Always in Your Corner- Boone Jenner

a/n: So i wrote a Boone fic. This is at least a 5 parter, and I have the next few parts written. Let me know what you think. I hope y’all enjoy it!

Summary: You were happily engaged to your perfect boyfriend when everything came tumbling down on you. The person you turned to just so happened to be your long time friend, Boone Jenner. The ever loyal Boone is there to help you get back on your feet. Little did you know, Boone had been pining after you for all these years, he’s just not sure if you’ll ever feel the same way about him.

Warnings: Cheating, Swearing, Anxiety if you squint, Sex, talk about sex and the use of protection

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Boone met you years ago when you were doing a two semester internship with the Blue Jackets. Boone’s career had just started to take off and you were still in your undergrad. Although you were only at your internship a few days a week, you quickly got to know the guys on the team. Now, all these years later, you had a marketing job in Columbus and you were still friends with the boys.

You and Boone really hit it off all those years ago, and you’ve become close friends. However, no matter how many times your friends chirped the two of you about dating, neither of you ever crossed that line of friendship. You loved Boone, but just as a friend. And you knew he felt the same way about you. Or at least you thought he did.

Unbeknownst to you, Boone had been pining after you since the day you met. Back then you guys were just kids, and once he settled on the fact that you would never see him as anything more than a friend he tried to brush off his feelings as a small crush. After your internship ended you continued to hang out with the guys on the team. Boone had watched you go out with a number of different guys and for a while he thought he had grown out of his feelings for you. It wasn’t until Craig came around that he realized he was still very much in love with you.

Craig was now your fiancé of almost four months, and your boyfriend of three years.  He was going to law school while you were in PT school, and a mutual friend had set you up. He was the perfect guy. He was handsome and smart, and said all the right things. He was romantic and sweet... and good in bed. There really wasn’t a single thing wrong with him. You fell hard and fast, and it seemed like the first year of your relationship flew by. On your one year anniversary he asked you to move in with him. Then, this summer while you were on vacation with your family, he popped the question. You couldn’t have been happier.

Boone on the other hand was crushed. He knew that the reason he disliked Craig so much was because he really was perfect. It was always easy to pick out major flaws with the other guys you had gone out with, but even Boone had a hard time hating Craig. He was a nice guy who treated you right. Boone even thought that had Craig not been dating the love of his life, they would have actually been good friends. It’s not that Boone was rude to Craig, he was always friendly, and they had gotten to know each other pretty well, but he could never get over the fact that at the end of the night you were going home with a guy that wasn’t him.

Being the good friend that he was, Boone was always supportive of your relationship because he knew Craig made you happy. He wanted you to be happy, but that didn’t stop him from feeling sad for himself when you called to tell him you were engaged.

That was the end of July, and now it was November. The season had started and quickly picked up pace. The Jackets were doing well, but because of how busy you had been with work you hadn’t made it to a game in a while. The last time you saw Boone may have been their season opener. Between work and planning a wedding for the following year, you didn’t have much free time. Boone understood, and his busy schedule never made a social life easy anyway.  That’s why it was even more surprising to see you behind his front door that night. He was just cleaning up from dinner when he heard a knock. Thinking it was just a neighbor he quickly went to open it, but when he did he was greeted with you. You were still dressed in your work clothes and he assumed you had come straight from your work.

“Hey! I didn’t forget we made plans did I?”

You follow him in the door and take off your jacket as you head for his couch. “No, I just needed somewhere to think that wasn’t my house or work, and your place is about half way between the two so it seemed like a good option.”  You’ve barely even looked at Boone and the concentrated look on your face tells him there’s definitely something on your mind. When you got into your head like this you couldn’t be stopped. You just had to think it out on your own. But when Boone offered you some water, and you requested a glass of wine instead, he realized this was probably a little more serious than what color the bridesmaid dresses should be.

“So are you going to tell me what’s going on?” He hands you the wine glass and you just shake your head. You still needed to think some more before you were ready to talk. It wasn’t uncommon for you to go to Boone with your problems, you were close and he was someone you felt comfortable talking about anything with, but this was something that if you said it out loud it might just become real, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for that yet.

Nearly 20 minutes pass before you look over at Boone who was scrolling through his phone. He looks back at you and sets his phone down thinking you might be ready to talk, but instead you just turn away again.

Your glass of wine is long gone, and knowing that you have to get home you don’t ask for a second. It’s been almost an hour since you got to Boone’s and you still haven’t spoken a word since you greeted him. You’re not sure what to do at this point, so you think that leaving may be your best answer. You start to get up and walk towards his door, but he catches your arm as you round the corner of the couch.

“Woah woah woah. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but if there’s something serious going on you can talk to me. You know I’ll always be there for you.” This is the Boone you loved. The loyal to a fault, caring, Boone. The genuine concern he has in his eyes is what gets you. You swear he’s like a puppy, you just can’t say no to him.

You let out a big breath before looking back at him, “I think Craig cheated on me.”

It’s the first time you’ve set it aloud, and you can feel a sense of panic rush in.

Boone isn’t even sure he heard you right.

Cheated on you?

Craig?

What the fuck.

What Boone is sure of is that you wouldn’t just throw an accusation like that around without being pretty damn sure you were right.

“Wait. What? Why do you think he cheated on you?”

“Well, about a week ago I was doing laundry and I found a condom in his work pants.”

You say it so casually, and Boone isn’t really sure what the problem is, “Okay… Why does that mean he cheated on you?”

“Because I’m allergic to latex. And the condom I found wasn’t latex free. I know I sound kind of crazy but we’ve been together for three years and one, he would never buy a condom that was made with latex, and two, we rarely even use condoms…”

There are a few other reasons too, like the fact that you barely see each other. Between your two jobs you’ve been super busy the last couple of months. Craig was working crazy hours trying to make partner at his firm, and you had been brushing off his lack of interest in you for him being stressed at work. You also hadn’t had sex in nearly a month. The lack of conversation combined with the lull in your sex life didn’t seem like that big of a deal until that damn condom showed up, but when you saw it you knew.

While you’re talking about your sex life Boone is mentally trying not to puke at the thought of another man touching you. Not only that, but he’s boiling at the thought of a man treating you this way. He’s not here to be a jealous friendzoned idiot, he’s here because you’re in crisis, and he has to remind himself of that before he speaks again.

“Y/N, what are you going to say to him?”

This is another reason why you didn’t want to say anything before. You weren’t sure if you were even going to mention it to Craig. You were supposed to be getting married next year. He had just proposed in July. There was no way he didn’t love you. Right? He wouldn’t have asked you to marry him, just to turn around and cheat on you a couple months later. Right?

You’re afraid to look at Boone’s puppy dog eyes so you just keep looking at the floor when you finally reply, “I don’t know… I don’t know if I’m even going to say anything.”

Again, Boone is shocked by your words. He might be more shocked at this statement, than the actual news of Craig’s indiscretions.

“I’m sorry but the fuck do you mean you’re not going to say something? Y/N, if you’re so sure that he cheated on you why the fuck are you just going to let it go?”

He’s pissed, and you can tell. His boldness takes you by a bit of surprise but you’re quick to retort, “Boone, to be honest I shouldn’t have even mentioned it to you. This is between me and Craig. I don’t expect you to understand, but we’re ENGAGED. We’re getting married. He loves me, and I love him, and if he messed up once then maybe I just don’t need to know about it. Everybody makes mistakes.”

It’s like you know you’re lying to yourself in the moment, but the weight of the ring on your left hand is telling you to ignore that feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“How is this “between you and Craig” if you never even talk about it with him?? How can you just ignore this? This isn’t like you.”

“Well Boone, it’s really not up to you... It’s late. I should get home.” You turn and head for the door, and Boone doesn’t stop you. When he hears the door slam behind you he’s seething from knowing that the ‘perfect Craig’ cheated on you and that you were just going to let it go.

When you wake up the next morning Craig had already left for work, and you turn your phone on to find a text from Boone.

Booner: I’m sorry about last night, you know I just want you to be happy. Don’t forget I’m always be in your corner.  

You know he means what he says, but you can’t bring yourself to confront Craig. If you can’t do that then you know you can’t reply to Boone, not when deep down you know that he’s right.

——

It’s been almost two weeks since you opened Boone’s message, and you still hadn’t replied. He tried calling a couple times but you haven’t heard from him in days. Boone knew that eventually you would come to your senses, or at least he hoped that you would. Even if you didn’t end up with Boone, he knew you deserved to be with someone better than Craig.  Against everything else in your body something in you told you that you were going to make this work. You loved Craig. He loved you.

You left work early that day and when you got home you changed into a new lingerie set that had been collecting dust for weeks in your closet. When Craig got home you greeted him, and like any man, he was thrilled at the site of a woman in lace.

You thought that maybe sex would help bring some fire back into your relationship, but it didn’t work the way you thought it would. The sex was quick and when he finished he didn’t even bother getting you off. He just rolled off you and headed for the bathroom.

That night as you heard him snoring next to you, you laid awake knowing it was true. You couldn’t keep kidding yourself. He wasn’t the perfect guy you had met three years ago. You had to talk about this, and even then there was a part of you that hoped you would be able to work though this.

You’re not sure if you even slept that night, but you get up before he does and you decided that it was time. As you quietly get ready for the day you try to decide how you’ll bring it up.  How are you supposed to confront someone who cheated on you? They definitely didn’t teach this in your PT classes…

You decide to grab the condom in question from where you hid it in your bedside table, and you set it on a plate at the kitchen island. As you move around preparing your breakfast you hear him get out of the shower and you know he’ll be coming out any minute. When he eventually rounds the corner he’s dressed in a suit and is looking down at his phone. It’s not until a couple minutes later that he even sees the condom sitting, in all of its glory, on your kitchen island.

“Babe? Why is there a condom on our counter?”

You turn around to face him and look him right in the eyes. “I found it… I found it in the pocket of your pants two weeks ago.”

“Ok, It’s just a condom…” He’s a good lawyer and therefore a good liar, but you know this man like the back of your hand and you know you’ve got him caught. The feeling that washes over you doesn’t feel like victory, it feels more like defeat.

You sigh, “Craig. Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be. For both of our sakes, just be honest with me.”

His phone and briefcase have now been gently set on the island that separates the two of you and he lets out the secret he’s been keeping for longer than you expected.

“I umm.. I uh- I’ve been sleeping with Chelsea for a few months.”

A few months. That means three, right? You’ve only been engaged for four… Somehow you still hadn’t prepared yourself enough for what was unfolding in front of you. You thought maybe he had messed up, that he made a mistake one time. But no, he had been having a three month long affair with his fucking secretary. The secretary that congratulated you at your engagement party. The secretary that had gotten you beautiful engraved wine glasses as an engagement gift.  On any other day you may have even considered Chelsea a friend.

“Were you going to tell me? Or were you just going to let me walk down the aisle next year, knowing that you were going to go back into work a married man and fuck your secretary?”

The words you spit out were laced with hatred. The layers of bullshit that you had built up convincing yourself that he loved you had been quickly torn away. No longer were you looking at your relationship with rose colored glasses. He hasn’t even said anything back. The coward had the balls to cheat on you for months after your engagement but couldn’t even look you in the eyes when he got caught.

“Why the hell would you even ask me to marry you if you were just going to go cheat on me?”

There is silence in your kitchen until he surrenders an answer to you, “It just felt like the right thing to do… We’ve been together so long and everyone was asking when we were going to get married… and then I thought my bosses would probably like it if I was engaged since no one really makes partner unless they’re married… and I knew you wanted to get married. And I love you I really do. And we can make this wor-“

He’s the one panicking now and you can’t even believe he’s trying to salvage this right now. The perfect guy you once knew was long gone. It’s clear to you that your impending marriage was only a strategic move to influence his career.

You can’t listen to his bullshit any longer, so instead you just turn and walk back to your bedroom. He starts to follow you, but you close and lock the door behind you. You lean back and slide to the floor. Finally letting your emotions get the best of you, you let out choked sobs.

Eventually he leaves you and you hear the door to your apartment close behind him. As you cry you lay on the floor of the bedroom you shared with the man you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with. You don’t know how long you cry, and you’re not sure when you fall asleep either.

When you wake up your clock tells you that you’ve been on the floor for almost two hours. Your body feels numb and all you want to do is stay sprawled out on the carpet, but you know that the battle isn’t over yet. After you text your boss to let her know you’re sick, you get yourself up and start packing. You grab suitcases from the hall closet and start grabbing your clothes.

You get as much as you can in your car and before you know it the apartment you once shared is only half full. You’re actually surprised you packed so quickly, and that it all fit in your car. You leave your key and your ring on the kitchen counter, and you know you don’t need to leave a note explaining anything. He already knows it’s over.

Before you walk out the door, something catches your eye. Two wine glasses. They’re sitting on the bar cart you had bought Craig for Christmas last year. You don’t even think, and before you know it you’ve taken them and tossed them into the kitchen sink. They shatter on impact.

You didn’t bother with taking stuff like the dishes or furniture the two of you had bought together. The things you took with you were only yours. Clothes and items you owned before the two of you lived together. You took things like the pictures from your graduation, your favorite blanket, and the puck Boone had given to you after your last game as a CBJ intern.

Boone. You hadn’t even spoken to him since your argument… You didn’t have anywhere to go now, and Boone did say he was always in your corner, so you start the ignition and turn your car in the direction of his apartment.

Revisiting Chapters: The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

I know, I know, I promised this for last week, but I had to pace myself with that last scene. The recap is also available on my wordpress.

The story so far…

Having opened the Neck and secured some support from Barrowton, Very Definitely Theon Greyjoy is not so cordially invited to the wedding of Very Definitely Arya Stark and Ramsay Very Definitely Bolton.

Content warning: this chapter ends with a rape scene. The recap contains discussion of the sexual violence depicted. Fourth subheading, if you want to avoid it.

False Identities

That’s the thing this chapter. With his return to Winterfell to assist in the marriage of a girl who is not Arya Stark, Theon’s starting to feel the cracks in the Reek identity that’s been forced on him. Once again he’s been jammed back into playing Theon. His first reference to himself in his internal narration this chapter is Theon Greyjoy.

The girl Theon starts the chapter attending to is referred to as “the bride,” and she is terrified. Jeyne starts by trying to convince herself that it will be okay.

“I will be a good wife to him, and t-true…I will please him and give him sons. I will be a better wife than the real Arya could have been, he’ll see.”

In case anyone was thinking that Jeyne deserved something bad to happen to her because she was mean to Arya, this fact is brought up again. In the context of Jeyne desperately seeking validation that she’s pretty enough not to be brutalised by the man she’s being forced to marry. As if that might work. She knows the problem. She can’t maintain that lie.

“He knows who I am, though. Who I really am. I see it when he looks at me. He looks so angry, even when he smiles, but it’s not my fault. They say he likes to hurt people.”

Jeyne is not Arya. She is not another Stark for Ramsay to torment. Which only means she’s going to be hurt for that particular offence as well. Theon models her some denial, telling Jeyne that Theon deserved to be hurt for making Ramsay angry, and that Ramsay is a sweet and kindly man. He advises (begs really) that Jeyne stop even alluding to the fact that she’s supposed to be someone who isn’t Arya Stark - just like Theon isn’t supposed to be Theon anymore.

This is made damn near impossible because Theon and Jeyne have been shoved into Theon- and Arya-shaped molds to enact a bit of political pageantry.

Theon Greyjoy had grown up with Arya Stark. Theon would have known an imposter. If he was seen to accept Bolton’s feigned girl as Arya, the northern lords who had gathered to bear witness to the match would have no grounds to question her legitimacy.

And therefore Ramsay’s claim to Winterfell through his wife.

Theon, meanwhile, is thinking of his own forcible return to being Theon for a time. The mummer’s farce. Theon cannot bear to trust even in part Roose’s comments about possibly installing Theon as Lord of the Iron islands. Note that the one detail of Theon’s wedding outfit that’s given to us is a crude iron kraken cloak pin. Much like Theon, it has been roughly hammered into a Greyjoy shape.

For all Theon says the solution for him and Jeyne is to keep up the pretenses forced upon them, in his internal monologue he’s got mixed feelings about it.

For a long moment [Jeyne] did not speak, but those eyes were begging. This is your chance, he thought. Tell them. Tell them now. Shout out your name before them all, tell them that you are not Arya Stark, let all the north hear how you were made to play this part. It would mean her death, of course, and his own as well, but Ramsay in his wroth might kill them quickly. The old gods of the north might grant that small boon.

Jeyne does not say it. Theon does not say it. The wedding proceeds, and Theon is left alone beneath the heart tree to continue his existential crisis (the one he has on top of all the other bad stuff that’s happened to him).

He was ironborn, a son of Pyke, his god was the Drowned God of the islands…but Winterfell was long leagues from the sea. It had been a lifetime since any god had heard him. He did not know who he was, or what he was, why he was still alive, why he had even been born.

And then he gets an answer.

“Theon,” a voice said.

It’s so perfect it actually could be divine intervention. Not only is this one of the most grounding things Theon could have heard, an affirmation that yes, he’s Theon, it’s quite possibly Bran himself speaking to Theon. A Stark, and a Stark injured by Theon’s actions, recalling Theon Greyjoy with all his mistakes and failures. Whether maybe-Bran intended it or not, whether or not Theon fully realises it, it’s a stunning if subtle act of cosmic grace.

With that prompting, Theon starts to think back. He gets annoyed at Jeyne for looking to him for a rescue, “like some hero in the stories she and Sansa used to love”. Most importantly,

I learned to fight in this yard, he thought, remembering warm summer days spent sparring with Robb and Jon Snow under the watchful eyes of old Ser Rodrik. That was back when he was whole, when he could grasp a sword hilt as well as any man. But the yard held darker memories as well. This was where he had assembled Stark’s people the night Bran and Rickon fled the castle. Ramsay was Reek then, standing at his side, whispering that he should flay a few of his captives to make them tell him where the boys had gone. […] None of them would help me. I had known them half my life, and not one of them would help me.

Now that’s some Theon! The good and the bad. This is key to Theon recalling the real Theon, in total, the sum of all his past choices. Not anyone’s image of Theon, but the person Theon made himself. The Theon who isn’t Ramsay’s plaything.

A Ghost of Winterfell

This is the first time since ACoK we’ve had a chapter physically set in Winterfell, so the time spent on describing how the place looks and feels now is time well spent.

Beyond [the godswood’s] confines, a hard white frost gripped Winterfell. The paths were treacherous with black ice, and hoarfrost sparkled in the moonlight on the broken panes of the Glass Gardens. Drifts of dirty snow had piled up against the walls, filling every nook and corner.

It’s not as though there’s no frost on Winterfell when the Starks are in residence, but the language here definitely reflects the new regime. (See also ‘A Ghost in Winterfell’.) No associations of cleanliness or purity here (see ‘Sansa VI, ASoS’) - Winterfell under Bolton occupation is full of dirt, treachery, and broken glass.

However, emphasising the soul of Winterfell, the godswood is in some ways unchanged and unaffected. Even by winter. The ground is unfrozen and the visible signs of Bolton occupation don’t touch the physical aspects of central point. That said, even Theon notes the empathic weather going on during the wedding:

He had never seen the godswood like this, though - grey and ghostly, filled with warm mists and whispered voices that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Beneath the trees, the hot springs steamed. Warm vapors rose from the earth, shrouding the trees in their moist breath, creeping up the walls to draw grey curtains across the watching windows.

Basically, the place is haunted, another thing that’s made explicit.

It felt like some strange underworld, some timeless place between the worlds, where the damned wandered mournfully for a time before finding their way down to whatever hell their sins had earned them.

Though that much is probably Theon projecting. He’s not the first one to find Winterfell’s godswood almost oppressive to outsiders. Specifically, in the godswood, Theon feels watched and judged. The people around him don’t feel (or look) like people. And there are a bunch of ravens roosting in the trees, thickest on the heart tree. The entire scene is claustrophobic and almost self-consciously a setpiece. A wedding in a quiet, wintry hell.

As we leave the wedding and therefore the godswood, we get a sharper, clearer look at the damage to Winterfell. “More ruin than redoubt.” Roofs have fallen in, the crops are dead, people are living in the ruins. Hanged workers are along the walls. The doors are new and roughly made. The interior stone is smoke-stained and the new roof timbers raw.

In total, everything in Winterfell castle is ruined, violent, and ugly, when Theon recalls Winterfell as a place of summertime safety. The wrongness of the setting shows the wrongness of the current administration.

Beyond the Walls

Even though this chapter is a setpiece, we’re reminded of the things going on around Winterfell. First, ‘Abel’ the bard shows up. Hooray, a random singer, appearing out of nowhere in a northern late autumn! Abel and his ‘washerwomen’ are going to become a bit more prominent in the next Theon chapters - and of course, readers already know from Jon’s chapters just who Abel is and why he’s there.

The context of the entire feast is, of course, preparation to fight Stannis, as Roose’s wedding speech recalls. 

“I am sorry that our good friend Stannis has not seen fit to join us yet,” [Roose] went on, to a ripple of laughter, “as I know Ramsay had hoped to present his head to Lady Arya as a wedding gift.”

Beyond Stannis, we get a look at what Barbrey Dustin’s thinking about the past and future of the North. First she sizes up Wyman Manderly and judges him a coward. She thinks he’ll piss himself when Stannis shows up. She also tells Theon that Roose knows exactly how treacherous Manderly is. Specifically, she tells Theon how Roose is watching for Manderly to poison him.

Theon has his doubts about Barbrey’s assessment, based on what he saw of the younger Manderlys in battle. Given what the reader knows about the pies, and what the reader has seen in Davos’ chapters, we know that Theon’s right and Barbrey’s wrong. Manderly’s got one over everyone here.

But Barbrey goes further.

“Truth be told,” she said, “Lord Bolton aspires to more than mere lordship. Why not King of the North? Tywin Lannister is dead, the Kingslayer is maimed, the Imp is fled. The Lannisters are a spent force, and you were kind enough to rid him of the Starks. Old Walder Frey would not object to his fat little Walda becoming a queen. White Harbor might prove troublesome should Lord Wyman survive this coming battle…but I am quite sure we will not. No more than Stannis. Roose will remove both of them, as he removed the Young Wolf. Who else is there?”

“You,” said Theon. “There is you. The Lady of Barrowton, a Dustin by marriage, a Ryswell by birth.”

Interesting. Now, Barbrey’s political judgement has just been called into question by her assessment of Manderly, but it’s something to keep an eye on. (Note also the complete omission of Queen Regent Cersei Lannister from Barbrey’s list of Lannisters there. Barbrey hasn’t even met any of the Lannisters, so far as we know. Cersei’s not entirely wrong when she thinks people disregard her because of her gender.) But it’s a look at what some parties might want from the future. Barbrey paints a picture of a man who will seek out power not because he has anything in particular he wants from it, but because he can. Theon’s suggestion that Barbrey herself could make a tilt at the throne is weaker, but Barbrey clearly likes the idea of having power.

As soon as maesters enter the room, we get a better idea of what she might like that power for.

“If I were queen, the first thing I would do would be to kill all those grey rats.”

Barbrey believes that maesters conspire to rule through the people they advise. There’s a decent measure of anti-bastard prejudice to her beliefs, blaming maesters for getting rid of their bastard names and ‘laundering’ their identities. If anything, Barbrey seems to get carried away here, railing against one Maester Walys, who advised Rickard Stark back in the day, and who Barbrey seems rather bitter about given “the Tully marriage”.

This is interrupted by the announcement of more news about Stannis, which the maesters came to deliver. Roose announces he’s received word that Stannis has left Deepwood Motte, recruited the hill clans, and is heading for Winterfell. Hosteen Frey shows some of his own temperament by shouting advice to ride forth and attack; Theon’s internal monologue notes the pre-arranged treachery Roose has waiting in the Karstarks. The feast winds up as the lords present go to meet with Roose…and while the marriage that opened the chapter is consummated.

Another Grim Wedding

It’s just that everyone’s pretending that it’s not.

The disregard for Jeyne’s wellbeing starts from the word go, as we see her in her wedding dress, which Theon sums up as “pretty, but not warm.” For an outdoor, late autumn wedding at a northerly latitude. Jeyne as a prop is more important than Jeyne as a person. No help is coming, because Theon’s participation is intended to silence any questions about Jeyne’s identity as Arya: “if a few entertained private doubts, surely they would be wise enough to keep those misgivings to themselves,” as Theon thinks.

The wedding feast itself is opened by Roose joking about giving Jeyne Stannis’ head as a wedding present, which sounds like a registry gift that Ramsay would arrange, all right, if not useful or desirable otherwise.

Wyman Manderly provides the catering, and this quietly furthers the mystery of the three missing Frey guests. Amongst the other food and drink Manderly brought, he brings three gigantic pork pies. Wyman himself serves it to Roose Bolton and Walda Frey Bolton.

“The best pie you have ever tasted, my lords,” the fat lord declared. “Wash it down with Arbor gold and savour every bite. I know I shall.”

So that’s where the missing Freys got to. Manderly’s pie. Which he served to their relatives at a wedding. In case you missed it, after the feast, when Manderly’s drunk, Theon passes him in the hall mumbling a request for a song about the Rat Cook (who slew a guest beneath his roof and served that guest to his father in a pie).

What makes the entire party even more awful is the knowledge of what comes when it’s over. Neither Jeyne nor Theon manage to eat much (pie included! Symbolically, neither are partaking of vengeance against the Boltons, being more concerned with their own survival). Theon notes that Jeyne is petrified and considers what he might do about it.

I have no way to save her, he thought, but I could kill her easy enough. I could beg her for the honour of a dance and cut her throat. That would be a kindness, wouldn’t it? And if the old gods hear my prayer, Ramsay in his wroth might strike me dead as well.

And after the political detour with Barbrey, we get to the end of the party, as we had to. Jeyne and Theon, alone in a room with Ramsay, completely within his power. It’s about four pages in my ebook version. Four harrowing pages.

Just like Ramsay’s wedding clothes were made to resemble bloody wounds, he’s gone and applied Dead Stark Chic to his bedroom as well. Specially brought in from Barrowton, Theon points out. The canopy of the bed is blood-red velvet. The chair is black oak with a red leather seat. The OTT nature of Ramsay’s aesthetics speaks to his deadly serious insecurity.

It’s also clear that he’s getting off not just on violence alone, but on violence against people with the surnames of Stark and Greyjoy. 

“You gave the wench to me. Who better to unwrap the gift? Let’s have a look at Ned Stark’s little daughter.”

She is no kin to Lord Eddard, Theon almost said. Ramsay knows, he has to know. What new cruel game is this?

The emphasis he places on them during this scene is on the stations they hold in public. Jeyne as a Stark, Theon as the former conqueror of Winterfell. Ramsay clearly finds pleasure in controlling and degrading them, as well as simply physically hurting them. Earlier, Barbrey Dustin said that Roose enjoyed playing with men. It’s clear that Ramsay does the same, from the power games he plays with both Jeyne and Theon. Instead, he uses them to act out something else:

“Would you like to fuck her first?” He laughed. “The Prince of Winterfell should have that right, as all lords did in days of old. The first night. But you’re no lord, are you? Only Reek.”

Given what we know about Ramsay’s bio-parents (and what Ramsay quite possibly represses), Ramsay holding a “first night” themed rape on his own wedding night is a whole ‘nother psychosexual level of urgh. With some class resentment thrown in.

He does not allow Jeyne even as much control as undressing herself, instead ordering Theon to render her clothing unusable. When she’s naked, Theon and through him the reader are reminded how young she is.

A child. […] Sansa’s age.

Thirteen. Theon can also see that someone’s whipped Jeyne in the past. She also says that she’s been “trained” to please a man. That, we can put at Littlefinger’s feet.

Ramsay further demonstrates his control over Theon by not only allowing Theon to wield a knife throughout the scene, but ordering him to use it. Theon is aware that he could turn it on Ramsay himself. Theon is aware that he could use it on Jeyne. He thinks of both over the course of the evening, going to far as to weigh up the advantages he might gain from surprise.

Another trap, he told himself, remembering Kyra with her keys. He wants me to try and kill him. And when I fail, he’ll flay the skin from the hand I used to hold the blade.

Note the “when”. Theon considers his failure a foregone conclusion. He is so terrorised by the prospect of yet more pain and so mentally beaten down that he cannot truly imagine a way out of his situation. All thoughts of killing Ramsay and helping Jeyne escape are reduced to ineffectual fantasising when Theon’s confronted with the real prospect of acting on those thoughts. This culminates in some of the final lines of the chapter, when Ramsay orders Theon to directly participate in raping Jeyne (a situation which is also rape of Theon).

Somewhere in the godswood, a raven screamed. The dagger was still in his hand.

He sheathed it.

Reek, my name is Reek, it rhymes with weak.

Theon is acutely aware that Ramsay put him into a situation where he had everything he needed to kill Ramsay and escape - except will. He is acutely aware that Jeyne is suffering from his failure to use the knife. This is not portrayed anything like Brienne’s internal condemnation of the knights who stood by, though. This is a depiction of lack of action through enforced weakness. Theon too is a victim in this scene. If anything, he’s even further trapped by Ramsay’s forcing him to participate.

And on that horrible confirmation that both Theon and Jeyne remain in Ramsay’s power for the time being, suffering and aware of their powerlessness, the chapter ends.

Chapter Function

The political action of the chapter is pretty clear: this wedding in Winterfell is intended to help the Boltons co-opt the Stark claim to the North. However, the chapter also serves to remind us that people aren’t planning to sit down and accept it. Our PoV character for this event is one of a very few people present who can tell us for sure that Jeyne is not Arya, and this whole thing’s a political sham. The fact that it is a political sham is front and centre. Nobody’s being real here except maybe the Boltons. Barbrey’s hiding her grudges, Manderly’s starting work on his revenge, and central to the entire chapter are Jeyne and Theon, forced into playing parts they don’t want for a cause they don’t support, regardless of the harm it does to them.

In terms of Theon’s character arc, I tend to consider this the midpoint. Theon is aware of what he’s been made by Ramsay’s torture, and now he’s become aware of the Theon he once was. He sees the gap and starts bridging it by recalling his past. Including his bad choices. With awareness of his bad choices, however, comes the awareness that there are better choices out there. It’s just taking Theon a bit of time to work himself up to them, in light of what he’s suffered.

Politically, we get the usual mishmash of various plots advanced incrementally, all leading up to that big treacherypalooza we might end up calling the Battle of Winterfell. Stannis is marching on Winterfell with the hill tribes. Mance Rayder’s scoping out the situation on behalf of Jon Snow. Manderly’s feeding Freys to other Freys. Arnolf Karstark’s nearly in position to betray Stannis. Roose and Barbrey are considering a post-Stannis and post-Lannister winter.

Admist all of that, Theon’s pondering about how he and Jeyne could possibly escape Ramsay is a bleak little thing, because as yet he’s thought up no options besides death.

Miscellany

This is not Mance’s first time at Winterfell. This is not Mance’s first time at Winterfell while Theon was there. Theon doesn’t recognise him. He also describes Mance’s voice as “passable” and his playing “fair.”

We get the Poole coat of arms here - a blue plate on white, framed by a grey tressure. This really, really screams “steward!”

Clothing Porn

Jeyne wears white lambswool trimmed with lace, with freshwater pearls on the sleeves and bodice, plus white doeskin slippers and a white wool cloak trimmed with grey fur. This is replaced with a pink cloak spattered with teardrop-shaped garnets (Ramsay not being one to tone down even sartorial representations of violence) and the Bolton flayed man on the back in red leather.

Ramsay wears a black velvet doublet slashed with pink silk, garnet teardrops sewn in, with high grey leather boots.

Barbrey Dustin dresses for the occasion in unadorned black wool. It’s never out of style.

Food Porn

Manderly provides for the feast! Cod cakes, winter squash, lots of neeps, lots of cheese, beef ribs, and wedding pies filled with carrots, onions, turnips, parsnips, mushrooms, and long pork.

Next Three Chapters

Brienne VIII, AFFC - Jon VII, ACoK - Jon IX, ADWD

Samson/Roman Hawke: Ashamed

Some smut/angst/feels for a lovely Friday trade with my soulmate @schoute! In which Samson and Roman get into a fight and make up, even though making up is for couples and THEY’RE DEFINITELY NOT A COUPLE BECAUSE FEELINGS ARE GROSS. 

~9000 words; only the first section is here. Read the whole thing on AO3. 

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

- SAMSON -

Samson made his way to Roman’s house in Hightown with a little spring in his step.

Granted, it wasn’t much of a spring; his neck hurt from the awkward angle he’d fallen asleep sitting against an alley wall last night, and he had to be careful not to draw any attention lest the patrolling guardsmen throw him out of Hightown for daring to breathe their fancy air. Still, despite his aching neck and the necessary caution required for travelling through the elite part of town, Samson was feeling rather jaunty. It was hard not to feel a little cheerful when he knew he’d be getting some sex.

Late last night, Roman had stopped by his usual corner on her way home from the Hanged Man and had told him to come to her house today for a fuck. This had been happening more and more often of late; it had been a few weeks now since the first time he’d gone to her house and ended up having sex with her, and since that time, she’d started inviting him to her house at least three times a week. 

Well, ‘inviting’ might have been a strong word. ‘Bad-temperedly commanding’ was more accurate. Roman would come to see him for their regular little back-and-forth of insults and exchanges of information for coin, but just before she left, she’d tell him to show up at her mansion at such-and-such a day and time, and then she’d walk away without waiting for him to say yes or no. When Samson inevitably appeared at her mansion at the specified date and time, he’d find himself balls deep inside of the pretty bird about ten minutes later. 

It was… unbelievable. Literally beyond belief. Samson didn’t understand what the infamous Roman Hawke was doing with the likes of him. Not to say she necessarily had a lineup of suitors at her door, given how notoriously bitchy and scary she was, but still: she was rich and influential, while Samson was a homeless ex-Templar who barely eked out a living in Lowtown. She was in the prime of her youth, while Samson was… Maker, some days he felt like a ninety-year-old corpse. She was… well, not beautiful exactly; the average person wouldn’t go around calling her a great beauty, what with her constant scowl and her lanky body that was all arms and legs. But in Samson’s eyes… 

Fine, he’d admit it: he liked looking at Roman Hawke. She was real easy on the eyes, in his humble opinion. Whereas even Samson’s own mother would say he was nothing special to look at. If she were alive, that is. 

In short, he couldn’t figure out why Roman had decided that he was the man she wanted to fuck on the regular. But he certainly wasn’t going to say no to such a boon. He was getting more sex now as a beggar than he’d ever gotten during any other time in his life, and the irony of this was enough to cheer him up in a vindictive sort of way. To think that he, Raleigh Samson, was currently getting more tail than his former Templar brethren? More tail than that bloody handsome berk Cullen Rutherford? This thought alone was enough to bring a smile to his face. 

All in all, it was a cheerful-feeling Samson who knocked on the door of the Amell mansion a few minutes later. After a few seconds’ wait, Roman opened the door. 

Samson tucked his hands in his pockets and lifted one eyebrow. “Bird. How’s—”

“Get in here,” she said, and she grabbed his shirt.

He stumbled in surprise as she dragged him through the door. She slammed the door shut, and Samson barely had time to regain his balance before she was shoving his chest.

“Move,” she snapped. She took a step closer and shoved him again.

He hastily backed away from her, then kept stumbling back as she aggressively stepped toward him. “Hey,” he protested. “What’s going on ‘ere? What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing,” she said, but she kept pushing his chest until he stumbled into the wall. Then she ran her palm over his groin.

He grunted in surprise. He wasn’t even hard yet — Maker’s balls, she hadn’t even given him a chance to get hard — but at the pressure of her palm, he could already feel his cock stirring to life. 

She tsked and rubbed his groin. “Why aren’t you hard yet?”

He choked out a little laugh. “Give me two bloody seconds, won’t you? I’m not as young as I used to be.”

She paused in her rubbing and shot him a scathing look. “That’s a poor fucking excuse.” Then, to his mild disappointment, she stopped rubbing his groin and started untucking his shirt from his trousers. 

Her fingers were rough and brisk as she plucked at his clothes, and Samson watched her in exasperation. “If I wanted to be frisked, I’d have just gone to the nearest guardsman instead of coming here.”

She looked up. “Huh?”

He gestured at her hands, which were tugging impatiently at the laces of his trousers. “You’re being pretty rough, Bird. This feels more like a strip search than anything.”

She scoffed and kept pulling at his laces. “If you want to be treated all nice and sweet, go to the Blooming Rose.”

He took her jaw in a gentle grip and lifted her chin. “Why would I go to the Blooming Rose when I can get it for free?”

She scowled at him. “That’s why you’re here? Because you think I’m cheap?” She tried to twist her face away from his hand, but he tightened his grip on her chin so she couldn’t wiggle free.

He looked her intently in the eye. “I’m here because you told me to come.”

“And you came because you think I’m fucking cheap and easy,” she said in a hard tone.

He sighed loudly — why did she always have to be so fucking difficult? — then kissed her hard. Her lips parted, and Samson quickly pulled away before she could bite him.

He ran his thumb over her chin, then released her. “Maker bloody knows why, Bird, but I like fucking you. So finish your frisking already so we can get to it.”

She curled her lip at him and went back to pulling on his laces. “You’re — fuck you. Don’t tell me what to do.”

He smirked, pleased to have won this particular argument. Roman finally finished unlacing his trousers and pulled out his cock, and when she wrapped her fingers around his shaft, he let out a pleasured breath.

“Finally,” he said. “Are you going to get your kit off now, or–”

She dropped to her knees and took his cock in her mouth, and Samson jerked with shock at the sudden wet heat of her mouth. She moved her lips up and down his shaft, and when the head of his cock slid deep into the softness of her throat, a gasp of pleasure burst from his lips. 

Fuck, she was sucking him so firmly, and her throat was so sweet and warm, and if she kept this up for much longer, he was going to come. He placed his palm on the crown of her head. “Hang on, Bird, just a– ah, fuck…”

She released his cock and frowned up at him. “What, don’t you want this?”

“Of course I do,” he panted. “I just — don’t you want — what about you?”

She gave him a look as though he’d suggested something horribly perverted. “What are you, a fucking gentleman?”

He chuckled breathlessly. “I’m a perfect gentleman, all right. Just look at my genteel clothes.” He gestured sarcastically at his threadbare trousers.

She scoffed and pumped her hand along his cock. “Shut up. You can pay me back after.”

He smirked dirtily. “Pay you back how?”

“By putting your tongue in my pussy, you dumbass,” she said archly. 

His cock jerked at her raw words. The thought of Roman’s fragrant wet pussy against his mouth, that fragrant pussy of hers sliding onto his length, the way she clenched around him when he was deep inside of her… 

“Can I keep going or what?” she said impatiently.

“Yes, yeah, suck me off,” he panted. 

“Good,” she grunted. “Maybe you’ll shut the fuck up now.” She took him in her mouth again, and Samson closed his eyes in bliss. Her mouth was a perfect firm pressure around his shaft, and it felt so good that he couldn’t help but roll his hips toward her a little bit as she suckled him.

She growled around his shaft and rested her hands on his thighs. He groaned and tightened his fingers in her raven-black hair, and she started sucking him harder—

Someone knocked on the door, and Samson’s whole body went cold with panic. 

Roman released him with a muffled curse and stood up. “Put your cock away,” she said brusquely, and she turned to the door. 

“Don’t open it!” he squawked. “For Maker’s bloody sake, don’t–”

“I won’t,” she hissed. “Just lace up your fucking trousers.”

The knock came again, and Roman rolled her eyes. “Just a second,” she hollered, and she turned and gave Samson an impatient look. 

He hastily finished tying up his trousers and ran a hand through his hair, and Roman went to the door and opened it a crack. 

Varric’s voice filtered through the crack in the door. “Morning. Ready to go?”

“Go?” Roman said. “Go where?”

“Sundermount, remember?” Varric said. “Daisy’s little errand? I’m not keen either, to be honest; you know how I feel about all that nature shit, but we promised.”

Roman tilted her head back and let out a long sigh. “Fuck,” she groaned. “I completely fucking forgot. You’d better come in while I get my shit together.” She opened the door wider and stepped back to let him in.

Varric came into the house, and when his eyes fell on Samson, his eyebrows jumped up. “Oh,” he said blankly. “Hey.”

Samson nodded awkwardly and touched his fingers to his forehead in greeting. “Tethras.”

Varric’s eyes darted from him to Roman. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to, uh, interrupt.”

“You’re not interrupting,” Roman said. “He was just leaving.” She shot Samson a pointed look.

He wilted slightly, but he wasn’t really surprised; she usually tried to get him out before any of her friends or family could catch him here. He sighed and made his way to the door. “Enjoy your nature trip,” he said, and he reached for the doorknob.

To his surprise, however, Varric spoke to him before he could open the door. “We’ll probably be back by tomorrow night, if you want to join us at the Hanged Man for a round of diamondback.”

Samson turned and stared at him in surprise. Varric was inviting him to join them? 

“No,” Roman said. 

Samson looked at her, but she was scowling at Varric. Varric raised his eyebrows. “You sure? We can always use another player.”

“I said no,” Roman said in a hard tone. “I don’t want him hanging around with the others.”

Samson’s gut twisted. He was surprised at how much her words hurt, like a dull knife piercing beneath his ribs. It was one thing for him to sneak in and out of her house without anyone seeing, but to hear her blatantly saying that she was ashamed of him… 

He bowed sarcastically to her to hide his hurt. “As the lady commands. Don’t let me taint your posh presence any more than I already ‘ave.” 

Her pouty mouth twisted into a sour expression, but she didn’t say anything, and with a pang, Samson pulled open the door and let himself out. 

He skulked through Hightown feeling like a whipped dog. As good as he’d been feeling on his way here, he was now feeling like utter shit, and he hated that he felt so bad. Logically, he understood why Roman didn’t want him around: he wasn’t anybody worth keeping around. He’d been thinking it himself on his way to her house, after all; he was a dishonoured ex-Templar and a beggar, an unsightly old shell of a man who was all skin and bones, and she was Roman Hawke. Of course she didn’t want him hanging around her precious friends. 

If it made logical sense and he agreed with her, why did it hurt so fucking much to hear her say it?

He slowly made his way back to Lowtown, and his mindset swung from anger to humiliation to resignation and back to anger once more like the pendulum of a clock. She was such a bitch, kicking him out of her house and being so mean about it. While Varric was watching, no less, just in case it wasn’t humiliating enough to be kicked out with barely a goodbye. Who the fuck did she think she was to just boss him around, telling him to come over and then telling him to get out like he was at her beck and call?

He immediately answered his own question. She’s Roman Hawke, he thought. She’s better than you deserve, even if she’s mean as a rabid alleycat. And that, of course, was the problem. Samson was the first to admit that he was as good as the dirt at the bottom of her shoes, so he should consider himself lucky she’d even spoken to him in the first place, let alone allowed him to fuck her as many times as he had. And at least when she talked to him, she didn’t look at him like he was a piece of shit. 

Really, if he thought about it, Roman was essentially the only person in Kirkwall who even looked at him when she spoke to him. And when she looked at him, it was like he was more than just a washed-up vagrant. When Roman talked to him, it even felt like she thought his opinions were worth more than just wind. 

But then she kicked him out of her house before anyone could see him, and she told her best bloody friend that she didn’t want him around her other friends…

Fucking idiot, he thought, but he wasn’t thinking about Roman now; he was thinking about himself. It was stupid of him to read anything into the way she looked at him or talked to him. It was stupid of him to think that she saw value in him. Of course she didn’t see any value; she was Roman Hawke, the wealthy and terrifying bitch who had gone to the deep roads and come back alive — who regularly walked straight into life-threatening situations and came out of them with nothing more than a few cuts on her arms and her middle finger held high.

And he was Raleigh Samson, the ex-Templar beggar who would lick a corrupt guardsman’s boots for a mere whiff of lyrium. 

It’s as it should be, he thought. She was a noble lady now, and he was at the bottom of the gutter where he’d always been since they’d met. It only made sense for her to treat him accordingly. But now that he’d had a taste of what it was like for Roman to look at him like he had value, to talk to him like an equal, he couldn’t stand the thought of her treating him like a piece of shit like she’d done today.

There was only one thing to be done, then: he wouldn’t see her anymore. Sure, it would mean a significant source of his coin would dry up, and it would mean he’d probably be curled somewhere in a corner in a couple of days having the sweats and the dry heaves as he went through lyrium withdrawal. But even that was better than the thought of Roman looking at him like the ruin that he was. 

By now, he was back in Lowtown. He made his way toward his usual spot near the docks, but instead of stopping, he turned down an alleyway and followed a twisting and increasingly dirty path toward a loose sewer grate. 

He sighed. He hated going to this part of town, but at least it meant that Roman wouldn’t find him if she came looking for him.

With that glumly determined thought, he lifted the grate and disappeared into Darktown. 

Read Roman Hawke’s POV on AO3. 

Cuff Links | CEO Peter

He loved to show you off. He loved to walk around a room with his fellow associates knowing he had you hanging off his arms. You were everything they ever dreamed of having.

You were gorgeous, of course, but you cared, you really cared about his work. You knew about it, you spoke about it, you supported it. That’s all he wants, an equal, someone he can support but also lean on when he needs it.

You embodied all of that.

You also liked to spoil him. As man in his power it wasn’t a natural thing to say he liked to be spoiled, but he did, and he loved it when you spoiled him.

“Petey.” You grinned as you walked out of the closet in a new set. He looked up from buttoning his shirt, halting all movements to follow you with his eyes. “I have something for you.”

He rolled his eyes, buttoning up the last button before turning to give you his whole attention. “What is it Kitten?”

You held up a medium sized velvet box, causing his suspicions to grow. “Open it.” You smiled.

He took a step forward, leaning down to kiss your lips softly before taking the box into his hands. His eyes flick up to yours once more before opening the box. His breath caught for a moment. Not something that happened often unless something was fucked up.

“Oh Kitty.” He smiled, looking up at you.

That pet name made you weak, because you knew it was finally the real Peter. The Peter who was just a boy who wanted to be loved as much as he wanted to give love. A boy with a dream, a dream he was making come true.

“Do you like them?”

He smiled, looking down at them again, shaking his head as he laughed softly. “They’re perfect, just like you.” Another kiss being planted to your lips. “Help me?”

You gently picked up the new hand carved spaceship cufflinks, helping him settle them into the fabric.

“Sir.” Bailey, Peter’s assistant, makes himself known from the hallway, not wanting to intrude.

“Bailey.” He turns, voice back to his stern ways.

“We’ll be late.”

“We’re almost ready, 10 minutes please.”

“Yessir.”

Peter turns back to you, eyeing your half naked form. “Please get dressed before I decide we don’t need to go.”

You grin, pecking his cheek, “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

He pinches your butt cheek, biting his lip as you scurry to the closet, “She’s trouble.” He shakes his head walking back to the mirror to check his tie.

**

He’s shown them off to everyone he can. The men in the room are mesmerized, not knowing such a thing existed. He was so proud, to state you picked them out and gifted them to him.

The women are jealous, feeling one upped by a girl much younger than them. The one that seems to cuff the youngest, smartest, hottest, CEO.

“Where did you find them?” Karrie Ryden asks. She’s married to Nick Ryden, Peter’s righthand man and best friend.

“They look cheap? Did you make them?” Sheryl, Ken Boone’s wife comments.

We don’t like Ken, and we really don’t like Sheryl.

“Actually my mother made them.” You boast, smiling when you eye Peter showing them off to Nick again.

“That’s classic. Did he not give you enough of an allowance?” Sheryl laughs.

You flash her a look, taking a deep breath to compose yourself.

“Oh no he did.” She smiles looking at Sheryl over the rim over her champagne glass. “But I spent that on the dress that is 80 times better than yours.” You smile cheekily, why play nice when she’s got her knives out. “And the rest? I spent that on the thong that’s in his right pocket.”

At this the ladies gasp, some chuckling into their glasses, one winking and giving her a look like she knows what’s up, you always liked Lily.

“And if you don’t mind me, I’m gonna go back to my man, rock his world a little.” You shrug, patting Sheryl’s shoulder. “Oh and the night your bragging about, telling Karrie all about in the bathroom when you think no one is in the stall?” You eye Karrie and Sheryl, evil in your eyes. “Ken got that move from Peter, who told him about the night we shared.”

“Excuse me.” Sheryl gasps.

“So before you start giving me judgemental bitchy comments, remember who’s helping your sexlife.”

At that you walk away, towards the man that’s been watching you all night, smiling and winking. He watches you come near, holding his hand out and pulling you snug into his body.

“There she is,” Ken smiles sliding up next to Nick. “Where did you find these?” He points to Peter’s wrist.

“My mother made them.”  You smile politely, looking up at Peter when he pulls you closer, kissing your temple.

“You didn’t tell me that.” He mumbles.

“They’re stellar.” Nick jokes.

You giggle, pointing at him, catching his god awful joke, but going along with it.

“Give me a moment with my girl eh?” Peter nods off telling Ken and Nick to get lost.

Once alone he takes your champagne flute, setting it on a trey of a waiter who happens to walk by. “You okay?”

“Oh you know me and large crowds.” You grin up at him.

He eyes Sheryl over your shoulder, watching her hit Ken’s arm, speaking angrily.

“What’d you do?” He fights off a grin.

“I just rub some people the wrong way.” You shrug, looking back at what he’s seeing.

“You always rub me the right way.” He mutters into your ear.

Gasping you look over at him, “Peter Manuel Mendes, are you flirting with me?”

He laughs, shaking his head at you. “What do you say about getting out of here Kitten?”

“I’d say you should have decided we didn’t need to come in the first place.”

He grins again, tugging you into him and humming “Oh no Kitten, you always need to cum first.”

You grip at his coat, biting your lip as you look up at him from under your lashes.

“And if you’re a good girl that’ll happen before we even get home. Now behave so we can leave.”

The Landlord, Ch 2

If anyone wants tagging for updates let me know and I’ll start a tag list.  I hope you like it.   @just-the-hiddles​ @every-journey-sassypants-loves​

Summary:  Thorin was cursed to be a vampire until he could find a cure.  That was 500 years ago.  While not suffering the bloodlust, his kin were dragged into his plight.  Lately he’s been dreaming of the same woman for six nights in a row.  Could she help him, guide him, or cause his downfall.

Warnings:  no actual violence, a man does get up close and personal without her permission but no rape or anything like that, public drunkenness 

Ch 2

Dwalin meandered a few doors down, while, almost as an afterthought, grabbed his phone and hit one-touch dialing.

“Eureka,” was all he said.

“Finally,” the voice replied. “Stay in the area and see if you can follow her home.  Tomorrow you can give the info to Bofur and Nori and they can get to work.  Good job, brother.”

“Understood.”  Dwalin ended the call and continued strolling along the way.  He knew the club would close around two am so he had some time to kill.  Constantine’s All Night diner was half a block up. Some food and coffee would be perfect right now.  He always loved Bombur’s cooking.

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

Sofia made her rounds on the floor, the music still loud, heavy, and making her headache.  Two private dances later and she had enough to cover the rest of the rent.  Thank God for that; and no groping which was a boon.  Wandering towards the backroom entrance a shadow figure ducked out the door she was heading for and made straight for her.  They were walking sloppy, feet dragging and leaning to the left, grabbing chairs as they passed so as not to fall.  She noticed the shine from grease slicked hair.  There were only two men who wore their hair like that and looking quick, she saw Herman sitting in his corner, watching over his domain; his goons on each side and his latest bimbo in his lap.

“Good evening, Francis. How’s it going tonight?  You look like you’ve been having fun,” she stated, always polite.  She stood straight, hands clasped tight together in front of her.

“Hey there, Sofie,” he said as his salacious gaze focused on her boobs.  “You did great tonight,” he slurred as he tilted forward making Sofia edge back to stay just out of breath range.

“Thanks, Francis,” she said and smiled evenly.  She kept trying to think of a way to get away from him.  All she wanted to do was go home.  He wouldn’t move.

“Why didn’t you come near me,” he whined.  “I had some tips for you.  You know the teacher is my favorite, he leered and tilted forward again.

“I’m sorry, Francis. When I’m up there I can’t see faces well, with the lights and all,” Sofia gestured towards the stage.  “Maybe next time.”  She tried to find a path around him.  “If you’ll excuse me now, I”d like to get home.”  She made to step around him but he had other plans.

Surprising her with his agility, he shuffled to block her path and snaked an arm out, grabbing her and pulling her to him.  “Now Sofie,” he whispered in her ear, “I know it’s not quitting time yet.  How about one last dance just for me?”  Francis held her tight, eyes hard and now very clear.

“Sure, Francis.  One more just for you.”  Her fake smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.  His hand gripped her harder, fingers digging into her the flesh of her hip.  She knew tonight there’d be no escape.

-----------

Dwalin walked around the block to work off his meal.  Bombur’s meals usually put him to sleep.  That wasn’t an option tonight.  He found the back door of the club and waited, leaning in the shadows while a book on his phone in dark mode to minimize any light.  

One Forty-five AM, the sound of keys hitting the pavement got his attention.  

“No, Francis, please,” Sofia yelled as she struggled to yank her arm from his grasp.

“I’m not ready to let you go yet, Sofie.  I need a bit more personal attention,” Francis growled as he jerked her back against him, as she struggled and squirmed.

“HEY!”  Dwalin bellowed as he stepped from his hiding spot.  “The lady said no, now you best let her go.” He walked closer, stopping a few feet away from the pair.

“Piss Off before you regret it,” Francis slurred.  “This ain’t your business.”  He tried to yank Sofia behind him but lost his grip enough for her to slip away from him. She darted to the opposite side of the alley from the two men, keeping them both in her line of sight.

“It’s good manners when a lady says to leave her alone, it’s best to do so.  Now be a good lad and go home to sleep it off.”  Dwalin was ready to defend against any attack.  He kept an eye on Francis, waiting for any movement, taking special notice of the badge clipped to Francis’s belt.  “Great, a cop.  Just what we needed,” he thought.

Sofia held her place against the wall, not moving, holding her breath.  She saw Francis start to ball his right fist up when a loud crash echoed from within the dressing room area.  Maintaining eye contact, Francis backed into the doorway, a sneer on his lips.

“I’ll see you around,” he spat at Dwalin.  He glanced at Sofia, “See you tomorrow night, baby.”  He slammed the door as he turned to move back down the hall.

“Are you alright, miss,” he turned to face Sofia, keeping his distance, hands open and out to his sides showing he meant no harm.  He relaxed his posture and released the stern look on his face.

“I will be.  Thank you for your help, but he’s going to be pissed tomorrow.”  She squatted to get her keys, never taking her eyes off the stranger.

“Sorry for butting in but you didn’t sound like you wanted him near you,” Dwalin said.

“You’re right but while here I don’t have much choice.  It’s a hazard of the job.”  Sofia stood watching the stranger.  His bald head reflecting the light above the door, illuminating several tattoos.  His brown Henley open at the top two buttons, hanging down to the pockets of his jeans.  His faded Levi’s close in color to matching the dark blue of his eyes. The side buckle on his lineman boots twinkled at her.  Broad in shoulders, chest, and arms, he cut an impressive figure, even at his shorter stature.  Francis had a good foot on him.

The smell of the dumpsters in the alley started to make her want to gag.  The fear of Herman and Francis coming back with the good squad started to make her shake.  It was time to run.

“Thank you again,” she smiled and nodded at him as she turned to walk away.

“Not to bother you, but you may want to take a cab.  I can see you trembling from here,” he suggested.  “I promise you, I’ll keep my distance.  Let’s walk to the end of the alley.  I’ll call and pay for a cab for you and I’ll go on my way.  This way if he comes back I can stop him.  Ok,” Dwalin suggested.

“You won’t come any closer?” Sofia couldn’t believe she was thinking of trusting him.

“No ma’am.”  Dwalin held his hands up in surrender.  

“Ok,” she said.

The alley was wide enough for a garbage truck so she made sure to keep a truck's distance between them. They reached the brighter lights of the main street and she leaned against the wall next to her, backpack and keys held tight, phone within easy reach.

Dwalin pulled out his phone showing her the name of the cab company he was calling for her, Nadadri Cabs, one of the best in town.  All their vehicles were clean and very well maintained.  They were also a unique color; baby blue with a pink “Taxi” light on top.  She nodded her agreement with his choice.

“Good Evening.  Nadadri Cabs.  Where do you need the ride from, please,” the voice echoed through the speakerphone?

He gave their location and the voice gave his ETA.  Dwalin ended the call and waited stoically for a few minutes until the cab arrived.  He opened the door for Sofia to get in, making sure she was comfortable before shutting it.

“She’ll give you the address. Here’s two hundred.  When you drop her off, please wait until she’s inside her building before leaving, please,” he requested.  “Ma’am, I hope you rest well and peacefully tonight.”  He smiled at Sofia and moved away as the car moved off.

As the car rounded the corner Dwalin placed another call.

“Change of plans.  Dori is driving her home in his cab.  I’ll explain why later.  I’m on my way home,” he said as he turned the other way and walked off.  He couldn’t wait to get home and shower, getting rid of the god-awful dumpster stench.

-----------

A shadow watched all the happenings from the rooftop across from the alley.  After the cab left, the shadow turned and followed the other man down the road.  There was much to contemplate later.

 ------------

Translation – Nadadri = (roughly) Brother’s Ri

10 Times Arnav Singh Raizada Crossed The Line (Part 2)

Read Part 1

This is the continuation of my analysis of my favorite television hero - Arnav Singh Raizada. A man who has as much as qualities as flaws. And my endless inspiration to writing a thousand words! 

Recap: Arnav Singh Raizada is our perfect, tortured Mills & Boons hero. Sometimes it’s unfortunate when recent shows have aped his behavior and not the layered characterization that he had. However, sometimes (according to my own opinion) I felt that his character might have crossed the line. It’s moments where no explanations justify his behavior.

- Tearing the dori. - Arnav Singh Raizada does not apologize. - Blasting at Khushi for pranking, PRANKING him. - Telling Khushi her anklet, their almost kiss & she, does not matter. - Arnav Hypocrite Raizada - forcing an engaged Khushi to confess her feelings when he’s unable to do so.

Reminding Khushi of her broken engagement cause he can’t handle jealousy.

Manipulating & frightening Khushi with Akash & Payal’s divorce papers.

Telling Khushi he ‘faked’ his sickness to get rid of the ‘Swami’ tag.

Refusing to believe Khushi’s version of events.

Becoming Khushi’s landlord and blackmailing her (emotionally and financially) to get her to come back home.

Bonus

Telling Khushi that she does not have the brains, courage nor talent to face the real world.  

#6 “Tumhara rishta? Hua tha... yaad hai na?”. (S5, E10)

“Your relationship? It happened... do you even remember that?” - A foot in mouth Arnav Singh Raizada.

First Reaction: How to lose a woman in ten seconds ft. Arnav Singh Raizada. Are you bloody serious? THIS… out of all the valid things you could have yelled at her for, HER BROKEN ENGAGEMENT is what you taunt her with?

What’s wrong with it: 

Arnav arranges a party for Akash & Payal according to his own tastes. He never takes into account that his new sister in law might get intimidated in the new setting. This is a power move for Arnav and really not a party for Akash & Payal because nothing in the party is for them. From whatever we know about Akash, he is a quiet guy who enjoys little things in life - not necessarily wine and a cultural show. Payal feels left out. Akash’s discomfort is visible at the party as he keeps asking Payal if she’s comfortable. 

Arnav literally has this party for himself, and he can’t party. In general, Arnav acts like an entitled dick for these two episodes. In the previous episode he makes it clear that he’s aware how Khushi might feel left out and does not invite her to the party for her own sister. He’s insensitive, callous and mocking (and surprised as to why NK and Khushi mix well?).

And I LOVE that Khushi and NK chose to hang out with each other because Arnav is almost pushing her away to another man by his ‘generous acts’. Like if these two were not soulmates and born for each other, I was a minute away from being “Yeah Khushi, I think you should date the other guy who is more sensitive to you even though he’s lived all his life in another country and knows you for like 48 hours.”

Quick note: I’m not all that aversive to NK & Khushi being a pair. Now wait a second, it might be like oh Khushi really pushes their families to think that she and NK go well together. Well… she and NK have an instant connect like no other - even in the future NK is almost always able to tell when Khushi is disturbed or when something happens that demeans Khushi’s worth in the house. 

Also, imagine this, in the shoes of Akash - if I am Khushi’s friend and I’ve seen her go through a terrible engagement, incessant insults from my older cousin, and then I see her connect with my younger cousin who actually makes Khushi smile and laugh all the time…

I don’t think it's a mystery that I’ll ship her with a man who can make her smile. And no wonder why the Sangeet performance stuns everyone. Anjali & Akash more than anyone else (because I think they were the only ones who thought there was something else between Arnav & Khushi and they put that thought in the backburner until they see that shit… whatever it was has simmered all along).  

Track Rewrite: 

I’m just realising that I don’t have many track rewrite ideas for most of the foot-in-mouth situations of ASR. The dialogue that Khushi, here, says is amazing. She literally replies to him, word for word, and makes him see his own hypocrisy and also highlights that he’s furious about something else - that he does not want to accept, as usual. 

She states, in between lines, that she has given up reading his mind and trying to be gentle to him when he, frankly, doesn’t deserve that treatment. If anything, their sangeet rivalry and the win-lose situation just gets to my nerves at one point.

Head-canon: 

NK openly flirts with Khushi more on seeing how interested Nannav is with Khushi. NK never regards Khushi as his sister-in-law, for him Khushi always remains as his best friend and as the woman he understands best which he not-so-lightly rubs against Nannav’s face every now and then. He truly loves Khushi, but as a friend. It’s a pure, true friendship between Khushi and NK.

Public Service Announcement: 

Before planning a party please make sure you have a survey on what the people actually want in the party, especially if it's hosted for them. A party is not a party if you’re the only one enjoying it.

#7 “It is so sad Khushi, ki Akash ka phone mere paas hai.” (S6, E19-21)

“It is so Khushi, that I have Akash’s phone with me.” Arnav, holding Akash’s phone while Khushi frantically dials Akash to ask if he knowingly signed the divorce papers, and make him aware of the same. Arnav makes Khushi think it’s Akash’s divorce papers - Akash actually signed some random office papers. 

First Reaction: I know the context of everything but that was a low blow. I KNOW ARNAV DOESN’T KNOW HIS KHUSHI BABY IS INNOCENT but somehow this part is tough to digest.

What’s wrong with it: 

Abuse of power - as simple as that. Of course we’re all immediately swayed to Khushi’s feelings because we know she’s an innocent bub. But to Arnav she’s the woman who’s breaking his sister’s house so he probably feels justified in torturing her with the idea of breaking her sister’s house. I get it, it’s a tit for tat situation. 

But if we’re thinking deeply, this is not just an average argument that they always have - Khushi literally is going through a mental breakdown to stop Payal. This could have easily gone out of hand. Just saying.

Track Rewrite: 

A necessary evil to establish the tighthold Arnav has on Khushi regarding the marriage. I don’t appreciate the immediate comedy, romance or smugness that follows. The scenes are great - individually. But BUT BUT I feel this event would trigger a more serious reaction from Khushi because she has always been very serious when it’s about her sister.

If I had to rewrite this, everything happens the way it is but instead of the childish thing of her jumping into the pool (I know she’s childish but we have infinite opportunities in the future to prove that), she would grow very serious and threaten Arnav to never, ever touch her sister’s marriage. 

I would assume she would become very serious for a few days, and then resume to her usual antics. Arnav’s anger is well justified - on one hand Khushi has the galls to threaten him about her sister’s marriage when she’s breaking his, on the other hand he also would never do any damage to Akash’s marriage.

Head-canon: 

Bua ji, for as much as she’s crossed with Khushi, actually had a wedding trousseau for Khushi (she starts wearing all the anarkalis and salwar kameez post this trip to Gupta House). There’s actually a very emotional moment between Khushi and Bua ji where Bua ji tells her she bought new clothes for Khushi when they were buying things for Payal. 

So yeah, just an emotional, almost mother-daughter bond between Khushi and Bua ji where the latter expresses her disappointment in the way Khushi married but also loves her beyond everything. 

Here Bua ji says that she’s upset with Khushi because she’s their own, if not she won’t have even bothered. Also, Garima and Bua ji have a talk in between where they miss Khushi immensely and find it difficult to live in a house without the two daughters. 

Garima and Bua ji have a mature talk, as adults, wondering if what Khushi did was a return to what they did to Khushi and then they receive Anjali’s call to attend Holi.

Public Service Announcement: 

Don’t manipulate! Also, always check with your spouse for any assumptions you might have against them :) Communication is key. For more enquiries about relationship troubles regarding assumed infidelity or hiding secrets - contact Dr. Jalebi S, your own sweet relationship expert. But yes, don’t hide stuff from your partner if it involves their family and DON’T MANIPULATE AND PLAY MIND GAMES!

#8 “Kitna bhi jaan lo, kabhi kabhi kisi ko pehchaan na bohot mushkil ho jaata hai. Kal raat mujhe kuch bhi nahi hua tha. Main bilkul theek tha.” (S6, E46) 

“Irrespective of how much you know someone, sometimes it can get very difficult to (truly) recognize someone. Last night, nothing happened to me. I was absolutely fine.” Arnav Irony Singh Raizada. Doesn’t the first line apply to himself too? He thinks he knows her, but he does NOT. 

First Reaction: YOU SON OF A BACHELOR! YOU WERE NOT NOT SICK! 

What’s wrong with it: 

I don’t like how Arnav’ perennially pissed with Khushi the minute he got up. Pfft, Khushi’s beautiful and seeing her wonderful face in the morning was a great moment for a Rabba Ve moment because of the sweet Rabba Ve they had the night before! I love Arnav’s discomfort in knowing how Khushi took care of him while he was asleep, while no one was there to watch. Because for him, it was crossing borders on what their marriage was beginning to seem.

And then the whole I was not sick, bleh, and then Anjali (I love her, wonderful woman) but for the life of me I couldn’t understand what in the world she was trying to explain. Because really, no way had Arnav lied to Khushi to make her feel better/less guilty.

Rather he was belittling and mocking her efforts.

There’s one thing about hiding intentions, there’s another about forcing and painting someone’s actions in a romantic light - that’s not right.

Arnav is a master at hiding his intentions. Whenever he yells at Khushi where she’s gone - it means he’s worried. When he tells Khushi he doesn’t need her help - well he actually needs it. When he’s ignoring her - he wants her to stop ignoring him, etc.

So we know Arnav when he hides intentions. Hence I felt the Anjali-Arnav scene was forcing the viewers to sympathize with Arnav and be like heh, he did that to make Khushi feel less guilty. I anyways sympathize with Arnav given the battle he’s facing internally... so this one scene felt odd.

Quick note: I have a love-hate relationship with Khushi eating all the food scenes and embarrassing him in his office with wifey behavior. Also, Arnav has a very telling body language when he lies - he speaks very fast, and does not meet her eyes and in many cases, physically turns away from her while speaking.

Track Rewrite: 

Just… let’s put the wonderful Anjali/Arnav moment somewhere else in the story where Anjali notices Arnav actually lying to make Khushi feel better. Cause Anjali does hit the nail in stating that her brother never reveals what he feels.  

Also, I love the entire Gupta House adventure that they have but there’s a part of me that wished it happened at another time.

Like if it happened at the time it did, then oh God please change what triggers the marriage reveal.

Otherwise the entire thing can happen when Arnav decides to stay in Gupta house cause Khushi won’t be coming to Raizada house (post his great “You’re the biggest mistake of my life Khushi”). In a way it would be hilarious that Arnav is trying to win Khushi back but also is facing extreme discomfort at the lack of luxury he’s become used to - classic ASR. 

And probably Khushi suffocates him with a recall to the ‘Swami’ track and makes his life a living hell in her house. Made for each other that they are.  

Head-canon: 

Arnav and Khushi get used to and look forward to having meals together. Arnav, rarely, eats alone ever again. It’s a development Nani and Anjali are very happy to see.

Public Service Announcement: 

Don’t eat all food if you have a diabetic partner. Also, don’t try to understand everything your sibling does - try questioning them instead of justifying. Try drinking coffee instead of tea if you’ve been awake all night <3

#9 “Tumhe kya lagta hai, agar tum uss raat mujhe bata deti toh kya main aankhein band karke tumpe vishwaas kar leta?” (S7, E15-17)

“What do you think, if you told me your truth that night then I would’ve believed you without a doubt?” Arnav, to Khushi, after she’s told her side of the misunderstanding. And with that, every fan’s highest hopes dashed and worst dreams came true.  

First Reaction: NO ARNAV DON’T… NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO 

What’s wrong with it: 

He refuses to believe her. He has a choice, he has heard both sides of the story. And he refuses to believe it. But my biggest problem - Khushi pretends she has no idea what moment he’s referring to?

Girl, you’ve been forcefully hugged by Shyam only once in your life and until and unless you’re amnesiac you would remember that traumatic moment. I am just so upset that Khushi does nothing nor says anything concrete when he says he doesn’t believe her. She doesn’t say Shyam molested her.

She puts it on Arnav. That what he knows isn’t true. That he doesn’t deserve the truth, which is a good argument but state more! Then she goes silent *argh*

Her argument starts strong, but ends up terribly. She just ends up saying all the things that don’t matter!

Track Rewrite: 

Khushi should have told why she went to the terrace that night. That she thought it was he who asked her to come up. That Shyam harassed her. That Shyam has continuously harassed her. That Arnav’s not the only one who threatened the safety of Payal’s marriage - Shyam threatened it too.

No matter what Khushi did, somehow Payal’s marriage always ends up on the line. If she tells, Payal’s marriage is threatened by Shyam and because she didn’t, Payal’s marriage was threatened by Arnav.

ALSO KHUSHI APOLOGISES FOR HIDING THE TRUTH!

It should’ve been a clash of their ideologies, their personalities, her heartbreak over the fact that he doesn’t know she loves him, his disbelief that the truth is too good to be true (and essentially confusion because if Khushi loved him all along then it meant that he misunderstood her all along and he’s not great at seeing his own mistakes). She would’ve been too angry to make amends - not until she realizes he’s leaving for London and his mistake doesn’t matter.

Here’s a fic that I wrote that covers this. 

Head-canon: 

Akash and Payal are the only ones who later get to know the entire thing as this topic affected both the marriages deeply. Nani also knows, but of course not the part that he forced her to marry for six months by threatening Payal’s marriage.

Public Service Announcement: 

Lies rarely do good. And be careful to analyze any traumatic event from all angles! What’s visible is not what happens and what happens is not visible!

#10 “Khushi, tum kiraya kamkarwana chahti ho? Toh tumhe mere saath ghar aana parega.” “Nahi.” “Okay, mere paas koi choice nahi hai. Mujhe tumhara ghar girwana parega.” (S8, E21-22) 

“Khushi you want to reduce your rent? Then you to need to come home with me.” “No.” “Okay, then I have no other choice. I will have to tear down your house.” - Arnav to Khushi. The most inappropriate sentence anyone can tell to another. Given that they are husband and wife, it’s even worse. 

Quick note on the photos: Khushi Kumari Gupta, not believing the man she married in all three scenes. Arnav Singh Raizada, lying in all three scenes. 

First Reaction: 

Everybody… yeah… don’t really rock your body… yeah… Stupid. Singh. Raizada’s. Back!

Oh my God stupid Raizada is back again! Brothers sisters everybody’s sayin’…. Not really gonna bring Khushi back nor gonna show anyone anything how… *continues butchering Backstreet’s Back* I gotta question for you (yes I do ASR so) you better answer now..

Are you original? Yeah

Are you the only one? For Khushi, yeah

Are you sexual? Very, but that’s not helping… Noooo

Are you everything Khushi needs - Yes but you need to shut up.

Are you - SHUT UP AND SAY SORRY

AND MEAN IT IF YOU’RE SAYING SORRY - IN FORTY EIGHT HOURS YOU SAID SHE’S THE BIGGEST MISTAKE OF HER LIFE, APOLOGISED AND FOLLOWED IT UP BY THREATENING PAYAL’S MARRIAGE, MADE HER WORK FOR YOU AND BOUGHT THE HOUSE SO YOU COULD HIKE THE HOUSE FEES AND THEN LITERALLY TOLD HER YOU CAN DRAG HER OUT OF THE HOUSE… and you think she’ll come back?

DUDE, what are you smoking?

What’s wrong with it: 

Boy… no. No. Ask NK, Nani, Payal or even Lakshmi (talk with the people who understand Khushi!) on how to appease Khushi. A part of me was really upset with this track cause although I understand that Arnav is never really gonna do a full blown redemption and they need to stay true to his character, I didn’t see how ANY of his actions would get Khushi back…

It’s not wrong that he was upset at Khushi for visiting Anjali - even I was! Like seriously, Khushi, despite her best intentions, really does make the biggest mistakes! However, implying that Khushi’s existence is the reason why Shyam cheated Anjali was shit. On top of that he calls his marriage a contract, blackmails her about Payal, is unable to wish her a happy birthday, becomes her landlord and stops all utilities (hence now blackmailing her using her family) to get her back?

I don’t see the sense. I try really hard and I’m team Arnav but for me him becoming her landlord was just flexing his money and power. It was a low blow, and it’s really not funny how he keeps threatening the peace of her family but get’s pissed off when Khushi, unintentionally, disturbs his family.

It does not matter that Arnav would essentially not carry on with his threat, to Khushi he would and that’s what matters (cuts off electricity and water to prove his point and it does cause inconvenience her family). It’s just a very unhealthy atmosphere over here. The little moments are great, independently, but apart from that I just found this to be a very troubling scene.

Track Rewrite: 

Oh I have a lot, LOT of theories for this one:

- Khushi first thinks Arnav has bought the house from her landlord so as to stop the harassment and Arnav is guilty AF because he didn’t expect that. Bua ji enters right when Arnav talks about the truth of the marriage. She hears everything, and asks Arnav to leave her house, forever. She goes all ‘Haye Re Nandkishore’ on him. DRAMA. #BuajiRoxx

- Landlord shit doesn’t happen. Khushi leaves the house, Arnav decides to stay at her house since she isn’t going back to Shantivan with the promise to reminisce all the sweetest moments she shared. Khushi kills him with the ‘Swami’ shit, again, and Arnav ends up being irritated due to lack of adjustment but also does everything possible to get Khushi back. They have their Rabba Ves and then he brings her back and gives her the sweet gifts.

- She returns home (just like in canon) but distances herself from all the Raizadas (and does not jump into making Raksha Bandhan celebration - ugh, women are not always obligated to keep their sasuraal happy)! For a few days she becomes just like Arnav - unemotional, unaffected, orderly and unexpressive. Akash, having repaired his relationship with Payal and hence having gained a deeper insight, helps Arnav overcome his marriage issues.

Head-canon: 

Khushi and Arnav have a conversation where she asks him when, where and why did he transfer the house’s papers to her name. It’s an important and tender moment. Arnav gradually comes to know Khushi married him more because it was he who proposed marriage. Khushi gradually comes to know that Arnav, never, would threaten Akash-Payal’s marriage. 

Did she accidentally come across the ‘office’ papers that Akash had signed? Did Arnav actually play a role in smoothening Akash-Payal’s relationship post the Shyam reveal - anything on those lines.  

Public Service Announcement: 

IF YOUR PARTNER ISN’T COMING BACK HOME AND YOU THINK BLACKMAIL IS A SOLUTION THEN MESSAGE DR. JALEBI/S IMMEDIATELY. YOU NEED HELP. At this point, irrespective of star crossed pyaar, I’d 9/10 recommend separation, break, counseling.

Bonus

"No you can’t. Kyunki asal zindagi main guzara karne ke liye paise chahiye hote hai. Aur paise kamane ke liye akal chahiye hoti hai. Himmat aur confidence chahiye hote hai puri duniya ka saamna karne ke liye. Apne sapne pure karne ke liye. Aur tumhe inn sab main se kuch bhi nahi hai.” (S11, E2)

“No you can’t [face the world on your own]. Because to face the real world you need need. And to earn money you need intelligence. You need bravery and confidence to face the whole whole. To fulfill your dreams. And you have none of these.” Arnav, to Khushi. The moment when Arnav forgot that Khushi was the sole breadwinner of the Gupta’s and Khushi forgot that Arnav is a multimillionaire.

First Reaction: WHAT ARE THE WRITERS DOING? WHAT IS THE CHANNEL DOING? WHAT IS ARNAV DOING? THIS LEADS TO A FASHION SHOW INSTEAD OF AN ACTUAL CHAT - WHAT IS KHUHSI DOING? WHAT AM I DOING??!! Should I stop watching the show?

What’s wrong with it: 

I really liked Arnav and Khushi’s difference of opinion when it came to raising Aarav - not where she is being stupid and asking to burst crackers (she is retracting on so many of her characteristics right now I can’t keep a track). I did not like the second half of the argument because it really took the characters several notches down on their growth/development. 

I really liked Khushi stating to Arnav that - hey, buying happiness with money can work with adults but terribly spoil children. But then what followed, without a hint of apology, into an embarrassing and terrible Fashion Pageant that completely missed the point of this argument!

Neither parent thinks it’s important to sit and have a calm chat with Aarav. Arnav is a ‘yes’ man around him. Khushi is there to heap the values instilled on her. Is anyone trying to make Aarav understand, no? And Arnav’s evident lack of respect for Khushi will translate to Aarav. 

They’re both bad at parenting and this could have been a really nice track that they could have wrapped up in a few episodes but no.

Aarav never learns. Arnav gives a half assed dialogue about ‘oh I know Khushi you’re talented’ and Khushi spends the next 10 days behaving like an 8 year old, not chatting up with Aarav about behavior issues, and thinks winning a Fashion Pageant is being courageous, talented, determined and independent.

*throws head on wall*

Track Rewrite: 

Oh I HAVE TONS but I’ll explain my favorite one. First of all, I’ll let that argument be because it is natural that this is where Arnav and Khushi might conflict. But instead of Khushi’s childish sulking that puts Arnav into a ‘oh let’s make her jealous, call her to office, appease her by some shitty ASR plan and probably apologise somewhere’ and Khushi going all ‘haww, he called me brainless, now I’ll prove so by stupidly acting like a kid in his coat’-

Arnav and Khushi stand still when they realise he has crossed a line and he storms off, leaving a very quiet Khushi alone. They both walk on eggshells, neither’s ego letting the argument down. It seriously hampers their relationship. They just don’t speak and anything small leads to a big argument. 

Khushi spends an enormous amount of time in her catering service in an attempt to prove herself, becoming a bit crazy behind earning money which makes her off character. Arnav throws himself in office, and is almost happy when he realizes Khushi’s catering service does not earn even half of his monthly profit, annually. A competitive streak drives a wedge between them. This goes on - that troubles the entire family, and stops until Aarav misbehaves with Anjali.

This breaks the ice wall between Arnav and Khushi, draws them out of their workaholic spheres. Bua ji, Payal, NK reprimand Khushi for being absent in raising Aarav, her obsession to make Aarav religious and traditional without making him understand the reason of the values and above all, competitive with her husband that she grandly declared she can’t live without. Mami, Nani, Akash reprimand Arnav for pretty much the same.

When Arnav and Khushi talk to Anjali, she again reprimands the both of them in terms of parenting, marriage and the coexistence of both. Arnav cannot buy upbringing, manners, ethics, respect and character through money. Khushi cannot instill goodness, kindness, generosity and honesty by piling beliefs of the Lord. If that was the case then her husband - who would get all the money he needed from Arnav, and believed in all the Gods - would be a good man.

Arnav and Khushi talk to their son, together, to figure out his actual problem of fitting in. Aarav is surprised to learn both his parents were orphans. He truly bonds with them after getting through his adjustment fears and issues. In teaching Aarav, Arnav and Khushi realise what truly matters - their love. And that they had forgotten how similar they were. 

With Aarav they have met another person who is just like them - alone, afraid, orphaned and lonely who’s standing at the same point in life where he either turns himself into a man with absolute belief or none at all. And with parents who have faced the extremes of fates, Aarav might just have the perfect upbringing.

Hence, Arnav and Khushi patch up with an emotional, tear jerking hug. They end up recounting each other’s stories and realize how far they’ve come along. They never had a name for their love and after all the hatred, denial, lust, acceptance, confession, purity, marriage and parenthood - no one name’s going to fit either.

Head-canon: 

Aarav, although behaviorally like his father, grows up to be a complete Mumma’s boy. If anyone thought Arnav is super protective about Khushi, well Aarav is ten times more protective about his mother. Also, internally Aarav is a big fan of Hindi cinema, loves sweets and has the most outrageous dance moves. But he’s also an introvert so he would kill anyone who pointed out on those.

Public Service Announcement: 

Adopt children when you are ready. Having a child can take toll on a marriage so COMMUNICATE - COMMUNICATE WITH YOUR SPOUSE, YOUR CHILD AND YOUR SUPPORT SYSTEM!

Phew, this is the end of this post and I sincerely hope you liked it! Feel free to send your thoughts through asks/notes/etc. 

Crossing at dawn, part five, in which things get way out of hand

Manny

"Listen," Boone's saying, as short as I've ever heard him. "What if I sell this rifle?"

And you know, it makes sense. He's got one, I've got one, but nobody in DC carries the right ammo for .308 and our supply's running low. Boone's been using a whole-ass minigun since we hit the Mall, in perfect condition with all the spares we've got, and ammo for that is for the taking around here.

Still. Still. "What about mine?"

"You never tricked yours out. Mine's worth more." Boone runs his fingers down that polished stock, visibly reluctant to hand it over, which by his standards is like two soliloquies.

But he lets go in the end. So long Mojave, hello DC.

The merchant we're talking with, Crazy Wolfgang, he might be crazy but he's the first friendly face we've seen since waving bye to Veronica. "I do enjoy the look of it! A spectacular piece of junk to add to the junk collection!"

Carla wraps herself around Boone, nuzzling him, and since my man can't concentrate on cuddles and murdering the shit out of this dumbass trader at the same time, Crazy Wolfgang gets to live another day.

"So does that cover everything we're buying?" Arcade's been doing sums on a clipboard, juggling the caps duffle and the guns we've been collecting to sell off.

"Just about," Wolfgang says. "The tent, the Brahmin, dirty water, chems, one bottle of Nuka-Cola..."

We're cleaned out by the time the merchant's done with us, but we've got the essentials at least. Carla needs that Brahmin milk, and we have something to eat again besides mashed xander root. It's a start at rebuilding our lives.

"One more thing. Where's the closest settlement?"

"Right over yonder." Wolfgang points at a mass on the horizon, a huge metal hulk that looks like it's shot through with stars, in the dusk. Artificial light at night- not a patch on New Vegas lighting the desert, but it looks friendly. "Rivet City. A glorious place to buy, sell, and live, unless you happen to be a ghoul or oddly mutated, in which case they will politely drop you off a plank."

Boone spits on the ground. "Thanks for the warning."

"Warning? I will say, you all look pure enough to pass their admittedly stringent policies. Even if not, a few caps for the clinic doctor might smooth things over." Wolfgang's gaze comes to rest on Carla- and not even on her. "In truth, there's more than one community in the Wasteland where proven fertility is an assured ticket in. Play your cards right, you might get lucky-"

"Thanks," Arcade says. "But frankly, we'll stick with the tent."

Glad he says it. Think my favorite couple is just about speechless.

*****

Arcade

He isn't-

you aren't-

like a radio tuned to two frequencies at once, overlapping, your head's muzzy since that last concussion-

he's shaking, too weak to stand as he scrapes away at cold dirt with a shovel-

Navarro outpost, Navarro outpost.

I wish you were here, Julie.

He wastes purified water in extravagance as he places the prickly pear fruit, covering the earth wound in soft mud, too much for a desert plant but this soil is barren, lifeless, needs all the help it can get.

A tribunal back at the Boneyard, held to judgment. Would you care to clarify that last statement, Mr Gannon?

To wit. The introduction of even the most innocuous organism, into an environment devoid of its typical predators, can lead to catastrophic effects. Rabbits-

you cut your hands open on the next fruit, desert thorns one more injury to add to the list. Carla's touching your shoulder and you wish she wouldn't, you don't want to hear her. "Come to bed. You need rest."

"Look at your rad counter. What else is there to drink?"

"Can do it in the morning," Boone says, gruffly-

and I would prefer not to scream at him, but- "Sweet rads, stop being so loud! I can do this, it's what Followers are for."

They move away, leave an absence to be filled by your Eyebot's quiet hum, a voice with the common decency to stay outside your own skull.

Songs of old America carry you through the night as you dig and plant and swear, chanting the melodies like a rite, the only thing holding you together. Spacious skies and early light.

He passes out around dawn.

*****

Carla

You take a prickly pear fruit in a set of tongs, squeeze it into a soda bottle until the liquid's gone. Then you do it again.

Then you have a clean bottle of purified water to drunk, and it all seems so terribly simple.

Arcade is coming out of his all-day stupor, tearing ravenously at the trail stew Manny's fixed for him. "I had a...there is a word for this. Not a guess."

"A hunch?" you suggest. "A notion?"

"A hypothesis," Arcade says, closing his eyes. An exhausted kind of satisfaction in his voice. "Manny. Take out your gun, would you?"

Manny's too old a soldier to quibble. He takes the hunting rifle off his back, hefts it.

"Point it at a target?"

This is a tent, there's no one else here. Manny swings around, lining up his rifle for a perfect head shot.

You trust them both. Implicitly. But the palms of your hands are damp now, the baby kicks violently.

"She's coming in red," Manny says. "What's going on, you can ask Boone to do it without talking now?"

"That might be more helpful, but- actually, no, I think another night like that would kill me. Um. You can put your gun away now."

Manny does. Your breathing restarts.

"So what was it? I mean, that was just the same as usual."

"The point is, because he wasn't doing it, I was- Manny, forgive me for being terribly blunt, but did you first fuck Boone before or after being inducted into First Recon?"

"Before. Basic was hell for both of us in different ways, sharing a bunk eased it some. Why?"

Arcade opens his eyes again, resumes shovelling down pinto beans and dog steak. "A preliminary hypothesis that the First Recon ability isn't a mutation as such but a transmittable ability, transferred by the well-understood mechanisms of more familiar STDs, a conclusion which the NCR might also have reached sooner if not for the limited sample pool and operational mores on married service members."

"Uh, no? Because if it worked like that...Carla is sitting right here."

"Maybe it doesn't work the same way with women." You can't see his eyes. Something about the light reflecting off his glasses, making it impossible to see. "I don't know. But I'm asking- begging- was it difficult when it manifested for you? Do you know how to make it stop?"

Manny shrugs, strangely helpless in the lantern light. "Dude. I didn't notice anything, but by then I could trip on Turbo without even taking the stuff. My head was pretty well screwed up before I ever met Boone, believe me."

Arcade's so pointedly not looking at you now, his hands shaking as he forces open a bottle of soda and spills half of it on his coat, and you register that same coat is all that's holding him back, his vows as a doctor. Not to force a confidence.

With Rivet City a mere stone's throw away, that means more now than it ever could in the Mojave.

Your voice seems hard to find, but when it comes it's calm, reassuring. "It was like this for me too, yes. Maybe not as bad, but... I'll help."

Arcade lets his head bang to the tabletop. "You have no idea how grateful I am. I don't have any idea...ignore me. I am literally blathering now."

Manny turns to you, a bit of a frown on his face. "Hang on. That whole time in Arizona, when I was spotting for you- you could have partnered me all along? Why wouldn't you want the First Recon expert in charge?"

You think back. To the choking dust of Flagstaff, and the play of an incinerator in your hands as you dealt out death. "It was personal."

"...I never realized Boone picked a wife who was such a good fit," Manny says. His eyes have gone wide.

You shrug a little, and waddle over to the doctor to see about making him feel better.

Lover | Josh Anderson | drabble

Note: I decided not to edit so have fun with my mess. Ignore the cheesiness I don’t usually have these feelings so idk how to deal with them. 

---

It’s June, 2019, and this is not the kinda night you’d been picturing. 

It’s not like you’ve got any kind of claim on Josh, but you can’t stop the sour look from crossing your face when you watch him mingle. 

You should’ve known that it wasn’t just a fun little hang out with friends, like he said. Should’ve known it would turn into a house party; it always does, in all the years you’ve been his best friends, and there’s been many of them. Why would you assume it to be different this time?

A little voice whispers in the back of your mind, loud enough to sound over the booming music that is slowly but steadily increasing your headache. 

Because we’re different this time.

But you don’t really know that for sure, is the thing. 

You’ve been friends with Josh for many years. In fact, there’s nobody else you know better than him, and nobody gets you like he does. Sure, you harbored a crush towards him for the past three, but he never acted like he was interested in you that way, and so you’d never entertained the thought of making anything happen.

Until he kissed you.

And that’s why things are different, now, or so you’d thought.

“You look like you just swallowed a worm.” It’s Seth Jones, because of course it is. All Josh’s other friends, who you love so dearly, are too oblivious to notice such a thing. 

“Am not,” you huff, although you figure he can’t be off by much. “I just think it’s funny how...” You stop yourself. Seth is looking at you with one eyebrow raised and his expression borders from curious to amused, and you don’t really want to start talking shit about Josh to one of his teammates.

“He’s not into them, you know,” says Seth, because he’s apparently the only hockey player with a working brain. “He’s being friendly, but nothing more. You’re the only one he’s going home with.” 

“He’s already home,” you snap, but it’s mostly to try and hide the embarrassing flush that has found your cheeks, or the way Seth’s words eased a tension in your shoulders you weren’t even aware you’d been carrying. 

Seth simply rolls his eyes, and when he says “What am I going to do with you two” there’s nothing but fondness in his voice. 

“Do you really think...” you start, but he interrupts.

“Yes. Now please go to him.” 

And so you do, mostly because you don’t really know what else to say to Seth. 

Josh is laughing at something Zach Werenski is saying, Zach’s girlfriend giggling along too, and you can’t help but smile. He looks relaxed, beer in hand, eyes sparkling, in a way that he never seems during the season.

Summer has been good for him. 

“Hey,” you say, when you approach. Your voice is soft but Josh’s head snaps up immediately and his smile widens. 

“Hi, babe,” he answers, extending his arm to wrap around your waist and tug you into his side. “You know Zach’s girlfriend, right?” 

“Odette,” you nod with a smile, “nice to see you again.” 

“It’s been a while!” Odette says easily. “I can’t wait to see more of you once the season starts! You’ll fit right in with all the other WAGs.” 

This makes you raise a questioning eyebrow at Josh, who looks like someone caught him with his hand in the cookie jar.

He leans in a little closer so he can whisper against your ear; “I might’ve been bragging about you being my girlfriend, I hope you don’t mind.” 

“I don’t mind,” is the first thing that comes to mind, and then, the second: “You never mentioned to me that I’m your girlfriend.” 

Realization dawns on his face and at first he seems embarrassed, but that quickly changes to smug. “But you don’t mind.”

“Girlfriend sounds better than lover,” you shrug, because that’s what Josh had first referred to you as, and his laugh rings clear through the room. 

“I had another question,” he says, then, changing subjects. “Boone was talking about wanting to crash on the couch tonight, do you mind?” 

You shrug. “I don’t, but it doesn’t matter, it’s your apartment, your call.” 

Josh’s expression falls. “It’s our call. This place is yours, too.” His arm tightens around your waist, and he looks genuinely worried when he asks: “Everything that’s mine is yours, you know that right?” 

You hadn’t, but it does something funny to your heart and all you can do is nod. 

It’s in that moment that you know you’ve loved him for three summers, but you want to love him for many, many more. 

----

It’s December, 2020, and you’re not sure what to do with this situation.

“Josh, we can’t leave the Christmas lights up,” you say, horrified. “Christmas was 3 days ago!” 

Josh simply rolls his eyes. He’s sitting on the couch with his feet kicked up, his eyes fixed on the television, and he seems annoyingly unbothered by your oncoming mental breakdown.

“We can leave the Christmas lights up to January,” he says, “this is our place, our rules.” 

You stare at the tree; it’s decorated beautifully, mostly because you told Josh where to put the ornaments. Last year, you’d let him do his thing, and you ended up with a tree that was only half decorated, because he forgot to do the back. 

Not that anyone can see the back. But it’s the thought, that counts, as it is with this decision.

“My mother is gonna have a heart attack, when she comes over,” you warn him. Josh shrugs, still not caring.

To be fair, your mother is so completely infatuated with Josh it’s like she loves him more than you love him; she’s always fussing over him, always telling you to take better care of him cause he looks tired and saying how lucky you are.

Which, you know, thank you very much. 

“Our place, our rules,” he simply repeats, then he pats the couch and pulls his bottom lip into a pout. “Come cuddle me. I’ve barely seen you over Christmas.” 

That’s not not true; the entire Anderson family came over for Christmas and you wanted it to be as perfect as possible. Dinner alone had taken you three days to plan, buy groceries for, then cook, and eventually clean up. 

You sigh but give in, because Josh is pulling his puppy face, and you can’t say no to that face. 

With a thump, you fall next to him on the couch, and instantly his arm curls around you and pulls you into him. Like magic, the stress is starting to lift away from your body, just the familiar smell of Josh’s musky cologne enough to make you feel at peace.

“Stop worrying about your family,” Josh mumbles. “They’ll be fine.”

It’s not even surprising to you that Josh read you like a book; he always does. It makes it feel like you’ve known him for 20 years, even though the way your stomach flutters when he smiles makes it feel like you’ve known him for 20 seconds. 

You’re not as close with your family as Josh’s is with his, and you were glad that they got Christmas and yours got New Years. Christmas is your favorite holiday and it wouldn’t have been as perfect as it was, without Josh’s family there. 

“I’d much rather have your family over again,” you complain, and Josh shakes with quiet laughter.

“They’re your family too, you know,” he says. “That’s one of the upsides of being my lover.” 

You smack him with a pillow. “Stop calling me that.” 

“Stop being dramatic,” he teases, and you’re about to smack him again but then he’s pulling you into him and he’s kissing you and you forget why you were annoyed with him. 

His hands wander under your shirt and you release a breath, the Christmas lights long forgotten, when suddenly he pulls away. 

“Be my wife.” 

“What?” 

There’s a loaded silence in the apartment for a few seconds, Josh’s bright blue eyes staring into yours like he’s trying to tell you something with just a look. When you don’t answer - you don’t even think you’re breathing - he sighs.

“Sorry, that’s not exactly how I planned it.” He sits up, extends his hand and helps you to sit up too. “I had a grand proposal planned, actually, during New Years. But now you just said to stop calling you my lover and I just...”

He smiles, a lopsided shy grin that melts your heart. 

“I just want to call you my wife, instead.” 

You frown. You want to be his wife, more than anything, but you don’t want this to be a spur of the moment thing. You want, no, need him to be sure about this decision.

“Are you sure, Josh?” you pry, because of that. “Have you even thought this through?” 

Josh grins, scrambles off the couch then and runs to the bedroom, only to return with a little red velvet box in his hand.

He kneels before the couch and puts the box in your hand.

“Y/N,” he says slowly, “I was going to ask you in a few days, but I think I’m physically incapable of waiting any longer.. Will you please marry me?” 

He opens the box and the ring is so beautiful, so you, that tears immediately jump into your eyes.

“Yes,” you whisper, “yes, Josh, of course.” 

You leap forward and he catches you, because of course he does, because he’s been doing that since you met years ago, since before you knew you loved him, since before he told you that he loved you. 

“My wife,” Josh whispers, his tone confused, as if he himself can’t quite believe what just happened.

You sniffle and pull away, stroking some wayward locks down as you beam up at him.

“Fiance, first, I guess,” he grins. 

“Still better than lover,” you decide, and then you kiss him. 

---

It’s October, 2021, and the room is bustling with life while you’re having a mild panic attack. 

It’s just, the thing is, if there’s one thing you wanted to get right, it’s the vows.

“It’s gonna be a mess, Odette,” you whine, fumbling with your dress. 

“Stop that,” she says, fixing something in your hair. “You look absolutely beautiful, Y/N. Josh is gonna forget how to speak, when he sees you.” 

“He’s not very good at speaking anyway,” Kayla, your sister, says teasingly. “I know you worry about your vows, but they’re gonna be so much better than his, it won’t even matter.” 

“It’s not a competition, Kay,” you chastise her, even though it kinda is.

Josh made it one, when he came to find you last night and mumbled, voice silk like honey, into your ear: “My vows are so great you’re not gonna remember yours.” 

You slapped his butt when he ran away, giggling hysterically because he’s apparently a fifteen year old girl. 

The bridesmaids gather around, Odette squeezes your hand and Kayla pretends she’s not crying already, and then it’s showtime. 

Nerves are flying so high you barely remember how to walk, and you almost think you won’t make it down the isle, when suddenly, everything clicks.

You’ve seen a lot of chick flicks, romantic movies. You read a lot of books. But you never thought any of that stuff was true, never thought the world could disappear by looking at a person.

But then your eyes find Josh at the end of the isle, and he smiles, and every cliche you’ve ever heard is here, you’re living them all at the same time. 

You don’t know how you manage, but you’re walking, and all your friends and family are there, and Josh is smiling, and when you’re standing in front of him, you don’t even have to think about your vows.

They flow out of you because they’re nothing but the truth. 

“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.

Well, Josh, my heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue, and I know for a fact that Boone is wearing an old suit, so I guess all we need is the something new.” 

The crowd laughs, and a loud “hey!” sounds from the general direction where Boone is sitting. 

“But then again, I guess this whole thing is new for me. When I met you, I knew you were my soulmate, but I never thought I would get to have this. Never thought I would get to love you the way I do, and to have you love me back, like only you can. 

I never thought I’d end up here. But all’s well that ends well, Josh, because I ended up with you.” 

Josh smiles, but it’s a watery smile, his eyes a little misty, and you have to swallow away the lump in your throat. 

“So I swear to be overdramatic, and true to you.

I swear to laugh at all your dirty jokes, the one’s so rotten you don’t even tell them to the boys. 

I swear to fuss over any injury the medical staff has already sweated to patch up, and to let you kiss me when I’m sick, despite that being really gross.

And I swear that, at every table, I’ll save you a seat, and to only ask you to fetch me drinks 9 out of 10 times.

And I swear to love you, even at times where you don’t think anyone could. Always.” 

There’s a silence in the room and then it’s Kayla who speaks.

“She won, Joshy.” 

He laughs, squeezes your hand before turning to your sister. 

“You know what, she probably did, but let me get my shot, okay?” He takes a deep breath, and you can tell he’s nervous - why is beyond you, you’ve been his since the very first time you saw him - but then he catches your eye and a calmness flows over him. 

“You know, I’m not the smartest tool in the shed. I know hockey, and not much else.

And yet, when I met you, I knew. So clearly, so surely, I knew that I was never going to live a life without you. I didn’t know in what capacity you’d want me in your life but I knew I was going to fight tooth and nail to worm my way in, and I guess I succeeded.” 

He grins.

“I’ve always been a stubborn asshole, as you lovingly tell me nearly every week.” 

You roll your eyes, but mostly to hide the tears.

“So, I just want to ask you a few questions, really. 

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close, forever and ever?

Because I know there’s a lot of people I want to take me out, but there’s only one person I want to take me home, and it’s...” 

He pauses, smirks, mischievously. 

“It’s you, darling, my lover.” 

You pretend to kick him and the crowd laughs, but really, you’re not annoyed.

It feels like you’re incapable of ever being annoyed again. 

Josh looks around, squeezes your hand again. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?” 

Everyone obeys.

“With every hockey induced scar on my hand, I would like to take this beautiful, magnetic force of a woman to be my wife, my partner in crime, my ride or die, my everything.” 

You smile.

“And I would like to take this man to be my...” 

You pause, build suspense, know Josh knows what’s coming as a lazy smirk crosses his face. 

“... lover.” 

Then his lips touch yours and nothing has ever been more right. 

He Doesn’t Hate You - Boone Jenner

A/N: I’ve been in a Columbus mood... Also, I know Seth is a little problematic but it just seemed to flow best with him as the best friend. This is pretty short and sweet. Let me know what y’all think! (I did not edit this so beware of typos)

warnings: nothing really? some swear words, drinking, nothing too crazy, this is pretty soft

——

You met Boone a few months ago when you moved to Columbus for your new job. You grew up down the street from Seth Jones, and so when you got the job offer in Columbus you couldn’t turn it down. You and Seth were close friends growing up, even when him and his family were moving around for his dad’s basketball career.  You had older brothers who played sports with Seth, but you were always on their coat tails trying your best to keep up.

By the time you got settled into your new apartment, Seth had returned to the city for training camp. Seth had insisted that as your surrogate big brother he had to show you around town, and so you found yourself hanging out with him whenever you weren’t working. You didn’t know anyone else in Ohio so if you wanted social interaction outside of work, Seth was basically it.

A couple weeks after Seth got back to Columbus, he started mentioning that you needed to meet the guys on the team. He kept saying that they were like his other family and that you would love them too. You didn’t doubt him, but you were busy and tired with work and big social gatherings just didn’t seem appealing to you.

Eventually you caved, just like you knew you would, and that’s how you found yourself in a casual bar meeting the members of the Columbus Blue Jackets.

You really liked most of the team. Seth was right, Josh was a big teddy bear who you really couldn’t see getting into scrums on the ice, and you were definitely going to be good friends.  Pierre seemed like a nice kid who was really finding his way in the NHL, and Cam definitely didn’t seem old enough to be a dad. Cam’s wife Natalie had come too, and she was so sweet. You quickly became a part of the CBJ group and everyone was so great and welcoming…

Except Boone. Boone Jenner.

It’s not that he was being rude, he just didn’t seem too interested in anything you had to say. Whenever you were around him he’d stop talking, or just leave. The eye contact? Non-Existent. He would never even look at you. It was like he just didn’t want to be friends with you and you had no idea why.

You brought it up to Seth one day and he just replied with “He’ll come around. He’s just not good around new people.”

You wanted to believe Seth but something about it just didn’t seem right. Boone was pretty cute, and he was always in a great mood with his friends, and he seemed like a really nice guy when he was with them. If he wasn’t so weird around you, you might actually be into him.

——

“Dude. Why are you being so weird?”

“Seth, what the hell are you talking about?” Boone looks over his shoulder to see Seth coming into the locker room to get ready for practice.

“Y/N thinks you hate her. She keeps asking me what she did to make you not want to be her friend.”

“What? I don’t hate her”

“Dude. I know. I also know you’re not good at the whole flirting thing but avoiding her every time she comes into the room isn’t helping your case.”

“Wh-what? I’m not trying to flirt with her.”

“HA. Yeah, ok..”

And that’s the end of the conversation as more guys pile into the room to get ready.

Boone’s a bit nervous now, and thinks that maybe Seth has figured him out. He didn’t hate Y/N. He actually really liked her. When she showed up to the bar that first night he was almost pissed that Seth hadn’t mentioned how beautiful she was. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. And then she starts talking about football and is giving everyone shit about being Browns fans, and reminiscing about growing up playing soccer down the street with Seth. She tried explaining her job, but it was way over Boone’s head. She was funny, and smart, and sure of herself, and he knew he was screwed.

Boone wasn’t known for being the best with the ladies. He did ok for himself, but he was more of the shy type, while Andy and Jonesy were more outgoing player types. So every time she was around he got nervous. It’s like he just couldn’t think of anything to say, and when he did he thought you would think he was an idiot, so he just avoided you.

——

“Seth, I know you guys just won a big game, but I’m tired and I don’t really want to spend the whole night in a bar pretending to be friends with Boone.” You’re complaining over the phone as Seth tries to convince you to come out with them. You hadn’t seen him in almost two weeks since you’ve both been busy with work. A night out honestly seemed fun, but the thought of Boone making the dynamic weird all night had you trying to get out of it.

“Y/N for god’s sake, he doesn’t hate you! He likes you! and i think you just make him nervous because he’s a fucking idiot.”

He likes you… He likes you?

“Seth. What are you talking about. He barely even speaks to me.”

“BECAUSE HE LIKES YOU.”

“That literally doesn’t make any sense.”

“Whatever. I’ll see you at the bar in an hour!” and he hangs up the phone.

Now you’re just left sitting there thinking about what Seth just said. Boone. Boone Jenner. Likes you? But against all better judgement you kind of get it. He does get a little blushy when you accidentally touch his arm or laugh at his jokes… Maybe Seth is right…

——

“Booner, Y/N is coming tonight, do us all a favor and just make a move already. We can’t take anymore of you being an awkward idiot in front of her.” Seth is teasing Boone as they make their way to the bar to get a round of drinks, but now that Boone knows you’re coming out, he’s nervous. Should he make a move? Will you reject him and then make the whole dynamic of the group even weirder? What if you don’t reject him…

He’s lost in thought while everyone has settled into a booth toward the back of the bar when you appear in front of them. You’re wearing tight black jeans, a leather jacket, and a satin tank top that is loosely hanging off your frame. You look good. And Boone definitely noticed.

“Hey guys, big win, eh?” You make sure to put the very Canadian sounding ‘eh’ on the end as you reach over to ruffle Andy’s hair.

“Yeah, you should have been there! It’s like your job is more important to you than coming to our games!”

“Andy, believe it or not, my job IS more important than coming to your all’s games! BUT what’s most important to me right now, is getting a drink.” You laugh and turn away from the boys heading to the bar, but this time noticing that Boone’s eyes are following you. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t put a little more effort into your makeup and outfit after your conversation with Seth, but that still didn’t change the fact that Boone doesn’t hardly speak to you.

When you make it to the bar, you remember just how busy downtown Columbus can be on a Friday night. It’s packed, and getting a bartender to notice you is going to take some time. You’re almost ready to just give up when you see Boone push through the crowd and grab a bartender’s attention like its the easiest thing he’s ever done. You scoff, knowing that you were still just trying to get up to the bar, let alone trying to get the attention of someone who would take your order.

“Here.” You turn around to see Boone, holding a drink out to you.

“Oh. Thanks! You didn’t have to do that,” you say as you take the drink from him.

“I figured, you’d probably be waiting a while, thought I’d help you out,” he smiles at you and leaves you to walk back to the group. You notice just how long he actually held eye contact with you, and take in his perfect beard and beautiful eyes. Instinctively you raise the glass to your lips as you watch him walk back to your friends, and then you realize he had ordered your favorite drink. How did he even know?

But Boone knew your drink of choice because he was always watching you. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you when you were in the same room.

When you got back to the booth, the seat next to Boone was empty so you sat down and joined in the conversation. The night went on and as more drinks flowed you and Boone started to converse more. He seemed more relaxed and you were actually having a really good time, and every once in a while your legs would touch, sending heat through your bodies. 

You and Boone had really done a 180 in the last couple of hours.  

The alcohol was probably giving you more confidence than you would normally have, but as you were sitting there laughing at a story that Seth and Andy were trying to tell, you let your hand fall on Boone’s leg. You felt him tense for a second but then relaxed into your touch.

You turn to him and whisper in his ear to thank him for the drink, “you knew it was my favorite didn’t you?”

With your hand on is leg, and your breath hot against his ear, he can barely even focus on what you’re saying, but he manages to nod his head in response to your question.

You let out a little laugh as you lean into Boone’s side and turn back to listen in on the story being told. Seth was right. He was definitely into you.

Billys Turn - by Titan

This Is the sequel to No going Back.

Now that the kid was completely under hypnosis, Jake wondered what he should do to this nosy kid. Billy was certainly a handsome boy, however, Jake was happy enough with Boon as his personal slave; he didn't have room for two slaves. "Hmmm. What was that he called me before?" Jake said to himself, "Fat pervert I think it was." A smile now creased Jakes face. He went to a drawer in his counter and returned with a cassette tape; he inserted it into a small tape deck built into his Hypno -Light. Turning it on the subliminal message contained on this tape, would be imprinted in Billy's memory. Now it was time to finish up Boon. By dawn, Boons' hair was a thing of the past. His skin colour on his body now matched his head. Hugh, gold, rings went through his nipples, he now wore a PA through his cock. Jake was now finished. It had certainly been a long night, and without sleep, however, Tuesdays he was closed anyway, so now he would catch up on some sleep. Jake asked Boon to go upstairs and lie down for a while. Boon dutifully obeyed. Jake turned his attention, back to Billy. Switching off the tape he'd been playing, Jake leant in nice and close. The melodic music could still be heard, emitting from the Lamp. Jake began to speak softly,"Billy, can you hear me?" "Yes", replied Billy vacantly. "Billy, you will want to come to my shop, every Monday evening, without fail. You can't stand being this real man, stuck in a boy's body, can you?" "No sir", replied Billy. "I can help you become that real man...... but tell no one, it will be our little secret." "Yes sir" Jake began to remove all Billys restraints, then raised the Hypno - Light above Billys head, "Now Billy, when I count to three, you will be fully awake, and you will not remember what went on here tonight, except, that you were here for your weekly haircut. One....Two...........Three......Now your fully awake." Billy opened his eyes, and blinking for a moment, looked straight up at Jake. "Now Billy, that should do you for today, I'll see you next week," said Jake with a barbers cape in hand, pretending he'd just removed it from around Billy. Billy just smiled, "thanks alot; man I feel alot better after sitting in that chair." "Your very welcome." Said Jake as he showed Billy to the door. He was looking forward to seeing how quickly, Billys new programming, worked. Over the next few days, Billy, found himself continually at odds with himself and his surroundings. For one thing, he didn't like the way his apartment was furnished. It was far too prissy, and his wardrobe; everything in there was really for teenager. The biggest thing that Billy notice, was how odd he looked in the mirror. He thought he looked anorexic, and way too smooth......what had happened to him? He consoled himself by raiding the fridge. He still had left-over pizza and plenty of beer. What Billy didn't know, was that this was the beginning of his ascent towards his new life, courtesy of Jakes Barbershop. The re-programming he had been subjected to, was working. At Jakes Barbershop, Boon had become a bit of a tourist attraction. He was quite the Mongol cock-slave, as he would service Jakes customers while they were seated in the chair. Nobody could possibly guess what this boy had looked like before. Jake had even added some tattoos; tribal patterns down Boon's left shoulder and arm, and his right thigh and down to this foot. Boon's duties besides sucking cock was making drinks for the clients, taking appointments and cleaning up around the shop and storeroom. Not forgetting looking after his masters' needs. "Right on cue," said Jake to Boon as he heard the front door buzzer sound. It was Monday, 6pm, and that had to be Billy from across the road, here for his weekly appointment. As Jake opened the front door, he was very surprised in the changes already evident in Billy after just one week. He looked a few years older than his eighteen years, as his beard stubble was a few days old. His hair, which had been carefully styled previously, was now, heavily gelled and brushed back over the top of his head. He wore faded baggy denims, with a check oversized, flannel shirt; he looked more like a young truck driver. "Come in Billy, your right on time," said Jake, leading Billy through to the shop. "Now, sit yourself down, make yourself comfortable, and we will get started." "Ah, thanks," replied Billy as he sat in the chrome barbers chair. Since Billy left Jakes' last Tuesday morning, his whole mindset had changed, just as Jake had planned. Firstly, his appetite was hugh. He was eating, high fat, high calorie meals, all day long. Already he'd had to buy some new clothes, as he felt a strain trying on the old ones. Not that it mattered; he didn't like his clothes hanging in the wardrobe very much. Another change in Billy, was his recent visit to a leather bar. He'd never been to one before, but he now found himself attracted to older men, especially the leather bears. He thought they looked great with all that bodyhair, their huge, bushy beards and pot bellies. He couldn't work out why he was so attracted, in fact, he believed he always had been attracted. He knew he wanted to be more like them. "Now, What's it going to be, today?" asked Jake, as he started to raise the chair. "Well", stammered Billy, "I've sort of been wanting a more manly haircut..... my hair is way too long, it makes me look like a skinny kid". Jake smiled, realising the kid was responding better than he thought to the brainwashing. "Leave everything to me, I know just the style". "Ah Boon, there you are. Just in time to help me with Billys haircut". Boon came over to the chair. Billy had an odd feeling he'd met this dark guy before. Well he supposed it must have been the last time he was here. Boon got down between Billys legs and started to undo the buttons. Billy was stunned but didn't resist. It was feeling kind of natural to have this hairless asian, suck on his cock. "All part of the service," smiled Jake as he grabbed a pair of his Wahl clippers, and selecting a number two guard, fired them up, and proceeded to run the vibrating teeth, up the back of Billys head, exposing pale skin in their wake. Billy found the combination of the clippers chewing away his hair and the cock sucking to be the most erotic thing he'd ever seen or felt. He did'nt want it to end, and so he was more than pleased when he felt the clippers on top of his head. Jake continued running the clippers all over Billys head, further and further until Billys hairline was history. Billy was disappointed when he heard the clippers switch off, but realised it was only temporary, as Jake told him he was going for a number one setting. Now, as the number one blade reduced the hair length to just stubble, Billy couldn't contain himself any more. He shot a huge load down Boons throat. "You seemed to enjoy that Billy", Jake said as he finished using the clippers over the top of Billys scalp. "Yeh, sure did. I must admit I like this haircut a whole lot better than the one I came in with." Billy replied, running his hand over the buzzed scalp. "I think we can do more with the hair," said Jake. "Something to make you look alot more of a man, what do you say?" "Your the boss", returned Billy,as he settled back in the chair. "Why don't you relax?" Jake said as he started to ready the Hypno-Light. "Ah, whats with the big lamp," asked Billy as he noticed it coming down towards him with lamps blazing. "Oh, it's just something to make you feel good about yourself", answered Jake. Before he could ask any more questions, he heard ambient music. The soft music made him relax,and soon the lamp was covering his eyes: Just as he was starting to wonder what that strange smell was, everything went black. When Jake had thought the Hypno-Light had been on long enough, he raised it off Billys head. "Now Boon, take this lotion and rub it all over his body," Jake said as he handed his 'hair growth accelerator' to Boon. "We are going to make our Billy into the exact opposite of the kind of guy his normally interested in, and his going to want it," Jake continued as he injected a combination of steriods into Billys arm. Boon seemed happy to help, he had no recollection of his past life, he just knew he should always try to please his Master Barber. Jake continued to work on Billys hair. He took a tub of the permanent hair removal cream, and started to smear it all over the remaining stubble on the top of Billys head, blending it carefully at the sides to create a perfect male pattern baldness, look. He dipped it low in the back, then turned his attention to Billys face. He applied the 'hair growth accellerator' to Billys face, laying it on very thick. Next he applied it to the eyebrows. Happy with his work so far, Jake decided to pierce Billys earlobes, with large silver rings, one dangling from each lobe. He certainly was going to end up looking alot freakier when Jake was finished with him. Jake would make sure he'd soon have a pierced septum, and of course his nipples and a PA for his lengthened cock. Billys new body hair was starting to really show. Wherever Boon had applied the special lotion, dark hairs were starting to penetrate through the skin. His face was already starting to show the signs of a decent beard growth. The kid would never had been able to grow a beard at this length before and certainly not the length and thickness it would be in another half hour. When Jake was sure the cream on Billys head was completely dry, he took a wet cloth and began to wipe the cream away, removing all the stubble from the top of Billys head. Billy looked twenty years older already. Jake proceeded to use a small electrolysis needle to remove the individual hairs to soften the line between the bald area and the fringe. No one would be able to tell that Billys MPB was man made. Billys beard was thick and bushy now. It really contrasted with his denuded head. Thick dark hair was growing on Billys arms over his shoulders, continuing all over his chest and down to his pubes. His legs were completely covered in thick dark hair, and so was his back. His eyebrows were thicker and almost joined in the middle. Taking a small set of clippers he began to fashion the beard into a more conservative style, giving the full beard a sharp, defined edge, paying particular attention to the moustache area. "Boon, I think it's time to wake our patient", said Jake as he gulped down a beer he had Boon bring earlier. Lowering the Light again, he started up the music, and this time a stimulant was being released within the dome that surrounded Billys face. "Wh... wh....where.... am .....I.....?", Billy began to mutter as he came to. "In Jakes Barbershop, you wanted us to make you over into a real man, and I think you'll like what we've done!" said Jake as he took another gulp on his beer. Billy realised he was looking at himself in the mirror, "What the hell?" But then he noticed his arms and legs, the bushy beard. He felt this was more how he wanted to look, a real bear! "How did you do this is so short time?" asked Billy as he ran a hand through his beard and up over his scalp. "Jakes a magician!" replied Jake. Billy was very happy; he even paid Jake a hefty tip. Over the coming months, Billy became the bear he wanted to be. With continued injections of steriods, combined with Billys hugh appetite, he bulked up and weighed in at 300 lbs. His cock had been lengthened and sported a huge PA and four barbells down it's length. His nipples had been pierced, and he was now wearing a large ring through his septum. He now sported a goatee that had been dyed black, with the mustache left thicker. Jake had also removed the remaining fringe hair on Billy, making him permanently bald just like Jake. Even his speech and manner took on that of a working class guy, in fact, a fellow bear he had started seeing regular basis, had got him a job at his factory. Billy was now Bill, and still obeying his programming; going to Jakes for his Monday Appointments. But Jake still had plans for Billy. He still hadn't forgotten being called a 'fat pervert'. But there was plenty of time. Part 4 Billy was only 18 years old when he first started to visit Jake's Barbershop. Well, he had actually been programmed to go to the shop every Monday, through mind control and hypnosis. Now, after only 12 months, Billy looked more like a 50 year old Bear. Jake had continued his weekly steriod shots to bulk the kid up, and with a combination of appetite stimulators and body gain shakes, Billy had certainly piled on the pounds; 450 pounds to be precise. Billys own mother would never recognise him now, his belly protruding so far out in front, he couldn't see his feet. His beard was salt and pepper coloured, growing thick and luxuriant, trimmed just to the bottom of his earlobes. His scalp was completely denuded of all hair, just like Jakes. The constant steriod intake had thickened his neck, and produced massive shoulders. His body hair was dark and grew thickly, even down his back. Basically, Jake had turned, Billy into the exact opposite of the type of guy, Billy would be attracted to. It was Monday evening, and here was 'Bill' for his weekly appointment. Jake decided that this was the day for retribution - for Bill to remember his life as Billy. Lowering the Hypno-Light, he turned it on as he lowered it well over Bills eyes. Soon ambient music could be heard, and Jake knew that a new tape he had inserted earlier would now be playing. "Let's see if we can turn Bill back into Billy, eh Boon?" said Jake with a grin to his Mongol slave. Boon was still with Jake and still loyal, with no recollections of his previous life. Boons body had become even more impressive. A combination of drugs along with a strict training program, had turned Boon into a very vascular body builder, with barely any body fat anywhere on his hairless body. After another hour, Jake raised the Hypno-Light and turned the tape off. Now, Jake bent down and began to speak in an even tone to the still unconscious Bill, "you can hear my voice, can't you Bill? You know who I am and you can remember everything from your past. You are only 19 years old, you remember this, but you know you can't return to your life as a teenager, you don't want to. You enjoy looking like a leather bear; It makes you real horny, seeing all that hair growing on your face, and you can hardly stop yourself from shooting your load when you touch your smooth head. You love rubbing your huge belly, you accept that this look is your life from now on, as punishment from your Barber, Jake. You know you must do what ever Jake says". Jake continued to enforce the hypnotic suggestions, and along with the tape that he had played earlier, he knew that Bill would remember being Billy again. The only difference would be he would accept his new look, even get off on it. "When I count to three, you'll awake feeling refreshed and at ease. One.....Two.......Three." "Hey Billy, you must have drifted off for a moment, now what was it we were going to do for you today?" "My names, Bill; you know I prefer to call myself that now," stated Bill in an almost matter of fact way. Looks like the tape worked, said Jake to himself as he watched Bill carefully studying himself in the mirror.Bill felt really strange; he knew he liked what he saw in the mirror, but he couldn't help thinking he missed looking like his real age. But at the same time he knew this was the look that Jake had mapped out for him, and it was a real turn on seeing himself as this real big man with all this body-hair. Bill started to run his hand over his head and then down through his beard. Jake had already guessed the torment probably going on in Bills head, "how about making you a little younger looking, then you can attract some of those Daddies you've been trying to hook up with." "Sure, sounds good to me," said Bill, realising the older bear types he was attracted to, were usually looking for younger guys, well certainly younger than he looked. Jake got Boon to start mixing up some permanent hair colour. Then Jake got busy taking a small edger and removing most of the heavy beard growth from Bills cheeks, fashioning it into a longer goatee. Taking his straight razor, he carefully removed the lather that Boon had applied to Bills face, taking the remaining stubble with it. He created a neat, sharp edge, beginning well under the back of his chin. He thinned the beard right down, creating a thin fu style moustache that was seperated from joining the rest of his beard. This beard was going to need regular trims, and already, Bills cock was at full mast. Boon got down between Bills legs and took the throbbing dick in his mouth and treated Bill to the best blow - job he'd ever had. Jake now coloured the finished goatee, painting the colour all through the still quite thick whiskers. Next he trimmed Bills eyebrows, which were nearly joined together after all the steriods, creating two very well styled brows. He applied the same colour to the brow hair now. After another hour, Jake was finished. Bill looked years younger. His carefully shaved goatee was platinum blond, and so were the eyebrows. This really contrasted with Bills dark tan he had on his bald head. Bill left Jakes puffing on a huge cigar. He was happy with his new look; and now to find a new Daddy!

Waiting for the Right Girl - Chris Evans

A/N: (this is for the anon who wanted friends to lovers) Hi this is the first fic i have wrote in over 3 years so be nice. Please let me know if you want a part 2! 

It was raining cats and dogs outside and there were no signs of stopping. The weather channel played softly in the background as you made your way to the kitchen to get another bottle of wine. You decided what was the harm since there was no way you would be driving home anytime soon in this weather. Chris had invited a bunch of friends over to his new house for a house warming party. You think it was more of an excuse to get help putting together the massive shelf he bought the day before but any excuse for free booze and you were there. The others luckily left before the storm hit, but you didn't mind. Chris’ house was more than accommodating for the two of you and it was a great opportunity for you two to catch up since he had been out of town on a shoot. 

You opened the door to the wine closet and stepped inside.  White or red? Chris would want white but the red paired better with the box of cheese-its you had been devouring. Red. You reached for the least expensive looking bottle and read the label, just as you thought, still expensive. Did he not have Boone’s Farm? 

“Hey, did you find one?” Chris practically yelled right behind you. You let out a yelp and dropped the probably more money than your car payment bottle and it shattered, splattering red everywhere . 

“What the fuck, how are you so big but so stealthy?” You ask clutching your chest. Chris bursts out laughing and you follow suit. 

“I’m sorry, its not my fault that you are literally the jumpiest person ever” He bends down to pick up the large pieces of glass and you try to help but he stops you. “Nah ah, I think you’ve done enough clutz,” he teases “why don't you go take a shower? You look like you’ve murdered at least four people. Help yourself to anything in the dresser.” 

You wanted to protest but a hot shower sounded pretty nice with the rainy weather so you agreed and tip-toed around the wine and headed upstairs to find the bathroom. It took longer than you would like to admit to get the shower to work but were you glad you did. It was literally the best shower you had ever stepped foot into. The second the hot water hit you all the tension you didn't even know you had went away. It was like taking a shower in the rainforest. You sighed as you smelled the body wash he had. Of course it would be perfect, everything about Chris is perfect. You took your time, not wanting the warmth to end. 

Eventually the water went cold, so you made your way out of the shower and looked around for what you could only assume was a fluffy warm cloud of a towel, only to find nothing. No towels. Shit. You popped your head out of the bathroom and looked around Chris’ monster sized bedroom. Once you saw the coast was clear, you darted out of the room and went to the dresser in search of something to cover your soaking body. But it was too late because just as you picked out an oversized shirt, Chris came barreling into the room holding a towel. You were frozen. You had nothing to shield you from this horror and Chris looked as though he had seen a ghost. 

“Um, can i have that?” You asked pointing to the gray towel in his hand. 

“Oh fuck, yeah, um. i realized I didn’t have any in the- here” His face turned a deep shade of scarlet as he held it out to you. 

His eyes dart down to your naked frame and you blush internally. You wrap the towel around yourself and stand there waiting for anything to happen. Literally anything. Chris was still beet red but you can see a noticeable bulge formed in his pants. He follows your eyes and immediately starts sputtering out what he thinks are words. 

“I- I mean, we. Um, you. I made some cookies. if you, they're chocolate chip. i’ll be, um downstairs. You can get dressed, shit. Sorry.” and with that he closes the door and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. What the fuck was that? You thought to yourself as you sat at the foot of his king sized bed. 

You had known Chris for two years, you were an intern at Fox while they filmed Gifted and you always had to fetch coffee and get him from his trailer. He asked you to help him run lines and you confessed that you always wanted to be an actor. The next day he brought you a coffee and said he dropped your name at a local theatre and that you had an audition on Tuesday. The rest was history. You had hung out almost every week for awhile helping each other rehearse or playing matchmaker to each others sad love lives. Then it turned into a few times a month when your schedules started to get more busy. It had been two months since the last time you had seen each other and here you were naked on his bed. 

You would be lying if you hadn’t thought about being naked on his bed, but that was just a fantasy. You were never single at the same time and you never really thought he saw you in that way. Did he see you that way? His body seemed to think of you in that way. You tossed those thoughts to the back of your mind as you got dressed and slowly made your way downstairs. 

You heard dishes clattering and a small curse come from the kitchen. Chris was still whispering to himself when you rounded the corner and saw him hovering over a plate full of cookies one in his hand and other hanging out of his mouth. 

“This would have never happened if you just put a new fucking towel in the bathroom, Evans. It’s a simple thing to do.” you could make out from his cookie filled mouth. 

“Hey” you make your presence known and his head shoots up. 

“Hey! Did you find everything okay?” 

“Uh, yeah! I mean apart from the whole towel thing.” you smile and take a seat at the island. 

“Yeah sorry again about that. Did i say sorry already? I’m sorry. Like really sorry.” He scratches the back of his neck and you can't help but notice the way the fabric of his crew neck stretches over his bicep. 

“Its really fine. It’s funny actually. I think it was funny.” You assure him and snag the cookie from his grip and he looks at you hurt. 

“That one was mine!”

“Yeah but it looks like the best one.” you take a big bite and he cracks smile. 

“You're something else.” he murmurs under his breath. “I’ll be right back.”

He walks into the living room and returns with a bottle of scotch and two glasses. You cock your eyebrow at him and he shrugs. 

“ I don't know about you but i need a drink.” he says as he pours two generous glasses and slides one your way. You down it in one swing and hiss at the burn. Scotch wasn't something you usually drank but it was a welcome change to all the wine you drank before. Chris adds a little more to your glass and takes a seat on the counter next to you. 

“So, what's new?” he casually asks and takes a sip, his eyes peering at you over his glass. You sighed at the question. Small talk wasnt really your thing. 

“Well, work has been slow. Not a lot of theatre companies looking for someone like this” you gesture to yourself and he scoffs. 

“What are you talking about? Have you seen yourself? Its their loss.” he doesn't meet your eyes and you're glad because he would see your blushing red cheeks. 

“Well either way auditions don’t pay bills. How was France?” You change the subject. 

“Good. Good. Long but good. You need to come with me next time. It’s gorgeous over there and the amount of bread they eat would make you feel right at home.” He nudges your ribs and you bust out laughing. 

“Hey, a girl eats an entire loaf of sourdough bread at 3am ONE TIME and she's the ‘bread girl.’” 

“it was really good bread.” He adds.

“Right?!” 

Your giggles die down and an awkward silence falls between you two and you take a drink. There was this looming cloud of weird between you and you hated it. Things were never weird between you. Things were always easy with Chris. 

“So whats the deal with Matt?” he snaps you out of your thoughts. “His brother said you guys broke up. I thought you really liked him.” you down the rest of your drink and shrug.

“Matt’s great! Just a little dull. It got boring that the rest of them. His thought of  a fun friday night was playing Catan at his cousins apartment and that isn't bad per se, but not for me. You know? Besides, I'm not the only one failing in the love department. Don't think i don't know you broke things off with Jess. She called me sobbing because you “couldn't do the distance” which I know is bullshit because you told me you were “weighing your options” two weeks before you went to Paris.” 

“You know me too well, it isn't fair.” he shakes his head “ I don't know. She was really nice and smoking hot.” You roll your eyes. “But she just was kind of... crazy? Is that mean?” 

“I mean...she was a little... off?” you try to find a better word but that's all you could come up with. She was insane. 

“i guess i’m just waiting for the right girl.” He said and places his glass on the counter. “I’m beat. I think i’m going to go to bed.” He hops off the counter and runs a hand over his face. 

“Oh, yeah me too. Where should i sleep?” you ask, not knowing where to go in the five bedroom house. 

“I’ll show you.” 

He took your hand and lead you up the stairs and showed you to a room not much smaller than his. It had beautiful four poster bed and forrest green sheets. It smells like him in there. 

“Wow.” is all you can say. 

“Is this good? You can take my bed. I dont know how this mattress is no one has slept on it.”

“No this is perfect.” 

You say your goodnights not before Chris asks you a thousand times if you need anything. Once he was satisfied that you were good he left for his room. You plop down on the bed and stare at the ceiling. Today was weird and you really didn't know why. It has you thinking about the way Chris would feel pressing against your back as you slept. and how he would wake you up with as soft kiss in the morning. You had never dared to entertain those thoughts before but now they're all you could think about. 

A/n: Hi this was getting kind of long so i thought I would split it up into two parts. Is that something you guys would want? Let me know! 

Tit for...

This is the fulfillment of two very similar requests. Enjoy.

   Life was hell at Diana Penebscott’s School for Gifted Women, for some that is. By looking at it’s student population you’d be fooled about just what most of the girls are gifted with. It would be damn hard to find an IQ higher than a hundred, and even harder still to find a bust line below double D’s. They exist though, and unfortunately, all of both categories belong to my friends and me. What kind of asshole god sets things up this way? Even the faculty represent this disparity well. It wouldn’t be so bad if they let us alone, but something about perceived weakness makes them dig in their five-inch heels. “Well, well. If it isn’t the itty bitty titty committee! Gonna work up some science to fix yourself flatsy?” That was practically their war cry. The other girls and I, not given the boon of boobs, just naturally gravitated towards each other. It was a survival mechanism.

   The faculty never lifted a finger for us. Half of them sported chest that were just the same as their students, and the other half were alumni that enjoyed the current status quo. “It’s just playful hazing,” they’d say, “don’t let it get to you.” That in and of itself wouldn’t have been to hard, save for that traitorous viper Alexis. She was one of us once, the underclass at the school. That and my best friend. But then last summer, her “daddy” bought her into the popular girl's favor. We all watched as she came bouncing onto the campus in a low-cut shirt, so painfully eager to show everyone her new chest. She instantly gravitated past us and our weak waves into the embrace of Wendy, the head cheerleader. Why an all girls college with no football team needed to pour money into a cheer team was beyond me, but they were there, and like many other institutions they formed the top of the student hierarchy. They welcomed her with open arms, and I…I was actually stupid enough to think that this might be a turning point for the school. I thought that maybe she might show the other girls that we weren’t different, that it was all skin deep. But the day after, she was there, shoulder to shoulder with all those other bitches as they hurried mockery at us. That would’ve been hard enough, but she was the first one to grab a tomato from the salad bar and aim it right at my face.

   I’m not entirely sure which part of her betrayal sent me over the edge. I was never mean to her, never a cross word. I wasn’t catty with a single one of them, yet they hounded all of us to no end. All because they won the genetic lottery. All because of those fucking tits. Why did I have to be born smart? Why can’t I just be like them? And, naturally, when I thought the pit I had slipped into couldn’t get any deeper, who should come up to me but Alexis? “Hey there, couldn’t help but notice you looked a little down. I’m sorry about that, but you know how it is right? Gotta show I can hang with them. I’m sure you’ll develop a little bit more one day. I mean, if I could give you some of mine I would, ya know? But wishing won’t make it so. Toodles! By the way, you might wanna stay away from the common area, we’re kinda staking a claim to it. Bye.” Even the way she spoke to me was different. Like she thought all of it was just a part of some game. But as the hatred crystalized in my blood, I couldn’t get that line out of my head. ‘If I could give you some of mine…’

   The steam of the hot showers clung to the nubile young bodies of the women and cleared away the sweat and toil of their expansive routines. “Alexis,” Wendy said, “you did well at practice today and all, but you seriously need to stop talking with that flats patsy, understand? We have a reputation to maintain.” “I know, it’s just kinda fun to string her along. She still thinks we’re friends, isn’t that sad?” “Totally, she just needs to like move on and focus on her stupid book junk. Don’t forget to wash up everything, looking good is ninety percent of the job.” Alexis gleefully did as she was told. No matter how many times she looked at her new breasts she simply couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that they were hers. Her father paid well for them too, it took a very well trained eye to see any falseness to them. Her fingers tickled along their underside, still surprised by the way they curved perfectly into her cupped hands. At first she was determined to be different, to not succumb to the way of the other girls. But she couldn’t help seeing things differently now. Breasts were a real gift, and she wasn’t about to waste hers on her former friends. It was so difficult for her to resist the subtle slippage of her hand down to her moist entrance. But she was snapped from her pre-onanistic daydream when she heard a gasp over the hissing of the showers. “OMG, Alexis! Look at your butt!”

   Wendy gaped in quiet shock as he underling swung her torso around searching for the best angle. Wendy and the entire cheer squad watched as the newbie’s butt began to undulate. As if it were being pumped with air then deflated over and over. Alexis felt stinging friction on her ass and spun in place trying to catch the cause. Each revolution gave more detail to the women. Alexis’s ass was quite plump, but as she turned once it looked a little bit flatter. Even more so on the next turn. Her hips caved in and became like twigs. Her hands were frantically slapping at her toneless bottom, almost like she thought it was asleep and tried to wake it. It was like she never had an ass to begin with now. The squad had developed a collective pit in their stomachs as the newbie’s ass vanished. Alexis grabbed what barely counted as a lump of flesh at the base of her spine. Tears mingled with the metallic water of the showers as she slunk to the floor. Too shocked to notice that her most loved breasts began to pulse as well.

   Alexis only noticed when her heaving sobs pushed her ribcage into her crossed arms. She had spent years feeling her flat chest against her arms as she cried, but now she derived terror instead of comfort. Her arms flung away and she saw her implants fade into her torso as if they had been punctured from the inside. “Jesus Alexis! What kind of implants did your dad like, buy you?” There came no answer. All Alexis could see was her father's fifty thousand dollar present flush away, as well as any chance at popularity. Alexis was afraid to raise her head. Her ears twitch in anticipation of the volley of insults to be cast her way. Fraud, liar, cheat. But when none came, she did look, and she saw as each one of her squamates breasts began to pulse and whither before her unbelieving eyes.

   The shower had become more tears than water that day. The squad had left without notice. The next day as classes began, they all assembled in the common area. All of them was stuffed bras and padded pants. None looked convincing. Wendy especially, her development was early, and the idea of stuffing never occurred to her before last night. Many of them still cried heavy tears as they looked at all their flat friends, reminding themselves of their own low state. “Well. Well. Well. Look at what we have here. The newest branch of the itty bitty titty committee. See anything familiar ladies?” Alexis recognized the voice of her old friend, but nothing else. It was as though she had been hit by the puberty truck overnight! Her breasts were mountainous and plotted their eruption from behind the flimsy buttons of her shirt. Her hips had become so large that her skirt was riding up her thigh. You could land a jumbo jet on that ass. Alexis and the squad stared openmouthed as she began to speak. “You know Alexis; I was pretty mad at you. But know that I know how good it feels to have a nice pair of sweater melons, and an ass that has caused a fender bender, I think I understand you. Too bad you girls couldn’t hold on to these puppies. I mean, I’d share some with you, but I don’t want to. Toodles, losers.” The squad watch her spill on a heel and strut away, mesmerized by the perfect sway of her ass.

   That was incredible. I mean…wow. Who would’ve thought catharsis could feel so good. I wasn’t kidding about how good these felt. Holy shit. Just the way they bounced freely as I walked, the attention they drew, and the tension between my buttons is making me so freaking hot. It’s amazing what a few nanites can do. It was a brilliant idea to put them in the water supply. I can take as much of their curves as I want, then redistribute the wealth as I see fit. Of course, one should ask themselves in this situation…why stop with the cheerleaders?

The End. Hope Y'all like it!

Always In Your Corner- Part 3

a/n: Part 3! This is a bit of filler before the next chapter. I think there are a couple things in here that are kind of cute. Let me know what you think!

PART 1, 2

Summary: You were happily engaged to your perfect boyfriend when everything came tumbling down on you. The person you turned to just so happened to be your long time friend, Boone Jenner. The ever loyal Boone is there to help you get back on your feet. Little did you know, Boone had been pining after you for all these years, he’s just not sure if you’ll ever feel the same way about him.

warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing, anxiety/depression if you squint

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

“Ok. I don’t understand how this is so hard. I swear I’m following the instructions.” You hear some banging and huffing and walk out of your bedroom to see Boone on the floor of your new living room. He’s trying to put together some of the Ikea bookshelves you had ordered. Boone, Josh, and Seth have been helping you get moved in all day.

Now all that’s left is getting your things situated and getting these bookshelves put together. As you watch from your doorway you can’t help but smile at how Boone’s tongue sticks out when he’s concentrating.

“I can help you with that if you want,” You offer but you know he can be just as stubborn as you, and so when he says he’s got it you leave him be.

“Ok, well I’m going to order some food for dinner, neither of us have eaten in hours. How’s pizza sound?”

“Sounds great,” He replies but doesn’t look up from the directions he’s been flipping through. You move into the kitchen and call the pizza place around the corner. Once you’re finished there’s not much else to do, so you decide to open one of the bottles of wine Seth and Josh had brought you as a housewarming gift.  

Boone is still working away at the bookshelf when you move past him to sit on the couch. Seth and Josh had argued over how to hang to the TV for 20 minutes before they actually hung it, and the thought of their bickering makes you smile to yourself as you grab the remote. You turn on Love Island, and even though Boone complains about having to watch the show, you know he secretly likes it. (He about had a fit when you watched an episode without him.)

Almost half an hour later the bookshelves are finally put together (after he had finally let you help him) and the pizza had been cracked open on your coffee table.

“So, I guess this is it. We’re not roomies anymore”

“Aw, sounds like you’re going to miss me, B” You tease him back and he laughs, knowing deep down that he really will miss you. He’s gotten used to coming home to you after games, and even more so waking up with you in his arms. 

It’s been weeks since you left Craig, but still you find yourself waking up with Boone in the mornings. During the day at work it’s easy to hide just how broken you are from the breakup, but when you got home at night your pent up feelings had a habit of breaking free. Boone was pretty used to your crying by now, and was getting better at talking you down when you got too in your head about why your relationship had ended so horribly, or why Craig didn’t love you anymore. Boone would reassure you that you were deserving of love and all the good things in life. He would remind you how beautiful you were and how strong and independent you had been through all of this. He would tell you about how you were going to find someone who really did love you, and who would love you forever. He knew he was talking about himself, but either way it was true-- someone was out there for you. 

The more Boone said things like that, the more you wanted to believe them. You may have started to, but those bad seeds would still grow and remind you that your fiancé had proposed out of obligation.

You didn’t realize you had zoned out. Your mind was racing trying to comprehend what had happened in the last month and you hadn’t realized Boone was talking, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I was just saying that I am going to miss having you around. You’re always welcome at my place, you know that.” He gives you a soft smile and pats your knee before standing up.

“I should probably head out. We have morning skate, and those bookshelves really took their toll on me.” He’s laughing, but you also know he’s now sworn enemies with Ikea.

“Ok, well, I guess this is goodbye.”You give him the best smile you can and move in to hug him. Boone’s arms wrap around you and you can’t help but melt into him. You’re not sure if that feeling of safety will ever go away when he holds you, but you hope it doesn’t. You’re still holding each other when he asks, “You going to be ok here tonight?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. I’ve got to do this on my own eventually.” You pull away from the hug and give him a reassuring smile before he heads out. He knows you’re nervous about being on your own, but he also knows you’re right about having to be independent, so he leaves your place and for the first time in nearly a month the other side of his bed is cold.

——

“Boone. Boone... BOONE”  Seth is practically yelling across the locker room to get Boone’s attention the next morning.

“Oh sorry man. I wasn’t paying attention, what’s up?” He wasn’t listening, and it was because he was exhausted. He tossed and turned all night and didn’t know if it was the emptiness in his apartment or his worrying about you in your empty apartment that kept him up all night.

“We were just talking about lunch. You coming?” The boys have been giving Boone a hard time for a while now, since all his time has been spent with you. You texted each other good morning and everything seemed fine. You were also at work, so rushing over to your place to check in on you wasn’t really a possibility. He accepts the boy’s invitation for lunch and they all continue to chirp him for being so out of it at practice that morning.

Your morning wasn’t going much better. Sleeping in a new apartment, alone, was apparently not one of your strong suits. You couldn’t sleep, and eventually you were so frustrated and so mad at yourself for even leaving Craig at all. Tears found their way down your cheeks in frustration but quickly turned into sobs of sorrow, regret, and loneliness. You wanted to call Boone, but you couldn’t let yourself do that. He had finally gotten you out of his apartment and you were sure he was reveling in having some space to himself again.

The rest of your day dragged on and before you realized where you were going you were parked in front of Boone’s building. You got out to go inside but turned around, changing your mind. He was probably busy, or didn’t want to have to deal with you and your mess right now. Just like the day that you had left Craig, Boone walked by and saw you coming from his building.

“Y/N! Hey. What are you doing here? Everything ok?” He jogged up to meet you by your car.

“Yeah. I think I just kind of came here out of habit, but everything’s fine. Sorry to just show up, I know you’re probably just happy I’ve been out of your hair.”

You give a half smile and move towards your car door before he catches your arm. You turn back to look at him, “I always have time for you, and to be honest the apartment is pretty lonely without you.”

Neither of you had eaten dinner yet so you whipped up something quick and talked over some wine. It was nice, but it had to come to an end. You couldn’t stay and Boone knew that, so when your glass was empty you hugged a little longer than normal and then headed home for the evening.

Over time it got a little easier and Boone was always there for you on the bad days. You were closer than ever and you knew you wouldn’t have been able to do this without him. You told yourself that was why you still sat up at night thinking about how his arms felt around you and how his sweet reminders had kept your head above water. Your missing Boone was nothing more than a friend missing a friend.

Boone was happy to see you getting back into the swing of things, but now he was just contemplating whether or not he should tell you how he feels. All he wanted to do was to tell you how in love he was with you, but he didn’t want to scare you away. He wasn’t sure you would feel the same way for him, and putting that kind of pressure on you right now didn’t seem fair. So Boone decided he would do what he does best, and continue to silently pine for you while you started to heal your broken heart.

GW Short Fanfiction: Future snapshot of Heero and Relena

This was, in part, inspired by @graydama‘s post about her OC Helena. Got me thinking about what responsibilities any children by Relena may inherit.

The days had been getting longer and the weather so much warmer. Sitting upstairs in the nursery, behind closed glass doors and shielded from any heat by the central air, Relena propped up her feet on the lush ottoman. She curled her toes, stretched them out and felt how she was finally experiencing the adverse side effects of pregnancy.

It was a swollen day, quite literally for her. Everything felt bloated; her feet, her hands, her legs, and yes of course her stomach. It was huge. Like huge. She had only three months left, and the baby was active. Their girl moved with Relena, matched her stamina, rested when she rested, like they were in perfect harmony; or at least that’s what Wufei said when she mentioned it. Everyone was quite excited for the arrival of Relena Darlian’s daughter. The little princess of the Sank Kingdom.

Yes. Little princess indeed.

That morning, the much expected, much dreaded, letter finally arrived. Heero would like it as much as he liked public parties. This conversation was going to be rough, cyclical, and drawn out. But no matter, her dear, loyal, watchful subjects of Sank already put it in motion.

Holding the letter in hand, she read it again, passed her fingers over the delicate watermark and the ridiculous flourish of the hand that wrote it. Sigh. A commotion floated up from downstairs as security saluted and went at ease and gave updates to the current situation.

Nothing to report, sir.

Thank god. That would have involved at least twenty minutes of Heero’s time. But all was well and the security, except for the exterior night crew, went home. Alone together at last. 

She heard Heero coming up the stairs and dropping his bag in the master bedroom before coming to the nursery. The carpet masked the soud of his slippers, but she saw him anyway. (Everyone insisted that they started wearing slippers in the house. Did they know what germs they tracked in on their shoes?!). 

“How was the office?” She said with a gay little smile and as much sarcastic cute as she could fit in her voice. He only grunted as he sat on the ottoman, but she relaxed and smiled. “Honestly, Heero, half days for parental leave isn’t that bad. Imagine if Une made you take off the entire day everyday!” 

He knew she was teasing, that earned her a glare anyway. 

“You’ll need to take a few weeks off once she’s here. It’ll be a madhouse, or at least that’s what all the baby blogs and magazines say.” 

He started to massage her calves. She groaned in satisfaction and held a thumb up. He grinned. 

“Poo doesn’t bother me,” he said. 

“What doesn’t bother you?” She said with a laugh. 

“Poo.” 

“What?” 

“Poo. Poop. Doo doo.” And with that he squeezed just a little tighter. She gasped and tried to swat him, but of course her belly was too big to get around. 

“I’ll make sure you do all the diapers,” she said with a pout. 

He shrugged. “No problem. Girls don’t have the mechanism to projectile shoot their waste.” 

She shrugged. He would see for himself. 

“What’s that?” He said, pointing his chin at the letter. 

She turned the paper over in her hand. “Oh, this. It’s…it’s from Lord Jespen, about the baby.” 

Heero was silent, but the massaging stopped. 

“They want to reinstate the monarchy, as a figurehead of course.”

“But still a monarchy,” he said. His voice had taken a dark and serious tone.

“See for yourself,” she said and handed him the letter.

His eyes grazed over the words, darting back and forth in that quick way he read. The frown on his face went deeper as he continued. There it was, the ‘hn’. Definitely displeased.

“They want to declare her ‘heir apparent’. From birth she’ll be titled as ‘‘princess’ and hold all the privileges of that station’. She’ll be crowned as queen when she is of ‘legal age’.” He read on in silence, but grunted again. “It’s a ‘‘valuable’ boon to the restoration of our dear country’s identity and sovereignty.’ An unborn child is an asset. Property.” It all came out matter of fact, but Relena didn’t miss his sarcasm.

“An unfortunate choice of words,” she said.

“Or portentous. Prophetic.”

“Heero, please.” Her voice was quiet, but just enough exasperation seeped out. She didn’t need his stern attitude tonight. 

He turned towards her, staring, and the barely noticeable astonishment rolled off his tongue as he spoke. “You want to say yes.”

She paused, look up towards the ceiling. “I want to hear more.”

He continued staring.

She shifted her glance down. “And possibly negotiate.”

He closed his eyes and sighed the slightest sigh, but that was emphatic from him.

“Relena.”

“It would be a good investment,” she offered. He grunted.

“It’s a country that has barely recovered after the war. The Romefeller occupation was brutal and they nearly went bankrupt. With the World Nation, and states, what is she going to inherit?”

Relena scoffed, not every trying to hide it. She looked away and shook her head. He didn’t understand. No, he wouldn’t understand. This had been simmering for months, since she first told him she was pregnant. No, since long before that. Since they went public as a couple. Even before that. The princess and her head security agent. Scandalous. How could that ever work? Years on and the entire sphere still won’t let go of that question, of children and Sank. In every interview and debate, as the subject of chat shows and gossip rags; her womb was dragged through it all and now their daughter would be too. Of course Heero wanted to say no. He was only being protective. But...

“Please,” she said, turning back and holding up her hand. “The Sank Kingdom is doing just fine. You know that I still hold legal ownership and I would never let them fail. You know this.”

“That’s the problem,” he said, still so matter-of-damn-fact. “Ten years and they can’t get themselves right.”

Correction: she couldn’t get them right.

“Same with nearly every other state affected by the war,” she interrupted, but he continued on.

“And now they want a baby as their figurehead? There’s a lot of questions I’d have.”

“That’s why we need to speak with them.”

“What do they want from her? Is she going to live there? How much power will they give her? What will they make her do?”

“I don’t know!” she said, throwing the words out just to shut him up. “I don’t know! I just want to hear more.”

The sudden silence beat between them. She used to be so good with patience. Everything was coming to a head; the baby, the questions about how it would affect her work, the constant fussing about her from everyone, and now this.

But he didn’t say anything. He was waiting for her to continue and complete her thoughts and vocalise what she was really thinking. He was always so annoyingly efficient at coaxing things out of her.

“This is my family, Heero. My legacy.”

He was silent.

“I left them in the hands of Romefeller. I...” she started, though they had been through this line of thought before.

“It doesn’t mean you owe them your child.”

Looking down into her hands, she sighed, heavy, and let all the tension exit. Shame and regret were left.

“I know,” she said. “But handing over ownership, giving her something to hang onto, to fall back on; She should have options.” 

He took her hands, pulling her upright until their lips met. Soft, supportive.

“She’ll have all the options known to man. I don’t want her beholden to a gang of old white men.”

Relena had to smile at that. 

“I’ll start dinner,” he said as he stood and walked to the door. “They must be desperate if they’re willing to ignore her paternal lineage.” And he left the room.

Holding back another scoff, Relena released herself to the plush cushions of the armchair as she stared at the door, marvelling at what she just heard.

That was a very ‘Duo��� thing of him to say.

REVIEW

Naughty Stranger by Stacey Kennedy

Dangerous Love #1

Sometimes the perfect book comes my way just when I need it and today there could not have been a better book for me to read. I fell in love with the characters, supporting characters and town as they came together to welcome Peyton Kerr and then support and protect her when bad things began to happen. The dynamics between Peyton and Boone Knight sizzled and their chemistry was instantaneous and undeniable. They were perfect together and reading their story made me happy...in spite of all that happened to make it at times rather suspenseful.

Peyton was someone I could see myself being once in my life. I have been an RN and young and in love. I have not experienced the heartbreak that Peyton did but can empathize. And Boone...talk about a heartthrob and perfect book boyfriend! I loved that they truly saw and got to know one another, shared and cared and all the rest. I enjoyed the mystery of who was out to kill people and how the police followed the clues. I loved meeting Asher and Rhett – Boone’s friends and colleagues on the police force. Kinsley and Remy were great girl friends for Peyton and always there for her.

I think one thing that came through to me in this book is that we really should make the most of every moment we have because that is all any of us are sure of. Live and love and experience life even when it is dark because even in the dark there is usually a bit of light.

Did I enjoy this book? Definitely!

Would I  like to read more in this series? I can’t wait!

Thank you to NetGalley and Hachette-Forever (Grand Central Publishing) for the ARC – This is my honest review.

5 Stars

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/42365674-naughty-stranger

BLURB

From USA Today bestselling author Stacey Kennedy comes a thrilling, sexy romance about a woman in danger and a small-town police detective who will do anything to keep her safe. After a sudden tragedy blew her world apart, Peyton Kerr fled her big city career and started over in Stoney Creek, Maine. So far, she’s loving small-town life–no one knows about her past, and her easy flirtation with Boone Knight gives her a reason to smile. But then someone is murdered in Peyton’s store, and her quiet, anonymous existence is instantly destroyed. To make matters worse, Boone–a police detective–is assigned to the case, and Peyton knows she can’t keep him at arm’s length any longer. She’s resisted the simmering heat between them–but now this gorgeous man is promising to keep her safe–and satisfied… Boone Knight doesn’t want the complications of a relationship. But when he volunteers to protect his town’s newest–and sexiest–resident, he finally admits he’d like to explore their sizzling attraction. And after one incredible night, everything changes for Boone. Peyton is sweeter–and braver–than anyone he’s ever met, and with her in his arms, everything makes sense. He just needs to convince her to trust him enough to reveal her secrets, or risk losing her to a merciless killer who seems to grow bolder with each passing day.

EXCERPT

http://www.staceykennedy.com/naughty-stranger-sneak-peek/

The loud rumble of the baby blue Volkswagen Beetle quieted as Peyton Kerr pressed against the brake pedal. Stoney Creek’s Main Street was cute and quaint, with boutique shops lining the skinny road where cars were parked without much space in between them. Through her open window, she tasted the salt in the air coming off the Atlantic Ocean and drove by a young man packing large containers with live lobsters into the back of his old Chevy pickup. On the next corner was a ticket booth for the lighthouse boat tours. Stoney Creek was a far cry from the bright lights, skyscrapers, and pungent busy city aroma that Seattle carried, but it was also a most welcome change.

People came to Stoney Creek for the picturesque views of the coastline on the bay. They climbed the mountain that overlooked the town and the ocean. They ate fresh fish at the restaurants near the marina, walked the beaches, and sailed the open waters. Peyton came for those reasons too. Well, and a laundry list of others, including that Stoney Creek was the last vacation spot she visited with her late husband, Adam, just over a year ago. She’d been her happiest here. They swam the waters, ate too much, laughed hard enough to cry. That’s what brought her back to the small Maine town. She’d left Seattle a heartbroken twenty-six-year-old widow, and she returned to Stoney Creek determined to find happiness here again.

Her heart clenched at the reminder of all she’d lost, threatening to expose all the weak spots. She forced the emotion back with a deep swallow, refusing to go to the dark place again. The past was behind her. That’s where it’d stay.

Up ahead, Peyton recognized the dark-haired slender woman waiting beneath a withered store sign as Isabella, her real estate agent. Peyton squeezed her used—but new to her—car into one of the parking spots.

Before she could even get out, Isabella was already at the passenger-side door. “You made it.”

“I’m so glad to finally be here.” Peyton smiled, turning off the car and exiting. She’d done a nine-hour flight with a layover in Philadelphia, then landed at the Portland International Jetport. That’s where she found her new car, which she thought suited small-town living. After a good night’s sleep in Portland, she drove three hours, taking the scenic drive along the coast to her fresh start. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“It’s no problem. I’ve got your keys here for both your house and your shop.” Isabella reached into her purse, then handed Peyton two sets of keys. “You’re all set to move in and open shop.” She handed her a slew of business cards. “I’ve given you some names of handymen around town if you want to give the store a makeover.”

Peyton glanced up at the old sign again and took in the cracked windowpane and peeling white paint on the exterior. Both the shop and her new lake house needed work, but so did she. “Great,” Peyton said, feeling like a fish out of water. “Thank you so much for everything. You’ve been so helpful.”

“Call if you need anything.” Isabella smiled and, shocking Peyton, threw her arms around her like they were friends. “You’re going to love it here.” With a final wave, she was off, practically skipping her way down the sidewalk.

Okay, so the people were the nice, touchy-feely sort.

Peyton turned back to her new shop and exhaled the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Set in a historic redbrick building, in between Whiskey Blues, a jazz club on the right, and an empty store on the left, was her little lingerie shop with the French-style storefront. Two large display windows hugged the dark maple door with the original brass handle. The store might not be much in size, but the charm of the shop made up for it.

It was also 100 percent hers. Paid for with the insurance money from Adam’s death. Two weeks ago, in her lowest of lows, a Facebook ad for the Stoney Creek B&B, where she and Adam had stayed at when they’d vacationed there, had popped up on her screen. After that, she’d fallen down the Internet hole until she discovered the local lingerie shop was for sale. Everything from there happened so fast; she’d up and bought the shop on a total whim. Because if anything could make her feel happy again, it would be found in the place she felt the happiest. She also kept thinking that if she could make other women feel beautiful, then she’d feel that way again too.

This past year, she had no reason to wear gorgeous lingerie, let alone find a reason to get out of bed. She wore cotton bras and underwear for comfort. But she’d had a blast selling lingerie during her nursing school days. She couldn’t help but think that buying a lingerie shop was a good step forward to finding the fun parts of herself that had disappeared with Adam’s death.

Sure, she knew her mental state was hanging in the balance of her new life and her new shop. She couldn’t fail. Not because of the money. Adam had left her in good shape financially. But she couldn’t fail because this was all she had. There was nothing else giving her a purpose. And she was done playing the victim. She was also done simply surviving. She’d already been doing that in spades in Seattle. She wanted to breathe. To live.

And that’s why she’d left Seattle and her parents. She’d given up her nursing career in the ER at Seattle’s General Hospital, and she’d dumped every cent she received from Adam’s insurance money into this shop and her little house on the lake.

Was she crazy?

Oh, yeah, she was totally batshit nuts.

She glanced down at the house keys in her hand. All of her belongings would be shipped tomorrow, so tonight she planned to stay at the Stoney Creek B&B a couple blocks down Main Street.

“Are you the new owner?”

Peyton turned around, finding an older couple smiling at her. “Yes, I am.”

“Oh, so lovely to hear,” the woman said, her arm wrapped in her husband’s. “We need more young business owners coming in and keeping our downtown alive.” She offered her hand. “I’m Marjorie, and this is Joe.”

Peyton returned Marjorie’s handshake and then shook Joe’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Peyton.” When she drew her hand away, her stomach suddenly rumbled loudly. “I’m sorry about that. Apparently, I’m starving.”

Joe’s amber eyes crinkled with his warm smile. “The bar next door has one of the best fish sandwiches in town.”

“That sounds delicious.” Peyton returned the smile, feeling the tightness in her chest begin to dissolve. “I’ll be sure to check it out. Thanks.”

“Enjoy your evening, Peyton,” Marjorie said. With a final wave, they continued on their walk.

When Peyton’s stomach growled again, she headed for the bar, thinking a drink along with food sounded like the next best step forward. She didn’t see any parking signs, figuring she could leave her car there for the night.

She grabbed her purse from the car, locked the doors and entered the bar. From its original flagstone walls and restored burgundy velvet chairs to the gold accents, the bar was pure class. Four large crystal chandeliers gave the space a warm, inviting feel, and round tables surrounded the black shiny stage, where a man had his head bowed over the piano he played.

Peyton headed for the bar that had three men drinking beers. She hastily moved to the other side, keeping her distance from anyone of the opposite sex. Even the hot guy with the dark hair and muscular biceps who held her gaze, the side of his mouth curving sensually. Actually, especially because of that. She needed to find herself again, not find herself in anyone’s bed.

When she slid onto the stool, a friendly voice said, “You’re new here.”

Peyton glanced up, finding a slim, long-haired brunette wearing a black T-shirt that read whiskey blues across her chest. The bright pink lipstick she wore made her big blue eyes pop.

“Yup, I’m brand spanking new.” Peyton smiled, offering her hand. “I bought the store next door.”

“Did you?” The woman returned the handshake. “Well, that makes us friends already, then.”

Peyton laughed. “And here I was thinking making new friends was going to be hard.” She placed her hands back onto her purse. “I’m Peyton.”

“Kinsley,” the woman said, grabbing a martini glass. “Lucky for you, I own this place, which means I can call it a night and celebrate us being neighbors.” She gestured at the glass. “Chocolate martinis sound okay?”

“Sounds divine,” Peyton said, her mouth watering. She definitely wanted a fish sandwich, but a little liquid love first didn’t hurt. Besides, she hoped the drink would help dissolve the lump in her throat. She questioned her sanity, uprooting her life and leaving her family behind. But she couldn’t have stayed in Seattle another day. Seattle belonged to her and Adam. She needed to belong without him. Adam was gone. He wasn’t coming back.

Kinsley finished pouring two glasses, then held hers up. “To new friendships and new beginnings.”

Peyton lifted her glass. “Cheers to that!”

Before long, one glass turned into two glasses, and Peyton’s belly felt warm, her smile easy, the fish sandwich long forgotten. She spoke of Seattle, leaving out all the personal parts, keeping those secrets locked up tight. And Kinsley shared life in Stoney Creek, the fun places to go, the sights to see.

“I make a damn fine martini,” Kinsley said, licking the chocolate flakes off her upper lip. She placed her empty glass behind the bar. “Give me a couple minutes, then we’ll Uber it to this new house of yours on the lake and grab some takeout on the way. I gotta see this place. It sounds amazing.”

Sure, Kinsley was a stranger, but something about her laidback way put Peyton at ease. “Deal.” Peyton took another sip of her drink, watching Kinsley leave the bar and move into the back room, feeling happier than she’d felt in an entire year.

Something warm suddenly brushed against Peyton’s arm, making her shiver. She turned as Mr. Crooked Smile sat on the stool next to her. He was tall—around six foot two, pure muscle, an all-around fine specimen of a man. His intense blue eyes that appeared nearly gray in the low lighting held hers, and his five-o’clock shadow brought her attention to his totally kissable lips. He wore a navy-blue T-shirt that stretched across his chest, showcasing hard biceps, and jeans that hugged his thick thighs.

“Hi.” He grinned, voice as smooth as melted chocolate. And she really liked chocolate. A lot.

She took in the hard masculine lines of his face, softened a little by the strands of dark hair falling across his forehead. “I’m new here, opening the shop next door,” she babbled.

“Ah, the lingerie shop,” he said, his eyes dancing at whatever was crossing her expression. “Tonight’s a celebration, then?”

God, she must have looked like she wanted to eat him. Well, she did, so whatever. Obviously, the martinis without food had been a terrible idea. “That’s right,” she said, lifting her chin, trying not to look as rattled by this guy or as tipsy as she felt.

His arm brushed against hers again—clearly intentional this time—and she shivered, hearing her own hitching breath. His gaze went red hot, those deep eyes turning darker, examining her deeper. She swallowed, trying to calm her puckering nipples and the building heat between her thighs.

What. The. Hell?

“Um, excuse me.” She slid off the stool and stumbled in the process. After she laughed at herself and hid her gaze from him, she beelined it toward the bathroom across the bar. Once inside, she turned on the water and placed her hands underneath to cool off. She looked into the mirror, finding her cheeks flushed, her eyes glossy and full of heat. Maybe those chocolate martinis had an aphrodisiac effect. Because . . . holy hell!

She stayed in the bathroom probably longer than necessary. When she came out, she nearly walked into Mr. Crooked Smile. He caught her by the waist to steady her, and when his hands tightened on her hips something overcame her, an emotion she could not control. His touch was warm and strong, and his potent stare pulled her in until she looked into his eyes intimately.

He arched an eyebrow. “All right?”

“Why are you waiting here for me?” she managed.

His smile was gentle and sweet, and on a big tough guy looked mouthwateringly delicious. “You’ve been in there a while. Feeling okay?”

She stared at him. For some reason she was immensely touched by his kindness, and she suddenly couldn’t remember all the reasons she didn’t want a man in her life. “God, you’re so hot.” She grabbed his face and kissed him. Passionately. With tongue.

A low masculine sound that tickled her in the best places rose from deep in his chest. Then her back hit the wall. Hard. Shock and desire flooded her as he threaded one hand into her hair, then claimed her mouth. Owned it, with every hard press of his lips and swirl of his tongue.

When she began nearly climbing up his body, a moment of clarity hit her, and she broke away with a gasp. “What in the hell are we doing?” she asked, staring at his mouth, and wanting desperately to have more of it. “You’re a stranger.” A naughty stranger.

“I believe you kissed me,” he said in a voice so low goose bumps rose on her arms, and a smile so sexy it should come with a warning label. “And were doing a fine job of it.”

“Ahem.”

Still in the man’s arms, Peyton turned, finding Kinsley staring at them with her arms folded.

“So,” Kinsley said with a sly smile. “I see you’ve met my brother, Boone.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Stacey Kennedy is an outdoorsy, wine-drinking, nap-loving, animal-cuddling, USA Today bestselling romance author with a chocolate problem. She writes sexy contemporary romance full of heat and heart, including titles in her wildly hot Kinky Spurs, Club Sin, and Dirty Little Secrets. She lives in southwestern Ontario with her family and does most of her writing surrounded by lazy dogs. To keep in touch with Stacey, get updates right to your inbox at staceykennedy.com/newsletter/.

Thailand

Admittedly, and naively, I always told Nick that I had little interest in traveling to Asia. In my mind, Asia seemed far away, chaotic, and to be frank, challenging. When we were planning this trip, we knew we needed a stop in Asia, not only to help get us around the world, but also because it seemed like a great opportunity for Nick to convince me that my preconceived notions about Asia were not entirely correct. Let’s just say…Nick was right…and I’m feeling bad for casting a giant net of invalidated opinions on an entire continent. 

We had two long flights to get us from Lisbon to Bangkok. The first flight was 8 hours long and the second flight was 6.5 hours long. Our layover was in Dubai and as we walked up to the gate to board the flight, the woman checking us in told us we were upgraded. Immediately, I put on my, “Oh yeah, of course we were upgraded. This happens to us all the time” face. In reality, my head was spinning and thinking, “OMG! Things like this never happen to us! We just got upgraded on Emirates! On a double decker plane! For a long flight! I hope that once we’re on the plane it’ll be delayed!” Armed with smiles of disbelief, we moseyed onto to the upstairs of the plane like we knew what we were doing (we are traveling with backpacks - we clearly did not belong on the upper deck in business class). When the flight attendant offered me three different types of champagne, I literally said, “Awesome!” I struggle to sleep on planes and this flight helped me find the solution - lie flat beds! It looks like I’ll need to find another career if I want to continue getting any sleep on planes.

With 4 hours of sleep under our belts, we landed in Bangkok with sleepy eyes, yet eager to explore Thailand. Bangkok provided quite the hustle and bustle for my first glimpse into a city in Asia. From the airport, we easily hopped in an Uber to our hostel and Nick was tasked with the challenge of keeping me awake. He accomplished this by taking me to a local outdoor market, as well as to a yummy outdoor restaurant for our first taste of local Thai food. 

While our time was short in Bangkok, we managed to get to two amazing temples where I immediately regretted the hesitation and preconceived notions I had about Asia. First, we saw the Reclining Buddha and then walked a few blocks to the Grand Palace. While the Grand Palace was stunning, I have never, ever been thrown in the middle of so many tourists with no shoes on (you take your shoes off to go into the temples). The slight stench of stinky feet aside (mine included), the architecture, attention to detail, and grand scale of these temples had me at awe. I’ve never seen anything like it and Nick says he felt the same way on his first trip to Asia.

After a whirlwind day in Bangkok, we hopped on a flight to Chiang Mai, a much smaller city in Northern Thailand. Many, many friends recommended traveling to Chiang Mai. So many friends recommended Chiang Mai, that we were constantly busy and never lacking in something to do. We checked into our hotel - yes, hotel [insert those praising emoji hands here]- in the afternoon and set out to explore. We found a restaurant to order spicy shrimp soup, massaman curry, and a pork and basil dish for dinner. And this is when we realized the food in Chiang Mai would ignite our love affair with Chiang Mai.

Sunday morning, we lazily woke up and then I got a legit head, neck, and shoulder massage (for $8) by the tiniest and strongest woman I’ve ever seen, while Nick wandered the streets and got his bearings. I opted for “medium” pressure during the massage and I can’t begin to imagine “strong” pressure. While many aspects were similar to a massage in the US, a Thai masseuse does a lot more moving and stretching of your body (and I didn’t even get a traditional Thai massage!). At one point when I was in a completely contorted position and she was trying to stretch me even further, she kept saying, “Relax! Relax!” as though I would stretch more if I relaxed. Had there not been a language barrier, I would have said, “I promise I am the most relaxed I’ve ever been. But no matter how hard you try to stretch me, it’s not happening. Despite years of yoga, I remain quite inflexible.” We grabbed lunch at a chicken restaurant called SP chicken where they are known simply for their chicken and rice, which is precisely what we ordered and devoured. We stopped by Wat Phra Singh, a temple within Chiang Mai, before we went to a Thai cooking class. There is no public transportation in Chiang Mai, so in lieu of buses, there are trucks with bench seating (it’s more legit than it sounds or looks). 

So, we hopped into the back of a truck with 2 people from Spain and a family of 4 from France and we set off into the Northern Thailand countryside for our cooking class. Our 4-hour class was perfect. The backdrop of a beautiful rural landscape provided an amazing setting for learning how to cook some traditional Thai foods, including mango sticky rice, pad thai wrapped in an egg, roasted morning glory, and green curry. Everyone in the class had their own cooking station and the company did a great job helping you attempt to learn how to cook Thai food in 4 hours.

Monday was one of the most surreal days Nick or I have ever had. We spent the entire day hanging out with 2 elephants named Miguel and Boon Peng (both female). With advice from a friend, we went to the Elephant Nature Park. The Elephant Nature Park is about an hour north of Chiang Mai located on 300 acres of land. The volunteers and workers care for and rehabilitate elephants that have been harmed in the tourism and logging industries in and around Thailand. Many of the elephants have broken bones, are blind from being beaten, or have severe psychological damage from how they were once treated. When we initially looked into the park, all of the “visit the park” morning or afternoon trips were completely booked. Of course, the only option left was the more expensive option that included extra time with the elephants or things we normally wouldn’t choose to pay for. Not wanting to miss out on the opportunity, we decided to spring for a trip called “Pamper a Pachyderm.” This tour took us outside the park for the morning to visit with locals who once treated the elephants poorly and now work with the Elephant Nature Park to rehabilitate them. We were supposed to be with 4 to 6 other people, but we seem to be on a lucky streak (it’s probably over now, because I am typing this, therefore jinxing us) and there was nobody else on our tour! Nobody else! We began our tour by cutting cucumbers for the elephants to eat. 

We then fed them 3 laundry baskets of cucumbers by placing the cucumbers in their trunk or in their mouths. Miguel and Boon Peng were on the older side, which meant they were particularly gentle, which allowed us to be able to get so close to them. 

After the cucumber feast, we went on a walk with our elephant friends walking alongside us. During the walk, we fed them bananas, which they also devoured. We stopped near a waterfall to have a beautifully prepared Thai lunch while the elephants guzzled down their own lunch of bamboo leaves.

Next, we got in a river with the elephants! We tossed buckets of water on them as they sprayed water with their trunks to cool down. 

After saying goodbye to our new gal pals, we got in a raft and headed downstream to the nature park. There was a moment before we got in the raft that I was pretty sure my life was going to end on this rapidly flowing Thai river. Despite a wild raft guide who knew justttt enough English to make you feel mildly comfortable putting your life in his hands, we made it safely to the Nature Park to learn more about their mission. 

At the end of the day, Nick and I both said that our tour was worth every penny. Our guide, Deng, was smiley, knowledgeable, and friendly. When not talking about elephants, we spent the rest of our time with him talking about English idioms and how challenging it was for him to learn them. He kept saying, “Why would you say something like, ‘Beat a dead horse?!’ Nobody wants to beat a dead horse!” We had some good laughs and are beyond grateful for the experience and humbled by the opportunity to literally hang out with these gentle giants.

Our last night in Chiang Mai was filled with more food. Chiang Mai is extremely well known for their food and it is most evident in their street food. We found the well known “cowboy hat lady” where we ordered her famous dish of roast pork, rice, and a soft-boiled egg. We also found sukiyoki which is sautéed cabbage, beef, and noodles with sauce. Last but not least, we thoroughly enjoyed the most famous northern Thai dish of all- Kao Soi, a Middle Eastern rooted spicy soup with chicken or beef. Our last day in Chiang Mai was spent exploring temples. All are unique in their own way and all continue to leave me in awe. We left Thailand with full hearts, happy bellies, and a friendly reminder to smile often.

We are currently staying overnight in the Singapore airport- which is quite a nice airport to be stuck in for a layover- and headed to Bali in the morning. Our trip has been amazing and wonderful, yet traveling can be very challenging and exhausting. At least for a few days, we are excited to have our decision making only involve deciding which beach to sit on.