickey D's for however the fuck long Hakkai's out of the house." Gojyo paused. "Alright, and if I gotta sweeten my own deal, you gotta bring me some breakfast or something."

Sanzo scowled his irritation, but he put his face close to Gojyo's. "Can you pretend to enjoy kissing me?"

"Only if you can." As if to test it, Gojyo tilted his head to kiss Sanzo on the mouth, but Sanzo evaded.

"No dress rehearsals. Fuck. Fine." Sanzo pivoted around, shoving his sliding door open. "Be ready to go at five, we gotta drive there. Wear a tie, if you own one." He slammed the door shut behind him (as hard as one could slam a glass sliding door), and Gojyo blew a smoke ring at his back.

“Well, whatever.” He had dinner set for the night, anyway, and it was something different to do on his day off.

Life was strange, but alright. Gojyo watched the moon sink a little lower as he finished his smoke, and resolved to try to get a little more sleep. He wanted to be awake enough to watch Sanzo squirm tonight.

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

Sanzo at first seemed surprised when Gojyo pushed open the front door of their apartment building, eyes a little wide as he strolled down the sidewalk towards the curb and Sanzo's stark white Equus (nice car, Gojyo thought, for someone who never leaves the house). "Hey," he hailed Sanzo with a wave and a wink, and Sanzo just scoffed and flapped a hand back, but Gojyo didn't miss the way Sanzo's gaze swiped his body. Gojyo had dug out the black silk shirt and a white straight tie, the stuff he saved for nights at swanky clubs near the college, and now Sanzo was staring at him with what sure smelled like jealousy. Gojyo made sure to pass him just close enough that he could smell his cologne and the cigarettes on his collar; after all, even if he was just playing at being Sanzo's boyfriend, Sanzo's dad might as well think he was a catch, or at least sexy, and it'd be nice if Sanzo would acknowledge that he was making an effort. Sanzo sniffed the air a little, though Gojyo couldn't be sure if it was attraction or derision. Gojyo walked a short circle around the car so Sanzo could see just how damn good his ass looked in dark wash jeans, but also so he could check out the ride – it was an older car, but it looked damn sharp, so either Sanzo took good care of it or never drove it. "She's nice."

"She?"

"Cars are ladies, doncha know?" Gojyo winked, then leaned against the hood. "So, you ready to roll?"

Sanzo pulled a face, brow quirking, mouth twitching back with annoyance. "Yeah, fine." He took a cigarette out of his sport coat's inner pocket and lit up as he circled to the driver's side. His focus glanced off of Gojyo again as Gojyo cracked open the passenger side door. "You look presentable."

That was the closest thing Gojyo'd ever heard to a compliment coming out of Sanzo. He just chuckled and slicked his fingers back through his hair. "Well, when I'm not bound for sixteen hours in my cab by my lonesome, I make a little more effort. Thanks."

"Hm." Sanzo's focus flitted away, eyes dodging down, and Gojyo realized Sanzo actually, seriously thought he looked good. He smirked to himself, cocksure and proud, as he settled into the cushy seat of Sanzo's little luxury sedan and threw his safety belt on.

Sanzo drove like he was daring the cops to pull him over, using his turn signals like insults rather than indicators. Gojyo found himself gripping the “oh-shit” handle for most of the ride and watching the streets fly past the window as they veered from the outskirts of Portland, circumvented the city, and sped towards Five Corners. Gojyo was familiar with the area, he'd driven local deliveries through here. He recognized the exits and turns towards a particularly nice slice of the suburbs north and east of West Hill, the kind of place where he ended up dropping off a lot of luxury brand packages in December.

Not surprising. If Sanzo's dad had the assets to travel the world, it made sense he had it in him to own a house in a nice area. Sanzo seemed like he came from a good place, though Gojyo got the sense that something had happened that had made him turn out rotten. Kids who came from good homes seemed to have the biggest problems. Gojyo had found that folks with money too often substituted cash for decent morals and common sense. Not that broke kids didn't have their problems too, but everyone knew about those already, so they were hardly worth whining about.

The sun was just starting to sink behind the mountain when they pulled up to a mid-sized Victorian-style house in the middle of a winding, tree-lined road, but instead of the manicured lawn and designer garden he expected, the grass was long and wild, the roses were growing up the brick and stone columns like trellises, and most of the windows were draped with ivy, bedecked with living greenery like Christmas tinsel. The lights were on, glowing gold onto the other cars parked out front, and Sanzo groaned as he pushed the clasp on his seat belt loose. “Fuck, he invited the whole crew.”

“The whole crew?” Gojyo repeated, fumbling off the last of his terror at the last abrupt, screeching turn onto the driveway, fingers shaking just a little, but he got out and shook himself off. The yard was quiet, with only a faint hum of noise and music from the house proper. Sanzo shook his head with disgust.

“He invited all of his friends from work, from before he retired.” He slapped the cars as he strolled past them. “Glasses guy, Fey guy, the Colonel, Big guy, Shouty guy, Quiet guy, Baldy One and Baldy Two...”

Gojyo frowned and followed a step behind. “They, uh, got names?”

“Sure, but I don't bother remembering them. I see them once a year, less if I had any say in it.” Sanzo scoffed, shaking his head as he went, but Gojyo caught him shoot a truly venomous look at a black sports car parked in front of the driveway. “And of course, that prick is here. I'd hoped the old man would've pushed him off a boat by now.”

Gojyo raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't ask. He had a feeling he'd find out who 'that prick' was soon enough.

Sanzo loped to the front door, shaking his shoulders out like he was limbering up for a boxing match, then rang the bell and rapped his fist on the door twice. Gojyo felt Sanzo's tension around him like static electricity as the chime reverberated into silence, until the door opened to a mild-looking man in a colorful knee-length jacket, his long hair in a braid cast over his shoulder and a pipe between his fingers. He threw his arms open, beaming. “Kouryuu, there you are!”

Sanzo reluctantly trudged forward and let the man fold his arms around him. Gojyo even caught a glimpse of a begrudging smile. “Father. I've asked you to call me Genjo instead of that babyish nickname.”

“It's not babyish, it's what I've always called you!” Sanzo's father patted his back a few times before releasing him, only to hold him at arm's length. “And you'll always be my baby, you know.” He turned to Gojyo, and spoke to him with the familiarity as if he'd known him for years. “Has he told you about how I adopted him? All my old friends were stunned, they didn't think a man like me could be a parent, but this one falls into my lap and--”

“Father, you should really introduce yourself before you start telling embarrassing old stories about me.” Sanzo was visibly tense now, and Gojyo couldn't help but chuckle to himself.

“Hey, he told me it'd been a while since you've seen each other, I can't blame ya for being eager.” Gojyo loosened to a casual slouch and swaggered a half step in. “Name's Gojyo. I''m the guy who's been taking care of your boy these last – how many months, babe?”

The look of pure relief on Sanzo's face was immensely satisfying. “Ten.”

“Ten months, but who's counting, right?” Gojyo extended a hand. “It's nice to meet you, sir.”

“Oh, he calls me 'sir,'” Sanzo's father laughed, but he clasped both hands around Gojyo's and shook it vigorously. “I'm Koumyou Sanzo, his father. So tell me, is his butt as cute as it was when he was little?”

Gojyo nearly choked on his own tongue trying not to laugh right there, as Sanzo turned a shade of crimson Gojyo could only compare to steakhouse ketchup. “Father!”

“He hasn't showed me baby pictures,” Gojyo demurred, winking at Sanzo again. “But let's see what the night brings, you know?”

Koumyou chortled, obviously delighted, but waved the pair of them past. “Oh, Genjo, he's funny. I like him!”

“He's unique.” Sanzo eyed Gojyo with just a hint of malice, and Gojyo put on a sheepish grin. “He's never boring, anyway.”

“I'm just glad I can make you laugh, babe.” Gojyo motioned for Sanzo to go first, as Sanzo shot him one quick glare and moved past him.

So far, so good.

Koumyou led them into a room near the entrance, but before Gojyo could even get a look around, a cheer rose through the room.

“There he is!”

“The prodigal son!”

“The famous son,” someone else laughed back, and Gojyo finally got a look around. Koumyou kept it colorful, the walls beige but decorated with ornate, colorful paintings – Klimt, van Gogh, Degas, and framed posters from art galleries advertising exhibitions from around the world – and his table was just as colorful. The centerpiece of the room, the dinner spread over the long low table, was of covered dishes in purples and crimsons and greens over a tablecloth with a technicolor geometric pattern. All the guests were seated on silk patterned cushions on their knees similar in pattern to Koumyou's jacket, and all of them were waving to Genjo as he slouched in the aperture between the foyer and dining room.

“It's...” Gojyo could feel Sanzo's tension in the hum of his hesitation and patted his back, and Sanzo seemed to remember that he should finish his sentence. “Nice to see you all again.”

“Liar,” one man near the head of the table, a man closer to Sanzo's age than to Koumyou's with shaggy dark hair, chuckled, and Sanzo's gaze snapped to him. “Imagine,” he went on, dark eyes gleaming in the yellow light of the chandelier, “Koumyou putting the poor antisocial boy through his paces again.”

Sanzo bristled, and jerked his shoulder to shake Gojyo's hand off. “It's been too long, Jianyi.”

“He lies again.” The dark-haired man, Jianyi apparently, laughed, and elbowed at the man next to him, who actually gave him a rather irritated look back.

“Will you be nice to your boyfriend's son?” He was an odd-looking fellow, with a classic Mandarin hairstyle, all the hair shaved but for a braid, and a mustache, and when he stood, Gojyo realized he was a little person. He circled the table and came to stand in front of Sanzo, then bowed. “You're looking well, Genjo.”

“Genkai.” Sanzo actually bowed back. “It's good to see you again.”

“Now he means it,” a man with hair dyed purple giggled (Fey guy, though his voice was rougher than his rather feminine features suggested), and Baldy One and Baldy Two on either side of him both smiled, One reluctantly and Two wryly, before Fey guy cupped a hand. “Genjo, introduce the beefcake!”

All eyes were on him now. Gojyo keenly felt Jianyi's stare, as Sanzo motioned to him. “Everyone, Gojyo. We've been seeing each other ten months.”

“Nice find!” A guy wearing a canvas military cap, who was a little younger and a little thicker than the others (Gojyo was guessing that was the Big guy), hooted, and the Colonel (the white beard and mustache were a dead giveaway) chuckled into his hand.

“Gojyo, Genjo, please, sit, make yourself comfortable! Where did that Father of yours get to?”

“He can't have gone far.” Genkai eased back and motioned to the two empty cushions near the center of the table. “We were all just catching up. All boring old man stuff, of course. What have you been up to?”

With that, Genkai ushered Sanzo to sit, and Gojyo sat beside him on his knees, and Sanzo was dragged into the typical inane conversation of catching up with someone one hadn't seen in a while. Gojyo found out a little about Sanzo, at least: he was a straight-up New York City stock trader, working (remotely) on Eastern Standard Time from the nine A.M. opening bell (six A.M., Gojyo did the math in his head with a quick wince) until closing. Explained why he was always awake when Gojyo's schedule was fucked, anyway. It also explained why he seemed to be such a recluse, or at least how he could stay in the apartment all day and still make a decent living. Gojyo couldn't help but figure the why from Sanzo's terse reactions every time he got a question from another direction, eyes briefly widening a little bit every time someone asked about the next big trend, stock advice, buy or sell on this or that, and turning faintly scarlet whenever Fey guy or Big guy made some wink and nod joke about him being “kept busy” and winking at Gojyo.

Koumyou rejoined the party just as Baldy Two was pushing Sanzo about Apple stock, bearing a covered dish. “My, my, you've all started the festivities without me!”

“We couldn't help ourselves,” Jianyi chuckled, edging over to widen the gap beside him. Gojyo immediately felt his attention snap to the guy, because for some reason, Gojyo had gotten a bad vibe off of him, and not just from Sanzo's reaction to his prodding, or that of the other ten men in the room every time he'd made some mutter Gojyo couldn't hear or make out. It was that 'not-safe' feeling he got when he pulled into truck stops that told him his shit would get stolen out of the cab if he so much as stopped for a piss break there, or when he passed over lot lizards that he just knew would give him syphilis if he so much as looked at her twice without a condom on. He had sort of a sense for trouble like that, it came with living like he did. Jianyi seemed either blissfully unaware of everyone else's disdain or wholly unperturbed by it, but that was just as off-putting as the initial sense Gojyo got, and just as eerie as the smile Jianyi put on when Koumyou sat down beside him and put the dish in the rest of the spread. "Can we serve now?"

"Oh, yes, yes, please!" Koumyou motioned up with both hands, indicating for everyone to lift the covers, before turning his smile towards Gojyo. "And if you don't know what something is, please ask!"

Gojyo suddenly felt eyes on him, and plastered on a self-conscious smile. "Food's food, right? I'm sure I can figure it out."

There was a round of soft chuckling and stifled laughter around the table, as Sanzo muttered, "You happen to be at a table with eleven world-travelers, each of whom brought a dish from a part of the world they have been to over the last year. I guarantee you I'll only be guessing at half of what's on this table, but I have no food allergies or sensitivities and I'm not picky. Just ask if you're not sure."

"I'm not picky either," Gojyo countered quickly, choosing not to volunteer that he'd eaten maggots before just so nobody could press him about the context. "Uh, but excluding us, I counted twelve, so--"

"I can't cook," Koumyou volunteered sheepishly. "However, I got a friend in town to dress a lamb leg in the Turkish style, and while I wouldn't know what to do with it myself, I can set an oven and carve meat off the bone."

"With some help." Nii winked at him, and Gojyo heard Fey guy make a disgusted noise.

"Can we just eat already?" He lowered his voice to a mutter and added, "Before I lose my appetite."

The plates were lifted, to an outcry of excitement from all sides but Sanzo and Jianyi, and though Gojyo didn't say a word, he didn't recognize half of what was on the table. Instead, Gojyo took the first thing he could identify (a hearty slice of that lamb leg Koumyou had brought in) and sniffed every plate as it came past him. He began to pick up on what was what – those funny green egg rolls were grape leaves stuffed with mushrooms and onions, the white pasta with big meatballs was a Vietnamese pork meatball over rice noodles, that wasn't ham wrapped around melon but prosciutto and it was popular in Spain, those crispy things were deep-fried lotus root – and luckily, it all smelled amazing.

“Man, this is better than going to a buffet,” he remarked as he passed a platter of black eggs that smelled of oranges and spice to Baldy Two on his left, to a few chuckles from nearby.

“It's fun,” Genkai said from his place, smiling peaceably. “We all get together to share where we've been, and bring a little of it with us.”

“A fine meal is a fleeting pleasure, but one best enjoyed in good company.” Koumyou lifted a teacup, and many of the others followed suit with water or wine glasses. "Cheers. I'm glad to see you all again."

There were answers of "Cheers," and murmurs of agreement, before Koumyou turned to Genkai. "You said you brought dolmas, old friend? How did Greece treat you?"

"Better than its citizens, sadly." Genkai smiled wryly. "Even despite its current troubles, Athens is still beautiful. I admit I spent longer in Germany this year, but, well... I suppose I was thinking of Goudai."

Jianyi pulled a face behind his wine glass, as Koumyou sighed. "It's still fresh for me, too. He would have loved them, you did a fantastic job."

"Goudai," Sanzo said, in a voice meant for Gojyo, "was an old friend of my father's who passed a few years ago."

"I think we all miss my old mentor." All eyes shot to Jianyi with irritation when he spoke over his folded hands and tented fingers. "Even so, I imagine he'd be loathe to think of us all moping about him now, wouldn't you agree, Genjo?" His dark eyes glimmered with mischief, and he failed to disguise a smirk. Sanzo snorted and turned his attention to his plate, but Gojyo felt compelled to say something:

"He'd probably be glad you all thought of him, anyway. It's nice to remember folks who're gone, not for them, but for you, y'know? Those good memories are still good." He picked up one of the fried lotus root chips with his fingers, imitating Baldy One across the table, as Genkai cracked a little smile.

"You speak like someone who's lost someone dear to you, but with the strength to remember them fondly. Admirable, in a boy your age."

“Well, we can't all be worldly little monks, can we?” Jianyi tossed his head back and laughed. Genkai flushed, but Gojyo brushed it off as if he hadn't spoken.

“Oh, you're a monk, are you? Like, what kind?”

“Holy Land Buddhist,” Koumyou and Sanzo both answered.

“It's how we met.” Koumyou nudged Genkai with his hand. “All of us were students of Buddhism under a wise teacher, and we became a social group outside of meditation sessions and sutra readings.”

“With one notable exception.” Fey guy was glaring daggers at Jianyi again, who was much more interested in the bottom of his wine glass.

“Guilty as charged.” Jianyi put his glass down and put it towards the center of the table, and Koumyou took up the canter and refilled it. “I was actually an apprentice under dear deceased Goudai, and got pulled in by him.”

“I think he thought we would be good influences.” Baldy One smirked a bit, then tucked a whole shumai into his mouth. “Mmh, Excellent, Jyoan.”

“Thank you.” Fey guy smirked like a satisfied cat, then glanced sideways to Gojyo. “So, aside from our odd man out, we all came up together.”

"We're all relatively faithful, though I admit Koumyou's, er, non-traditional." The Colonel chuckled, as Koumyou flapped a hand.

"I live my own way, and I don't think I've hurt anyone so far." He winked at Sanzo. "I'm not so bad, am I?"

"Yeah, yeah. Do as you please, as long as you don't hurt anyone," Sanzo muttered, stabbing at the dolmas piled on his plate.

"That's the Hippocratic oath, Genjo." Jianyi wagged a finger. "And really, Seiran knows more about that." Baldy Two snorted, and Gojyo could have sworn he muttered something like:

"Keep my name off your lips."

"You're a doctor?" Gojyo asked, before Jianyi could engage a second further. Baldy Two raised a brow, then nodded.

"Myself and Soujin both." He motioned to the Colonel. "I've been researching methods for recovering from brain damage post-trauma and seizures."

"Pediatrics, with Médecins Sans Frontières. It seemed a natural progression after being in the Marines, to me, anyway!" The Colonel chuckled again, stroking his beard (or maybe wiping a little of that white yogurt sauce out of it, there was a reason Gojyo didn't like beards much). "Perhaps our new guest deserves a bit more explanation."

“Oh, right. Genjo likely didn't tell him about all of his uncles.” Fey guy sneered a bit, but smirked at Gojyo. “I'm an anthropologist and writer. I've been examining some non-conforming villages in China. Do you know there are subcultures wherein marriage isn't practiced? At all?”

“We can talk studies later.” Glasses guy adjusted his spectacles, but Gojyo could feel him examining him under the wire rims. “I'm a reporter. My forte is in covering disasters, though I admit I don't care for it nearly as much as covering the recovery.”

With that, everyone around the table gave his profession. Big Guy was a food writer who traveled the world writing about unique cuisines for a major food magazine Gojyo had never heard of, Baldy One taught English in underprivileged remote Japanese villages, Shouty guy paused briefly in devouring from some Thai-fried rice to explain that he was a soccer coach. Every one of these men touched ground in multiple countries a year, and the hosts were no exception, just like Sanzo had said.

“I'm a curator for the International Foundation for Art research.” Koumyou beamed and gestured to some of the posters. “They trust my instincts enough to let me choose where to search, and I find pieces and build exhibitions for museums around the world.”

“His taste is world-renowned.” Jianyi gave Koumyou a rather heated look and a smirk that wasn't entirely sarcastic, which only put the needles a little deeper under Gojyo's skin. “Even I can admit some of his collections are unique in ways hard to put into words.”

“Which says something, though I'm not certain what.” Koumyou giggled softly, and Gojyo saw Sanzo wince as he stroked his fingers down his arm.

[headoverhiddles]

Irresistible - Cable x Reader [Smut]

Request: Reader and Cable can't stand each other, one always gets annoyed when the other speaks and they're both denying their feelings for one another, but one day she's watching him workout, sweat gliding down his muscles and realizes how much she wants him? They start fighting about smth stupid and to shut her up, he kisses her and then they fuck right there?

(I think this gif actually accurately represents the fic for once) 

Name: Nathan Summers. Alias: Cable. Superpower: being the most annoying dickbag you've ever met.

 And that's saying a lot. You've met Wade.

"Someone on your mind?" your friend says, and you frown at the merc as he sits down next to you.

"Don't you mean something?"

"No, I mean someone," Wade nods, and you groan.

"He's just so fucking irritating."

"He can't help it, he was born that way."

You huff, and lounge back. "Well, I wish he'd take his negativity and fuck off."

"Harsh," Wade says, "I don't know, I don't mind having a hot daddy like him around for eye candy." You scowl.

"That's literally the only reason you brought him back to live here, wasn't it?"

"I may have had one or two wet dreams about him that convinced me to keep him, yes."

You smirk. "You can have him. He's an asshole, and I hope I never see his face again."

"Doubtful, he's coming this way." Wade gets up. "Afternoon, handsome--"

"Shut it fuckface, I'm not in the mood," Cable growls as he walks by, and Wade bites his lip.

"Oh yeah, talk dirty to me." You watch Cable walk down the hall, and get up too.

"Hey, what's your problem, Nathan?"

He turns, and glares at you. "What's my problem?"

"Yeah!"

"My problem is you," he shoots back.

"Just because I borrowed one of your guns and accidentally self-destructed it, that doesn't warrant you being a complete fucking asshole to me!"

"No," Wade lifts a finger, "that warrants Colossus being a complete fucking asshole to you, since you blew up his room. He's very sad about it. I'm not, since he's sleeping in mine now."

Ignoring Wade, Nathan scowls at you. "Call me what you want, but you're still a meddling little bitch that needs to keep her nose where it belongs."

"Woah woah WOAH! Time out!" Wade calls, "Those are some strong motherfucking words!"

"Stop pretending you're some innocent little angel," Nathan gets very close to you, and you try to maintain your hard, defiant glare, "You're just as dangerous as the rest of us."

"Says the guy who tested the weapon I blew up on my favourite part of  the courtyard!"

"I'm sorry I destroyed your fucking rosebush, princess. Shoot me for it."

"Maybe I will!"

You two spend a few seconds glowering at each other, inches apart, when Wade starts swiping a kitana between you two.

"What the hell are you doing?" Nathan asks.

"Cutting through the sexual tension!" Wade shouts, and Nathan rolls his eyes with a growl, walking away. "Okay. I'm just gonna say it," Wade whispers to you, "That amount of loathing in his eyes means there's something going on there that he doesn't want to admit. I know, because I've seen it in many people's eyes while they look at me."

"I appreciate the therapy, Wade... but leave me alone," you grumble, watching the older mutant go up the stairs.

The next day, everyone in the mansion had gathered for a monthly X-Men meeting. Deadpool had been affronted by the name, saying it excluded his team, comprised of you, him, Domino, and Cable. Colossus had reminded him that it was by the good graces of him, Professor X, and the X-Men that you guys even had a home there. Wade had reminded him that's not how family worked. And that argument happened.

"Welcome everyone, to this month's X meeting," Colossus says, and Wade winked at him. "I will be running it today, as Professor Xavier is on leave. Are there any concerns anyone would like to bring up?"

"Yeah, I've got one," Ellie raises her hand, which is intertwined with Yukio’s so by proxy Yukio raises hers too,  "Tell Wade to quit eating all the fucking taco fixings."

Wade places a hand on his chest. "I have needs."

"You ate sixty taco shells in three nights, dipshit."

"So sue me Beiber, I like my tacos!"

"Perhaps you could eat ten tacos a night instead of twenty, Wade," Colossus cuts in, and Wade sits back.

"You drive a hard bargain. Okay, doable." Ellie rolls her eyes, and Quicksilver stands up.

"Uh yeah, I once walked in on Wade--"

"Are these all gonna be about me?!" Wade protests, "I mean I'm flattered, but guys."

"As a matter of curiosity... lower your hand if your complaint is regarding Wade," Colossus says, and all but one lower theirs. "Mr. Summers. You have a different concern?"

Nathan begins to speak, and you immediately groan at the sound of his voice. It's so low... and gravelly... and stupid. "Yeah I do," he says, "I think there's someone in this place that needs a real attitude check."

"I said a concern not about Wade," Colossus says.

"Not him," Nathan replies.

"Oh, come out and say it then!" you get up, fists shaking.

"Alright, I will. You're an obnoxious, selfish--"

"Stubborn, cold--" you cut in in retaliation.

"Stuck up, rude--"

"Grumpy, apathetic--!"

"Prissy little princess!" Nathan finishes.

"Stop calling me that," you growl.

"I will when you stop calling me an asshole."

Everyone around you two had fallen into an awkward silence. "Well," Colossus cleared his throat, "Now that that is settled... raise your hands once more to complain about Wade."

You head to the gym in the X-Mansion basement, clad in a pair of tight pink shorts that ride up your ass. They were too small for you, but they were comfortable, so screw it. Nobody would be down here this time of day, anyway.

Nathan drops down for his two hundredth push up, exhaling through his nose. He always came down here when it was deserted to have some alone time-- to think, and be in his own brain. Things were strange for him here in the past, and more than a little confusing. Not confusing because of outdated tech, or cues he wasn't accustomed to. His feelings toward a member of his team were what confused him.

He tries not to picture your face as he drops down for another set of thirty.

You have a serious mouth on you, and you always make a point to piss him off in any way you could-- he knew that. He did his best to retaliate, but at the end of the day, he couldn't get you off his mind. How could someone be so infuriating, yet so fucking sexy?

You stretch your arm above your head as you enter the gym, heading for the treadmills. You have a lot of pent up energy from last night, after the meeting-- Nathan had been on your mind, and though you ached for it, you refused to touch yourself while thinking of him. The bastard didn't deserve it, even if he never found out.

"Shit."

You stop dead as you hear the deep voice behind you. "No," you breathe, and turn. "You are not in here too."

"Well you don't own the gym," Nathan mutters. He's just as irritated as you are.

"Neither do you," you retort.

"Good. You head over to your side, I'll stay on mine."

"Finally, a good idea," you huff, and set your water bottle down. Getting on the treadmill, you do a couple more stretches before you hit start.

Don't look at her, Summers. Don't do it.

He glances over to you, and sees you bending over, stretching your legs in booty shorts far too tight. He can see the top of your thong poking out along your lower back, and he bites his lip, forcing himself to look away. Damn tease.

You roll your eyes as you hear him get up and start lifting weights. Fucking show off. Refusing to indulge his ego by peering over your shoulder, you start the treadmill, running at a jog as you put your earphones in and set your playlist to shuffle.

"Guys My Age" by Hey Violet comes on.

Skip.

"Hate That I Love You" by Rihanna.

SkipSkipSkip.

"Hot and Cold” by Katy Perry. 

Skiiiip.

"Irresistible" by Fall Out Boy.

One more, swear to god...

"Fuck You Like An Animal" by Nine Inch Nails.

FUCK OFF.

You take your earphones out with a frustrated growl, and do twenty minutes of a run. This only serves to have the opposite effect on you than you had hoped-- where you wanted to burn some energy, you just riled yourself up even more.

Moving on to pilates, you start a set of sit ups, trying to ignore the fact that Nathan is still working with weightlifting on the other side of the gym. He's moved up to 100 pound weights...

Starting some crunches, you feel the burn in your abs move down to your lower stomach, your pussy involuntarily clenching. The way his muscles are flexing every time he brings those up against his chest... your eyes slide down, and see the beginnings of an erection from the exercise. Fuck, and his metal arm is glinting, the same silver as his undercut. That thing must be so god damn strong. You start to imagine those metal fingers around your neck, tightening as he holds you against the wall--

"See something you like?" he asks gruffly.

"I-I wasn't looking at you," you quickly snap.

"No? Cause I was just watching you in the mirror, and it seemed to me like you were drooling as your legs fell right open for me."

"Oh, so you were watching me?!" you say, and Nathan suddenly gets all flushed.

"I..."

You jump to your feet, crossing your arms. Sweat is rolling down his back and biceps as he sets his weights down, and you clench your jaw. He's so fucking ripped. He scowls, approaching you too. It seems that you two are at another impasse.

"So. It looks like we can't even share a gym after all," you growl. His breath is so close to you, you can feel it reach your neck.

"I was doing pretty well, before you started giving me fuck-me eyes."

"I wasn't even looking at you, you prick!"

"But you were looking at my body." His eyes run down to your heaving chest, down your figure. "Fucking cock tease."

"I was just working out, in comfortable clothing," you say weakly.

"Fair. But you got me interested," he murmurs, and you try to frown.

"You... you are such a jerk..."

"And you're a mouthy little girl," he takes a step closer angrily. You bite your lip, chewing hard. "You really need to learn some--"

You surge forward, and shut Nathan up with your lips. He's surprised at first, but once you have your tongue in his mouth and loop your arms around his neck, he reciprocates with fervor.

"Fuck me harder than you've fucked anyone," you whisper breathlessly, and his eyelids flutter.

"Jesus," he moans softly, and just lets go. He picks you up so that your legs wrap around his back, resting just above his ass. He then sets you down against the mirrors, pressing your breasts against it with his hard chest at your back. "How bad do you want it?" he whispers, grabbing two handfuls of your ass and kneading it shamelessly.

"So fucking bad," you moan, wiggling your ass back. Your pussy is clenching hard now, panties soaked through, and Nathan moves his human hand down between your legs, feeling your slick.

"You're seriously wet getting touched by the asshole you've been mouthing off to all year?" he rasps.

"I only mouth off when I want someone," you breathe.

His eyes flicker down to your lips. "Me too." He then captures your lips, kissing you roughly, then flips you back around so the cold mirror perks your nipples. He grips your wrists together behind your back so your hands are useless, and pulls your shorts down along with the thong. "What a pretty little cunt."

"Shut up, shut up and fuck me already!"

He parts your legs, rubbing up your inner thigh, then pulls down his sweatpants, cock already hard. Wasting no more time teasing, he bends you at a good angle, and slams himself in.

"Fuck, oh god--" you yelp.

"How does that feel, sweetheart?" he asks, pounding back in.

"So good!"

"I've wanted to do this for weeks..." he grits out, feeling up your ass some more as he fucks you from behind.

"Ugh, jesus, don't stop..."

"Fuck, you're so good," he breathes, dizzying you with a deep, powerful thrust, and you struggle to touch yourself. His metal arm keeps you securely fastened against him, unable to touch-- so he runs his fingers down, rubbing circles around your clit.

"Oh-god," you gasp, pushing back against each thrust, "Nate, Nate--"

"Don't call me that."

"You're so good, oh Nate!"

He shakes his head. "You're unbelievable."

"I'm the best fuck you'll ever get-- ah!"

He chuckles, and continues to thrust hard, shutting you up. Soon, he can feel you squeezing him, and knows your climax is coming.

"Come on," he coaxes, the weight of his body pushing against yours sending you whimpering, "I know you need to come. Now drop that stupid act princess, and let me make you scream for me."

You moan, and all at once, you come hard on his cock. Once you're done, he turns you around again, staring deep into your eyes, and that's what he needs to finally get there. Pulling out, he jerks himself a few times before come spurts out onto the mirror in thick ropes. You watch, transfixed, and then look back up at the older man.

"You fuck good."

He regards your swollen lips, putting his thumb there and swiping across. "You taste good."

You catch your breath, and nod. "Therefore... I think we can come to some kind of agreement." He narrows his eyes.

"Wade's never gonna shut up if he finds out."

"Eh. He never shuts up anyway." You begin to smirk. "It was so hard for me to hate you."

"Yeah. Me too." He strokes his human hand against your face, but you take his metal one, bringing it up to your cheek. Your suspicions are confirmed as he flinches a little and blushes, and you hold the hand there.

"Hey," your expression softens, "I like you. All of you."

"I'm more machine than man. I've only got part of me left," he replies, looking down. You let his human hand fall down to rest on your hip, and snuggle into his metal one.

"That's not true. Now drop the stupid act, princess," you grin, slapping his ass, "You need a shower."

[shiftingmuse]

the lives we live;

Once Upon A Time x Stargate Universe

Detective Weaver and Dr. Nicholas Rush; No Slash. 

{Mentions of Belle French and Lacey.}

About; Just two men meeting for dinner at the end of their days of work. Neither in the best of moods and both in need of something more in their life. Yet neither are willing to let things happen as they should. 

It had been another one of those days on the job. One that was both dull and unrewarding. Where a man only knew one thing to do when it came to the end. “It took ye long enough.” A middle age man was seated alone at a table. Close to the back of the establishment that another man. A police officer had walked into. “Aye, well. I got backed up by the fuckin’ rookie cunt needing my signature on the last of his shite papers.” 

Neither man that had spoken were in the best of moods. 

One looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. Stubble upon his face that was growing all the more thicker by the days. While the other was clean shaven but worn down. His hair more gray than the man before him. But clean cut as the other male was shoulder length and still a vibrate brown peppered with silver streaks.

“Always blaming the rookie...”

The officer sat down at the table where the other man was seated. It was always odd staring across the table at a better looking version of yourself. That’s what the officer thought at times. When he came to his favorite restaurant and found the other waiting for him. 

“Tell me. Is this the same one or have they traded you out again?” The younger man spoke and the cop smiled. 

“New one of course. The last didn’t make it a week before he was trying to fault me for every little thing.” He shook his head. As an officer; Detective Weaver had his ways of doing things. That even the people above him didn’t care for...but he got the job done. 

Which was all that ever matter in the end. 

“And you...what was it. That government shite you were going on about last time.” 

Dr. Rush; or Professor Nicholas Rush to his students. Gave a frown and shook his head. “Nothing is going on with that.” He lied. Of course the detective knew he was lying but also knew Nicholas had his reasons for it. 

“Right.” 

Weaver didn’t have a chance to try and pry into the topic. When a waitress came over with two beers and sat them on the table by the men. “Your orders will be ready shortly.” She informed while Weaver nodded and then shot a glare across at the other. 

“So yer ordering for me now?” Nicholas laughed and shook his head. Taking a notepad out of his blazer and nodding across at the other man. 

“Aye, you were late and I ordered the same shite you always decide on.” 

Weaver would have tried to argue with him if it were any other day. But this one was different. He reached for the bottle before him and took it in hand. “Ye think ye know me so well.” The detective spoke as the other man gave a smirk. Turning his attention down to the notepad in his hand. 

“She came back for more.” Weaver braved. 

It was then that the older male took the first sip of his glass bottle beer. While the man seated across from him gave the other his full attention. “You can’t be serious.” It was a topic the two had been on for the past few weeks. The thought of a young woman in her mid twenties going after the fifty something detective was insanity. At least the forty something across from him thought so. 

“You are making this whole thing up!” 

It had happen not too far back. From what Rush had gotten and the way the detective had put it. That he had charmed a young thing so much that she had asked him back to her place. 

In the picture Weaver had painted. She was this smooth seductress with an eye for things she didn’t dare speak of. A woman who went by the name of Lacey when he was sure it was just a name of choice and not something given. “Ye wish I was; but last night there she was. On her knees begging me.” Nicholas shook his head and closed the notepad in his hand. 

“Say I believed you. Why do ye keep lying about the way you are with her?” 

Something about the way he described the woman. It had struct a nerve with the professor. “You’ve gone on saying she was the most beautiful lass ye ever saw. Her eyes are like the ocean and her beauty is unmatched...but then ye talk about making her beg for ye...and ruining her.”

Nicholas shook his head at the thought. The first time Weaver had brought up the woman. Something about her was familiar. As if she was someone he knew, or had once known. “Ye ur just jealous.” Weaver retorted. Just as the waitress returned placing two plates in front of the men. 

One of the men had a simple plate of bangers & mash. While the other half shepherds pie with a monticello salad. At McPherson’s the two men where able to revisit a taste of their past. They were able to let their Scottish blood show true and even slur the word that almost seemed watered down at times. 

By the lives they now lived in the states. 

“What about you?” Weaver spoke after a moment. 

Grabbing his plate and pulling the thing closer to him. “That girl ye had a fling with. Anything going to come of that?” 

Nicholas sat back in his chair and let his eyes fall to the Shepard's pie. “We haven’t spoke since it happen.” Rush admitted. “I-I don’t think she wants anything tae do with me.” At least from his prospective. Nicholas believed the school librarian was now on the run from the affair the two had, had away from school grounds. 

“Her name was Belle, aye?” 

Weaver asked as Nicholas gave a nod. Picking up a fork and picking at his plate. “Ye need to just walk up to the lass and say...’Hey, if it was really that bad. Why not have another go and we figure out where we went wrong!’” Rush pushed his plate away and threw himself back in his chair. 

“Shut it! Belle isn’t some daft bird like the tart ye have been going with. She is a well respected member of the university and a bloody fine researcher.” 

It was clear Rush was smitten with the younger woman. “Lacey is nae a tart, she is no better than yer prissy book worm.” He snapped then stood up. “For Christ sake Nicholas. Stop sulking and go after the bloody lass. She’s probably been avoiding ye because she thinks you want nothing to do with her. Now that she’s conquered territory.” 

“Fuck off!” 

Rush retorted causing Weaver to give the other man a look of ‘really?’. He smirked before slowly sitting back down. Weaver chuckled just to start on his meal. The professor sighed and reached for his plate to do the same. Both men sat there eating their food in silence for the longest time. Enjoying the meals and the beers. Until one of them finally spoke up again. 

“Would it kill ye to try and be happy for yourself?” Weaver told his friend. “It’s been almost five years since Gloria’s passing. It’s not going to hurt to enjoy life a little.”

Rush didn’t say anything towards that. He glanced at the note book that had been lost aside on the table. Forgotten for the moment as he was dealing with his ‘so called friend’. 

“She wants nothing to do with me.” Nicholas spoke reaching to tap the book before his eyes came up to Weaver. “Besides; I have something important going on...and I don’t think it would be right to have something come between my work and-..”

“What’s important, Rush? Finding someone worth living for...or your work? For Christ sake! You’re better than this!”

Nicholas chuckled listening to his friend’s shite response. “If what I’m dealing with is correct. If my research is correct. This is the only thing I have worth living for.” Rush tapped the note pad and Weaver just couldn’t help but feel sorry. 

“I don’t believe that is true Nicholas. That can’t be true.”

Neither men spoke to one another after that. Weaver stood up not long after what he said and went off to find the waitress serving them. Nicholas sat alone in the restaurant for the longest time. After the detective had paid the bill and gone. Rush just sat alone feeling that the only man he trusted anymore. Now wanted nothing to do with him. The man he considered his only friend and family. Was now someone he was afraid to be truthful with. 

 “I’m sorry..” Rush whispered. An apology spoken to no one; Not even himself. 

[mo-mo-and-porkchop]

Our paths will always meet.

Vikings Fan Fiction - College AU

Chapter 1

Warnings: language, alcohol use

*I do not own any part of the Canon Vikings characters. It is simply my interpretation. I make no profit off of this.

**I do own the original characters and everything associated with them.

((A special thanks to @ragnarlodbrokkonungr and @theboatbuilderswife for help with the inspiration for this work.))

gif credit: google search

Prompt: - it’s 3 am and I’m still in the library studying for finals and I’m losing my grip on reality and I think I just saw a ghost —::—

Her breathing stilled. Her heart clenched in her chest. Her eyes stayed focused ahead. She swore she’d just seen a someone walk past. A woman specifically. She stayed as silent as she could, ears tuned for any kind of sound. Nothing, but quiet. It felt like an eternity before they were forced to blink shut.

‘You’re losing it,’ she said to herself.

She hated late night cramming sessions. Being in the library during a regular day was bad enough, but being there alone…at night? She could hardly stand it. She was meant to feel the sun on her skin. And the wind blowing through her blonde, wild hair. Not become stuck inside a stuffy building crammed with serious people nose deep in serious books. It was even worse being there on her own with nothing but a desk lamp for light.

A creak off in the distance caused her head to whip toward the sound’s direction. She watched silently for anything to explain the noise. But still, nothing. This was it. She had to get out of there. If she didn’t know the course material by now a few more hours wouldn’t change that.

As she began gathering her things he phone buzzed causing her to jump out of her skin. She fished it out of her bag and smirked when she saw the caller i.d.

[incoming call] Torstien

“For Odin’s sake, Tor. You scared the shit out of me,” she said answering it.

Torstein chuckled on the other end. “You, scared? I don’t believe it. Where are you?”

“The library. This place is giving me the creeps. I’m getting out of here. What are you doing right now?”

“Out in the quad. Heading backs to the dorms. Gotta say we all missed you at the party, but it sounds like you’re having enough fun with Lady Grey.”

She stopped packing her bag and focused on the sound’s origin once more. “What do you mean Lady Grey?” she asked before she could stop herself. Torstein laughed louder. She grimaced when she realized how stupid she’d been. “Ha ha. Not funny,” she scolded lightly as she finished up.

She held the phone to her shoulder as she made her way through the empty library and toward the quad.

“Don’t worry. Us big boys will be able to protect you,” he said as he finished chuckling.

A somewhat rowdy group passed by forcing his to split momentarily. The rest of the guys regrouped, Ragnar especially interested in Torstien’s phone call. He grabbed hold of his friend’s shoulder to pause his steps. Arne and Leif kept going which was exactly what Ragnar wanted. He motioned excitedly to Tor, mouthing his interest over her ability to join them. Torstein covered the phone and mouthed ‘On her way’. A smile spread across Ragnar’s face momentarily before he forced it away. He straightened himself out, shifted his bag more comfortably onto his shoulder, and jogged slightly to catch up with the other two.

Tor watched as his friend grabbed Leif by the shoulders playfully and the trio began talking happily. Torstein couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him. Ragnar was about as bad with her and he was with Helga.

‘Excuse me,’ she said to a rowdy group as she passed through them.

“So who is ‘us big boys’, hmm?” she asked just as she rounded the corner.

“Me, Arne, Leif, and Ragnar.”

Her feet stopped. “Not a word of this to Ragnar,” she warned. “He will never let me live it down.“ She unconsciously began to bounce her foot lightly, the fingers on her free hand fidgeting with the seams of the bag’s strap. “And I don’t want him thinking I’m some weak little scaredy cat,” she added with a much softer tone before starting her trek back up.

Truth be told she didn’t want any of them to think that of her. She thought highly of each of them; all for very different reasons. But if any of them conceived her as a weakling she would be completely embarrassed while dealing with it. Especially with Ragnar. There was an unspoken understanding that she held Ragnar’s opinion of her above anyone else’s. She didn’t know what it was, but something about him always made her want to be at her best.

“Not. A. Word,” she warned before hanging up with him.

Finally she found them; by the fountain on the way to their dorm exactly as he’d said. She joined them with a wide smile. “I could definitely use one of those beers,” she said as she gave out a round of hugs and greetings to the group, the tightest going to Ragnar.

His grin widened before he could stop it and fished out a beer for her. “Don’t you think it is a bit irresponsible to be drinking the night before your last exam?” he asked teasingly as he pulled back the beer just before she could grab it.

She laughed and reached out further, her fingers closing around both his and the bottle. “Like the time you let those goats loose in Aelle’s class?“ she asked rhetorically with a smirk.

A small, hugged laugh escaped Ragnar. His smile softened to a smirk.“That was necessary, not irresponsible,” he said leaning closer.

“It was not,” she said finally freeing the bottle from him. “You were nearly expelled for that.”

He shrugged his shoulders and purses his lips before taking a drink of his own beer. “He had it coming.”

A matter-of-fact statement that she knew would always hold true for him. Professor Aelle’s and Ragnar had never gotten along. And she doubted they ever would. Those two men gave each other hell every chance they got; Aelle always trying to have the last say. Trying to keep Ragnar out of trouble that semester had nearly cost her her own expulsion. But she couldn’t deny the enjoyment she’d had rounding up some of the more amusing pranks.

She smiled against her beer with his reaction. The rest of the guys rummaged through the bag at Ragnar’s back for more drinks cutting their flirtatious conversation short, Torstein being the only one to notice. He nudged Ragnar and gave him a knowing smirk as he made his way between them. Joyfully he wrapped an arm around each of them. “What could you two be planning now?” he asked teasingly. “Or are you….” He mocked kissing noises and laughed.

“Shut your face,” Ragnar said pushing his arm from his shoulder. “You are lucky Helga is not here with us,” he warned knowingly with a raise of his brow.

Torstein and Helga were disgustingly perfect for each other. The two of them had been back and forth, the sexual tension between them growing more obvious as time went on. Ragnar had taken full advantage of embarrassing Torstein every chance he got. Even now, after finally making it official, he still became red whenever it was threatened. It was endearing to see how much he liked the petite blonde.

“Think she’d be willing to meet up with us later?” she asked trying to shift the focus of the men. “Call her and tell her I’ll spring for late night drunken munchies,“ she said batting her eyes at him, mocking a prissy girl. “And we can all crash at my cabin after exams,” she threw in as an added bonus for him to fully convince Helga. If she knew her friend, then she wouldn’t be able to resist.

He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “She has even more studying to do than you,” he said with a sigh.

The end of semester exams always tore the group apart. At least the last few weeks. Torstein hated being apart from Helga, but she was the most committed to her education out of the lot. O being a close second.

“But I will make sure she goes out with us this weekend. She needs it more than any of us,” he added with a soft smile.

“What is this about your cabin? And why was I not invited?” Ragnar asked playfully, shifting himself in front of them and walking backward. “I am cursed,” he added with feigned sadness.

“You are always invited Ragnar,” she said with a raise of her brow and a slight tilt of her head. He was something else.

“I think we all need to get a little lost in the woods,” she said as he let his feet fall back in line with her and Torstein, this time right back by her side as before. He made sure to keep it that way all the way back to the dorms.

[chasingforeverandaday]

Stop the World & Melt with You: Chapter Five

So it's been a while... I added this chapter into the story because the transition between the last chapter and the next one wasn't working right, it needed another piece to fit the way I wanted it too. Although I'm rewriting a lot of that next one anyways. But yeah, finally got this one done, it's a bit shorter than most of the others, but it acts as more of an interlude, giving more of a glimpse into the Lenore/HG dynamic than any real plot. But hey, only one chapter left.

Chapter Summary:  A New Year's Eve party at Oscar Wilde's house, what ever could happen?

Also on AO3

Pushing her hair from her face as he pulled back from her neck, HG started asking, “So as your date for the evening-”

Lenore cut him off indignantly, “This is not a date!”

“Oh really? Because this would say otherwise.” Smirking, his rubbed his fingers over the lightly forming hickey on her neck. She swatted at him, blushing deeply in the dim light of the single bulb above them.

“Nope, not a date. Everyone else is here and we’re at Oscar’s house, so it’s not a date.”

“Technically, we’re hiding in Oscar’s closet.”

“If you want to talk semantics, we were making out in Oscar’s closet.”

“Anyways, I was going to ask if you were having fun. And also if you wanted to tell all of them tonight.”

Arching an eyebrow at him, Lenore made a face. “I’m pretty sure they all know already.”

“But don’t you want to flaunt having a boyfriend in Charlotte’s face?”

Gasping theatrically, she swooned in his arms. “So evil! I like it.” She grinned up at him, batting her eyelashes. “When did you get this devious?”

HG snorted, “About a week after I met you.”

“It took a whole week? Damn, I’m slipping.” Lenore was pouting at him, and it was adorable.

Clearing his throat, he tried to get back on topic. “So, are we leaving this closet any time soon? It is well known prime real estate for secret rendezvous, I’m amazed Oscar and this week’s boy toy haven’t come crashing in here yet.”

“This one apparently has been granted hook-up-in-the-bedroom status. Oscar likes him. And personally, I’m more surprised we haven’t been interrupted by Ernest yet.”

“I think Charlotte has been keeping him busy.”

“Ew, really?”

“I meant by playing bartender, but now that I’m thinking about it, they do seem to disappear off together quite a bit.” Memories started whirring in his mind, of past social gatherings in which both of their annoying friends would magically vanish and then reappear separately, always three minutes apart, half an hour later, like clockwork… Something could be happening, but this was all conjecture, and either way, Charlotte hated Ernest, could barely stand to be seen next to him. His girlfriend interrupted HG’s mental math by smacking him on the shoulder. He looked down to see a revolted expression on her face.

“Okay, brain bleach! So much mental scrubbing necessary now! Ugh. Anyways, back up. Charlotte, prissy, elitist Charlotte Bronte, has actually stooped to pouring drinks for other people? What parallel dimension have we travelled to Professor?”

Laughing, he answered, “The one where Louisa made a vegan martini for Charlotte. Who promptly spewed it back out and now refuses to let anyone else near the liquor cabinet.”

She began giggling helplessly, leaning further into his shoulder for support. “Oh my god, please tell me someone has a picture or video of that. I must see it. Though I did not know vegan martinis were a thing.”

“They’re not, Louisa is just, well Louisa. I mean, they’re real, but no one drinks them.” Thinking about the sickly green concoction was making him nauseous all on its own.

Based on the way Lenore was scrunching up her nose, she agreed. “Ew.”

“Precisely.”

Shaking her head to clear it of disgusting mental images, she brought them back to their original conversation. “Regarding the whole ‘leaving the closet’ thing, I’m all for making out obnoxiously in front of everyone at midnight. I just wasn’t sure if you would be ready for, you know, public displays of affection.”

“Lenore, I am dating my favorite person in the world. I am completely okay with kissing you like an idiot in public, especially if the ‘public’ just means in front of our friends.”

“See, sometimes you are just ridiculously sweet and it makes want to jump your b-” she cut herself off, gaping at her own words, before quickly continuing, “ -make out with you. A lot.”

“That wasn’t what you were going to say.” He was smiling so widely it was a wonder his face hadn’t cracked in half.

Blushing again, she argued with him, “Yes it was!” Her face was right in front of his again, just a breath away.

Whispering, he cradled her face, “No it wasn-oomph!” Unwilling to let him continue, Lenore pounced, effectively cutting off all thought processes not related to her mouth and her hands and her body pushed up between him and the wall. Wrapping one of her legs around his waist, HG moaned into her mouth, perfectly happy to concede the verbal spar.

Suffice to say, they barely made it out of the closet for the midnight countdown.

[whoinwhoville]

Found & Forgotten Manips!

@licieoic came to my rescue, and sent me some of the Found & Forgotten manips she had made way back when! THANK YOU SO MUCH, DARLING!

I’d love to have some of the fan art that was created for this story. Anyone else have any saved?

I will be posting chapters 22 - 25 (or possibly more) today or tomorrow.

Chapter 1 - Meet John & Jane

The girls in the typing pool had been gossiping for days about the mysterious author who had been signed on. The guess the author game had reached a fever pitch yesterday when Clive from typesetting had suggested a betting pool, and it had quickly grown to 15 pound 20 by quitting time. Jane had thrown in a guess, as well. She usually didn't give in to such frivolity, but the girls in the typing pool and men down in typesetting had pressured her for a quid until she finally gave in.

"Mr. Prescott offered him five figures a year to sign on, and -- " the girl paused dramatically, "gave him a two thousand pound signing bonus." Kitty Crenshaw spoke in hushed tones, offering the juicy tidbit to Priscilla Bootkins who gasped just as Jane sat her things down by her desk.

"What's happening, Kitty?" Jane asked with a grin, curious to know the secret.

"Sorry, Janie, I gotta go! Prissy will tell you."

"Kitty has been telling me all about it," she gushed. "She was in the loo and she overheard Miss Wood talking to someone. You will never guess who it is."

"Guess who whom is?"

Priscilla's eyes widened and she leaned in close to Jane, conspiratorially. "John Smith, the science fiction writer." She said each word like it weighed a thousand tonnes.

Jane felt the blood rush to her fair cheeks. She was sure they were burning pink. "Really? Oh that's," she paused and swallowed hard, "interesting. He's quite popular, isn't he?" Jane asked, trying to portray nonchalance. Of course she knew who he was. She knew his books. Intimately. The man himself was a mystery, though, choosing to write in secrecy. Every night Jane Smith snuggled up under her covers, pulled a book from the hiding place under her pillow, in case Bess were to come into her room and discover her private indulgence. For two years now, she had been devouring his novels in secret. They were filled with adventure, action, terrifying monsters, complex scientific explanations that should have made no sense whatsoever, but somehow did.And then there was the romance. She used to pour over Austen, the Brontës, and Dickens to quench her thirst for classic tales of love. Now she found herself carried away by the fantastical adventures of the Professor and his lovely, though somewhat overlooked assistant, Iris Mason.

But Jane certainly wasn't going to advertise the fact that she was an avid reader of his books, especially when the last two had become rather provocative as the will-they-won't-they relationship between the Professor and Iris had taken a decidedly more titillating turn. In the most recent book, after a dozen novels filled with sideways glances, hidden longing, and frustrating dalliances with minor characters, the Professor and Iris had engaged in some rather intimate moments.

"Jane? Jane!" Priscilla waved her hand in front of Jane's glazed-over eyes. "You still here?" she asked, amused.

"Sorry. I guess I sort of..." Her voice trailed off. "Just tired. Late night last night. Reading." She pushed her heavy glasses up her nose.

"Didn't you guess John Smith in yesterday's pool?"

"Yeah." She laughed nervously, "I guess I did. Just a lark, really. I've seen his books in the window at the book shop by my flat. So fantastical aren't they? Science fiction and all."

"I've never read science fiction. More of a romance girl myself really. But good for you winning the pool. Why don't you go out and buy yourself a pretty frock or shoes? Jane, you could be such a doll, but you hide yourself under those potato sacks you call suits. You've never talked about a boyfriend. Are you seeing anyone?" Priscilla pressed.

"Well I haven't–" Jane began with hesitance in her voice, but was cut off.

"Speaking of men, would you take a look at him?" Priscilla said with a growl, nodding her head towards a tall, thin man in a perfectly tailored grey suit walked down the corridor chatting with Archibald Prescott, President and owner of Prescott Publishing.

As the men walked past the women's desks, Jane and Priscilla's heads both swiveled, following the perfectly groomed man. Mr. Prescott led the handsome man into the empty office. He flipped the light switch, illuminating the newly redecorated room, and closed the door, blocking the view of every female eye that had become glued to the man as he had made his way past the typing pool.

"So that's John Smith," Priscilla said, with a cluck of her tongue. The leggy blonde dug into her purse, pulled out a pink compact and examined her makeup. She reapplied her bright red lipstick and adjusted her hair, freshly set at the salon just yesterday.

Jane simply swallowed hard and snapped her attention to her typewriter and her work.

oOo

Priscilla went straight to Jane's desk. "He's mad. I'm telling you, he's a nutter. Goes on and on about space and monsters and metaltrons and time monsters and this Iris girl who is an absolute idiot to stay with that Professor bloke. How do people read this rubbish? I don't understand half of what he's saying!"

"Well, give it some time. It's only been a few days," Jane began graciously, but Priscilla began to talk again.

"But then, just when I think I can't take it one single second more, he looks at me with those eyes of his, and I feel like I'm gonna boil from the inside out. Only thing I can think of is running my fingers through his hair and unwrapping him out of those expensive suits of his. What a salary he must make! I know exactly what a suit like that costs, Jane. And know what he drives? An Aston Martin!" she gushed. "And just think of those future royalties. Oh, what I wouldn't do for a night with that man. Just one night, and I will have him him hooked."

The look on Priscilla's face reminded Jane of a cat about to pounce on a poor, defenseless mouse. Except John Smith wasn't defenseless, and seemed to give every indication that he would be more than happy to be pounced on by that temptress, given the looks they gave each other when they thought no one was watching.

"Priscilla Bootkins!" Jane gasped and then continued on in a stage whisper. "You need to be more careful what you say! People will get the wrong idea about you!" Jane frowned.

"Can't give them the wrong idea when they are already right," Priscilla said saucily. "I need to go make that sexy nutter his tea." She skillfully strutted away in her stratospherically high, fake alligator skin heels.

Jane pursed her lips, closed her eyes, and banged harder and faster on the keys than ever. It wasn't the first time that Jane had vented her frustration on her poor defenseless typewriter.

Of course, she would give anything to be his assistant, simply to listen to him natter on about plots and characters, or exotic places and times, or the details of some terrifying extraterrestrial landscape. Her mind drifted as she went into auto mode, her frighteningly accurate fingers flying on the keyboard. She was startled out of her reverie by a man's voice.

"You're Miss Bootkins's friend right?"

Her head snapped up. It was John Smith.

"Yes, well no, not a friend. A co-worker, Mr. Smith," Jane replied politely, trying hard to keep her voice from quivering.

"Do you know where she's gotten off to? I've got some ideas that I really need to get on paper before I lose them. It's a matter of life and death. Well not life and death but very, very, very pressing." He leaned on her desk, his face inches from hers.

"She was here only a minute ago, but then she left to prepare your tea." Jane chewed on her lip.

"Right," he said with a frustrated look on his face. He pushed away with a flourish, quickly turned on his heel, and walked away. But as quickly as he had begun his retreat, he turned back around and was once again leaning on her desk. "You don't suppose you could spare a minute or two do you?"

She opened her mouth, gaping for a moment before she found her words. "Yes, of course. I know shorthand or I could type, whichever you prefer." She couldn't say no, could she? He was a superior. She didn't want to say no.

"Come on then," he said blithely as he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and headed back into his office, Jane trailing behind, steno pad in hand. "Now then, what's your name?" he asked without even turning around to address Jane to her face.

"I'm Jane. Jane Smith," she replied with a bit of a grin.

"Smith," he said amused, his voice a bit higher than normal. "A good omen, I think."

Jane held her steno notebook close to her chest and bit her lower lip, hiding a smile.

He looked over his shoulder. "What's your middle name?"

Jane's eyebrows twitched. She wondered why she couldn't she remember, so she made something up. "Donna. It's Donna."

He barked a laugh. "My middle name is David! Jane Donna Smith and John David Smith! JDS and JDS! What're the odds of that?" he said merrily. "David and Donna. Donna and David."

They were in his office now. "Where shall I sit?" she asked lamely as she stood in the middle of the office, somehow not feeling it would be proper to take Priscilla's spot.

"You take the sofa and I'll just stand if you don't mind. Do my best thinking on my feet."

Jane lowered slowly to the sofa. She crossed her ankles demurely as she perched on the front edge, pencil poised over the lined paper of her notepad.

"Where was I?" He tapped his cheek with his pointer finger. "Crying. Blinded by love. Loss of reason." He snapped his fingers in excitement. "Got it. I only need general notes. Nothing concrete yet. It's a thing in progress. Respect the thing."

Jane smiled and laughed quietly in spite of herself, and caught John looking at her, confused. "And what is so funny Miss Smith?" he enunciated.

"Oh nothing. I've just never seen someone so wound up before."

"Wound up, hmmm?" He raised an eyebrow and then smiled back, enigmatically. "You ain't seen nothing yet. All right. Give me some words that describe tragedy, Miss Smith. You seem like an intelligent sort of girl. I bet you are a walking OED." He put his hands into his pockets and rocked on his feet, legs shoulder width apart.

"Loss. Death. Pain. Emptiness." She looked up at the ceiling, trying to pull words from her brain. "Suffering, cataclysm, separation, destruction." She looked at him, and then saw something flash in his eyes for the merest fraction of a moment that she recognized in her own. Loneliness. And then it was gone, replaced once again with a spark of energy and life. "Alone."

The corner of his mouth quirked upward, followed by an eyebrow. "Well done," he said slowly. "So. Iris, she's the heroine in my stories–"

"Oh, no need to explain, Mr. Smith. Iris Mason. Former waitress. Met the Professor when her restaurant was overtaken by an entity from another planet that appropriated the grease in the deep fat fryers to form itself into living fat. He saved her life just as she was about to be deep fried like a chip."

He smiled. "You've read my books, well at least the first one."

"Oh, I've read all of them. Several times." She cleared her throat. "Even the most recent one." Jane caught herself and looked down at her steno pad, suddenly very aware of the flush of pink across her cheeks.

"Oh you have, have you?" teased John. "And you look like such an innocent sort of girl," he waggled his eyebrows. "You sure you're old enough to read that sort of thing?"

Did he just flirt with me? wondered Jane. He just flirted with me. She didn't quite know what to do or say. She didn't have much experience with the practice, and didn't know how to reply. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, hoping that words would somehow magically materialize, but when none did, she cleared her throat and remained silent.

He smiled a bit wickedly, and then put his working voice back on. "Back to the story. Here's my idea. This will be so much easier with someone who is actually familiar with my writings. Unlike Priscilla."

Jane pinched her lips to suppress a smile.

Chapter 5 - John Meets Rose

"I haven't been able to take my eyes off of you since you walked down the aisle," he husked into her ear. "So I came up with a brilliant plant. I would join the pretty girl with the brown hair after the lights dimmed. And then I would charm her with my witty banter about the ridiculous plot, get to know her better during the second feature, and then whisk her away as soon as the lights came up."

Jane squeaked. John chuckled.

"Don't be afraid, I promise. I'm a complete gentleman. Well, almost."

Jane chewed her lip, and nodded, almost imperceptibly.

He stopped talking and focused on the popcorn. She timed her snatches of popcorn to coincide opposite his, so that their hands wouldn't get caught in the container simultaneously. But, he caught onto her ploy quickly, and synchronized his reaching to occur at the same time as hers. He brushed his fingertips against the back of her hand deliberately or would snatch the popcorn right out of her hand.

His final move was shockingly intimate. He took her hand, still holding a piece of popcorn, and drew it up to his mouth. He stole the piece right from her fingertips, and then ever so subtly, licked her fingertips clean, the tip of his tongue barely poking through his lips. Any voyeur would have thought he was simply kissing her fingers, which would have been forward far less intimate.

He's trying to seduce me with popcorn, Jane whimpered in her mind, feeling every single blissful brush of his tongue to her salty fingertips. The tub was finally empty, and the popcorn seduction stopped to Jane's relief, because she was becoming quite uncomfortable in her skin.

As soon as the popcorn was consumed, John started talking again, making hilarious observations, offering a running commentary of the horrible plot. She found that as long as he talked, she wasn't nervous, and loved focusing on his melodic voice and truly funny jabs. Before long, she found herself even replying, throwing witty remarks right back at him, and he in turn, genuinely laughed at her observations and snide remarks. The man behind them eventually moved with a very loud sigh, and a swift kick to the back of John's seat. John sputtered a laugh and looked over his shoulder as the annoyed moviegoer easily found an empty seat in the sparsely populated theater.

Through her peripheral vision, Jane could see John smile slyly as soon as Mr. Grumpypants was gone. He stretched his arms high overhead and feigned a yawn.

Oh you've got to be kidding me, thought Jane with an internal eye roll, he's going to put his arm around me. Even she, without any experience dating, could see the move coming a mile away, and her nervousness returned.

He turned and smiled at her, and she cleared her throat as his arm settled around her shoulder. Jane felt him inclining his head, and she braced herself for the blissful sensation as his lips came to her ear yet again. "You smell good enough to eat," he husked into her ear.

She thought she jumped a foot when started kissing her neck, dropping deliciously soft kisses in a line from behind her ear to her collarbone. He is unbelievable! she winced in her mind, knowing she shouldn't be enjoying it one little bit, that she should be furious. Instead, she found herself closing her eyes, relaxing her jaw, and inclining her head to the side to make it easier for him, not harder. But as quickly as he started, he pulled his lips away, and settled back into his seat.

She sighed in relief, and she saw his wicked grin. He heard me! He thinks I'm sighing because I liked it!

His overt advances ceased as he again focused his attention on the film. Periodically, he tapped his fingertips on her arm, keeping time to the onscreen music. The cinema was older and the ancient red velvet seats had not been updated with armrests. Other movie houses had installed them to curtail exactly what he had in mind. He pulled her closer into his warm side. The fine wool of his dark jumper felt lovely against her skin. While she never went so far as to rest her head against his shoulder, she did relax into the feeling of his arm around her.

During a long onscreen monologue by the evil time traveling Nazi scientist, Von Hauser, about the superiority of German science, John whispered into her ear once again. "Let's get outta here. This film is rubbish." The timbre of his voice was decidedly wicked.

Jane's eyes sprang open as he placed the tiniest kiss on the shell of her ear, just above her white clip-on earring.

"What do you say, hmmm? Leave with me?" he asked again, nuzzling behind her ear.

She turned her head and looked at him. He looked right at her. His dark eyes flashed, even in the dim light of the theater. She found that she couldn't say no. This man had a hold on her. She nodded slowly. A small smile quirked his full lips and he stood up, extended his hand to hers. She took it letting him assist her from her seat. Then he let her hand go, and together, up the aisle they went. A few eyes followed them. They undoubtedly had noticed that she had come in alone, and was leaving with a man.

I'm a pickup, she thought, ashamed. But he'll know who I am soon enough. He'll be disappointed and probably angry and it'll all be over, and I'll just go home and die of embarrassment when I walk into work on Monday to tender my resignation. I can always get another job. There are plenty of typist positions out there.

They quickly reached the light of the lobby.

"Hello," he said in his full voice, smiling warmly, his hands casually shoved into his trouser pockets.

"Hello," she replied, looking down, nervous and shy once again in the bright light of reality. "I um - I don't do - this, Mr. Smith, I'm not a - a pickup. I'm not loose," she said quietly.

"Of course not," he said genuinely. "I'm just very friendly." He winked. "Now don't hide that pretty face."

She blinked hard, heaved a sigh, straightened up, and looked at him squarely, challenging him to recognize her. She waited for the inevitable anger at her deception. But he didn't say anything. He simply extended his hand, and wiggled his fingers in invitation.

"Uh..." was all she could muster. "I don't know you very well, don't know you at all even. Haven't even had a date yet," she gulped nervously. "I don' 'old 'ands wi' strangers." She over-exaggerated the accent, and ended up sounding like Eliza Doolittle.

"Oh, right, right," he said, embarrassed. "A old fashioned girl?"

"Me mum brough' me up proper, she did."

"All right then, Rose Tylah."

The way he said her alias made her heart skip a beat or two.

"Let me do this right. So here I am asking you out on a proper date. Miss Tyler, would you do me the honor of accompanying me this evening? I happen to know a wonderful place with a brilliant floor show."

She looked at the clock on the wall. 8:42. "Well, uh, Bess is expectin' me back, she'll worry," Jane explained. "I shoul' be ge'in' 'ome to Bess."

"So ring her. Tell her you met a fantastic bloke with the purest of intentions, and that he is taking you to see," he waggled his eyebrows, "Bobby Darin at the Tiki Tiki Club."

"What?" she gasped forgetting Bess and her accent altogether. "Really? Bobby Darin?" She grinned brightly. "Yes." She nodded vigorously. The ponytail erupting from the top of her head bounced perkily. "I accept."

He offered his arm instead of his hand, and she looped her arm through his, and off they went.

Chapter 13 - John & Jane Together

When they arrived at work, they entered the lift together, but kept a proper distance.

"G'mornin' to my two of my three favorite people," Jim the lift operator greeted them cheerfully.

"And who's the third?" John asked.

"Miss Cooper o' course," he replied with a tip of his hat. "I hear congratulations are in order, Miss Smith."

Jane looked at John with a shy smile. "For what, Jim?" she asked, trying to feign naïveté.

"Old Jim here always knows what's what," he replied with a cackling laugh. "New job for ya' today eh? I Heard Miss Woods talking with Mr. ‘iggins this mornin'. But I didn't need no one to tell me the second bit o' good news." He winked at the couple. "The two o' you never looked 'appier. Now don't go denying it. You two are a proper pair o' lovebirds you are."

John and Jane's heads snapped towards and each other and they both gaped.

"How'd you know?" John asked.

"I know true love when I see it. Knew ya' two were meant for each other from the moment I saw the two o' ya' together here on me lift, fighting like a pair of old married people. Got a special gift for seein' these things. The Missus fancies me a mystic." He tapped his temple with an arthritic finger. "Me wife 'n me'n married nigh forty years now. Jus' as 'appy as the day we met."

"Can you keep our secret, Jim?" Jane asked, concerned. "We really don't want it getting out just yet."

"Course. I know 'ow the office gossip goes." He mimicked zipping his lips.